Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 35,047

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: Other than the fact that it's hella long, none. This chapter is full of fluff-tastic fun!

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Tuesday, 05/31/05

"So then she makes her eyes all big like this," Ron said as he gave his best impression of Hermione's sometime wide eyed expression, "and goes, 'Oh Harry, we have to tell her, we have to tell her.'"

Ron had Glinda, Fred, George, Charlie, and Hermione in stitches. For the last half-hour or so he had been plying them all with tales of the Trio's formative years at Hogwarts, mainly for the benefit of Charlie and Glinda. As Ron went into his over exaggerated impersonation of the embarrassed yet highly amused woman sitting on the couch, all five of them laughed uproariously. It was a pretty good imitation. Judging by Hermione's ringing laughter, she thought so as well.

Harry, however, barely glanced at Ron. His field of vision was too preoccupied by the sight of ten little toes with nails the color of candy floss. Merlin, what they must taste like, he wondered. The two tanned limbs that they were attached to weren't half-bad at all either, in his estimation. Poor Ron! He could have very well been Professor Binns, with the amount of attention that Harry was giving him.

"Not a tear in her eyes mind you, but that old bag Umbridge hardly seemed to care."

"Hermione, I'm shocked," scolded Glinda from her seat next to the brunette. "Pulling the poor helpless female routine?"

Despite what she was saying, she was giggling madly.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" Hermione asked, trying to hold back her own laughter. "That ghastly woman was about to Crucio Harry. I couldn't very well allow that to happen!

"No she couldn't," continued Ron as everyone's focus shifted back to him. He was still standing as he finished his story. "So what she does is make up this cock and bull story about Dumbledore having some secret weapon in the forest, and the toad faced hag actually falls for it!"

Although Fred and George had heard this story dozens of times, they still laughed the hardest, especially at any insult directed at their one time Headmistress. If anyone had hated Dolores Jane Umbridge as much as Harry, it was the twins.

"I knew from the moment I laid eyes on Um-bitch that she was as stupid as she was ugly," George said with a snigger. He was stretched out on the floor next to the big squashy leather recliner that Charlie was seated in. Lizzie was obediently lying down next to him. He had been sneaking her bits of food and the two of them had become friends for life.

"Cor! That sure is a lot of stupid in' it?" Fred joked. He was sitting on the arm of the couch next to his wife.

A poor, lonely love seat sat to the far left of all of them.

As Ron fell back on to the couch on the other side of Hermione, he looked as if he was still too tickled over the story he was recounting.

"Fred, you've never spoken truer words," Ron said as he chuckled. "Regrettably, I didn't get to witness the centaurs carry her off, but I'm sure it was brilliant," he said as he looked down at Harry who was on the floor near Hermione. Harry, however, missed what Ron said because he was too busy being distracted by Hermione's bare legs that were dangling enticingly beside him.

Oh look, she just uncrossed them again.

"Well Harry, wasn't it brilliant?"

"Oh y-yes," stammered Harry quickly as he turned his attention towards Ron. "Quite brilliant," he added with a strained smile. He prayed that no one could tell that he didn't have a clue what he was agreeing to.

The small party of seven was all seated inside the newly refurnished living room of the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow. Half-eaten bowls of melting ice cream lay scattered across the floor and the coffee table, along with empty take-away cartons and empty bottles of butterbeer. The mood was cheerful and merry as they all celebrated Hermione moving into her new home.

Every time Harry thought those words to himself he couldn't help the giddy little smile that covered his lips.

When the idea to bring Hermione to the Hollow and have her live in his family's cottage first came to Harry it seemed truly inspired. She needed somewhere to stay and he had an empty house that was begging and wanting to be filled. What better place for Hermione to live? She loved the old house as much, maybe even more than he did if he remembered correctly.

When Harry first Apparated them over to the house Hermione's eyes had been closed. It was almost as if she had known somehow where Harry was taking her, and she wanted to hold off the big moment of reveal to savor it. Then again she probably hadn't Apparated in years, and the sensation of being transported side-along made her dizzy and she was only trying to get her bearings. Still, Harry preferred the first explanation the best. Especially when he saw the awe-struck look of wonderment and joy that was on Hermione's face at the discovery. The look nearly took Harry's breath away.

Since the cottage was way at the edge of town, and the villagers still thought the place was haunted, he wasted no time pulling out his wand and saying the incantation that would break the SnowGlobe over the house. Once that was done, he slipped the wand back in its holster and looked at her. As she turned to face him, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes, she worked her mouth open and closed but no words came out. Harry tried to tell her that it was alright, that she didn't have to say anything, but before he could get those words passed his lips 145 lbs of soft, trembling, wonderfully fragrant female flesh threw itself into his arms. Her arms latched around his neck to pull him into a hug. His arms found themselves wound around her waist tugging her closer. And dear Merlin, did it feel good! This by itself would have been amazing, but coupled with the dizzying feel of her breasts pressed firmly into his chest tantalizingly moving up...and then down as she bounced in excitement, all thought quickly left his head.

Before Harry knew what was what, he had bent down, lifted her up, and had her cradled in his arms. She could say nothing to halt or hinder him because her mouth was too busy being suckled, massaged, and nibbled on by his own. Any doubt that she didn't want this too was squelched once her tongue shyly flickered against his lips. Taking this as a good sign, his tongue sought hers, swirling and dancing with it. Someone moaned, and he wasn't too sure that it wasn't him, but Hermione didn't seem to care.

Using the arm that she still had around his neck, she placed her hand on the back of his head, threaded her fingers in his hair, and roughly held his head in place. As if he needed the encouragement. Ha! Her other hand then began to gently caress his cheek, and that tender action was all that was needed to give him the impetus to swiftly make his way over the threshold of the door, cross quickly to the foot of the stairs, and taking two steps at a time, make his way up.

Without breaking his stride, he turned towards the nearest bedroom; the room that had once been his. He had long ago placed all of the old house furniture in the basement so there was nothing in the room but the bluish gray plush carpeting. But that should be enough, he assured himself.

He was just about to lower himself and Hermione onto the floor when she pantingly pulled her lips away from his, looked desirously into his eyes, and spoke the words he longed to hear from her.

"Harry...need...air..."

Well, not exactly the words he had been longing to hear.

"Harry," she said again in a belabored voice, "you're crushing me. And I kind of miss breathing."

Harry took a step back and shockingly realized that he was still standing outside of the cottage. Hermione was still in his arms but only wrapped in an overly friendly hug and not in the passionate clinch that he had been imagining. He instantly understood that what he had just experienced had only been some fucked up delusion worked up to obviously drive him insane! As he slowly loosened his hold on her, Harry had to wonder just what the hell he was thinking. It was almost as if he had tried to make one of his crazed dreams come true. What happened to all his good sense?

It went straight out the window once you thought about shagging her on the shag carpet, said the little voice coming from his head. Sadly it wasn't the one attached to his neck.

Shut it you! Hermione would probably sock me for thinking such things.

You never know unless you try mate, it answered back. Such a helpful little fiend it was.

And what do we tell the Missus later?

Bugger! Forgot about her.

Exactly.

If Harry hadn't already been in such an anxious state, he would have realized that he had now graduated from conversations with abstract beings to having chats with his own dick.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said with chagrin as his arms dropped to his side.

She skittishly smiled back at him.

"Quite alright. I guess we both just got caught up in the moment."

Harry wished fervently then that he still had his Auror robes on. Surely they would have hid the fact that he was sporting a rather impressive semi. Maybe she won't have noticed, he fervidly hoped.

That wish was dashed as soon as he saw Hermione's saucer-like eyes glance down at the tented material of his slacks and quickly look away.

"Let's go inside," she said, voice somewhat higher than normal. She walked quickly towards the house as if to hide her crimson cheeks from him.

Sorry, said the little criminal in Harry's pants.

Duly fucking noted, he disgustedly thought to himself.

That brief moment of awkwardness was glossed over once he and Hermione stepped into the house. As soon as she got inside, she started running around the place like a kid on Christmas morning. She didn't even care that the place was empty. She sprinted up the stairs and back down. She twirled around the wide living room to the point that she collapsed, drunk-like, onto the carpeting. This only made her laugh, and Harry laughed right along as he helped her back up.

She then headed towards the patio, practically yanking the sliding glass door off its tracks, and made a bee-line for the tree. The tree swing was still there and this seemed to please her greatly. She daintily seated herself on it, and using her own feet to give herself the momentum she needed, pushed from the ground and began to lazily swing back and forth. As Harry watched her big, glowing smile that grew larger by the second, he felt some of the anxiety that he had been struggling with from the moment he had been left alone in Hermione's presence weaken. It was a welcome change. With all of the conflicting emotions inside of his head, it was starting to sound like a cacophony in there.

First there was the undeniable chemical reaction his body seemed to have whenever Hermione looked at him, smiled at him, or even so much as touched his hand. What to call it? Was it desire? Passion? Need? That morning, when she had cheerfully greeted him while walking down the Burrow's stairs dressed in a simple, yet very snugly fitting jog suit, all he had wanted to do was take her hand, walk her right back up those steps, and convince her that she would feel so much better if she took the suit off. He knew he would feel much better. It would definitely give her something to smile about.

Harry loved sex just as much as the next warm blooded male of his species, but there was just something about this woman that turned him into some kind of raving, lust crazed maniac. Randy? It was more like he was ravenous for her. Forget having a monster in his chest, the one in his pants seemed to now be working independently from the rest of him these days. Was it any wonder he had chosen to block out these feelings for her all those years ago? If he hadn't, how would he have ever passed Transfiguration back then? Or Potions, for that matter? He would have spent every waking hour he could trying to figure out how to get around the damned enchantment that turned the stairway to the girls' dorms into an indoor slip and slide just to get at her. That wouldn't have been very conducive to his studies, now would it?

These thoughts were usually followed closely by shame. If what he harbored for Hermione was some sweet, innocent, "never meant to be" kind of love, Harry was sure he would have been able to endure that. Probably. Maybe. After all wasn't that basically what he had unwittingly endured all these years in the first place? He had always loved Hermione for the person who she was; her giving nature, her fierce mama bear tendencies, her stubbornness to usually look for the good in others as well as a million plus one other amazing qualities that she possessed. But now all of that, coupled with the acute awareness that he also physically desired her, made him feel guilty over his failure to control his raging libido. It was one thing to deal with a dream Hermione (Merlin, how many ways had he dealt with the dream Hermione in the last few months). But it was a completely different matter to have these desires running rampant through him now that the flesh and blood version was here. Harry was pretty sure that she wouldn't appreciate all of the things they had been doing together, so to speak, in his head. Hermione would probably be disgusted and worse, disappointed in him.

The guilt, however, was being drowned out by a stronger emotion; grief. Grief for what could have been. Grief for what could never be. Through the dreams he had gotten just a taste of what being with Hermione might have been like. But that was just it, they weren't real. It was never going to happen. Hermione didn't see him that way; had never seen him that way, would never see him that way. If Harry thought there was a chance other wise...who knows what he would have done. But Harry knew that trying to hold on to that kind of pipe dream was futile. In fact, if Harry's suspicions were true, Hermione was probably still in love with her best friend, the one with the red hair. Oh, there was also that sticky little matter he called his marriage to consider.

The emotion that outweighed them all was fear, sadly. Now that Hermione was home, Harry had to make sure she stayed here. He couldn't allow her to leave again. He wasn't sure he could stand it if she did, either by her own will or by that of some outside menace. The information she had told him about Carrows was distressing enough, and as soon as he got the chance Harry planned to use all the pull in the Department he had to see if Amycus could be tracked down and put away for good. If they could never prove that he had something to do with the Grangers' deaths, he would still have to answer for all of his years in service to Riddle. No matter what, Harry would never allow Carrows to ever hurt his Hermione again. But truthfully it was a different madman that was Harry's main concern. There was a picture of a dead girl, still sitting on his desk at the Ministry, which just couldn't be ignored.

And what of Mrs. Potter? Oh, Harry was quite disgusted with himself as well. None of this was fair to Ginny. She was his wife, he had pledged a vow to her. He had promised her forever. Of course he was stupid enough to do all of this without the benefit of actually loving her; that still didn't mean that he could just toss her to the side as though she were rubbish, just a bit of chaff. He couldn't cast her off like she was some albatross around his neck.

Could he?

Of course not. There was nothing he could do to put an end to his marriage.

Wasn't there?

Of course there wasn't. There was no way to overturn the Rites. None.

But Merlin help him, Harry could no more stop how he felt for Hermione than he could make the tides turn direction. Actually he probably had a better shot at the latter. So where did all of this leave him?

Nowhere.

As Hermione swayed back and forth in the swing, all of these crazy, jumbled up, mixed about thoughts that plagued him thankfully tapered down to a dull roar. He simply became just another love sick fool with a goofy grin on his face watching a pretty girl...no...an attractive woman, gliding through the air. It was a perfectly innocent picture, sweet even. He just wondered what it would look like if she was wearing a skirt instead. It was with that thought that Harry excused himself to the bathroom. If you wanted to be technical about it, he ran like the wind for the downstairs loo as Hermione's concerned voice called after him.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

Early the next morning Harry stopped by Ron's to fill him in on Hermione's new living situation. She had been so excited about living in the Hollow that she wanted to move in that very night. After collecting her vehicle, the two of them went straight to the Burrow so she could get her trunk and dog. He suggested just letting Molly pack up her trunk for her and send it later, but Hermione seemed pretty adamant that no one touch her things. Although Harry found that odd, he let it go for the time being.

When they got back to the Hollow Harry immediately set about putting up several protective wards around the house. He put up restrictions for Polyjuice, burglary, and Apparition among others. He also put up a ward that prevented anyone who intended harm to Hermione from getting within twenty feet of the place. Such a spell was only used to protect witnesses who testified in high profile cases brought before the Wizengamot, but Harry didn't bother telling Hermione that. She would probably yell at him for treating her like some fragile invalid.

Truth be told, if Harry could have put her under the Fidelius he would have; he was determined to make sure that she was safe all the way out here by herself, but he knew that would never fly with Hermione. So he did the next best thing, he asked her if it was alright for him to be her FailSafe. For emergency purposes of course, he strongly reminded himself. He alone could bypass the wards and Apparate in and Disapparate out. She told him that she had just assumed that he would have set it up that way. Who else did she trust as much as she trusted him, she asked. Harry felt as though he were walking on air after that.

Harry came by to see if Ron would help him get Hermione's old things out of storage. When Hermione took off she originally left all of her parents' old furniture behind. Ever the overachiever, her rent had already been paid up for the next couple of months so her things just remained where they were. Once that ran out, Harry, convinced that she would come back any day, continued to pay the monthly. He wanted to make sure she was able to pick right back up where she left off when she returned. It took a year for everyone to convince him that all of this was for naught. Harry still couldn't bear the idea of anything happening to her beloved possessions. So one afternoon he and Ron spent the day shrinking the furniture and other knickknacks, and boxing them up. Harry then stored the boxes away in the cottage's basement where they remained, untouched, for years.

When Harry informed Hermione of all of this she was so moved that she thankfully forgot the awkwardness from earlier, and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. It took all of Harry's strength of will not to turn his head. Instead he decided to put all of his frustrated energy to good use and set up her bed and other furnishings in the master bedroom. Once that was done they both collapsed onto the mahogany bed, side by side, and chatted away about nothing and everything for hours. After they ran out of words they still remained next to each other, content to just be in the other's presence. Harry would have been perfectly fine remaining right where he was forever, but the she yawned and suggested that they call it a night since it was nearing three in the morning. She wanted to go to bed and didn't feel like sharing the covers, she joked. Besides he had a wife to go home to, she reminded him.

At first Ron seemed to be in a daze as Harry told him everything. It was nine in the morning and the redhead had just rolled out of bed to answer the door. Harry hardly noticed the time, he had already been up for hours. He had gone to work early to handle some matters with the Cadmus case, make some inquiries about Carrows, and to see about hooking up the fireplace in the cottage to the Floo Network so Hermione could floo back and forth between the Hollow, the Burrow, Fred and Glinda's, or any place else she wanted to go. He also took it upon himself to put a restriction on who could floo into the house; only Ron and Glinda for now. Although he was sure Hermione would probably be more than a little peeved by his forwardness, Harry told himself that he was simply doing it for her safety.

Once he had about two large cups of coffee in him, a toothy grin spread on Ron's face. The caffeine started to kick in and Harry could tell that his best mate thought that both Hermione's new place of residence and the suggestion of stopping in were smashing ideas. Just the day before Ron and the rest of the Wasps had managed to convince their crazed captain that if he didn't lay off the intense training, they all would be useless by time it came to face Appleby for the Cup. This put the fear of Hades into Talbot and he forbade all of them to even go near their brooms for at least three days. He also ordered them to get some much needed relaxation. In Ron's opinion spending the day with Harry and Hermione, two of his favorite people in the world, was just what the Healer ordered.

Harry also looked forward to spending quality time with his two best friends, but if he was being honest, he did have a few ulterior motives behind the outing. Mainly he wanted to be near Hermione as much as he could, but the problem was that Harry simply did not trust himself alone with her. He might foolishly stare at her like a lost puppy or spend too long sniffing at her. Just what was that new smell that clung to her, he wondered. It was nice. Different, but nice. He might even get so wrapped up in one of his little fantasies that he would forget himself again and...who knows...ravish her or something. How does one "ravish" someone anyway, Harry absentmindedly wondered.

No matter, he could not allow this to happen. So he needed Ron to act as a buffer between Hermione and himself. Plus there were those suspicions that Harry had, a few unsavory misgivings on what truly brought Hermione racing back home only a few weeks before the wedding of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Harry wanted to closely observe the two of them interact with one another. He needed to see if any of that legendary sexual tension that he used to hear so much about, but truthfully never noticed or cared to, still simmered between the two ex-lovers. Why? Because Harry Potter is a masochistic son of a bitch, he sullenly told himself.

Once Ron showered and dressed, they were both about to Apparate to the village when George suddenly came home early from the shop. He had left the WWW in care of the store manager so he could go over to Hogsmeade and spend the day with his other half. Fred, who took the day off from his own store as well, was staying home with Glinda and Charlie. George had originally planned to go over to his twin's house to have breakfast and had come home to see if Ron wanted to join them, but when he heard where Harry and his brother were headed he instantly wanted to tag along.

Harry tried to make it sound very dull and boring so George wouldn't be interested in coming. Harry had already suggested throwing a Welcome Home party or get-together for her, but Hermione had strongly declined. She wanted some privacy for a while, she told him. That answer actually relieved Harry. The less notice Hermione's homecoming garnered the better, he believed. Harry tried his best to explain to George that Hermione just wasn't up to seeing too many visitors. Ron chose to convey the situation succinctly to his brother.

"No gits allowed."

Harry rolled his eyes towards the havens at the remark. Ron might as well have rolled out the Welcome mat for George Weasley.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

It was somewhere between the fourth and fifth time he knocked urgently on the door and didn't get a response, that Harry went into a blind panic. When he knocked a sixth time and still received no answer, Harry Apparated directly into the house frantically calling out Hermione's name. He was so distressed that he ended up on the bottom of the stairs instead of the foyer as he had planned, running smack dab into Hermione who had been charging down the staircase to see to the maniac banging at her door. They collided with one another and both went tumbling to the floor, Hermione on top of him.

Harry's body immediately reacted to the feel of her pressed up against just about all of the places a bloke liked to be pressed up against. She was wearing the barest scrap of some silky turquoise material that sent all of his blood rushing in a downward direction. In some circles the tiny article of clothing might have even be considered a dressing gown. It did cover up the most important, vital areas. Drat! But Harry had seen just enough of golden colored thighs, arms, and the barest sliver of breast to almost send him into a tailspin. Hermione scrambled off of him, plopped herself on the bottom step of the stairs, and demurely adjusted the top of her dressing gown. As Harry sat up from the floor he could only thank the stars that this time he was mercifully wearing his thick work robes.

Oh yes, because when she was just straddling you she didn't feel a thing right, he could practically hear his little Harry tell him.

Wait 'til I get my hands on you, he thought crossly.

Flirt!

Hermione eyes went wide in shock. It was an almost comical expression, and Harry would have laughed at it if he hadn't realized just what caused her to jump off of him. The bugger in his pants had obviously been right. Harry ashamedly tried to apologize to her when a wild and crazy thought suddenly struck him. Hermione almost seemed to be as affected...hell, aroused by this little encounter as he was. Her pink cheeks, rattled countenance, and rapid, shallow breathing almost seemed to attest to this observance. And Harry couldn't be sure, but he almost thought he saw the faint impression of her nipples through the flimsy material of her dressing gown. It was almost as if they beckoned him and Harry couldn't stop himself from heeding the call.

He slowly stood up from the floor and crossed the short distance that separated the two of them. There was no thought in his action; it was as simplistic as some heretofore undetected magnetic force drawing him to her. As he stopped before her, his eyes never leaving her own, Harry wasn't sure what he was about to do. He wasn't even certain if this was actually happening, but as his right hand tentatively left his side, he just knew he had to touch her. Somewhere. Everywhere. Or die. And the fact that she looked as though she were making no move to stop him only spurred him on. The tips of his fingers had barely touched the surface of her cheek, when a loud, pounding noise startled them and they both turned in the direction it came from.

"Are you guys alright in there?" came the muffled sound of Ron's voice through the front door.

He pounded on it again.

"I heard a noise. Is everything ok?" he asked worriedly.

Who the hell invited Ron?!

The sound of Ron's voice produced a quick intake of breath from Hermione. This caused Harry to look back towards her and see a befuddled and panicked expression cross her face as she looked between the door and him. Before Harry could say a word, Hermione sprung up and ran back up the stairs. That's when Harry cursed himself. He was a married man who had almost made an inappropriate pass at his childhood friend. She hadn't been turned on just then; she had obviously been shocked at his brazenness. That was the only way to explain it. Now she was probably trying to get as far from him as she could. Hermione was barely settled back home and already, in the space of two days, her best mate, who was supposed to be happily married, had practically jumped her. She must think the worse of me, a gloomy voice said in his head; the one up top this time.

When Hermione finally came back downstairs Harry's fears were confirmed. Her face was pinched and she looked put out. She had changed into a pair of lounge shorts and a bulky orange sweatshirt that had the picture of what looked like a cow in gray silhouette. Under the picture, written in block letters, were the words, "Longhorns Do It Better".

Her face looked freshly scrubbed and he noted that it was devoid of all of the goop she seemed to be so fond of putting on it these days. He liked this version better. She looked more like the girl he had fallen in love with. The hair was still highly distracting however, but since it was pulled away from her face in a no-frills ponytail he didn't focus too long on it.

Lizzie had come running down the stairs behind Hermione and headed straight towards him. Harry bent down to pet the dog and let her playfully lick at his face. He tried to use the poor thing as a shield to protect himself from her master's wrath, but when he took a peek from behind the animal he found that Hermione wasn't even looking at him. She kept her eyes on Ron as she told them that she didn't feel much like entertaining company. She had just come in from an early morning run through the village, and when the two of them showed up she was just getting out of the bathtub. She had hoped to spend the day alone. To Harry's dismay she didn't even spare him a glance as she said all of this.

It looked like Hermione was trying to very politely, yet firmly, kick them out of the house and Harry couldn't help but think that he was the reason why. This was no great surprise, but what happened next certainly was. When she headed towards the front door and opened it, the three of them were not prepared to see the four grinning faces of Mr. And Mrs. Fred Weasley, as well as George and Charlie standing on the other side, arms filled with packages.

Their appearance only seemed to heighten Hermione's irritation, but before she could slam the door on her guests' faces (and Harry believed that she was close to doing it), Glinda decided to play her trump card. When George mentioned that Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all goofing off at the Hollow, and suggested that they go crash the party, Glinda knew that it would take some pretty big guns to get them through the door.

Remembering Hermione's love of the Chinese restaurant around the corner from the old flat in Brixton, she made sure that their little group stopped in at Mister Chopsticks and picked up some vital bargaining chips; spring rolls, shrimp dumplings, lo mein and just about all of Hermione's favorites. They even stopped at a market to get a few cases of Neapolitan ice cream to scoop up with the fortune cookies, a long held tradition in the former Granger/Vengadasalaam household. When Glinda told Hermione what was in the bags she grudgingly let them in the cottage.

After about ten minutes the tense air that hung about the house dissipated and the day turned into a fun gathering of good food, friends, and memories. First things first, the men set up the rest of Hermione's furniture. She and Glinda directed them from the couch while sampling all of the food. Ron let them know that if there were no potstickers left when the slaves got done with all of the grunt work there surely would be hell to pay. After that was taken care of, everyone settled down in the lounge and began passing back and forth various take-away cartons as they all ate a little bit of every dish, and laughed and gossiped about everything under the sun.

George filled them all in on why Charlie had suddenly decided to bunk at Fred's the night before. When George stopped in to have dinner at the Burrow he discovered his big brother laid out on the couch asleep looking like a five knut Knockturn Alley whore. It turned out that Violet and Rosemary had "borrowed" some of their Aunt Hermione's make-up from her room, and the little girls had taken it upon themselves to make their uncle look pretty. Charlie took the ribbing from everyone well, and told Hermione as she tried to apologize through tears and laughter that there was no need to. George let them all know that as soon as he got the pictures he took developed he would let them all have copies. Ron told him to make sure he got him wallet sized ones. Charlie told them all that he preferred the calm and quiet of a dragon preserve to a household filled with five children. Since Fred and Glinda only had the one little one, Charlie figured it was safer to just stay with them.

Glinda shared some of her horror stories concerning her one man startup company. She ran a Muggle matchmaking service where she set up young London singles on lunch dates all from the comfort of her home. Of course the use of two desk top computers, a laptop, a Blackberry, and two separate mobile phones also helped lighten the load. Their Hogsmeade home contained so much electronic gadgetry that Fred hardly was allowed to use any magic in it. Too much magical energy caused the Muggle technology to go haywire. When Felicity's accidental magic started to increase they had to start sending her to the Hogsmeade Little School in town to help keep Glinda's business from exploding, literally, around her.

For three years she had practically run Out to Lunch as a lark, what better way to be in everybody's business? But the last six months of success and financial solvency had been a nice surprise. She was even starting to look at the prospects of crossing over and working with witches and wizards. Her only misstep was accidentally making mention of these plans in front of Pansy McLaggen at a social gathering one night. The blonde harridan got it into her head that she would make an excellent partner in the venture, even if Glinda was (regrettably) a Muggle. Pansy hadn't left Glinda alone since.

Ron gabbed on about the upcoming British Cup, Fred and George entertained them with tales about the stores, and Charlie told them some amusing anecdotes about his time in Sweden. When most of them tried to fish information out of Hermione about her years in Texas she looked uncomfortable, but ended up telling them funny stories involving her former flat mates, Amelia Calhoun and Benitez Cohen, as well as the daycare center where the three of them had all worked together.

The talk of kids led Fred and Ron to pulling out photos of their beautiful daughters. This time it was Harry's turn to get cagey as once again his family badgered him over when he and Ginny were going to start popping out babies. Mercifully Hermione told them that Harry would have kids when he was good and ready, and to just leave him alone until then. He wanted to kiss her for saying it, but then remembered that he was in a room with four of his six brother-in-laws and decided that it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Harry then expertly switched the topic to their years spent at Hogwarts.

It was as if they had all found a Time-Turner and stepped back into the past. The series of memories that they began to share were so palpable that Harry felt as though he could almost hold them tightly in his arms. The Weasley twins nearly flooding the castle, Bill almost losing his Head Boy badge and Charlie almost getting thrown off the house team when the two of them and Tonks threw a wild party in the Forbidden forest, the Trio's experiences with the little baby dragon Norbert; although all of these stories had been told and told again through out the years, they still felt fresh and still made all of them laugh.

Glinda also loved to hear about all of their old adventures. When Glinda first discovered Hermione's little secret it always amazed Harry how well she took the news. Hermione later told him that one of Glinda's favorite books as a kid was all about good and bad wizards, elves, magical rings, and dark overlords. The woman was simply ecstatic to grow-up and find out that magic really did exist in the world. Glinda also off-handedly mentioned to him once that she used to belong to some club called the D&D where she was a Dungeon Master in her wild and misspent youth. Since it sounded kind of kinky Harry had chosen not to press for further details.

It was a lovely day. The only sore spot for Harry was that he couldn't help the feeling that Hermione was purposefully ignoring him. Of course no one else would have thought so; she talked to him easily and answered his questions as well as asked him some of her own. However Harry felt that she seemed distant. When they first all sat down to eat she didn't save him the other place on the couch next to her. Instead she grinned gaily at Ron when he plopped down where Harry felt he should have been sitting. Git! Of course this did afford Harry the prime location to look at her legs to his heart's content and not be caught at it; still the whole thing rankled him.

Then there was the fact that she would barely look him in the eyes, but every now and then he would catch her staring at him. She would always turn her head quickly and act as if she had been listening to Ron or the twins and found whatever they were saying particularly funny, but Harry knew that she had been looking at him beforehand. He figured that she was probably still put off by the run in they'd had earlier. Either that or she was still annoyed that he and Ron had intruded on her day of rest. But that hasn't stopped her from laughing at every word that's comes out of Ron's big mouth, he grumpily thought.

In fact she had nearly laughed herself into a stupor when Ron began to tell them all about the time that he and Hermione were caught snogging away in a broom closet near the Infirmary when they were supposed to be at an Order meeting. Peeves discovered them, and was on his way to rat them out, when Hermione and Ron offered to get the Bloody Baron off his back for him if he didn't say a peep. Hermione, thinking that appealing to the Baron's intellectual leanings was the best route to go, tried to have a meaningful conversation with the blood stained ghost about the castle's rich history and offered to read to him from her many books if he liked. The Baron merely looked at her grimly. When it became obvious that her tactics weren't going to work, Ron introduced the terrifying spook to the wonders of wizarding porn magazines and their very animated pictures. The Baron forgot all about Peeves, and Ron and Hermione were safe to snog in any broom closet of their choosing from then on.

As Ron told the colorful yarn and the rest of the group laughed, Harry had to actually sit on his wand hand; the need to hex Ron was just that strong. Harry felt almost nauseous with jealousy. And the worst part was that instead of smacking Ron, or at least berating him for sharing such a thing, Hermione only smiled brighter at her ex-boyfriend and girlishly giggled as he tickled her on her side and she poked right back at him. When she still won't look me in the eye, a sad little voice in Harry's head sighed. Harry almost wanted to run from the room and hide his face.

But then Hermione did something miraculous that nearly made his heart dance inside his chest. She reached into one of the bags nearest her, pulled out a fortune cookie, and absentmindedly cracked it open in her hand. She then removed the little paper, tore up the printed words in tiny pieces, and gave the two broken halves of the cookie to Harry. It was a routine they had developed long ago. Whenever they would go to a Chinese restaurant or get take-away, Hermione would always remove the fortunes from the fortune cookies for him. Although he loved the little crunchy biscuits themselves, any talk of future telling reminded him of being told over and over again in Trelawney's class that he was going to die any day, or brought up unpleasant reminders that his whole life had been dictated by a prophesy. As usual, being sensitive to his needs, Hermione would get rid of the offending strips of paper before he could even look at them.

Their friends all thought it was just another one of those "weird Harry and Hermione things", but after a while they hardly noticed it much. When Hermione left, he no longer wanted anyone to break open his fortune cookies for him, not even Ginny. In truth he had almost forgotten that Hermione used to do this, but as soon as she placed the crisp, sugary shells in his palm he was so overcome with emotion that he clasped her hand in his own and held onto it. Although that panicked look flickered in her eyes again for a second, when it faded away she smiled down at him tenderly before gently removing her hand from his. Harry hoped that no one looked too closely at him because if they did they couldn't help but notice his flushed cheeks and gleeful smile. Ron could keep his closet snogs, Harry had his own precious memories of Hermione too! Although he had to concede that a closet snog would be nice.

Once the fortune cookies started being handed out Hermione excused herself to the bathroom. She also promised to get the ice cream out of the freezer when she was done. After she was gone for a good length of time Harry went towards the kitchen to see if she needed any help. When he discovered that she wasn't there he opened the patio door to see if she was outside. Not finding her there, he walked back out into the living room. He was about to head up the stairs when he heard a curious sound coming from the bathroom nearby. Had she been in there all of this time?

Creeping closer to the door, Harry tried to figure out what the noise was. What he heard was Hermione's faint voice arguing with someone, but Harry couldn't detect a second voice and knew that there could be no one in there with her. Although Harry knew he shouldn't, he was actually surprised that she hadn't knocked him silly for reading her mind the other day, he still pulled his wand out of his robes and cast a charm on the door so he could hear what was being said.

"Exaudio."

"I don't give a damn how you got this number! You're not allowed to call me again, am I making myself clear?!" he heard Hermione's agitated voice shrill. It was almost reminiscent of the way she would talk to him and Ron when they were being particularly thickheaded about something. But Harry also detected a pleading note to her voice.

"Don't call me again. NEVER! JUST LEAVE ME BE!"

Whoa! What was this all about, Harry wondered. Who was she talking to?

"Lose my phone number! Pretend you never knew it. ARE WE UNDERSTOOD?!"

And then there was silence.

Harry pressed himself closer in hopes to hear more. But all of a sudden the knob was being turned, the door was yanked open, and before him stood Hermione. She had her mobile in her hand. She obviously hadn't been prepared to see him standing there because she actually jumped back at the sight of him.

"H-Harry?" she barely choked out. "Um...did you need to use the loo?"

He answered the question the only way he knew how.

"Erm...yes!"

She tried to casually hide the phone behind her back, but Harry still noticed.

"Oh."

For a few moments neither of them said anything, just watched the other. The air between them however felt thick with a myriad of unsaid words and actions. As though both of them were waiting, almost impatiently, to see what the other one would do; who would make the first move. It was a feeling almost akin to holding your palm over a lighted candle and seeing how close you could get your fingers to the flame before scorching yourself. And then doing it again. It felt reckless. It felt tempestuous. It felt willful; as though possessing a mind of its own and Merlin help him, did he love it! In fact he could almost see himself giving into it, pulling her into the bathroom with him and closing the door just so he could see what her response would then be. The way she was looking at him from beneath heavy lids made him wonder if she felt the same taught energy that was longing to be unleashed. Instead of giving into the temptation though, Harry tried his best to push past it. He also was curious about the yelling.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?"

"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Oh, no reason."

He didn't want her to know that he had been listening at the door a minute ago. He feared that she would think he was either a prat for being so nosy or a perv. Probably both. More than likely she had gotten another one of those wrong number calls again, he figured. If something was really wrong he felt certain that she would tell him now, especially after they had cleared the air between them the day before.

Having gotten that out the way, he smiled shyly at her and she blushed prettily, returning his smile with a timid one of her own as she cast her eyes to the floor. But when she glanced back up at him and their eyes met, that mind drugging tension soon seeped in once again. It practically begged to be unleashed. Harry's eyes even drifted from Hermione's face to the door behind her again as he wondered...

"The bathroom..." she mumbled in a thick voice

Harry quickly shifted his eyes towards her again.

"Huh?"

"Didn't you need to use the bathroom?"

Dammit! His desire for this woman was obviously making him lose his marbles.

"Um, yes. Bathroom."

"You could have used any of the ones upstairs, you know."

"I didn't want to be rude."

"Silly," she playfully chided him. "This is your house. Everything in it is at your disposal."

Harry had to stop his mind from going to a very bad place at those words. Well actually it was a nice place, but still...

"...since I'm all done in here you can use this one. Too bad though, you just missed your opportunity to rifle through my knickers or something," she said tartly with a naughty smile. And then, as though realizing what she had said, her face blanched.

Harry's eyes widened at the quip. Did she...did Hermione just...flirt with me? As Harry watched Hermione's teasing smile suddenly falter, and he heard her squeak out an apology as she rushed past him, Harry realized that it was just too hard to tell. But the thought of what her knickers might look like did fill his mind with some lovely little images as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Hell, he told her he was going in there anyways. He just made sure that he took the listening charm off the door.

When he was done and joined the others back in the lounge Ron was just beginning the highlights of Dolores Umbridge's greatest hits at Hogwarts. Everyone had bowls of ice cream, but Harry didn't feel left out. As soon as he sat back down on the floor Hermione handed him a bowl of strawberry, his favorite flavor. She then promptly returned to half-ignoring, half-stealing covert peeks at him. It was all very confusing for Harry. That's why he decided to focus on her legs instead. The legs were safe, even if he did long to run his index finger down the length of her left calf muscle. He was curious to see if it was as hard as it looked or as soft as he hoped. Thankfully Ron asked him another question before he decided to test it out for himself.

"Come again?" Harry asked dazedly as he looked over at Ron.

"Mate, what the hell is wrong with you? You've been out of it for the last hour," his oh so helpful friend pointed out.

Harry's eyes narrowed and the redhead actually reared back from the annoyed look Harry gave him. Ron's puzzled face showed clearly that he had no idea what he could have said to make Harry that aggravated with him.

"Probably having flashbacks of all the horrible things that toad woman did to him," said George.

Harry smiled at the man. He always knew that George was his favorite Weasley twin.

"I mean taking away Quidditch from a bloke was just a low blow," George complained.

"My hand still stings a bit when it rains," Harry added as he held his right hand up for all to see.

"Oh Harry," sighed Hermione as she reached out and grabbed the hand. She held it in both of hers, and inspected the skin as if to see if she could make out the faint tracing of "I must not tell lies", still imprinted there and somehow make it go away.

As Harry watched her work her bottom lip between her teeth, her soft warm hands holding on to him tightly, he felt a calming, soothing sensation move through him. This was his Hermione; always worried about him, always looking for someway to take care of him...protect him. It almost boggled his mind to think that she had been this way with him since he was 13 years old and got his brand new Firebolt confiscated. For his own good, she told him then. Why had it taken all these years for him to see what he had in her? Never mind Ron, or Ginny, or Cho, or even Riddle. Why was he destined to be a dumb, clueless git for the rest of his life? It was so unfair!

"It's alright, Hermione. It feels just fine now," Harry said as he placed his other hand on top of hers. At the contact she blushed, and withdrew her hands from his.

Well that was interesting, he thought to himself.

"Whatever happened to the woman?" Charlie asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Centaur stampede," Harry answered as indifferently as if he was describing paint drying.

Charlie wrinkled his brow. "But...centaurs don't stampede."

"Precisely," said Fred and George at exactly the same time as they raised their butterbeers in a toast, huge grins plastering both of their faces.

"Somehow Bane and the rest of the Forbidden Forest crowd found out that she was organizing a protest rally in Hogsmeade," began Harry as he explained the circumstances surrounding Umbridge's death barely a year ago.

"What was that shite organization called again?" asked Ron.

"People for the Unethical Treatment of the Four Legged," replied Fred.

"In her later years she just became an out and out bigot," chimed George.

Ron shook his head in disgust.

"Completely barmy."

"So a handful of people show up to the rally, but before she could even begin her speech, about twenty centaurs galloped through the town and...uh..." Harry faltered, looking for a delicate way to describe the woman's body after the attack.

"Flattened her like a pancake," Fred finished for him. Since that was about right, Harry really saw no need to argue it.

"Merlin! What a way to go," replied Charlie.

"I just hope that the hag has beach front property in Hell right now, and that there is sand up the crotch of her thong currently."

"OI!" shouted Ron as he threw both of hands over his eyes. "Thanks a lot for the hysterical blindness Fred!"

Fred chuckled at his little brother's discomfort.

"Well, although I can't say that I take any particular joy out of another's suffering, I'm not too saddened to hear that Umbridge is no longer able to cause havoc and ruin lives," said Hermione. "I think I'll hate that woman forever for what she did to Harry," she said primly.

Harry smiled adoringly at her.

"You did take care of her for me, though. The look on her face when Grawp came bursting through the trees is still one of my favorite memories."

Once again her cheeks were tinged pink and Harry had to wonder if he was really seeing this or if it all was just a figment of his very frustrated imagination.

"Well that was our Hermione for you," said Ron mirthfully. "She always came through for you in a pinch. Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry tried to sneak a peek at her again, but to his dismay her eyes were steadily focused on Ron.

"Yeah," he answered with a touch of misery in his voice.

"Even right from the start," continued Ron, totally unaware of his best friend's inner turmoil. "Take the troll for instance. Glinda, you should have seen this beast," said Ron as he turned to face his sister-in-law. "He had to have been twenty feet at the least. And he was a mean looking bastard too! The blood lust shone clear in his eyes..."

"Brother," George said to Fred as he interrupted Ron's tale, "ever notice that every time he tells this story something else changes?"

Ron gave them each a scathing look which the two of them ignored.

"I reckon the next telling will have the troll doing the Can-can through the Great Hall," answered Fred with a smirk.

"SHUT IT YOU TWO!" snapped Ron amidst the laughter from the others. "As I was saying," he muttered, trying to continue his story. "Hermione told McGonagall, Quirrell, and Snape the sweetest little lie right on the spot. She didn't even blink. Saved Harry and my arse, for sure!"

Harry chuckled at the memory. He could still see Ron's stunned expression when Hermione told her tall tale. Truthfully, the look on his own face couldn't have been much different, thought Harry.

"Ya know, I think I might have even fallen in love with you that very night!" continued Ron.

Harry's smile fell. Just like that the story wasn't as fun anymore.

Hermione giggled and playfully swatted Ron on the arm.

"Flattery gets you everywhere," she teased him.

Although it was obvious that Hermione and Ron were just joking with one another, Harry was just this close to resentfully telling them to go get a room. His two friends had never had this easy-going rapport with one another, even back when they dated. So what made now so different? Harry could still remember Hermione telling him once, ages ago it seemed that loving someone completely could be difficult. Since her relationship with Ron always appeared so angst ridden and stormy, Harry figured that was what she meant. He assumed that whatever difficulties Hermione had with Ron was what kept her from staying with him. Had Hermione finally made peace with whatever it was that made her break it off with Ron in the first place? Was this the reason behind her return?

Harry shook his head as if to free himself from these horrible thoughts. If I think about this too long I'll go spare, he told himself. Besides, he shouldn't worry about them being all gooey with each other. It was when they argued that the so-called "sexual tension" was at work, right? This teasing thing they were doing wasn't so bad. He could handle this.

Although if she puts her hand on his thigh just one more time...

"Listen, Blondie," George said as he fixed Hermione with a rueful eye, "just because you were all hot an bothered for this one," he said as he jerked his thumb in Ron's direction, making Harry now decide that Fred was actually his favorite Weasley twin instead, "I still don't think it's fair that you let these two get away with murder when you were always coming down so hard on me and my poor, innocent brother."

"Yeah! No fair Blondie! No fair!"

Charlie had begun laughing at the word "innocent", so hard that tears actually sprang to his eyes.

A small smile played at Hermione's lips, but she valiantly fought it.

"That's because most times I didn't have to worry about these two exploding the castle," she said as she looked at Harry and then at Ron. "Well, most times at least."

"HEY!" Harry and Ron exclaimed with equal amounts of amusement and scorn.

Glinda and Charlie laughed along with her, but Fred and George seemed unwilling to let the argument go for the moment.

"It was always 'George, you can't make the ickle firsties drink that green goop, it'll burn holes straight through their tongues'," said Fred in a mocking, shrill voice that made Ron roar with laughter.

"Or 'Fred, I'm taking five points from Gryffindor if I catch you and Angelina in the Astronomy Tower one more time'," George said as Glinda snickered.

"'Stop sending Moaning Myrtle Valentine cards addressed from Harry. It only encourages her'."

"'If you think I won't tell Professor McGonagall that you broke the window trying to fly into the girls' dorms again, you're mad'."

"'And I won't stop Filch from hanging you up by your thumbs either'."

Ron found the twins banter hilarious. He practically bounced on the edge of his seat as he raised his hand excitedly.

"Ooh, ooh, I've got one! I've got one! 'I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could have been killed, or worse, expelled'."

"No! No!" Hermione protested as she hid her face behind her hands and shook her head. Everyone laughed. "I was never that bad! Never!"

Ron poked her in the side as he chuckled at her mock mortification.

"I'm afraid dearest that you were."

"Thank God you lost that stick up your arse by time I met you, Ducks," Glinda kidded. "I mean sure you were uptight a bit, but you must have been a monster back then."

"Ron called me a nightmare," she said in a feigned accusatory voice as she smacked Ron's thigh...AGAIN!

"But I meant it as a compliment," he replied as he threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a friendly squeeze.

Harry practically felt his blood boil under his skin.

"I don't recall that one," Fred said to Ron.

"That's because it happened in our first year," Harry said, dragging his eyes from his two best friends who were making him increasingly annoyed. Ron still had his arm hanging around her!

"If I recall correctly, we had just had our first brush with Hagrid's sweet puppy," Ron told Fred.

"You lot were scared of a puppy?" asked Glinda in puzzlement.

"Well Fluffy was quite special you see," Harry explained. "Fluffy was guarding the Philosopher's Stone."

Glinda, however, still looked unimpressed.

"Oh, did we neglect to mention that Fluffy was nearly twenty-five feet tall and had three heads?" Ron asked her cheekily.

"Blimey!" yelped Glinda who turned on Fred. "And I'm actually supposed to send my daughter to this school?" she asked him.

"Oh don't worry, Glinda," said Ron leisurely. "What doesn't kill Felicity will only make her stronger."

"How reassuring," she drolled.

"RON!" admonished Hermione as she pulled away from him (finally), and pinched his arm causing Ron to holler.

The rest of the group laughed at this, Harry the loudest.

"Tell her you were joking," she ordered him.

She then turned towards Glinda.

"He's joking," she reassured her friend. "Besides, Fluffy doesn't even live in the castle anymore. Felicity will never see him."

"Like there's a Weasley worth their salt who's going to stay out of the Forbidden Forest," said George.

"I don't think Perce has ever gone in," Charlie mentioned.

"I rest my case."

Glinda chuffed loudly.

"So Percy was a wanker even then?" she bitingly asked.

"You and Percy don't get along?" Hermione questioned.

"Not since the day that his precious heirs Philmore, Kentmore, and Barrymore," Fred said pronouncing the names in a snooty tone, "set fire to Glinda's mum's antique Persian rug," he answered for her.

"You mean the one she got from Korea?" George jokingly asked and ducked when Glinda tried to bean him with a spare fortune cookie. He then picked it up, cracked it, and shared half of it with the dog, totally ignoring Hermione's protests.

"Aren't the triplets too young to be doing any magic?" Hermione asked, turning to her.

"Of course," replied Fred. "That's why one of them got a hold of Glinda's lighter instead."

Hermione gave Glinda a disappointed look.

"Right before I left you quit."

"I didn't quit, I got pregnant. Big difference," Glinda easily said. "And I only have a fag or two on occasion now. But that wanker of a brother of Fred's tried to blame the whole thing on me. Said that my disgusting Muggle habit could have killed his beloved brats, the git," she seethed. "Before that I had no problem watching the terrors for Penny so she could go to work, but now I refuse to!"

"Did you ever find out which one did it?" Ron queried.

"No," she gruffly answered. "The little bastards dummied up when I tried to get it out of them."

"The trick is to get Kentmore by himself," George said. "He's the one most like Perce. He'll squeal on the other two in a heartbeat."

"You know, I kind of feel sorry for Percy," Charlie generously said which was met with boos and hisses from the twins, Glinda, and Ron. "No, seriously," he continued. "From Bill's letters I kind of get the impression that none of Percy's dreams and goals ever worked out for him."

"Well that's what he gets for selling out his family to the Ministry," said Ron indignantly. "He even tried to turn me against Harry at one point. As if there was anything that could have ever made that happen."

Hermione looked pointedly at him.

"Well," he sheepishly mumbled, "not after that last time."

"Yes, well...regardless of the fact, it didn't work out for him. He's still just the Minister's errand boy and it's been what, nine years? They don't seem to have much faith in him over at the Ministry."

Fred didn't appear to have as much sympathy for Percy as Charlie did.

"Well the idiot was taking orders from a man under Imperio for almost a whole year. Can you blame them?"

"That's just what you call plain incompetence," snickered George. "Bloke couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery."

"Well with Scrimgeour bringing Adair in from Burkina Faso and promoting him over Percy, I can only imagine that our brother probably feels a tad abused and looked over."

"Then he should leave the Ministry," Fred stated. "It's not like George and I haven't offered him a job before."

Harry looked at him in disbelief.

"You told him that he could sweep up the back storeroom two nights a week."

"See!" said Fred as he looked back towards Charlie. "I was even willing to overlook the fact that he's gloriously under-qualified!"

"Listen," said Glinda interrupting the Weasley brothers' debate, "since Percy Weasley isn't my husband it really isn't my problem if he feels inadequate, now is it? I just feel sorry for poor Penny."

Harry and George both howled with laughter at the zinger, while Hermione and Charlie tried hard not to go along with them. Ron looked at his sister-in-law in wide eyed amazement, mouth wide open. Fred bent over and lovingly smacked a kiss on her forehead.

"I don't want to talk about him anymore," she continued as her eyes merrily landed on Hermione. "I rather talk about Ducks, here."

She leaned back into the armrest on the couch and laid her head against Fred's chest.

"Yes, let's talk about Hermione...and her lovely blonde hair she brought all the way from the States for us to play with."

Fred and George sniggered.

"Bother," said Hermione. "Should have seen that one coming."

"So what's with the hair?" Glinda asked.

"What," answered Hermione, "you don't like it? I haven't had it too long."

She self-consciously smoothed her hand over the top of her head.

"I like it," said Ron supportively earning a smile from Hermione.

Dear Merlin, did she actually dye her hair that way for Ron?! Everyone knew that Ron had a thing for blondes. The very idea did not sit well with Harry. At all!

"You would," Harry grumpily mumbled which made Hermione look at him with an almost hurt expression and caused Harry to want to evaporate into the carpeting.

"Good one, Harry!" cheered George. "Ron would marry a screech owl if it had blonde hair."

"Low blow, brother. No need bringing Lavender into this," quipped Fred with a smirk.

Although Charlie had the good grace to avert his head so Ron couldn't see his grin, Glinda and Hermione nearly collapsed on each other with their outburst. Harry even cracked a smile himself until he realized that Hermione was laughing a bit too hard at poor Lavender's expense. This in turn made him frown. Ron, however, looked like he was ready to murder Fred. He jumped to his feet, but Hermione just yanked him back down again.

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" Ron shouted at his brother. He then looked at Hermione. "It's not funny, Hermione!"

"Well it is a bit," Hermione said as she tried to stop her giggles. At the sight of Ron's pained expression she contritely mumbled, "Sorry."

"So why did you change your hair?" Glinda asked again. "It's a bit dramatic for you, isn't it?"

"What, a little hair coloring? It's not drastic at all like…like…Harry's," Hermione said bringing the focus of the conversation and her attention to him. "I mean...look at him," she said as she started to run her fingers through his long locks. The sensation made him want to nuzzle her. "He looks like a Beatle."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Oh don't worry Harry," Glinda said as she spied his clueless expression. "I'm sure she means one of the cute ones. Ringo."

Glinda winked at Hermione.

"Stop it," Hermione barely giggled out. "Harry is a Paul. A John, at the least."

George turned to Charlie and asked, "Do you know what these two are going on about?"

"Not a clue."

Fred simply smiled.

"Welcome to my world."

"Well there's no need to insult Harry like that. He's a good enough looking bloke," said George in defense of Harry's honor. "I mean, sure the hair's a bit girlie..."

"Thank you George," said Harry dryly.

"Welcome mate," he replied. "But I don't see why you have to go and say he looks like some bug."

Glinda turned fully to face Hermione.

"I blame you for making me marry into this family."

Hermione scoffed at the comment.

"It's a band," Ron said as everyone turned towards him. "The Beatles, they were an old Muggle musical act known for their long hair and some bonkers bird who broke them up."

George threw Glinda an exasperated look.

"Well why didn't you just say that?!"

"Wow," said Hermione to Ron, "I'm really impressed. How did you know that, Ron?"

Ron, puffed up with pride by Hermione's compliment said, "Well see, Lavender has this book-"

"And suddenly I'm not that interested anymore," said Hermione as she feigned a yawn and turned from him. All Ron could do was huff at the dismissal.

"Well back to the hair..." Glinda tried again.

"Hair, hair, hair...it's like you are obsessed, Glinda Weasley. And what do you find so funny, George?" Hermione asked as she dodged the question once again and looked down at the young man.

"Oh nothing," he said with an enthused grin. "Just thinking about all the dumb Blonde jokes me and Fred are going to get to use on you."

"You mean you lot actually have some new material other than the same tired jokes you've been using over and over again on Lav and Fleur?" Ron bitingly asked.

"Say Brother, he has a point," said Fred to George.

"Yeah, on his head!"

Ron muttered a nasty retort under his breath. It was drowned out by Glinda's aggravated growl.

"I'm starting to think that you are purposely avoiding the topic," she said to Hermione.

Harry inwardly agreed with Glinda.

"So what?! I'm blonde now, who cares?" Hermione asked in a highly nettled voice. "It's no big deal. I just wanted a change. People do change, you know. Am I not allowed to change?"

"Of course you are," said Glinda.

She didn't look fazed by Hermione's argumentative demeanor, but Harry was a bit taken aback at it. She seemed a bit too riled up over a simple matter of hair dye.

"I like the color on you, actually. Just takes a bit to get used to. I mean, you hardly look like yourself. People probably won't even recognize you at the V-Ball."

Glinda's eyes then lit up and she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Ooh! I can't wait 'til the reactions!"

Shite! Harry hadn't even considered the idea that Hermione might actually want to go to the Victory Day Ball, he realized.

"The V-Ball," Hermione said, almost to herself. "I had almost forgotten about it."

Harry couldn't of course. He was basically the guest of honor every year.

The Ministry hosted the Victory Ball at Hogwarts each June to celebrate the end of the Second War and Voldemort's reign of terror. Technically the War had been over since April, but when Harry and Hermione went missing for weeks after the final defeat the wizarding society in the UK...hell, the wizarding world as a whole, all went to a crawl waiting for their boy hero to return to them.

Once he and Hermione reappeared at the Burrow near the end of May and the Ministry got word of this, plans were put into motion immediately to celebrate the return of the Chosen One, the Man Who Triumphed. On the 13th of June Scrimgeour hosted a gala at Hogwarts to bestow the Order of Merlin, First Class on Harry, as well as hand out other commendations and awards to Hermione, Ron, Remus, and many of the other Order of the Phoenix members. Harry didn't really want to go. In fact he wanted nothing to remind him of the ordeal he had just gone through. He was ready to have a normal existence that had nothing to do with Tom Riddle. As far as Harry was concerned that chapter of his life was over. But he couldn't turn down the chance to see his friends get recognition for all of their hard work and sacrifice. They deserved the honor, far more than he did in his opinion, so he agreed to go along with it. Ron in particular seemed quite excited at the prospect of such a grand party, but he kept mum over why. He just said that he had big plans. Harry shrugged the cryptic comment off.

The night of the ceremony he had been terribly proud of his two best friends as he watched them both receive medals for their heroics. Harry had also been so preoccupied by the way the soft glow from the oil lamps dotting the platform seemed to dance across Hermione's mass of curls, that he barely heard the Minister droning on and on at the lectern. But as he noticed Hermione's lovely face go from confusion, to disbelief, and then to out and out shock, he knew something big had happened. Harry, however, hadn't been prepared for Scrimgeour's little ambush as he tried to declare July 31^st Harry Potter Day.

He had been incensed! He threw the medal on the ground, stormed off the dais, and marched right out of the Great Hall. Ginny, his date, had tried to get his attention as he crossed the floor, but he only wanted to be left alone.

He ended up hiding out in the Room of Requirement. When he had walked back and forth before the door he had no idea what he would find on the other side, but he honestly hadn't been expecting his nursery from the Hollow. Like a zombie, he walked inside the blue and yellow wallpapered room with its teddy bears dancing and frolicking about, and plopped himself on the blue-gray carpet. His head lolled back onto the wooden crib, and he waited for Hermione to come find him. She would come, he knew she would. She alone would understand why he was so upset.

Riddle had already taken so much away from him. Now it was expected for his birthday to be forever linked with that demon too? Instead of quiet little gatherings with Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the rest of his make-shift family, he was supposed to endure ticker tape parades and long boring speeches about how wonderful he was for all eternity? Like hell he was! Harry wasn't going to stand for it! As soon as Hermione came through the door he was going to tell her that too.

But hours seemed to pass and Hermione didn't show.

Harry was starting to drift off to sleep when the door finally opened. Well it's about time, he nearly said before biting down on his tongue. There was no need to wind her up; he was just relieved that she had finally come for him. But when the door fully opened and the other person walked into the room, it wasn't quite who Harry had been expecting.

"MALFOY?!"

Harry jumped up from the floor and his hands automatically clenched into fists.

"Well if it isn't the Git Who Hid," Malfoy's oily voice drawled. "I figured you would come here to sulk. What happened, Potter," he said as he leaned against the closed door, "not enough toadies fawning over you downstairs?"

"Malfoy, you don't know shite about me so get the fuck out!"

Malfoy's lips curled into a smug smile as he crossed his arms in front of him.

"I don't think I want to."

"Why don't you just go back to the Great Hall," Harry said gruffly. "That is if the party is still going on."

"Oh, it's just breaking up."

Harry flinched. It was as if they didn't even care that he was upset.

"What? Thought that the world would come to a screeching halt just because you threw a hissy?"

"Go to Hell!" Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Been there," the blond said as he pushed off from the wall and walked arrogantly towards Harry. "The room service was dreadful and they forgot my complimentary mint on the pillow.

Harry wanted to break every bone in the git's body, but he was trying to control his temper. Hermione would be quite peeved if he physically attacked the wanker.

"You know, Azkaban would be well worth the trip if I could just make your ugly face disappear. PERMANENTLY!"

He could still threaten the hell out of Malfoy's life, though! But the Slytherin only laughed at what he perceived as merely an empty threat.

"Ah, but you see Potter, you can't kill me. You won't. You have too much 'honor'," his lips curled scornfully on the word, "in you to do a thing like that. Besides, you owe me."

Harry disgustedly snorted.

"And to think, Hermione actually believes you've changed."

Malfoy's superior smile dropped. Struck a nerve did we, Harry smirked.

"LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT!" Malfoy angrily said as he stuck out his chin towards Harry.

He then decided to change his assault.

"I got to dance with the Littlest Weasley," he said slyly.

"Thanks for telling me, I'll make sure Ginny gets sanitized."

"Prattles on and on about you, you know. She's quite annoying. The two of you are perfect for one another."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco moved closer to Harry and glided his fingertips across the top of the crib. The seemingly innocent gesture made Harry want to rearrange Malfoy's face.

"Danced with Hermione too," he said nonchalantly.

Harry stepped so close to Malfoy, that if someone had walked into the room at that exact moment, they would have thought they were interrupting a very intimate moment.

"You are nothing to her," Harry said in a low, deadly calm voice as he grabbed onto the fabric of Malfoy's dress robes and pulled the other young man towards him. "You will never be anything to her. Don't ever forget it."

"AND WHO ARE YOU?!" he spat in Harry's face.

"I'M HER BEST FRIEND!" Harry said as he shoved Malfoy back from him.

Malfoy scoffed. "Then why don't you go and be her best friend."

Harry gave Malfoy a blank look that made the blond roll his eyes and curse under his breath.

"I don't even know why I bothered," Malfoy muttered as he turned on his heel, crossed to the door, and pulled it open.

"FINALLY!" Harry said as he turned his back on him. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say if he wanted Malfoy to leave.

"You missed quite the floor show, Potter," Harry heard him say.

Harry didn't bother to look at him. He figured that if he ignored Malfoy long enough, the arse would eventually go away.

"Yes, it was quite the spectacle. The Red Menace actually got down on one knee and proposed to Hermione."

Harry's head snapped around.

"R-Ron asked Hermione to m-marry him?" he somehow asked although he had to wonder how he even managed it as there was currently no air in the room.

"He did indeed. A pretty impressive ring too. Can't imagine how he could afford it. But you sound shocked Potter. Don't tell me you didn't know about this."

Harry actually had no clue. Ron hadn't mentioned it to him. Of course to be fair he didn't like discussing Hermione much with Ron these days and Ron seemed to notice the fact. Still...this was the kind of thing you tell a best mate! Didn't Ron think that Harry might have liked to know about it?

"Of course I knew," Harry said as he looked at Malfoy dismissively. "It's a given that the two of them are going to get married sooner or later."

Malfoy snorted.

"So what did she say?" Harry tried to casually ask although his voice wavered. Anyone with even a drop of sensitivity to them would have noted his discomfort, but this was Malfoy after all. The jerk only shook his head and turned to the door again as if to leave without answering.

Harry felt an intense wave of anger burst forth from him, and suddenly the door swung closed and locked. Malfoy stepped back from it and turned rebellious eyes towards Harry.

"WHAT. DID. SHE. SAY?!"

Malfoy studied Harry's belligerent expression. Harry could see the conflict on the other man's face. It was obvious that Malfoy wanted to tell Harry something, but the need to aggravate him was almost as powerful. In the end the former purpose won out.

"You should go see about you friend," was his reply.

For a second Harry's heart seized in his chest and he stared helplessly at his nemesis.

"Is Hermione hurt? Is she alright?!"

"No," began Malfoy, "she isn't alright. Probably won't be for a long while."

He sighed.

"The party ended because...a messenger arrived. There was an accident. The Grangers' car...the Grangers are dead. Hermione..."

Harry didn't stay to hear the rest. The door to the Room of Requirement blew wide open as Harry went careening into the hall. He needed to find Hermione. He needed to talk to her. Comfort her. He had to be there for her like she had been there for him all these years.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

He found her sitting by the lake, her back resting against a tree. As he walked up she gave no hint that she noticed him even being there. Her eyes were looking at the surface of the water, but by the dreary, listless look to them Harry had to wonder if she even saw anything before her.

She had taken off the fancy blueberry robes that were sitting next to her and was dressed simply in an ivory blouse with tiny delicate buttons, and a calf length black skirt. Her legs and feet were bare; her shoes and hose were nowhere to be seen. Harry could almost imagine that he felt the sorrow coming from her in waves, but her face was for the most part expressionless. Her face was still blank when she finally looked up at him, reached for his hand, and placed an object in it.

"Here, you should have this," she said in a low, hollow tone.

Harry practically goggled at her. Of all of the things he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't one of them. He was so shocked at her odd behavior that it took him a moment to realize what she had placed in his hand. It was the Order of Merlin pin that he had thrown at Scrimgeour's feet. Harry distractedly put it in his pocket.

"I got it for you. I know you don't care anything about it, but one day your children might."

Harry didn't want to talk about the stupid medal.

"Hermione..."

Harry paused to think of something to say. What could he say to her? Sorry?

"Where's Ron, Hermione?" Harry asked as he slowly sunk down to the grass next to her.

"I think he went home," she murmured.

Her eyes still were looking ahead of her. A large tentacle broke the surface of the water and crashed back down, but Hermione didn't seem to notice the frolicking of the giant squid.

"I said some things that he wasn't too happy to hear," she absently continued.

Her words baffled him. He figured that she must still be in shock and was babbling nonsense.

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself," he said as he took one of her cold hands in his.

Hermione turned her head and the smallest trace of a smile emerged on her lips and lit up her eyes before she turned back to the lake. She squeezed his hand.

"I'm not."

He waited a moment, expecting her to say more, but she seemed perfectly fine to just sit quietly with him and just hold hands. Truthfully Harry would have been fine with this too.

"You should go find Ginny," she finally said after a few minutes. "She's worried about you. She was going to try and look for you, but Molly figured you just needed time by yourself to cool off."

She looked at him again.

"Your girlfriend could use some reassurance right now. She needs you."

"You need me right now."

Once again Harry thought he saw a bittersweet smile before it faded away.

"What happened, Hermione?"

"A car accident," she mumbled before chuckling darkly. "A car accident," she said again, bitterly this time.

"Hermione-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Harry. I just want to sit here."

"Alright," he said. "Then we'll just sit."

How long they sat beside the lake was anyone's guess. Eventually the giant squid grew weary of performing for them. But Harry was willing to sit there next to Hermione for as long as she needed him. He held onto her hand and tried to convey to her in that single act how much she meant to him, how much he cared for her, and how much he knew just how she felt. Dawn was just beginning to break across the sky when Hermione finally released her grasp.

"I should go," she said as she gathered her robes from the grass and began to stand up. "I need to go back to the Burrow and take care of a few things, make some arrangements, rent a car…" she said lethargically. "Nan is flying in later. I called her. She wants to be with me when I go to the m-mor...the m-morg…"

Hermione's whole body lurched forward as if the words were too heavy and caused her to lose her footing. Harry reached out to steady her, but she had already straightened herself and was standing firmly upright.

"She wants to be there when I go to collect my parents."

Her voice was so icy that Harry had to stave off the shiver it produced within him.

"I'll go with you."

She shook her head.

"That's sweet, but not necessary. Although Ron was quite furious with me, he offered as well. But I'll be fine."

She turned as if to go.

"Hermione-"

"I'll be fine!" she said again and began to walk away.

She had only gotten a few steps away when suddenly she turned back to Harry, a determined look sitting on her face.

"Can I ask you for a favor, though?"

He quickly advanced towards her.

"Anything! You know I'd do anything for you," he said and hoped that she believed how heartfelt the sentiment was.

"Reconsider what Scrimgeour was offering."

Anything but that! Harry's jaw actually dropped in shock at the suggestion. She couldn't be serious! He knew that she was grieving, but to actually ask that of him...

"Hermione..."

"Hear me out. I know that you just want to go on with your life and forget all that you have suffered because of that...that..."

Her face scrunched in disgust as she searched for the right word.

When she wasn't able to find it she morosely sighed and said, "Because of Voldemort. But you have to realize Harry that you aren't the only one who has suffered. All of us have lost...something because of the War."

She looked directly in his eyes and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"When you took down that bastard that wasn't just for you, Harry. It wasn't just your victory. All of us won! All of us won and the world must always remember that! Because there is always going to be another dark lord to fill the place of the last. It will never stop! Dumbledore killed Grindelwald and Voldemort followed right on his heels. Why? Because people became complacent, because people forgot what it was like to live in fear because of whom or what they are. They forgot what it was like to see loved ones killed for senseless reasons. They forgot because there was no reason to remember. But no one should ever forget what you did for our world."

Although her eyes were red and her face was splotchy and her eyes were pooled with tears, Hermione fiercely restrained herself from giving in to the misery and pain that was so intense her body shook from it. It was almost like she was forcing herself not to cry. But in a way it was alright. Harry's own face was wet with the tears that he'd shed for her.

"Please Harry, don't let them forget! Because then all of this would have been for n-nothing! And I have to b-believe th-that it was for s-something!"

Hermione threw her arms around Harry and clung to him desperately. He had to step his foot out behind him so as not to teeter back from the force of her embrace. His arms came around her to bring her closer as he tried to comfort her.

"Please, Harry! I have to believe that," he heard her whisper into his robes. Then she pulled away from him and ran across the lawn towards the castle.

Later that week, though his head was mostly filled with concern for his friend, Harry went to the Ministry to see Scrimgeour. Although he had behaved badly the night before, the Minister was more than happy to see him. Harry thanked him for his award and explained the reason for his visit; a proposition. More like a compromise. Although he was flattered that Scrimgeour would bestow upon his birthday the honor of a National holiday (Harry had nearly choked on the ridiculous lie), he felt that he was undeserving of such accolades, especially when he had had so much help defeating Voldemort. In fact, Harry said conspiratorially to the Minister, through out the whole ordeal and months of trying to bring down the evil wizard, it had almost felt like he'd had the power of the Ministry backing him all the way. Harry honestly didn't know how he kept a straight face through the conversation, but somehow he managed it. It was important that he get across to Scrimgeour that all of magical kind should feel responsible for Riddle's end, that he couldn't have done it with out everyone believing in him. It was bullshit, but it was good bullshit.

Of course Scrimgeour was too savvy to fall for Harry's spiel, but there was just enough of the politician in him to see how well such tripe would go over with the wizarding populace as a whole. Two days later Harry read in the Prophet the Ministry's plan to make the second Saturday in June Victory Day, a day of celebration for magical people all across the United Kingdom. Scrimgeour took the credit for the idea, but Harry didn't mind. Hermione actually smiled for the first time in days the morning the article was printed. Ginny playfully teased him at the Burrow's breakfast table that "Harry Potter Day" had a nicer ring to it, but seeing how proud he was of his accomplishment, she didn't tease him for too long.

"I haven't gone to a Victory Ball in ages," said Hermione. As a highly acclaimed War hero, she had a longstanding invitation to attend each year.

"And you're not going to this one!" shrieked Harry, voice nearly screeching with dread.

Everyone in the room looked at him as though he had gone mad. Harry didn't care, though. The idea of Hermione going out in public stirred up warning signals in his fevered head.

Glinda arched a dark eyebrow in his direction as she tossed her long, ink black hair over her shoulder.

"And what's to stop her? Planning on locking her in her room and tying her to the bed, Harry?"

The effect of such naughty imagery wasn't lost on him. It almost wasn't lost on the rest of the company in the room either, but Harry delicately shifted his position on the floor. It didn't help matters though that Hermione's cheeks turned pink as she looked at him and then quickly looked away again. Isn't that just great?! Now she didn't just think he was a pervert, she had actual proof of it.

"Er...um...It's just...you know...the papers…"

And the people who read papers…

"The media was always so harsh with Hermione."

"Oh fuck the Prophet," Glinda said, tossing off the curse word as though it were part of her normal day vocabulary, which it was. Woman had a mouth like a bloody dockworker.

As usual Fred was amused by just about every word his wife uttered.

"Here, here!" he said as he clapped his hands. George and Charlie joined in as well. One would have thought that they were at a Quidditch match, the way they were carrying on.

"In fact, fuck Bitch Weekly too! That's the problem with you magic people; so goddamned old-fashioned! So what if Hermione dated a bit?! She fooled around with a few men; big deal! I've done more!"

Ron's mouth popped open. He was completely scandalized.

"And a girl or two at uni!"

Even Charlie's eyebrows rose up on that one. Ron gulped, too mortified to speak. George and Fred only grinned. It was their regular entertainment to see Glinda on a tear. Sometimes they would set her off just to see what new combination of swear words she would invent. It looked like Hermione was also enjoying Glinda's rant and the discomfort that it produced in Ron, as well as Harry.

"That's what I've never gotten about your little insular world. Everyone acts as though you're supposed to marry the first bloke you ever kiss and have a house full of kidlets by time you turn 23. Sometimes life just doesn't work out that way. Sometimes you make a few wrong turns before you end up where you're actually supposed to be. Why those two bitches that are friends with Angelina act like I'm the one responsible for her and Freddie not working out when she's the one that slept around on him!"

Fred rubbed at Glinda's shoulder reassuringly, but she was warming up to her subject now.

"Every time they see me it's the same look in their eyes; usurper."

"Oh, you get usurper?" asked Hermione. "I used to get 'interloper' and 'social climbing Muggle-born'," she said with a mirthful glint in her eye.

"That's not funny, Hermione," Ron said sourly. "Don't make a joke of it! It's all that no-good Skeeter woman's fault. Making it out like Hermione was some...some...flirty floozy only out to date purebloods."

"But you, Wood, and Davies are purebloods," George said innocently. He jumped back when both Ron and Harry growled at him. Poor Lizzie went running from the room and into the kitchen.

"Skeeter made it into a bigger deal than it was," Harry muttered. "You know how much she hated Hermione since our Fourth Year. As soon as she became editor at the Prophet she used it as her personal pulpit to attack Hermione. When it started to turn profitable all the other papers jumped on the bandwagon."

Harry turned towards his best friend, trying his best to sway her from the idea of making such a public splash so soon.

"If you go it's just going to start up again."

He remembered well how many of those stories used to hurt Hermione, even though she tried her best to act as though they didn't. Harry, however, was shocked by her response.

"Let it," she said. "Glinda's right, to Hell with the press! I don't care what they say about me any more! The only people's opinions that really count know who I am, so it doesn't matter. Besides with all of those people who were at the Burrow after the party, I'm sure my reappearance has already made the rounds.

Harry didn't make a peep. He didn't share with them the fact that just the other day, right before he stopped in at the Burrow to talk with Charlie (and steal a few peeks at Hermione), he had paid a few visits to the guests who were the last to leave the Commencement. For a wizard as skilled as Harry it was really quite easy to erase just one small memory from a person's mind. They wouldn't even miss it. Of course Harry regretted taking such extreme measures, but really how else was he going to keep Marietta Edgecombe and her like from blabbing the news that Hermione was back all over town?

When he got to Neville's house however, Harry couldn't bring himself to callously take advantage of his old friend like that.

He had actually been surprised to find Neville still at home so late; Harry figured that he would probably have to stop at the store to catch him. But when Neville's house guest came down to the kitchen wearing only one of Neville's t-shirts and a smile, then ran right back up again at the sight of him, Harry grinningly understood the reason behind the late start to the brown haired wizard's day. Ten minutes later Candide came back downstairs looking very wrinkled, but gorgeous still in the same floral print sundress she had worn to Ron's engagement party. She apologized to Harry, gave Neville a long and passionate kiss goodbye, and strolled out the house.

Neville tried to play the whole thing off with as much modesty as he could, but Harry only laughed and gave him a congratulatory clap to the back. Once the male bonding was done, he told Neville that he needed him to keep mum on the fact that Hermione was back in England again. Harry was a bit unnerved when Neville guardedly asked him why, but Harry easily told him that it was because of a case he was working on that somewhat concerned their mutual friend. In a way it wasn't that much of a lie.

"Anyway, once I go to Ron's game everyone will know I'm back," added Hermione.

Ron practically jumped on her.

"You're coming to my game?!" he asked excitedly.

"Of course I am," she said as she smiled obligingly at him.

Just great, thought Harry irritably. She might as well call a press conference. He was almost disconsolate. What could he do, forbid her from going to both the Ball and the game? That was like asking if he wanted a black eye with his split lip.

"Good, it's all settled then," said Glinda. "Hermione goes to Ron's little thing-"

"LITTLE?!"

"...and the Victory Ball. And I get to buy a new gown."

Fred pulled Glinda back so he could look in her face.

"But you just bought a frock."

"Yes, luv, but Hermione's back now. I simply must get a new one!"

She turned back to Hermione as a huge smile spread across her face.

"We'll go into London, yes?"

Glinda's excitement was rubbing off on Hermione because her smile was just as gay.

"That sounds do-able."

"And," Glinda said as her eyes took on a sly glint, "you can let me drive Big Ben out there," she said nodding her head in the direction Hermione's truck was parked outside.

Hermione laughed at her shamelessness.

"I thought Muggles gave their motor vehicles female names?" Charlie asked as he chuckled.

Glinda smiled cheekily at her brother-in-law.

"I'm a feminist."

"And I'm the Maharajah," Hermione cracked.

"Well I'm the best friend," said Ron. "So if Glinda gets to drive Ben so do I."

Harry's ears perked up. He had been hoping to ask Hermione to let him take the truck out for a spin ever since he rode in it the day before.

"If Ron gets to drive it, I get to drive it."

Fred and George both sat up straight.

"OI!" they shouted in unison.

Hermione laughed at their jockeying for her favor.

"Who among you has a driver's license?" she asked in a professor-like tone.

Harry and Glinda both raised their hands cooperatively...like idiots. Harry had to laugh. He was starting to see that Hermione might have made a good kiddie teacher after all. However the joke was lost on Ron as he glared at both of them and scowled.

"Bloody tests!"

On a whim Ron had tried to get a license the same time that Harry did. He failed the exam brilliantly!

"You drive, Harry?" Hermione asked in a surprised voice.

"It was required for the Department. Sometimes we have to drive Muggle cars when we're undercover."

"Oh," she remarked. "Do you like it much? Being an Auror, that is?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He wanted to tell her about the Defense professorship that was awaiting him in September. He could just picture her amazement and the proud look that would be on her face. But he wanted to do it when it was just the two of them. He didn't want to share that moment with anyone else.

"It's alright, I guess," he said noncommittally. "For now, I mean."

Hermione, looking dissatisfied with the answer, tried to press him further but Charlie cut her off.

"Stop being so modest, Harry. According to Ginny we are all sitting in the presence of the future Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

What the hell was Charlie talking about?!

"When did Ginny say that to you?" Harry asked, appalled. Charlie had to have it wrong. Why on Earth would Ginny tell her brother something as ridiculous as that?

"She sent me a letter just last week. She's very proud of you, mate. Bragged on and on for pages about you."

"Ginny brags when Harry ties his laces correctly," Ron leaned over and stage whispered to George causing him to chortle loudly.

Ignoring Ron's remark, Hermione briskly said, "Well she's his wife, isn't she? Ginny should be proud of Harry!"

Hermione gave him a big smile that made him feel sick to the gills. Harry just hoped that he didn't visibly wince every time Hermione spoke the words "his wife." That would be just perfect...only not.

"Congratulations, Harry," she said. "That's wonderful news!"

Harry tried to correct her, tried to tell her that Ginny made the whole thing up, but she cut him off before he could.

"So how is Draco?"

Malfoy?! Why the hell did she have to bring him up?! Oh that's right, to drive you bat shite insane, he told himself.

"Is he even still with the Department? You all haven't mentioned him. Do you ever work together? Do you get to see him around the office much?"

Charlie, Fred, and George burst into laughter. George actually laughed so hard that he threw himself across the floor and practically rolled around on the carpet. The only comfort Harry found was that Ron at least looked as displeased as he felt.

"Oh, they work together...much," chuckled George.

Fred concurred.

"You could even say that they work side by side."

"They're quite the pair."

"Each other's better half."

"WOULD YOU TWO IDIOTS JUST SHUT UP, PLEASE?!" Ron looked between his two brothers and rolled his eyes. He then said to Hermione, "The Great Albino Ferret is Harry's partner."

Hermione laughed. Madly. She laughed so hard that she threw her head back and her arms wrapped around her as she fell against the frame of the couch. She laughed so hard that eventually she began gasping for air. But slowly the awareness that no one else was laughing along with her at the joke began to sink in. Her laughter began to peter out, her grin began to fade. She searched the faces of all those around her before shrilly saying, "BUT THEY WOULD KILL EACH OTHER!"

George picked up Harry's arm near him and pretended to feel for a pulse.

"Well he is a bit pale but..."

"Prat!" Harry snatched his arm away. "Yes, Malfoy and I are indeed partners."

Hermione's baffled expression was adorable.

"And...And you two get along?"

"Define get along?" asked Harry only half-jokingly.

"HARRY!"

"We get along well enough. We've never hexed each other in the line of duty," he said proudly as though that made all the difference. "He's still an arse, but Luna has been a calming influence on him, thankfully."

"Luna?"

Now Hermione looked completely perplexed.

"But what does Luna Lovegood have to do with Draco?"

Glinda grabbed Hermione's arm to turn her around. Her grin was nothing short of colossal.

"Oh ducky, have I a story to tell you."

And Glinda told it. Everything, warts and all! Harry watched Hermione's face intently as she was told that Malfoy and Luna was now an item. Harry was curious as to how she would take this news. He was rewarded with a non-reaction. Hermione gave no outward sign one way or another on how she felt about the pair. This didn't give Harry much comfort, though. It was beginning to dawn on Harry that somewhere along the way Hermione had become quite adept at hiding her true thoughts and emotions from him. He had to wonder just how long such had been the case. But Harry didn't have time to think on this long because Glinda reached the part in her tale where she explained just how Luna and Malfoy actually got together.

"YOU LEFT POOR LUNA AT THE ALTAR FOR LAVENDER?!" Hermione thundered as she whipped her head around towards Ron. "LAVENDER?!"

"What's wrong with Lav? She's a good sort!"

Hermione scoffed derisively at Ron.

"C'mon Blondie, don't be so hard on her," said Fred good-naturedly. "To tell you the truth, I can't help but admire any bird that was willing to take you on when it came to these two wankers," he said as he gestured to Harry and Ron.

"Lavender Brown? Take me on?" Hermione raised her nose arrogantly in the air. "Honestly."

"Now you must admit that sweet little jinx she hit you with at Ron's party was a winner."

Hermione was facing Fred therefore didn't see the frantic hand signals that Ron was making, trying in vain to get his brother's attention.

"Almost didn't think those ears were going to come off of you. It was brilliant!"

George looked questioningly at Ron.

"But I thought that you told me that you were the one that hexed Hermione that night?"

"WHAT?!"

Ron's eyes bugged out in terror as he looked first to George then towards Hermione.

"Dear merciful Merlin," he whimpered weakly.

Harry sighed resignedly. Batten down the hatches boys, Hurricane Hermione was about to roar through.

The incident Fred was referring to was one that Harry didn't actually get to witness for himself, but he had heard enough accounts of it to get a good idea of what actually took place. He had even heard a dramatic retelling of it on the wireless one evening as read from the Daily Prophet not too long after.

According to all the reliable (and some not too reliable) eyewitnesses, one evening, at a party to celebrate Ron finally making it onto the starting line up for the Cannons, Lavender jinxed Hermione with a pair of long, brown donkey ears that replaced her own. The spell had been so powerful that no one at the party could manage to get the ears off Hermione, not even the talented witch herself. Harry missed the whole thing, he had been...busy...in a corner with Ginny at the time, but as soon as they heard the ruckus coming from outside of the house, Harry ran out to investigate.

He found the crowd electrified by the scene they had just witnessed. Apparently Hermione and Oliver had been on a bench, sucking each others faces off, when Lavender approached Hermione to take her to task for throwing her relationship with Wood in poor Ron's face, especially at a party thrown in Ron's honor! Hermione tried to ignore the other young woman, but Lavender wasn't having it. She began to insult Hermione, calling her all sorts of names. Still Hermione ignored her and even tried to leave the party with Oliver before things got out of hand. Hermione would have gone quietly too if Lavender hadn't accused her of using Ron. It was that accusation alone that made Hermione come out swinging. She began to verbally spar with Lavender like a champ. Although Lavender was no slouch when it came to these sorts of catty confrontations, Hermione could get vicious with her own stinging barbs and jibes when pushed to it. And according to most there that night she put on an excellent show. Eventually Ron and Oliver entered the fray, and as a matter of course, wands came out and Hermione ended up with the ears.

When Harry reached the scene Hermione had already Disapparated away, Oliver and Ron were trading blows, and just about everyone was pulling out two-way mirrors or looking for the nearest floo grate so they could spread the gossip along. Once Harry got a grasp of the situation he told Ginny that he was going to go look for Hermione and quickly Disapparated on the spot. After checking her flat, his, the Burrow, and a few more places he eventually found her in a private room on the fourth floor at St. Mungo's.

As soon as Harry walked through the door his footsteps faltered and his eyes were drawn to the hairy ears. She was sitting up in a bed reading from a book about animal transfigurations that was in her lap. She looked up as soon as he opened the door and closed the book.

"I look like an arse."

Harry paused for a moment, somewhat unsure of what to say to that.

"But a very cute one," he finally settled on. He even added a surely goofy looking smile for good measure.

Hermione puckered up her face, determined not to smile at the remark.

"You will not make me laugh, Harry Potter. I'm quite alright stewing in my righteous indignation, thank you very much."

Harry chuckled. He approached the bed and sat down on the chair next to it, leaning in towards her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"What, Ron had nothing to say?"

"He...uh...Ron and Oliver were still...discussing matters when I left."

"Figures," she said with distaste. "I reckon one or both of them will show up here before long. I need to get the hell out of here before that happens."

"Sure. Right after you tell me your side of the story."

"What's to tell? Lavender just decided that I would look better with a set of ass' ears. Oh, that's right after telling me that I was acting like a tart."

"Were you?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him and Harry sat back in his chair.

"Don't you start with me! Maybe I shouldn't have been so...forward with Olie like that in front of Ron. But I honestly didn't know he was out there in the backyard. Plus I've had a few so I can't be blamed entirely for my actions."

Harry now understood how all of this confusion could have happened. Hermione was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. She couldn't handle the stuff. A single glass of champagne or wine made her giggly and loopy. A shot or two and she was just this side of dancing on tables. Half a flagon of Ogden's and either he or Ron was carrying her home over their shoulders. The next day she would hide her face in shame over her antics from the previous night. It was for this reason that she rarely drank. It was very hard for her to act all superior and high minded with him and Ron after one of their pub crawls if she could barely stand up or remember her name. She once told him that she didn't seem capable of making good decisions when in that condition. Bad things tended to happen. In fact, the last time, Wood happened.

But there was something that bothered Harry. He didn't recall Hermione drinking that night. When Hermione and Oliver first showed up at the party she and Harry had settled down on a worn couch and chatted away for hours. He had been keeping his distance from her for the last few weeks, due to Wood, but as soon as she appeared at the party Harry realized just how much he had missed her; her company, her laughter, the way the corners of her eyes would crinkle when she smiled just so. He didn't even mind that she babbled on and on about her work or the really cute thing that Crookshanks had done the other day.

In fact he missed her so much that he tried to convince her to move back in with him and Ron. He had never really gotten over her moving out. Just one day everything was happy in their little household, excluding a tense moment here and there between her and Ron, and the next her things were packed up and she was living in Brixton with Glinda whom she barely even knew at the time.

When Harry asked her about it she said that she needed to learn how to live without him and Ron always being there. The answer was painful to hear, but in a way he understood it. Hermione and Ron had been permanent fixtures in his world for nearly half of his life. They all were closer than close. Some even said too close. Harry knew that there were whispers about what went on behind their closed door...but that kind of thing didn't concern him. Just like it still didn't concern him. He wanted Hermione back with him...and Ron where she belonged.

He told her as much while the party raged on around them. She laughingly told him that she would have no place to sleep since Ron had turned her old room into a game room. Harry joked that she had to come back since he and Ron were just two helpless wankers who needed her to clean up after them and pay a third of the rent. She teased that he should have his girlfriend move in and do that for him. Harry rolled his eyes mirthfully. Ginny had told him very firmly that she would live with him only when she was Mrs. Harry Potter. Harry said this to Hermione. At that exact moment Ginny, who had been gossiping away with a few acquaintances, showed up and plopped herself in Harry's lap. Hermione told Ginny that her ears must have been burning, then timidly excused herself to go find her date. Thirty minutes later the drama started.

"You seemed alright when we were talking. I didn't notice that you were tipsy."

Hermione gave him a rather patronizing smile.

"Harry, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, you wouldn't notice it if a kelpie roller skated through the door and kicked you in the balls."

Harry's jaw dropped at the insinuation and at her language. As if he was really that thick!

"You know how Olie loves his whiskey. Well I took a sip out of his cup and...whoops...there went the world."

Harry glowered at Hermione. He was tired of hearing about Olie this and Olie that, thank you. If only she would stop this foolishness and go back to Ron...

"So what's going to happen with," he eyed the troubling appendages, "those?"

Hermione frowned and distractedly began nibbling on her lip.

"Nothing. For at least three days. Something must have gone wrong with Lavender's spell. Healer Wilkie thinks that she got the incantation mixed up in her head...the cow. The ears don't want to budge now. He gave me a potion, but it's going to take three whole days before they fall off and my own ears grow back in. THREE WHOLE DAYS! I'm absolutely mortified by the whole thing! I can just imagine tomorrow's headlines. And when I was filling out my paperwork in the waiting room everyone was looking and pointing at me."

Harry reached out and took a hand in his. He knew just what it felt like to have people look at him like he was a circus freak. He could sense that she appreciated the comforting gesture.

"Oh by the way, when I was filling out the forms I had to put down someone as my Medical Guardian. I chose you. You don't mind, do you? It's just...well...it would have been my parents but...or Ron...well..."

She sighed sadly.

"At any rate, if it's too much of a hassle..."

"Hermione, you know I'd do whatever you asked of me."

"I know."

She gave him a small smile as she removed his hand from hers.

"So what exactly do I have to do?" he asked.

"Nothing," she stated. "Harry you won't even have to worry about it. Trust me. The Guardian is just in place to make decisions for you in case something happens. But really it's just a formality, just a name to put on a blank line. I mean, I'm not like you and Ron, flying all about the place willing to break my neck for Quidditch."

The way she wrinkled her nose as she said the word so disdainfully made Harry snicker.

"Nothing ever happens to me," she said.

Harry folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Hermione, you've been turned into a cat, petrified by a basilisk, and you stayed in a coma for nearly a month...and that's just the highlight reel."

"Know-all prat!" she huffed as she fell back on the bed.

"Takes one to know one."

It was a good thing that he was already at a hospital. If the book she threw at him had actually connected with his skull, Harry would have had one monster of a headache.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, YOU HEXED ME?!"

Hermione was standing over Ron, arms planted on her hips, feet spread wide apart. She was gloriously enraged! Harry almost imagined he could feel the air crackle with electricity. Everyone was simply riveted by her fury. George even conjured up a bag of popcorn that he and Charlie passed back and forth between them. They munched away as they enjoyed the floor show.

"Just a little," Ron squeaked. He looked as though he were trying to make his large frame squeeze between the cushions of the sofa in order to get away from her.

"AND YOU JUST LET LAVENDER TAKE THE BLAME FOR IT ALL THIS TIME?!"

"She wanted to! She knew you'd kill me then if you knew that it was me that did it."

"I'M IN A MIND TO KILL YOU NOW!"

"It's not like I was aiming for you. You just got in the way," he foolishly tried to explain. "I wanted that git Wood! I bet you didn't even hear the things he was saying to me. He had the nerve to call Lav a substitute shag!"

"WELL IF THE BED SHEETS FIT!"

Ron jumped up from the couch and nearly dwarfed her. His eyes burned furiously.

"NOW YOU WAIT ONE MINUTE, MISS! DON'T YOU GO SAYING THAT ABOUT LAV! YOU WERE JUST AS RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT FIGHT."

"AND HOW DO YOU FIGURE THAT?!"

"IF YOU HADN'T ACTED LIKE A...LIKE A...A SCARL-"

Hermione rolled up the long sleeves of her sweatshirt. She fixed Ron with a determined glare.

"SAY IT AND YOU WALK DOWN THE AISLE WITH A LIMP, WEASLEY!"

By the look of her, Harry figured that she meant business. Ron must have thought so too because he actually paused to rethink his next words.

"You were trying to make me jealous!" he accused her.

Hermione laughed mockingly.

"Jealous? JEALOUS?! HA! Must have been a Thursday if I was trying to make you jealous."

Glinda giggled.

"Well you must admit Ducks; you did tend to turn into the kissing bandit as soon as you had a pint or two in you."

George began to choke on his popcorn. Charlie slapped him on the back helpfully. Hard.

Hermione's eyes fleetingly glanced at them before she turned her murderous gaze on Glinda.

"Oh please, that shite doesn't work on me and you know it," Glinda dismissively said with a smirk.

"Listen Hermione," interjected Ron, hands raised before him in surrender. "It was an honest accident. I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear," he said sincerely.

And then he grinned.

"Besides, it could have been much worse. I actually meant to turn Wood into a horse's ass. Who knew that Equusesco Asinusaugeo would do that?"

Harry dropped his head into his hands. Ron really could be an idiot at times.

Hermione made a sound that was a cross between a lion being bitch slapped and an elephant being circumcised. In other words, it was inhuman. She threw her hands in the air and seethingly stamped her way out of the room and into the kitchen.

"And they said those two crazy kids would never make it work. Oh wait..."

Glinda pinched Fred hard on his arm causing him to yowl in pain.

"I better go see about her," she said as she exited in the same direction as Hermione.

After a moment of silence Charlie said, "Well, that was...fun?"

Ron morosely sunk back onto the couch.

"She's never going to speak to me again, is she?"

Fred dismissively waved his hand at the question.

"Please! How many times have you said that before? And mum would always catch you two snogging somewhere shortly after."

A big grin then formed on his face as he looked down at Harry.

"Almost reminds you of old times, doesn't it mate?" he asked him.

Harry's heart sank. It sure did.

"I'm going to go talk to Hermione," Harry said avoiding Fred's question, as well as his look of concern.

Harry got up and left the living room. When he walked into the kitchen he saw that the sliding door to the patio was still open. Looking outside, he saw Hermione pushing Glinda in the tree swing. Lizzie was yipping and yapping as she cavorted around them. If Hermione was still mad he couldn't tell. The two women looked like they were enjoying themselves and Harry felt himself wanting to join them. He had even begun to walk out on the patio when an odd sound broke his stride. It was like a buzzing, humming sort of a noise. Harry looked all about him to see where it was coming from. When his eyes veered to the right of him he found the answer.

"Hermione's mobile."

Harry wasn't even aware of speaking the words aloud. The mobile was sitting on the maroon and crème striped cushioned bench that was a part of Hermione's old breakfast nook. Harry's head quickly turned back to look outside. Hermione obviously was too far away to hear her mobile go off. He had barely heard it. He just couldn't believe that she had been so careless to leave her phone out in the open. What was she thinking? Anyone could just walk right up to the table and pick it up, turn it on...answer it to see who was calling.

Harry slyly glanced out the doorway one more time before reaching for the phone.

As he picked it up he scolded himself for what he was about to do. He was about to invade Hermione's privacy...again! But Harry couldn't fight off the unmistakable curiosity that swelled inside him at the sight of the mobile as it vibrated in his hand. Just who was calling Hermione? Who needed to reach her? Here he was, Hermione's best friend, and he didn't even have her phone number. Then again he didn't have a phone in his house either, but that wasn't the issue here. Focus Potter, he told himself as his finger wavered over the little button that read "talk". He wondered if he could go through with it, could he actually sink this low? He then reminded himself that he had obliviated nearly a dozen people in the last forty-eight hours. His moral compass was obviously shot. Harry figured that after working with Malfoy for so long some of his Slytherin-y ways were finally rubbing off on him. Finding that excuse satisfactory, he prepared to answer the phone. Of course that was when it stopped vibrating.

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

Harry was so mad that he almost hurled the tiny gadget against the far wall, but thought better of it. In frustration he glanced down at the call screen, and just before the green light dimmed, he saw the name Collier on it.

Collier. Where have I heard the name Collier before, Harry painstakingly wondered. The answer seemed destined to elude him until he drifted back to his conversation with Hermione just the day before as they were out driving. Hermione had mentioned a Collier, didn't she? As Harry's mind began to recount the conversation he realized that Hermione had in fact mentioned some fellow named Collier. She said he was her friend. Harry, being a jealous arse, asked her just what kind of friend Collier was. And what did she do? She avoided the fucking question is what she did, Harry reminded himself. She was really good at that now, wasn't she? Then again if this Collier was Hermione's friend it would make sense for him to call her, see how she was doing; ask her if she'd had a safe trip. That was the friendly thing to do, was it not? What was one little call?

Harry's eyes looked outside again. Both women were now sitting on the grass, heads huddled closely together. Glinda was eating an apple while Hermione was trying to tear the rind off of an orange she had picked from the tree. Good, Harry thought to himself as he tried to figure out just how to look at the call log of the mobile. Although Harry had rarely used a mobile phone, quite frankly he had gotten used to using very little Muggle technology; he wasn't that inept when it came to operating them. His Aunt Petunia had given one to Dudley the summer that Hermione and Ron had stayed at Privet Drive with him. The human blimp had used it to order pizzas from his bedroom. Harry had politely asked him once to borrow it so Hermione could use it to call her mum and dad. The fact that Harry did so while purposefully twirling his wand through his fingers was arbitrary.

As soon as Harry accessed the menu he found what he was looking for. There were three options to choose from; Calls Made, Calls Missed, and Calls Received. Harry decided to see who Hermione had been calling first. The number of the last person she called was listed as Cynthia. If Harry recalled correctly that was her cousin's name. Finding nothing wrong with that, he then went to the next name, Collier.

"Ok," he said. "So she called him once. No harm."

Then he scrolled through the next seven names. Collier. Collier. Collier, and so on.

Harry didn't think he much cared for this Cauliflower fucker.

He irritably decided to look at the other lists. He went to Calls Missed. Once again there was Collier's name, mocking him. Harry unconsciously curled his upper lip at it. However the next few calls were all from a different person. Laurie.

Wonder who she is, Harry thought to himself. Shrugging it off, he was just about to look at the last call list when Ron came tiptoeing into the room.

"Do you think she still wants to kill me?"

The sound of Ron's voice spooked Harry to the point that he almost dropped Hermione's mobile on the ground. Discreetly he turned around as he hid his arms behind his back and gingerly placed the phone back onto the seat cushion. He prayed that Ron hadn't seen it in his hand. Since his back had been to the kitchen entrance it looked like he might just be that lucky. Ron didn't even seem to notice the phone sitting there. As Harry got a look at his friend's worried visage, Harry tried to make his own face register concern.

"Well," the redhead anxiously asked again, "do you?"

Harry shrugged as he crossed the floor to Ron.

"You know Hermione; she can't stay mad at you for long. I'm sure you two will eventually kiss and make-up," he said, his own words causing him to wince inwardly. It was almost like he enjoyed digging the knife in deeper.

Ron smiled broadly.

"You're right, Harry. That's our Hermione for you."

A tiny smile formed on Harry's lips.

"Yeah, it is."

The two men then looked out the patio door where the sound of Glinda shrieking could be heard. Lizzie was trying to eat the apple out of her hand as Hermione looked on, giggling. Harry smiled goofily at them before turning around to find Ron looking just as interested. This did not help Harry's already troubled state of mind. He decided then to get Ron's attention.

"So what do you think about her?" he asked him. "Hermione being back, I mean."

Ron's smile grew.

"It's great, isn't it? She looks good, doesn't she?"

"She looks alright, I guess," Harry tried to say lightly, though he couldn't look Ron in the face when he said it.

"Alright?! She looks fan-bloody-tastic!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry glared at him disapprovingly.

"Sorry, mate. I'm engaged, not dead."

Ron then chuckled and Harry was hard pressed not to join him.

"Then again you never did see her like I did, huh," he said as he clapped Harry on the back.

Harry wasn't in the mood to tell Ron how wrong he was.

"She acts a bit different though, don't you think? She seems kind of...distant."

Harry looked at Ron questioningly.

"If it wasn't for the fact that she hasn't lost her fondness for obese house pets and can still manage to make me want to piss my pants, I'd be asking her what her favorite jam flavor was."

"Orange marmalade," Harry said distractedly.

Ron's face screwed up.

"Really? I always thought it was boysenberry."

"That's your favorite, Ron."

"Oh yeah."

Harry shook his head at his friend.

"By any account, she's a bit freer spirited than when she lived here. Texas must have done her some good."

Harry nodded his head in agreement.

"She even has a tattoo."

"What?!"

Ron placed a finger low on the side of his back. Very low.

"Right about here."

"WHAT?!"

"Calm down, Harry. It's not like she lifted up her shirt and gave me a free look. Fred is the one who told me about it."

If Ron was trying to help matters he was doing a piss poor job of it.

"I said relax, Harry! Glinda was the one who noticed it. She saw it when Hermione was passing out the ice cream. Glinda whispered it to Fred, and he told us just now in there." he said jutting his thumb back towards the living room. "You also missed it when Glinda asked her about some of the places she's been. When Hermione mentioned Negril George, the prat, asked her if she had ever gone to one of those nudie beaches and went starkers. Get this; she said, 'when in Rome'."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"My reaction exactly! Glinda and Fred thought it was a laugh riot. 'When in Rome'...just what the hell do you suppose she meant? You think Hermione was having us on, Harry?"

Actually at the moment Harry was having a bit of a hard time thinking at all.

"That's why I was talking about Umbridge when you got back from the loo. I figured that something was needed to deflate the situation...if you understand me."

Harry did, but he couldn't say that the thought of a nude Umbridge was enough to do the trick, even for him.

"I didn't like the way that George was eyeing her after that, besides."

Harry gave Ron a mystified look.

"George? Eyeing Hermione?"

"Yeah," Ron said disparagingly. "I always had a feeling that the wanker was sweet on her."

"George? Sweet on Hermione?"

Harry was dumbfounded by all Ron was telling him. Hermione with a tattoo? Walking around starkers where he couldn't see? George fancying her? And then to top it off, Ron's overprotective tone. Harry felt like his brain was slowly leaking out of his ear.

"It doesn't matter one way or another," he said shaking his head. "It's not like Hermione would give George the time of day."

"Oi! What's wrong with my brother?"

Harry rolled his eyes irritably at Ron. The Weasley boys and their sister were famous for ridiculing, tormenting, and abusing each other. But let anyone say an unkind word about one of their siblings in their presence, even Percy, and they went into attack mode.

"Nothing, you git! I just don't see Hermione being interested in dating her ex-boyfriend's brother, do you? Besides, George really isn't her type, is he?"

At least I hope not, Harry thought to himself.

Ron grinned sheepishly.

"I suppose you're right, eh? I just hope she stays," he continued. "I just can't fight the feeling that one of these days Hermione's going to be right back out that door."

Ron's gloomy, yet profound statement sounded almost prophetic in Harry's ears.

"Yeah," he said.

"Then again," the redhead brightened, "something had to bring her back, right?"

Harry's eyes still looked to the ground.

"Yeah," he half-whispered again.

"Can anyone join the conversation, or are you lot thinking about chucking me from the band?"

Without them hearing her, Hermione had come back into the kitchen. She stealthily crept up between them while their backs were facing her, and wound her arms around both of their waists. She radiantly smiled up at them both. After getting over the initial surprise, Harry and Ron wrapped an arm around her bringing them all into a three way hug.

Ron looked down at her.

"I don't know," he said skeptically. "How are you on the bass?"

She wrinkled her nose as she cheekily said, "Dreadful! But I play a mean triangle."

Ron guffawed loudly as he dropped a wet kiss on her forehead.

"Forgive me?" he asked.

"Always," she answered. Her voice then cracked as she dropped against him and sobbed, "Oh Ron, I've missed you so much!"

Although he was standing right next to her, Harry felt as though he might as well have been miles away. The way she was looking at Ron made him feel like he had a clenched fist in his chest. He morosely wondered why she couldn't look at him that way. If he could have taken back all of his past mistakes, would she have ever looked at him that way? If things were different, could she look at him that way now? Then he reminded himself that regardless of the answer, it still wouldn't make a difference.

Ron, noticing Harry's heartsick expression, jovially nodded his head towards him.

"Don't be such a berk, Harry! You know that she's missed you too!"

At these words Hermione lifted her head off of Ron and looked Harry directly in the eyes.

"With all my heart," was all she said as she smiled sweetly at him.

It was as if that clenched fist in his chest loosened and began to caper and skip about inside him. As Harry tenderly gazed back at her, for all he knew, they were the only two people in the world. But then he came crashing back to reality.

"Ow, Ron! Your pocket just burned me!" Hermione squealed loudly, jumping back from both he and Ron.

"OH SHITE!"

Ron dove a hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a glowing blue compact. He turned around so that Harry and Hermione were facing him and opened it.

"H-Hi, Lav-Lav," he saccharinely cooed.

"RON, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" came the voice from the tiny mirror. Harry roared with laughter. Hermione giggled. Ron looked at them both pleadingly before looking back into the two-way.

"I'm at Harry's, luv."

"FUNNY THAT, RON. I'M AT HARRY'S!" the squeaky, teeny voice replied loud enough for all of them to hear. "YOUR SISTER IS HERE WITH ME AT THE PALACE TOO! SHE WOULD LIKE TO KNOW JUST WHERE IN THE HELL HER HUSBAND IS AS WELL!"

Harry's smile dropped. He began to feverishly make hand signals to Ron, trying to tell him not to say that he was in the room. He pretended not to see the odd look that Hermione shot him.

"Well...I, um...me and Harry stepped out for a bite. I was at his office, you see..."

Ron still couldn't lie for shite.

"And um...Harry had to step away. A case...a big, big case happened and I...uh..."

"ARE YOU LYING TO ME, RON?!"

Ron spluttered a few times, trying to deny the accusation before just giving up completely.

"I'll meet you at the flat, Ron," was all the reply that came back.

The mirror then ceased its glowing and Ron closed it.

"Well it's been fun, gotta go," he said hurriedly.

Hermione giggled.

"Ooh, someone is in trouble. Wonder if she'll spank you?"

"OH SHUT IT, HERMIONE!"

She giggled harder.

"Nice leash, small too. You can even use it to put your lip gloss on. When did you get it?" Harry asked him.

"Lavender gave it to me yesterday. Said that we needed to be able to reach each other quickly now that the wedding was so near."

Hermione tutted disgustedly.

"As though you can talk, Harry! Ginny gave you one too!"

"And I finally got the bollocks to get rid of it years ago."

Hermione looked at him quickly and asked, "You did?"

When Harry replied that indeed he had, she gave him a smile of approval.

"Good on you, Harry!"

Harry's chest puffed out at the praise.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ron testily muttered. "But Harry's already married; I'm still trying to get there. I need to be home before Lavender makes it to the flat or there will be hell to play."

Ron walked up to Hermione and gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek. Harry told himself if was brotherly, anyhow.

"I will see you later, yes?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

"Harry," Ron said, acknowledging his best friend.

Harry playfully turned his cheek to him waiting for his kiss goodbye too. Ron walked out the patio door muttering a dozen or so dirty insults concerning Harry under his breath. Once outside, he Disapparated away.

Harry and Hermione weren't in the kitchen by themselves for long. Soon Glinda came in saying that she had an hour left before she had to pick up Felicity from school. Harry was shocked to realize that it was the late afternoon and they had all squandered away the day. Glinda called out her husband's name and Fred came gamboling into the room.

"Blondie, you have an Anti-App on the house?"

Hermione jerked her thumb at Harry.

"Blame Super Auror, there."

"She needs some protection, doesn't she?" Harry asked defensively.

"Whatever," said Fred as he walked up to Glinda and scooped her up in his arms. Glinda squealed giddily. "Come wench!"

As they walked out of the door, Glinda promised to floo Hermione later. Fred called out over his shoulder that it would be much, much later. Harry and Hermione both knew exactly what that loaded statement meant.

Charlie and George then walked in the room.

"Where did Fred and Glinda go?" Charlie asked.

"Home," Hermione answered.

"And if I were you I would wait at least half an hour before popping off there," Harry advised.

Fred and Glinda were pretty notorious for shagging right on the living room carpet where just about anyone could floo, or Apparate in to see.

Charlie rolled his eyes skyward.

"I've never met a randier married couple than those two. I'm surprised that they only have Felicity the way they carry on," Charlie said shaking his head.

"Come home with me then," George offered.

"Ron and Lavender are there," Harry told him.

"Yes. Poor Lavender feels neglected apparently," Hermione said with all of the kindheartedness of a black widow spider.

Charlie sighed.

"Well, I guess it's off to mum and dad's for a bit," he said to George. Harry and Hermione laughed. "I hope you don't mind if I pinch a few pomegranates from you, Harry. I hear that they are beyond compare."

Harry said that he didn't mind at all. Charlie had never been to the Hollow, but all those who had always bragged on his tree and the yield of delicious fruit it bore year round.

"Funny how everyone seems to leave while the living room looks like a sty," Hermione tartly reproached them all

Charlie and George coyly averted their eyes from her causing her to shake her head.

"I'll take care of it for you," Harry said helpfully.

Hermione grinned at him.

"My hero."

George whispered to Charlie, loud enough for the benefit of the room, "Ever seen such a brown nose?"

Charlie tried not to laugh, especially when Harry gave them both such disapproving looks, but it was pointless.

Harry didn't care what they said. He couldn't leave the huge mess for Hermione to clean all by herself. And it was all his fault that everyone converged on her anyways. Cleaning up the living room was the least he could do. Besides one of the perks that came with being a wizard meant that it would take only a minute or two.

When he was done Harry walked back into the kitchen where he found Hermione sitting on top of the counter on the left of the double basin sink. George was leaning into her, whispering in her ear. Something he said made her laugh merrily and she gave him a playful smack on the arm. George would have been ashes if the Potter Death Glare was strong enough.

"Hem, hem."

Harry was trying his best to remain cool and calm.

The two of them looked in his direction. George grinned while Hermione, seeing Harry's strained smile, gave him a puzzled look.

"Pretty good Umbridge there, Harry. Next time just try it with a tad more sexual frustration," George advised as he stood up straight and leaned in to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek. If that wasn't bad enough, he had the gall to then give the other cheek a smack as well.

"Make sure you come to the store sometime this week," he told her.

"Just as long as nothing gives me a black eye again," she jested. George, in feigned solemnity, promised on his honor to make sure of it. He then cordially waved at Harry before walking out onto the patio. After that the sound of two separate Disapparitions was heard as well as the dog barking.

For a moment silence filled the sunny cottage kitchen. Hermione still sat atop the counter, her bare legs swinging back and forth, while Harry stood across the room from her in the doorway. They were alone together. Finally! It was nothing short of uncomfortable, and yet not unpleasant.

"So," she said when her eyes met his, then skirted away.

"So," he mumbled as his eyes did the same.

"I think..."

"Maybe we should..."

They both stopped and laughed as they realized that they were talking over each other. Harry came further into the kitchen and stood in front of Hermione.

"So did you enjoy your little makeshift housewarming?" he asked as he rested a hand on the counter next to her thigh.

"It was alright I guess," she nonchalantly said as she turned her eyes towards the ceiling pretending to be bored.

"Just alright? You even looked like you were enjoying laying into Ron again."

"Rather like riding a bike. I guess you never forget," she kidded. "Although I think I would have much preferred a nice kip than sitting around with you lot."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Harry joked.

"Doth not," she practically purred in such an enticing fashion, that Harry felt himself harden in his pants at just the sound of it.

How the fuck does she do that, he wondered. He leaned in closer to the cabinet in case she chose to look down.

"So, did you tidy up in there?" she asked him.

He gave her a winning smile.

"That I did," he said, very proud of himself. "All the trash was vanished."

"And what did you do with all of your mum's dishes?"

The cupboards and closets were still filled with his parents' linens, dishes, cutlery and the like and he gladly gave Hermione permission to use whatever she needed until she bought more of her own.

"I sent them to their proper places."

Hermione gave him an approving look.

"Very impressive, Mr. Potter. I'm pretty surprised that you even know cleaning charms. I just assumed that Dobby spoiled you rotten. Dobby and Ginny that is," she said as her lips that had started to smile twitched.

She hopped off of the counter and began to open the cabinet doors and drawers looking for the bowls they had been eating out of and the spoons and forks they used. After finding the cutlery and putting them in the sink, she bent down and looked in one of the cabinets giving Harry a fascinating view of her very round, pert bum.

"I never liked using Scourgify on dishes myself, though. I always found that the cups and plates were still a bit sticky. I always enjoyed cleaning the Muggle way. It always helped me relieve stress."

She stopped and looked back at Harry.

"Know what I mean?"

"Huh?"

Hermione shook her head and bent down again as she began to collect the bowls she found.

"Cleaning, Harry," she said. "It's a good way to get rid of any pent up frustrations, let loose some of the tension. You should try it," she said encouragingly as her lovely behind bobbed up and down before him.

"Yes...frustrated..." he absentmindedly mumbled.

As her sweatshirt began to slowly ride up, inch by inch of her skin was revealed. It was enough to turn Harry into a babbling Neanderthal. But then his eye caught sight of something that absolutely floored him. As if it had a mind of its own, his hand reached out to touch the piece of bare back that was exposed. Although his touch could have only been feather light, the infinitesimal moment of contact discomposed Hermione so much so that she cried out and dropped the bowls from her hand. As the dishes fell to the ground and shattered in dozens of odd shaped pieces, she wailed in dismay and dropped to the tiled floor. Harry fell to his knees as well and motioned for her to stop picking up the broken fragments with her bare hands. He reached into his robes, pulled his wand out of its holster, and waved it over the debris. Within seconds the bowls were mended as if they were brand new and Harry quickly healed the tiny nicks and cuts Hermione had received on her hands, knees, and legs.

Without saying a word, without even looking him in the eye, she gathered the bowls to her and hurried them into the sink. After turning on the water faucet she looked in a few drawers until she found a wash cloth, a towel, and a bar of soap. She didn't even realize that Harry had conjured them for her.

She just seemed terribly flustered and on edge, and looked like she was in need of something to focus her attention on. As Harry watched her rigid back he could feel the unease begin to roll off of her. Hermione looked like she was ready to go back to ignoring him once again, but now that he finally had her all to himself; Harry realized that he couldn't allow that to happen.

"You have a tattoo," he said simply.

She turned the water off and turned to face him.

"What are you on about?"

"I hope you're not going to deny it," he exasperatedly said. "Because Glinda saw it too and I don't care what she and Fred are doing right now, I'll floo her and have her confirm it."

She made a sound that meant she was quite vexed.

"I didn't deny it. I just asked what you were on about," she snootily said. Hermione then turned back around to the sink and dipped her hands into the water. "So I have a tattoo, big deal."

Harry had no idea where he found the stones to ask what he did next, but once the words were out of his mouth he didn't regret them.

"Can I see it?"

Hermione spun around to face him. Her amber-brown eyes went extraordinarily large.

"I, uh...I don't think that's appropriate, Harry."

Harry boldly stepped closer and never took his eyes off of her.

"Why not?" he confidently asked. "If it's no big deal that you have it, it should be no big deal for me to look at it, right?"

He winked slyly at Hermione.

One of his hands rested on the counter beside her, although he was mindful to give her enough space. He searched her eyes looking for the reaction that he was hoping for. Harry noticed a bit of sweat bead at her hairline, but paid it no heed. If he knew his Hermione Granger well enough, he was certain that no matter what, the woman would not stand down to a challenge. She was too stubborn, obstinate, and willful, and Merlin how he loved her for it! She had once been willing to stare down anyone for him, be it a Dursley or Tom Riddle and she never hesitated to take him to task when she felt he deserved it. So now he had thrown down the gauntlet he waited patiently for her response. He got it in the form of her stomping her foot, turning around, and lifting her shirt up.

Although Harry wasn't sure of what he might have done, he could only conclude that in another life he had been a very good boy. Sure Hermione only lifted the shirt far enough so that Harry could get a peek at her lower back, but what he did see was heavenly. He even got down on his knees so he could give the tattoo a thorough inspection. When he placed his palm on her skin, it seemed to warm to his touch and tremble just so. Oh how he wanted to glide his tongue against the small area where her back dimpled inward! But Harry retained an outward semblance of control and went about the whole thing as though he was just satisfying a mild curiosity.

Before the temptation to hoist her up against the sink and take her right on the counter top could play itself fully out as it did in his head, he yanked the shirt down and stood up.

"N-nice," he said in a low, thick voice.

She turned around and folded her arms in front of her.

"Nice?!" she asked incredulously.

Harry dumbly nodded his head.

"What is it? Looks like a cartoon?"

"It's Bambi."

Harry's blank stare seemed to annoy her.

"Haven't you ever heard of the movie Bambi? Forest fire, dead mum, inappropriately named character called Thumper? It had everything that's needed to make a great children's classic."

Harry only scratched his head.

"Harry really, you were raised by Muggles-"

"Yes Hermione, we've established that."

She sniffed at his remark.

"Well Bambi was a fawn, a baby deer."

"Why would you want to put the picture of a baby deer on yourself?"

"It's not that I wanted it. It's just...I..." she paused trying to clarify. "Let's see...how can I explain this properly?"

Understanding dawned on Harry quickly.

"You were ripped to the tits weren't you?"

"And how!" Hermione said in shame as she cupped her red cheeks. "One night my stupid roommates and I were so pissed that we decided to get tattoos. I was moving out and we wanted to have something to always remember each other by."

She looked at him anxiously.

"I don't know, I think I might have been the one to suggest it."

Harry placed his hands on his knees and bent himself over to laugh. She was just so darned cute when she got that helpless look in her eyes.

"Laugh it up, Potter!" she irritably snapped, only causing him to laugh harder.

When his laughter finally settled, she continued with her story.

"We ended up in this dodgy little place in Fort Worth. Amy picked out mine. She thought it would be cute. Benny made her, the tiniest blue eyed, blonde haired Southern Belle you could ever meet, get a skull and cross bones on her shoulder. I'm not even going to tell you where he has 'I HEART MUM', emblazoned for life," she said.

Harry sniggered.

"You really are a terrible drunk."

"I know," she said forlornly. "And I do almost everything else so well!"

Harry chuckled harder.

"Every time I drink I just end up doing something I eventually regret! The last time I..."

Hermione's eyes bulged. It was obvious that she was about to say something that she didn't want Harry to hear. That only meant that Harry would not rest until she told him.

"You what?"

She cracked an innocent smile.

"I think I hear Lizzie calling. Oh Lizzie," she called as she tried to run out onto the patio. Harry blocked her path. She gave him a displeased look before walking back to the sink and leaning against the counter.

"You what?" Harry asked again as he stood before her.

Hermione rolled her eyes before looking down at her feet and mumbling, "I kissed George."

Harry laughed.

"I'm sorry, you have to speak louder. It almost sounded like you said you kissed George."

Hermione turned her big brown, guilty eyes up towards him.

"YOU KISSED GEORGE?!"

Hermione decided to channel Ron.

"Just a little," she squeaked.

All Harry could do was spit and splutter. I'll be a boggart's uncle, he thought to himself. Ron had actually been on to something!

"Oh relax, dad," she said in distaste. "It was no big deal! He kissed me too!"

"NOT HELPING, HERMIONE!"

"We were both drinking, Harry! Three sheets to the wind, banjanxed out of our gourds," she said simply. "And we both instantly regretted it."

"But Ron thinks George fancies you!"

Hermione smiled amusedly.

"George? Fancy me? Honestly! I assure you that George Weasley does not fancy me. The look of utter revulsion on his face after our ill-fated smooch was enough to confirm that fact. If I wasn't already so disgusted with myself my ego would have been severely bruised!"

"Did you kiss Fred too?!"

Harry knew he was being a git to ask, but he just couldn't control his jealousy. It almost felt like everyone had gotten a crack at Hermione. Everyone, but him.

"As if Fred would have me! I'm nowhere near exotic enough."

This was true. Harry still would have preferred it if she had simply said no.

"You make it sound like I have some Weasley fetish. True I once fancied Percy, but that was ages before I realized what an arse he was."

"Percy?!"

"Well he was Head Boy. Don't give me that look. The Weasleys are a good looking lot!"

Harry folded his arms and shook his head in disbelief. "What's a bloke got to do to get noticed around here? Dye his hair red?"

"Oh, you're attractive too. Sort of. If I tilt my head like this. And squint."

And she did just that.

"Cute. Does anyone know about this, the George thing?"

"I've never told anyone, certainly not Ron. And I'm pretty sure George didn't say anything to Fred because if he did Fred would have told his wife. And if Glinda knew I would never have heard the end of it. Actually the only person who might have known was-"

"If you say Malfoy..."

"Why would Draco know something like that? No, I was going to say your wife."

Harry was in shock.

"Ginny?!"

"It was after one of those little gatherings leading up to your wedding. George and I were out in the backyard at the Burrow sharing a bottle of absinthe. I don't know what he was drinking to forget but I..."

Hermione's face took on a pained look as her voice trembled and her eyes flickered to his and then darted away. She tried to avoid his eyes.

"It was as we were pulling away from each other that Ginny walked out into the yard."

This information absolutely astounded Harry.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Like I was trying to say before, I was never really sure that Ginny even saw anything. She didn't mention it. She just asked us if we knew where you were and walked back into the house."

Harry released his breath. That made far more sense to him.

"She must not have seen then. If she did Ginny would have told me," he confidently said.

Hermione then mumbled something so unintelligible that had Harry not been paying such close attention to her he might have missed it altogether.

"Like your wife tells you everything."

Harry bemusedly asked, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

She looked straight at him and smiled.

"Un-ruffle the feathers, Potter. All I mean is that all wives rarely tell their husbands every little thing. If they did then all the mystery would go out the marriage. Besides, I'm sure you don't tell your wife everything. Do you?"

It was time now for Harry to avert his eyes.

"Exactly."

Harry was not amused. In fact he was getting more agitated by the second. There was something about this conversation that just wasn't sitting well with him, but he couldn't put his finger on what it could be.

"So if George doesn't fancy you what was all that whispering about when I walked in on you two earlier?"

"Oh that?"

She turned her back to him as she put her hands in the water and began to wash the few dishes in it.

"That was just George being a plonker, asking me if I had come to town to stop Ron's wedding. Honestly."

Although Harry could hear the amusement in Hermione's voice, he still flinched at what she said. George had actually put it out there in the open. George had actually asked the question that Harry had been too frightened to hear the answer to. Because in his mind it all added up. Why else would Hermione come tearing back home after being gone for so long? It made perfect sense to Harry. She had already proved time and time again that when it came to Ron she did things completely out of character for herself. Why not interrupt his wedding ceremony, beg him to take her back, run off with the groom and have a house full of redheaded children? Ron had already dumped one bride at the altar. Why not go for a second? Because there was no way that he would choose Lavender over Hermione. Harry knew this without a doubt. What man in his right mind would just throw away the opportunity to be with Hermione?

As all of these thoughts ran through Harry's mind, his silence made Hermione turn from what she was doing and look at his troubled, distracted face. Before he could erase the expression that was on it, she gasped as her eyes grew large.

"Oh my God! You think I came back to stop the wedding! Don't you?"

"Well," he began, unsure at first of how to continue...if he wanted to continue. "Have you?"

Hermione removed her hands from the sink and shook the water off of them before using them to cover her mouth.

"OH MY GOD!" she said again.

"Did you come home to England to win Ron back? Is that what you're really doing here, Hermione?"

It absolutely killed Harry to say these words, but he had to know. It wasn't as if he could stop her or change her mind if such was the case. But he had to know the truth!

"I don't know whether to laugh or to hit you." She still sounded as though she thought he was telling her a joke.

He growled at her.

"And once again you avoid a direct fucking question. Why can't you stick to the topic?!"

"Oh, there's a topic?" she asked in an immensely superior tone that made Harry grind his teeth together. "I thought you were just stringing along nonsense words hoping to make a coherent sentence out of them."

"You and Ron looked awfully chummy out there on the couch earlier."

"So did Glinda and I. Think I'm trying to get in her pants too?"

Harry ignored the smart-alecky quip.

"You started a fight with him," he said crossing his arms over his chest. "Trying to relieve some of that old sexual tension, Hermione?"

"Sexual tension, are you mad?!" she exclaimed as she searched Harry's face trying to see if he really were out of his mind. "Sure I wanted to knock Ron down, but to strangle him! Not to have my wanton way with him."

Hermione then began to giggle.

"What could possibly make you think that I have any intention of trying to stop Ron from marrying that scatter brained halfwit of his?"

Harry looked pointedly at her. "Well that for example," he said as he jabbed a finger in the air at her. "Why are you constantly harping on Lavender? Jealous maybe?"

This accusation only made her giggle to the point of hiccups. Harry was beginning to feel very silly all of a sudden.

"Jealous?!"

She said the word as if it were the most improbable thing ever.

"Jealous?! Honestly," she dismissively snickered as she rolled her eyes.

"ARGH! I hate it when you take that tone with me," he yelled in frustration. "It makes me very angry."

And a little horny, a voice said to him. It looked like the devil in his pants had decided to come back out and play.

"And annoyed."

And a little bit horny, it said again.

"And it makes me want to...to..."

Shag the living daylights out of you!!!

Harry tore at his hair as he yowled in aggravation. He turned his back to her and walked towards the kitchen table. He threw himself onto the cushioned bench, placed his elbows on the table, and dropped his face into his hands. Now was not the fucking time for his trousers to want to get involved in this!

"Ok," he heard her say in bewilderment. When he looked up again she was standing right beside him. She motioned for him to budge over. He hesitated for only a moment before doing so.

As she slid over on the bench she looked at him warily, as if she were awaiting his next outburst cautiously.

"I'm not jealous of Lavender," Hermione reiterated as she placed her hands on the table and clasped them together. "I just can't stand the sight of her smug face, is all. And that simpering little way she speaks. And if you ever had to endure her singing in the morning you would swear that there was no God up in heaven!"

Hermione was warming to her subject now.

"And then there is the way she clings to Ron like a burr! And..."

"But you're not jealous, right?" he asked archly.

"I'm not actually!" she exasperatedly said. "Just protective. I want the best for Ron just like I want...wanted it for you. But Lavender just isn't good enough for him!"

He asked in a tight, almost hurt voice, "And I suppose you are?"

She pulled back from him, amazed.

"Me?" she asked. "I love Ron too much to ever wish myself on him again!"

Harry was floored!

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but closed it abruptly. She then asked, "Have you ever taken the time to ponder on how utterly amazing Ron Weasley is?"

The question completely threw him.

"Ye...no."

She laughed.

"You know you are absolutely adorable when your mind thinks in two different directions at once," she said, playfully nudging his shoulder.

Harry didn't quite know how to take the compliment. After all, infants were adorable, and tree sprites...and jarvey pups before their mouths got too filthy. Harry wasn't so sure that he liked being called adorable.

"Ron is the best friend to top all best friends," she began. "A partner in crime, a confidant; he is loyal almost to a fault. And when he loves you he does it fiercely. Sure he has had his moments, but when he finally grew up he was more than happy to stand behind you, be your support system. Why? Because you needed him. And he needed you. I think that's why I was so upset when you two were acting so coldly to each other back during the Triwizard competition. I couldn't stand the idea of anything coming between you two."

Her eyes misted for a second before she shook her head bravely, straightened her shoulders, and pressed on.

"Ron didn't care if he didn't have the spotlight as long as you were alright. He stopped caring that others only saw him as the sidekick, second best to you. It didn't matter to him," she said, lovingly placing a hand on his cheek.

"Not like you mattered to him. But it mattered to me," she sadly said as she slowly removed her hand.

Harry missed her touch immeasurably.

"Ron deserved the best kind of love," she continued. "He used to tell me how he felt lost in the shuffle of his family and he was so accepting of that. It hurt my heart that he could feel that way. So I was determined to make it better for him. I just knew that I could be the one that loved him best. I was certain that it was supposed to be me. And he wanted it to be me so badly. But eventually I realized that we were both wrong."

Hermione sniffed loudly and leaned back on the bench. She wiped a hand across her right eye before folding her arms over her stomach.

"You know how I hate to be wrong about anything," she said as she cracked a wobbly smile.

Harry returned it as he leaned back as well.

"That's why I fought it for so long. I thought that I could make everything right by the strength of my own will. I mean, I was still attracted to Ron and he still made me laugh. And we never had any problems in the bedroo-"

At the sight of Harry's stricken face Hermione paused.

"Sorry," she sheepishly apologized.

She cleared her throat as she sat back up to continue.

"It was for these reasons and...others...that I tried to make it work. I tried to force myself to make it work. I kept going back to Ron because I would tell myself that this would be the time that it would work. And there were even instances that I almost fooled myself into believing it. But I could never really give Ron all of me."

She turned her head and held his gaze intensely.

"Does that make sense?"

Harry only nodded his head. He was amazed at her honesty.

"The truth is I didn't want to give him that part of myself that I held back. I felt like it was wrong. It didn't belong to him! But the worse part is that Ron somehow knew all of this. He could sense that I stayed with him out of some sense of obligation...fealty. And he was willing to accept even that. That wasn't fair to him! And it wasn't fair to me. That's why Ron and I had to end it finally. That last break-up? It hurt like hell, but it needed to be done because eventually Ron and I would have ended up hating each other. And I couldn't live with that happening. That's why out of all of my regrets that has never been one of them. Do you get me now?"

Harry did. He could now see that the playfulness and easy-going vibe that he had witnessed between Ron and Hermione had no other connotation other than two dear old friends who had finally made peace with one another. If he thought about it they were almost like siblings; laughing, teasing, making each other insanely annoyed. He felt almost foolish for letting his jealousy blind him as it did. Just that easily most of his qualms and insecurities dissolved away into nothingness.

"I do not want to stop Ron's wedding. I want to be there on the day that he marries the woman that he loves. And I'm more than ok with that person not being me."

"Ron told you that he loved Lavender?"

Hermione quirked a smile.

"He didn't have to. I saw the way that he looked at her and just knew."

The smile then dropped.

"That doesn't mean that I have to like her, though." She got up from the breakfast nook and walked back to the sink. A lighthearted smile formed on Harry's lips. The woman could hold one hell of a grudge when she set her mind to it.

"No, you don't have to like her," he said as he crossed to her. "But could you cut her a little slack for Ron's sake?" he asked. "Say what you like about Lavender, and believe me I have, she loves our best mate. Religiously, almost."

Hermione tutted at the sentiment.

"She laughs at all of his jokes...unfortunately," Harry said, grimacing a bit. "She fights tooth and nail for him when the twins have a go. Did you know she's been to all of his games, even when he was warming the bench for Chudley?"

"Like I was just going to go to some silly match like some lobotomized Quidditch girlfriend and watch a few blokes I didn't even know fly into a goal post just to-"

"Hermione!"

"Sorry."

Harry shook his head as he turned her around by her shoulders to face him.

"Point is, if you want the best for Ron you are going to have to accept that Lavender just might be it."

Although she was rolling her eyes again, he could tell that he was getting through to her.

"Besides, who else will have the big lummox?"

Her lips twitched ever so slightly and Harry knew he had her. His grin widened.

"You just hate it when I'm right, don't you?"

"I don't hate it," she said as her eyebrow arched upward. "It just happens so rarely that it gives me pause is all."

"Whatever. So you will lay off of Lavender?

Hermione held her right hand up, palm facing forward.

"Starting tomorrow I will never say another disparaging word against that blonde, big breasted, bubbleheaded blabbermouth."

Harry was impressed by the alliteration, but he still gave her a disappointed frown.

"WHAT?! I said tomorrow!"

She put her hand down.

He tried his best not to laugh although he found it a very difficult task. Hermione smirked and went back to the sink.

"But when you're made the godfather of little Lilac Weasley just remember that I was the lone voice of reason through out all of this."

At this Harry did laugh. Not just because he found it humorous, but because he could easily see Lavender picking out the ridiculous name and Ron stupidly agreeing to it.

Hermione picked up the towel and held it out in his direction. Harry, understanding the gesture, unzipped his work robes and laid them over the table. He also took off his holster. Harry then rolled up his dress shirt sleeves, walked over, and took the towel. He noted the appraising look she had been giving him as he took off his uniform and almost fooled himself into thinking that she was checking him out.

Hermione began to wash the assorted dishes, handing each one over to Harry to dry. After he dried a piece, he put it in its appropriate drawer or cabinet. In companionable silence they went about this little chore, although every time Hermione handed him a bowl or a spoon and their hands brushed up against each other Harry had to wonder if the electrical charge he felt was all a part of his psychosis, merely his wishful thinking. To take his mind off of this he tried to make pleasant conversation.

"So," he said glancing at her sweatshirt, "Longhorns do it better?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and a mischievous smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

"Are you asking me or propositioning me?"

Harry nearly fumbled the last bowl in his hand. It was almost hard to believe he had once been a world-class Seeker. When the bowl was safely in its cabinet, he took a peek at Hermione's pleased smile, and deciding to throw caution to the wind, figured that as long as she was in such a teasing mood he was well within his rights to test the boundaries of it.

"You're flirting with me."

It was more of a fishing experiment than a statement. Harry was beginning to notice an interesting pattern. Whenever he and Hermione were in the company of others he could practically touch the wall that she put up between him and herself. Ron was right; she did come off rather distant. But to Harry she might has well have been on the other side of the moon. It was as if she would rather focus her attention on anyone but him. But when they were alone? When it was just the two of them, whatever barrier she tried to erect didn't stand a chance against Harry and Hermione doing what they did best, just being Harry and Hermione. And truth told she had been a bit flirty with him. Then again he had been acting like she was a jar of honey and he was a bear trying to get his paw in the pot. He really had no room to talk.

Hermione's self-satisfied smirk quickly fell and she looked at him as though he had whispered that there was a cell of Death Eaters in the next room.

"WHAT?!"

"It just seems like you've been flirting with me, is all," Harry said coolly although he could feel his feet sweating in their boots.

She turned her head from him and said briskly, "Don't be silly, Harry."

She continued to wash the same spoon over and over again.

Harry was terribly put out. She completely dismissed the idea that she could possibly flirt with him, find him attractive. What was so wrong with him?

"What's so wrong with me?" he asked childishly.

"Oh Harry, you're still fanciable."

Although he should have been pleased with the compliment, the fact that she barely glanced at him when she said it spoke volumes to Harry. She thought he was good looking, just not to her. Just not for her.

"You used to flirt with Malfoy," he accusingly said.

Hermione scoffed. "I never flirted with Draco, he would flirt with me."

"Malfoy would flirt with a bowl of cornflakes if he thought it would get him somewhere. But you," he peevishly said eyeing her up and down, "you used to encourage him."

"I nev-"

Harry turned to face her fully and gave her a piercing look.

"Alright. Maybe I flirted a little," she conceded. "But that was how Draco and I got along. That was our...thing," Hermione said, trying to explain her position. Harry wanted to kick something, preferably Draco Malfoy's lily white arse. "That and witty banter, that is. You and I," she warily eyed Harry before turning back to the sink, "we never had that."

"Witty banter?"

"No, flirting. That...that was never a part of our relationship before. It wasn't our 'thing'." She turned back to the dishes.

Harry looked at her wondrously.

"We had a 'thing'?"

Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

"Of course we did."

The answer pleased Harry and he smiled to himself. Of course they did.

Just not the thing he wanted, Harry wistfully sighed.

"So the shirt," Harry said, trying to clear his head of his unrequited feelings and referencing her sweatshirt again.

"It's the University of Texas," she said as she turned towards him and smoothed down the front of it. "Someone I knew once went there. I can't tell you how glad I am that I'll never have to go to another Shootout as long as I live."

Harry looked at her quizzically.

"It's this football game," she explained. "I went to it almost every year. Not like our football, mind you. Then again all sports are the same to me."

"So was it Amy or Benny?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow and said, "Excuse me?"

"The friend," Harry said, trying to make himself clear, as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "You said a friend went there."

Hermione blinked her eyes at him before turning away from him.

"Neither," she said in an even, casual tone that grated on Harry's nerve.

She hopped up on the counter on the other side of the basin.

"I actually took some courses there myself," said Hermione.

Whereas a moment before he had been irritably wondering if this friend of Hermione's was that Cauliflower person, who made her go to football games and had called her an obscenely amount of times, this information piqued his interest.

"Really?"

She nodded. "I was considering actually becoming a full-fledged teacher but I...I just couldn't find the time. But I did enjoy a lot of my classes; American Literature, anthropology, a simply divine art history class. The professor wasn't that bad either," she said as she smiled saucily.

Harry simply rolled his eyes.

"There was even a psychology course or two," she continued.

"I thought you hated psychology?" he inquired.

"No, I said I hated a psychologist," she primly informed him. "I never saw a good reason to hold that against the entire field though, hmm?"

She eyed him inquisitively.

"Like you obviously," she said. "What happened to you, a therapist told you that you had an Oedipus complex or something?"

Although Harry knew that she must have made one of her little jokes judging by her amused grin, he shook his head and ignored it.

"I saw a psychotherapist." Harry frowned. "Psycho is the operative word. I only saw the git once."

Hermione's smile faded as she looked at him worriedly.

"Why? What for?"

Harry nearly beat his head into the counter top. Good going Potter, he practically shouted at himself.

"Oh nothing," he casually said and tried to smile innocently. "Just some dreams I had been having."

"Oh?"

Since Harry was smiling she smiled as well.

"Sounds interesting, what were they about?"

"Hmm?"

"The dreams," she said, "what were they about?"

Harry's mind clouded over. Your lips. Your hair. The way you giggle when I kiss the pads of your feet. The moan that escapes your throat when your back arches just so...

"I rather not talk about it," he said as his eyes guiltily darted away from her. He missed the frown that settled on her face. "It doesn't matter anyhow."

Harry hadn't actually had another one of those dreams since the night before Ron's party. That made for three days now. Although they had driven him to the point of madness, Harry now found himself missing them terribly. But in a way it was a blessing in disguise. Ginny had moved back into their bedroom, permanently it would seem.

"Alright," she said, voice unsure as she looked at him warily. "So this therapist was of no help to you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not much I'm afraid."

"That's a shame," Hermione said. "I actually find a lot of merit in the field. I've read quite a few books, especially on dream analysis."

"I have too," Harry said dismissively. "Dream books, oneiromancy..."

"Dream books? Oneiromancy?! Oh Harry," she said giving him a rather pitying look.

"It's a legitimate field!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm talking Jung, Alder, Perls, and Freud, Harry. Not Sybil Trelawney doused in cooking sherry!"

Looking at the bewildered expression on Harry's face Hermione sighed.

"Have you never heard of Sigmund Freud?"

When Harry gave her a blank face in answer, Hermione continued.

"Some people like to think of him as the father of modern psychology. He had a whole theory about dreams," she explained. "He believed that nothing we do occurs by chance, that our unconscious selves motivate every action we make. When you repress all of your urges and impulses, generally those of a sexual nature, they have to manifest themselves in some form, right?" she asked him.

"So they do it in dreams," Harry said.

"That's right. But Freud was a bit of a degenerate, in my opinion. To him everything was about sex, sex, sex."

Harry gulped anxiously.

"But then there is the Jung school of thought," she continued. "Whereas Freud saw everything as sexual and animalistic, Jung saw dreams as being more spiritual. That our dreams provided us with what could make us whole."

"I...I like this Jung fellow," Harry said in a slightly strained voice.

"I kind of like that Jung fellow too," Hermione said with a small smile.

"You know a lot about dreams."

Hermione's smile wavered, but held.

"I've had a bit of a vested interest in understanding them, you could say."

"Well let's say this...oh, I don't know...random bloke had been having these dreams," Harry said as he came closer to her.

His face paled.

"Very detailed dreams. And let's say that all of a sudden they just stopped," he said, looking her in the eye. "What do you make of that?" he asked.

"Are we talking hypothetically or are we talking you?"

"Just humor me, Hermione," Harry said huffily.

Fighting back a giggle she said, "Well 'Hypothetical Man'..."

The giggle escaped.

"He must have achieved his goal. Yes?"

"Decidedly not."

"Alright then, it sounds like his unconscious mind is trying to motivate him into action then. Kind of like a rat in a hamster wheel chasing after that piece of cheese. He knows what he wants; it's his job to go get it now."

Harry pulled away from her as he pondered her meaning.

"So Harry, if you want to go and live out your dreams of being some Rock God, borrow my stilettos, call yourself something foppishly outrageous like Ziggy Glitter and nancy about in nothing but a pair of assless chaps; Ron and I will support you one hundred percent. We'll be right behind you all the way."

Harry goggled at the sight of her serious face and her screwy ramblings. He almost asked her if she were feeling well, but when he saw the merry glint in her eyes he couldn't help but smile.

"Then again, Ron might not be as enamored of standing directly behind you, but can you blame him? Assless chaps, Harry? Honestly!"

"You know, you've developed entirely too much cheek since you've been gone."

She giggled and her nose wrinkled in the most precious fashion.

"I think," he said giving her an ominous look that made her rear back on the counter, "something needs to be done about it."

His fingers glided over the edge of the basin as he neared her.

"In fact," Harry said as he dipped his hands in the lukewarm water that filled the sink, "I think you need to be taught a lesson. Don't you?"

"Harry," she said as she raised her hands before her, "whatever you are planning, stop it. Or I'll...I'll..." she warned.

This only earned her an imp of a grin from Harry.

"Or you'll what?" he asked as he flicked water out of the sink at her causing her to shout.

"ACK! HARRY, STOP!"

"Can't," he said as he sent more water at her, soaking her shirt front and making little droplets roll down her naked legs.

She hollered again.

"You were going to do something to me, remember? I wanted to hear what it was."

Once again he flicked the dish water at her as he inched closer.

Hermione tried scooting herself as far on the counter as she could to get away from him.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, IF YOU DON'T STOP..." she cried in mirthful indignation.

He splashed her again.

"I can do this all night," he playfully responded to her idle threats. He then abruptly lurched forward and grabbed hold of both her wrists, pulling her flush to him.

"Stop, stop," she giggled madly as she tried to ward him off. "You're making me all wet, Harry! STOP!" she laughingly scolded as her knees, in what seemed an involuntary movement, came up about his hips and pressed Harry even closer.

And that is when everything stopped. The foolery, the flailing limbs, the ringing laughter; everything came to a grinding halt. Everything except the sound of their ragged breathing as the realization of the position they were now in began to slowly sink in; Harry, between Hermione's legs, as the throbbing, pulsing organ in his pants pressed against the heat of her.

HALLELUJAH!!! For Harry, it was as if a choir of seraphim had peeled back the roof of the house to sing down upon him. The sensation of being wrapped up in Hermione was so powerful, so potent, so utterly mind blowing that Harry gave into the dizzying sensation of it and rocked himself against her. The immediate result produced a shudder in Hermione that seemed to travel her whole body. As if exerted from the force of it, her eyes closed and her head lolled back. A whimper escaped her parted lips. That was when Harry suddenly realized that he was going to kiss her. He didn't care about the consequences. He didn't care about Ginny. He didn't even care if Hermione would try to stop him. He just knew that if he let this opportunity go to finally find out if she tasted like strawberries, like she did in his dreams, he would without question go mad.

With his hands still wrapped around her wrists he gently tugged her closer to him as he began to lower his head. As his lips began to hover over hers, Hermione languidly opened her orbs of deep, dark golden amber, their eyes locked, and Harry felt himself wanting to fall into them and lose himself to the deluge.

It was at this time that Lizzie decided to interrupt.

The sudden impact of a weight being thrown against him startled Harry and threw his misty thoughts for such a loop that he instantly dropped Hermione's wrists and stepped back from her. This movement gave Lizzie ample opportunity to rear herself up on her hind legs and rest her paws on Harry's chest as she leaned against him. Her pink tongue hung out as she panted warmly and her bobtail swished back and forth. Harry tried to gently push the dog down, but Lizzie, thinking that they were having fun, only barked affectionately. She even tried to take a few loving licks at his face.

"LIZZIE, DOWN!" Hermione called to the dog in an authoritative, as well as slightly disgruntled tone.

At the sound of her master's disapproving voice the dog immediately dropped down to all fours and obediently padded towards her, tail wagging low. Hermione hopped off of the counter and dropped to her knees as she put her arms around Lizzie's neck. Subsequently she hid her face from Harry's view in the thick of Lizzie's fur.

"She saw that we were playing a game and she wanted to play too," Hermione crooned to the dog in a babyish voice. "Didn't you girl?"

As if on cue, the dog barked making Hermione giggle. Her eyes then looked up at him.

"Sorry Harry, as soon as she sees a little roughhousing she wants to jump in."

Roughhousing? Is that what they were calling it these days?

"She must have come in, saw us joking around, and wanted to join. She just tends to get carried away at times. Don't you girl?"

Harry distractedly ran his fingers through his hair and tried to get himself, all of him, under control. As his breathing returned to normal, he cast his eyes about him to see if he was actually standing inside the kitchen or if his physical body was somehow some place else. For a moment he had to honestly question if the not quite kiss had actually happened, or if it had all been just another fantasy of his running away from him. Did he just lose himself again? Had his stressed out mind turned simple horseplay into some longed for heated encounter? The citrus smell of her perfume that lingered on his fingers, was he imagining it? Harry actually contemplated pinching himself. Maybe he was still hallucinating. He looked at Hermione, who seemed intent on ignoring him in favor of the dog, to see if anything was amiss. Her eyes flickered to his nervously for just a moment, before quickly skirting away. And Harry knew.

She's going to pretend that nothing happened, his frantic mind shouted. She's going to pretend that I wasn't about to kiss her just now. She's going to pretend that she wasn't going to let me. Because without a single doubt, as soon as Harry looked into her eyes right before the goddamned dog came between them, he knew that she was going to allow him to kiss her. Maybe she got caught up in the moment. Maybe she replaced his lips with a pair of her own imagining and forgot that it was him, Harry, wedged between her more than hospitable thighs. Harry didn't know which it was. But what he was terrifyingly certain of was that Hermione, for whatever reasons, was going to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred between them. Harry was so distraught that he almost hauled her up by the shoulders and begged her not to do that to him.

"She's probably hungry, poor thing. It's a wonder there isn't dog vomit everywhere seeing as how George seems to think that they can eat just any thing."

Although she was technically talking to him, Hermione was speaking towards the dog.

"I should go change and take her for a walk, stop off at the grocers and pick up a few things for us to eat tonight and tomorrow morning. Would you like that girl?"

"Let me go with you," Harry volunteered eagerly as he took a step towards her. Hermione stood up quickly and Lizzie, looking back and forth between them and somehow sensing the unease in the room, trotted out of the kitchen and into the lounge.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Harry," she said as she followed the dog into the other room.

Harry ran back to the table to scoop up his things before following her.

"It's late and you should go home," she continued as he entered the living room. "I'm sure Ginny will be worried," she said as she stood in front of the stairs. Lizzie had laid herself out on the love seat near the door.

Harry wearily sighed. Ginny. It really all came back to Ginny, didn't it?

"Was she terribly cross about me keeping you so late last night?" Hermione asked him as he walked up to her.

"Not really," he replied.

Although Ginny had been half-asleep when he slipped into bed in the early hours of the morning, she had been awake enough to ask him if he had been out with Hermione. After hearing his answer and telling him to say hello for her the next time, she promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

"She asked after you, though."

Harry noticed the very briefest flicker of disbelief light her eyes, but made no mention of it.

"I'll have to floo her or...or...something," she said, her face inscrutable.

"Yes," responded Harry apprehensively, "you do that."

Of course he hoped that she wouldn't. He had yet to tell Ginny where Hermione was going to be living. That was a conversation that Harry was really looking forward to.

Wanting to avoid all thoughts of Hermione and his wife being anywhere near each other, he tried to dispel the uneasiness of the mood that was settling about them.

"So," he said in a jovial voice that belied the truth of things, "what are we doing tomorrow?"

Following his lead, she said in a lighthearted tone, "We, as in you, are going to work."

This made Harry scowl at her.

"I will not be blamed for you shirking your duties, Mister," she said prissily. "Meanwhile we, as in I, will drop by the Ministry later."

The thought of Hermione coming by his job almost made him smile until she added, "I'm coming to see Draco."

"What do you want to see that git for?!" he snarled.

She showed him just how intimidated she was by his outburst by not even blinking her eyes.

"Well the 'git' was a good friend once. I hope he still is seeing as how I've been in England for nearly three days and have yet to call on him. I'll never hear the end of it!"

"Well you won't find him at the office," Harry said sullenly. "The bastard requested a few days of leave in the middle of a big case. Said he had some important matters to take care of, but if you ask me he's holed up over there at Lovegood House. I stopped by early this morning as well as yesterday to discuss business with him, but that demented old house-elf of Luna's wouldn't let me in the door."

"Is this the same case you were discussing with Charlie?" she questioned, an inquisitive light coming to her eyes that made Harry want to hex himself.

"Hermione..." he said warningly.

Her eyes nearly popped at him in surprise at his tone.

"What?"

"It doesn't concern you, do you hear me?" he asked.

Although he was being harsh about it, he wanted her to understand fully that he didn't want her sticking her nose into his work, especially this case. He didn't even want her to know Cadmus' name.

"I want you to drop it about the case. It's none of your business. Are we clear?"

"Alright, alright," she said, aggrieved. "No need to get tetchy."

"I can't help it when it comes to you," Harry said as a reluctant smile formed on his lips. "Which reminds me," he said as he reached into the pocket of his robes, "I have something for you."

"Ooh, a present?"

"In a manner of speaking," he remarked as he withdrew a long, maroon satin box. Tiny little moonstones were stitched into the top, and it had a clasp made of pure gold. He proudly held it before Hermione.

The reaction he got was less than stellar.

"A wand box," she observed dully. "Some girls get diamonds; I get a wand box."

"It's a lot more than just a wand box," said Harry.

"Well as sweet as the thought is, Harry, if you recall I..."

"...threw your wand away," he finished for her. "I remember. I remember everything you've ever said to me," he offhandedly remarked. The effect of his words however caused her cheeks to bloom pink, and he wondered just what could have produced such a rosy flush. Whatever it was he would give anything to see it happen again and again and again. Instead he said, "Open it."

She took the box out of his hand, opened the clasp, and pulled back the lid.

"A wand," she said tonelessly.

She removed the wand from its maroon velvet lining and held it up in her free hand.

"You bought me a wand?" she asked bemusedly.

"I only bought the box. I've had the wand for quite some time," he cryptically said.

Although that obviously stumped her, she wasn't immune to her own inquisitive nature. Her brow puckered as she curiously examined the magical rod in her hand.

"Well, it's a good quality wand as far as I can tell. Hardly a nick or a scratch. I would say that this wand was well loved."

Those words made his heart swell happily.

"Looks about 9...10 inches, maybe. My wand...my old wand was a little more than 8."

"It's a willow."

"Oh, those are supposed to be excellent for charm work."

"I know. Mr. Ollivander told me so once," Harry said. "The wand belonged to my mum."

The admission made Hermione's eyes swiftly look to his and her mouth pop open.

"How? When? What? HARRY!"

Harry chuckled at the flabbergasted look on her face.

"I found it, years ago, at Grimmauld. My dad's wand, too."

She still looked at him as though she expected him to tell her any moment that it was all some elaborate hoax. But when those words didn't follow, she slowly closed her mouth and closed the wand back in its fancy box.

"I can't take this, Harry," she said as she tried to hand it back to him. Harry's hands did not budge from his side.

"You can and you will," is all he said.

"Harry, I haven't used a wand in four years. I...I'm not sure I would even remember how to," she protested.

"Of course you would. Because you were born to this," he said, motioning to the case. "It's who you are. No matter how hard you try to deny it, to run from it, you will always be the greatest witch of your age."

Harry watched her as his speech sunk in. He saw the trepidation in her eyes, but he also saw the way both of her hands tightly crushed the box to her chest.

"Now I'm not telling you that you have to use it. Just...if you step out the house keep it in your handbag or something. Put it on your nightstand when you're at home. I just...I just would sleep better if I knew that you had it."

Harry wouldn't actually be able to rest really unless Hermione was somewhere he could see her from dusk 'til dawn, but the wand was a nice compromise. He had kept it as well as several other mementos locked in a safe in the basement of his and Ginny's house since the day they moved into it. Ginny didn't even know the contents of the safe. Although he knew that Hermione seemed adamant about living this Muggle-like lifestyle of hers, he felt compelled to give her his mother's wand just in case she needed it to protect herself. Because no matter how hard Harry tried to push the irrational fears from his mind, the fact that Hermione looked so much like Harmonia Cadmus absolutely terrified him.

There were the obvious differences between the two women of course. Harmonia was a pureblood, Hermione a Muggle-born. Harmonia had been a Ravenclaw, Hermione a Gryffindor. Harmonia had sleek, long, rippling brown hair. At the moment Hermione's barely reached her shoulders and was a rich blonde shade. And then there was the most glaring difference of them all, Harmonia had been dead for 75 years. But to a psychopath like Ptolemy Cadmus, who had obviously lost touch with reality long ago, what would a little thing like death mean? He doled it out so casually. Just what would happen if he caught sight of a pretty young woman whose face resembled that of the child whose murder set him on his destructive path? What would he do? What actions would he take? It could be argued that there wasn't a witch or a wizard in all of Great Britain who didn't know Hermione's face, and that had Cadmus any intention of doing anything to her, he would have done it long before now. But from the case file they had, the case file that Harry had combed over and over again for the last few days, Harry wasn't so sure if Cadmus had even stayed in England after he murdered Harmonia's Muggle husband. It would have happened right around the end of the Second War, before all of the publicity, before all of the scandals. Maybe he had never seen Hermione's face before. What happens when he does?

I'll kill the son of a bitch if he even harms one hair on her head.

"Just take the wand, Hermione. Humor me, please."

She searched his eyes looking for what, Harry didn't know. But after the smallest of pauses she said, "Alright, I'll take it."

Harry exhaled gladly.

"Good."

"Good," she said in return.

"Well then..."

"Um...yes..."

"I guess I should leave you and Lizzie to your walk."

"I guess," she said as her eyes lowered and she studied the floor.

"Um...do you think," Harry began uncertainly, "I could visit you tomorrow."

Her eyes looked up and met his.

"Evening, that is. After work."

Harry held his breath, praying that she didn't turn him down. He could see the look of apprehension in her eyes.

"I don't think-"

"Ron can join us!" he quickly said to stall her from telling him no. "We could even go visit Remus. I'm sure he would love to see you. And you could see the baby."

Hermione's eyes brightened at the prospect.

"Well that does sound like fun. Of course you can stop by. This is your house after all."

"I wish you would stop saying that," Harry said, miffed. "I want you to think of the cottage as your own home now."

"Well I would like to," said Hermione matter-of-factly as she placed a free hand on her hip, "but someone refuses to tell me how much the monthly is going to be."

Harry pulled a face.

"I'm not charging you rent, Hermione."

"I can't just live inside your house like some...some...squatter, Harry. Like some vagabond. It just won't feel right unless I pay you something."

"Pay me? What could you..."

Harry stopped himself from continuing. A brilliant idea had just come to him.

"Do you still knit?" he asked.

She looked at him skeptically.

"I...Yes. I actually got quite good at it. Why?"

"Remember those hats you used to make for the kitchen elves?

"Yes. Harry, where are you going with thi-"

"Dobby used to love those things."

She gave him a disbelieving look.

"He did!" he insisted. "So here's the deal, you make Dobby a new cap each month and we'll be squared."

"Harry!"

"And while I'm feeling power hungry, throw in a matching scarf as well."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed.

"My, aren't we playing hardball, Mr. Landlord," she teased.

With a mock grievous look about him he said seriously, "A bloke's got to do what a bloke's got to do."

She smacked him on the shoulder.

"Now you are just being silly."

"So are we agreed?" he asked as he held his hand out towards her. "Ever since I told him that his Hermy Miss was here to stay, Dobby's been bouncing off the walls."

She regarded his outstretched hand for a moment before placing her own in his and shaking it. When her gaze demurely veered from his own, he wondered if it was because she too experienced the mild charge that sparked in him every time something in his blood called to something in hers. Could Hermione possibly feel it as well?

"Agreed," she said as she slipped her hand from his hold.

"So no more your house?" he asked.

"But it is your house," she volleyed back.

"But I want it to be yours too. So think of it as...our house," he said brazenly as his eyes held with hers.

"Our house," she said with uncertainty before shaking her head as though to clear it. A tiny smile appeared on her lips. "Alright then, our house."

The grins that they were both wearing could have lit up the whole of Hogwarts.

"I uh...I should get going now," stated Hermione as she took a step backward and went up on the bottom stair. "You know the way out," she said before turning her back on him and slowly climbing the stairs.

As Harry watched her ascent, his mind was going a hundred miles a minute.

Our house. The beauty and simplicity in those two words awakened something in Harry so fierce that all of his fears and doubts and insecurities seemed to slowly melt away.

Our house. Harry had finally found his purpose. He was going to make his dreams come true.

He was going to head out to work early again tomorrow morning. He wanted to go to the Ministry's Archives and look for anything and everything he could find on the Olde Rites. Even if he found a loophole the size of a needle's eye he was going to push through it with all of his might.

And as soon as he found what he needed he was going to sit down with Ginny and discuss with her just how they were going to make their lives right. Because if he knew that he was miserable, he was sure that she was too. Maybe they could help each other out in this. Maybe they could undo what should have never been done in the first place. The person that Ginny truly belonged with was out there somewhere, probably still waiting for her. Harry already knew just where his heart lay. It was time for them to set each other free so that they could both be happy. Surely Ginny wanted that. And if she didn't, well, Harry would cross that bridge when he got there.

As for now, Harry was ready to reach out for his happiness with both hands. For years he had believed that if he waited patiently eventually it would come to him. He told himself this after he left the Dursleys, after the War, after he married Ginny; but he waited in vain. Now he was ready to take action! Now he was ready to do whatever it took to make himself whole; whatever it took to have Hermione.

And when the time was right he prayed that Hermione might feel something for him. Not like what he felt for her, obviously. Harry wasn't stupid enough to think that could actually happen. But maybe, just maybe, he could convince her that he could be so much more than just her best mate over time. That their thing could go deeper than only friendship. The not quite kiss gave them at least a starting ground from which to build on. That thought was enough to give Harry some form of hope and for now that seemed the most powerful form of magic there was.

Hermione was at the top of the stairs when Harry called her name. She looked over her shoulder at him apprehensively, and turned around fully as he took the steps two at a time. When he reached the step that put them at about equal height, he all of a sudden paused, unsure of what he meant to do. They were eye to eye, and with this vantage point, Harry looked Hermione levelly in hers. He raised his hand to her cheek and tenderly caressed it. He leaned in and left a gentle, wisp of a kiss on her other cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione," he said as he pulled back from her, and Disapparated away feeling a tingling sense of euphoria surge through every molecule in his body. He felt as though he had been asleep for years and suddenly someone had woken him up with a stab of adrenaline to the heart. Harry had never felt so alive! In fact his head was so high above the clouds that he never stopped to notice the few teardrops that had melted into his fingertips.

A/N: Next up is Hermione's POV. Things to look forward to: a Dramione reunion, insults & innuendos, Luna, and a long overdue reveal. Mwahahahaha!

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Healer Wilkie and Laurie are canon.

2) The "club" that Glinda belonged to was a Dungeons and Dragons group, just in case anyone cared.

3) Glinda's company Out to Lunch is a parody of this singles matchmaking company called It's Only Lunch.

4) Exaudio in Latin means to listen, hear plainly. Equus asinus is the species term for donkey, Equus caballus is the term for horse.

5) My explanation of Freudian and Jungian dream theory is very rudimentary, but it is the basic premise.

6) According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a kelpie is large water horse-like creature. The Loch Ness Monster is the most famous kelpie.

7) The Exaudio Spell, the Equusesco Asinusaugeo hex, People for the Unethical Treatment of the Four Legged, Mister Chopsticks restaurant, and the Medical Guardian concept are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.