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 thru multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 17,075

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: If you like the idea of poor little Hermione sitting in the corner while pining away for Harry STEP AWAY. You have been warned.

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.

Friday, 05/27/05

Harry Potter believed he was falling off the broomstick. He had no evidence to support this theory; in actuality he seemed perfectly normal to the outside world. He still went to work everyday at the Ministry. He still met up with Ron, George, and a few of their other mates for a pick-up game of Quidditch every other Saturday. He still made time to clean and tinker with his antique Silver Arrow whenever it suited his mood. And every evening he ate his meal at his rather imposing dinner table with his lovely wife Ginny. He fit the picture of a perfectly average wizard going about his daily normal routine.

But in his head...oh, but in his head, Harry was almost sure he was cracking up. How else to explain the fact that every time he closed his eyes for more than five minutes, he would have frighteningly unfriendly yet delightful dreams about one of his best mates? Dreams in which he did things to (and with) that best friend that would make even a sexual deviant blush. The only relief that he seemed to get from his conscience was that it at least was the female one. Sadly, that did not provide as much comfort as he would have liked.

The dreams began back in late November, early December. Harry's team of Aurors had been tracking a dark sorceress by the name of Bath'sheba Holliway all over the English countryside. Sheba, as she liked to be called, had a penchant for marrying wealthy, older Muggles. That in and of itself was no crime. The problem was Sheba had a bad habit of destroying the souls of the men she married, and not in the usual ball and chain manner either. She would wed a perfectly healthy and robust middle aged merchant, or a spry old gent of sixty years who happened to own a large parcel of land, and in little less than a week after the wedding the unlucky groom would be found dead, a withered shell of his former self. Sheba would have already left the village to prey on her next unsuspecting victim by this time.

Her scheme luckily was uncovered by a young medical examiner from one of the larger towns Sheba hit. The young man discovered that there were large trace amounts of belladonna, lovage, aconite and the venom from the fangs of a runespoor in the system of one of the deceased. These were the most crucial ingredients found in a powerful poison called Animatentia, a potion that the Ministry banned due to its ability to wither a person's soul from the inside. It was like a dementor's kiss, but in liquid form. It also was a toxicant that only a magical person would have knowledge of. The medical examiner just so happened to be a Squib.

After the MMBA Office made the arrangements with the proper Muggle authorities, fifteen men, all from neighboring villages, were exhumed and found to have died from Animatentia within the last two years. Two other factors linked the poor stiffs. All of them were very well off, and all of them had, days prior to their deaths, married a woman named Bath'sheba.

Though the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now knew that they had a rouge witch on their hands, Harry, Malfoy and the rest of their team had a difficult time finding the woman because she changed her appearance from town to town. Eventually Harry and Malfoy came up with a plan to smoke Sheba out. They set up a sting operation in the town of Hever; they had reason to believe that Sheba might strike there next. They used one of their fellow Aurors, a fresh faced 20 year old kid who had just made it out of his training class, as bait.

Jacoby was a Metamorphmagus. He transformed himself into a well to do peer of the court who was retiring in his old age to his books in a newly renovated manor house near the castle. Sheba was upon the man in no less than a week, this time disguised as a willowy platinum blonde. She was engaged to him twelve days later. Their wedding went off without a hitch on their one month anniversary. The first night of their honeymoon, she sent her brand new husband to bed with nothing more than a hot toddy and a kiss. As soon as Jacoby believed his accommodating bride was asleep, he owled over the contents of his drink to the small pub in town where the rest of Potter's Posse were waiting. After the necessary tests were done on the evidence, and Animatentia was indeed discovered, the Second Squad roared into action, wands cocked. When they apprehended Sheba at the manor house she was so unprepared for the invasion that she momentarily dropped the glamor she had been employing.

The woman was a hag! Literally! All long gray hair, crooked nose, and rotting teeth to prove it. Jacoby was delirious with joy that she had never allowed him to exercise his husbandly rights. As she was being dragged off to be sentenced, she petulantly wailed that she did it all for love. Bath'sheba's bulging bank account said otherwise.

Catching Holliway was a big get for Harry's career. Even though Malfoy helped with the capture, Harry was considered the sole brains behind the operation. There was even office gossip that when Shacklebolt eventually retired, Harry was most likely to take his position as First Squad Lead. His family and friends were very proud of his accolades and the attention it brought, especially Ginny. But for Harry, all the praise fell on deaf ears. He no longer felt any passion for his vocation. He was a highly accomplished and decorated Auror who had an uncanny knack for the job, but the drive that made him quit Puddlemere and join the training program almost 4 years ago had now dried up.

The same exact thing had happened when he was playing pro. He was the star player and Seeker for Puddlemere United from the moment he was drafted at 18. No one was better at catching the Snitch than him. He even beat the British record during a game with Tutshill, two and three quarter seconds. In fairness though the silly Snitch was slightly batty and flew right at his nose.

Regardless of all of that, by time Harry was just a few months shy of his 21^st birthday the Quidditch fire in his belly had been extinguished. He felt set adrift, as though he had nothing left to hang on to. He figured he was having these feelings because he no longer found the game challenging. He had already played for England in his first World Cup against Bulgaria and won, stealing the Snitch right from under Viktor Krum. He no longer had anywhere to go.

Then he hit upon a wild idea. In Harry's mind the last time he felt any real rush or sense of meaning was back when he, Hermione, and Ron were out quite frankly saving the world. So Harry decided to do something drastic. He played his final game for Puddlemere in May of 2001, and in August of that same year he became an Auror trainee.

At first he had a difficult time of joining up, the Department Head seemed to be a real hard arse, but the Minister for Magic cleared the way for him. It was even arranged for Harry to be sped through the program. Harry could only assume that his defeat of the greatest dark wizard of all helped earn him extra credit. Either way, Harry soon found a purpose again. He enjoyed his work. The fact that he was responsible for making the world one dark wizard shorter; one witch with an apple fetish less, was comforting. Ginny even eventually got over the fact that he wasn't in Witch Weekly on a regular basis. Interestingly enough, all of the little Quidditch fan girls who cried into their pillows over the news of Harry Potter retiring from the game soon became Auror groupies. They followed his exploits in the Daily Prophet, and even carried around scrapbooks full of his clippings with them. In the end it would seem that Harry had made the right choice.

Then the usual unhappiness wormed its way into his heart again. Harry could no longer deny to himself that there just was something missing in his life. What that something could be, he had no clue. He had a gorgeous wife, a beautifully decorated (though much too large for them) house, great friends and an exciting career. What was wrong? Why did he feel so unfulfilled? Was it the job again?

The night that Sheba Holliway was sentenced before the Wizengamot, Harry came back to the Palace to find a sumptuous dinner prepared by Ginny. After eating he floo'ed Ron to discuss the game between Portree and the Harpies that happened the week prior, and to arrange a lunch get together for the next day. He gave Hedwig a few extra owl treats before letting her out of her cage for her nightly hunt. Then he settled down with his wife in the lounge to listen to the wireless, before heading up to bed with her a few hours later.

Once nestled in their master bedroom suite, he enjoyed a satisfactory shag with Ginny, before turning over to go to sleep and to his dreams. Once there he made love over and over again with a brown haired, brown eyed beauty that made his skin feel as though it were made of fire. He awoke in the morning to find that his night time gallivanting had left a mess of the sheets. Ginny was kind enough to pretend that it wasn't that big of a deal. Just joked, as she was collecting the linen to be laundered, that he had better have been dreaming of her. Thankfully she was halfway out the door when she said it, thus missing the shamefaced look of her husband as he remembered just who the woman was that had occupied his dream that night. Hermione.

The next day when Harry met Ron at the Cauldron he almost blurted out the shocking news to him. Ron was his best mate, his brother, and that in the end is what ultimately held Harry's tongue. He wasn't about to share with his wife's older brother the news that he'd had a kinky dream about a woman that said older brother once had intimate knowledge of and still might love. Phew! He might as well perform hara-kiri on himself, especially since Ron was the sort of bloke who preferred to let his fists do the talking for him.

When it came to women, the two friends rarely held anything back. There were no hidden peccadilloes between them, and they were often quite frank with each other when they discussed the opposite sex. Only two women were unofficially on the DO NOT discuss list; Ginny and Hermione. Ginny, because Ron would have rather committed ritual suicide than hear that Ginny liked it when Harry pulled her hair during sex. And Hermione because...well...Hermione was as good as Harry's own sister, wasn't she? He didn't want to hear about Ron doing those kinds of things to her. Regrettably, Ron wasn't always as observant of the unspoken dictate as Harry would have liked him to be.

That only left open for discussion the other women Ron had shagged; Lavender, Luna, Laura Madly (a Hufflepuff from their year who was a notorious Quidditch groupie), and some Muggle woman he had picked up in a pub one night. Sometimes Harry's virility felt a bit inadequate in comparison to Ron's track record. Ginny had been Harry's school sweetheart. They had married not too long after she graduated from Hogwarts. She was the only woman Harry had ever been intimate with. This often led to Harry being only a captivated audience to Ron's fond reminiscing. Harry normally didn't have anything to contribute to their male bonding. If the illicit little fantasy had been about someone, anyone else, Harry probably would have told Ron about it. But as such...bollocks to that!

So Harry kept his little dream to himself and despondently half-listened to Ron detail the on going drama of his romance with Lavender (the woman wanted an engagement ring like yesterday). He brushed the Hermione dream to the back of his mind and tried to convince himself that it was the stress of the job, and the after effects of too little sleep that had caused him to have such a heady vision. He assured his conscience that it was a one time thing and that it wouldn't happen again.

That night he dreamt of Hermione chanting his name over and over again as he took her from behind.

Ginny was slightly less understanding about the mess that next morning. She hardly cracked a smile as she changed the sheets and sent Dobby on his way with the soiled ones. Harry half-suspected that he might have called out Hermione's name in his sleep, and that was the cause of Ginny's peeved attitude towards him. But then Harry conceded that if that were the case he would not currently have testicles because his wife would have hexed them off promptly. No, Ginny just seemed to be annoyed that her 24 year old husband seemed to be suffering from a condition that most teen aged boys had under control by the age of 16. Harry almost wanted to tell her that this whole situation was a little more complicated than a simple wet dream, but once again he remembered his balls and kept his mouth shut.

This went on for weeks. Whenever Harry would settle down to even a cat nap, within minutes Hermione would be there before him. Under him. On top of him. Distracting would be the best way to describe it.

Ginny was starting to become aggravated at his nightly pastime, though she tried her best not to show it. At one point she moved out of the bedroom they shared and down the hall to one of the many guest rooms complaining that his snoring was keeping her up at night. They still had sex, though. But quite frankly nothing he did with Ginny in the real world could match the heat and passion of what he felt when he was with his Dream Hermione. This bothered Harry greatly. Hermione was his friend and only his friend; Ginny was his wife. He married her. She was still the pretty, funny, athletic girl she was when he proposed to her over five years ago. She was still the girl that helped him forget who he was and made him feel normal, something he had never felt until he first dated her back in Sixth Year. She was like a warm safety blanket, covering him and shielding him from the world and all of its problems. Why then could he not get off his mind a woman who had never been more than one of his dearest childhood pals; a woman who he hadn't seen in years?

He and Hermione had practically gone through the fire together when they were children. Ron too. The three friends faced adventure after adventure by each other's side. They became an inseparable team not too long after he and Ron saved Hermione from that troll. That's why he shouldn't have been so shocked when at the end of their Sixth Year, when Harry was preparing to embark on one of the hardest journeys of his life, his two best friends refused to leave his side. Harry had just attended Dumbledore's funeral and had broken things off with Ginny to protect her. Dumbledore had set before him a quest to find the four missing Horcruxes that held Tom Riddle's soul and he knew that, as his girlfriend, Ginny could be used as a target to get to him.

He also knew that his friends could be hurt, but the idea of parting from them as well was almost too much to bear. He needed them. He relied on them. Ron stuck by him when he had to travel deep into the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione helped him change time itself to help him save his godfather, Sirius. Both of them fought valiantly at the Ministry when he dragged them out on his ill fated rescue mission. Now he was about to go on a crusade that seemed almost too daunting for him to handle alone. How could he possibly manage without Hermione and Ron? How could he make it through without Ron's spirit and levity? How could he manage without Hermione's brilliance and encouragement?

Deep down he knew he needed his friends' help, but how could he ask? How could he ask them to quite possibly sacrifice their own lives for his cause? No, Harry couldn't do it. Even if it meant going it alone and being the tragic little hero the papers tried to make him out to be. Harry should have known better, though. Right after the funeral Ron and Hermione let him know of their intentions to follow him wherever he chose to lead them.

"You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

As Hermione spoke those words, Harry knew that he wouldn't have to go through this nightmare alone.

Their first stop after school let out was Number 4 Privet Drive. Dumbledore had stressed the importance of Harry going back there for the last time before he became of age. Harry figured it had something to do with the blood protection he got from being around his mother's sister, Aunt Petunia.

When the Dursleys came to pick him up from the train station they were as disgruntled to have him back in their presence as ever. But Uncle Vernon's temper almost reached an apoplectic pitch when he pulled the car into the drive and discovered Hermione and Ron, both dressed in jeans and t-shirts similar to Harry's, standing in front of the house. After getting off the Hogwarts Express, the Trio decided that Hermione would Apparate Ron and herself to the Dursleys'. They figured that Uncle Vernon wouldn't let them in the car, and besides there wouldn't be much room in the back since Dudley was roughly the size of a baby pachyderm. Harry barely fit in there. They had already sent Crookshanks, Pig, and Hedwig ahead with Ginny to the Burrow so as not to further complicate matters. Uncle Vernon looked like a charging gorilla as he made his way to the doorstep. Hermione, however, held her ground. Ron, seeing the determined look on her face, followed suit.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Uncle Vernon bellowed quite loudly at the two teens. He then turned an accusatory eye towards Harry. "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LETTING THESE FREAK FRIENDS OF YOURS COME HERE, BOY?! THAT'S IT! I'VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE! FIRST THAT SENILE OLD FOOL ASSAULTED US THIS SUMMER AND NOW-"

"Silencio!"

Hermione cast the spell at all three Dursleys simultaneously. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley gaped at her dumbly as she held her wand out towards them. Harry and Ron even looked at her in amazement. Was Hermione Granger actually using magic against Muggles?

Vernon still worked his mouth open and closed as he spat out silent ugly words, if his purple face was any indicator of his feelings. Aunt Petunia fainted at the disgrace of it all; there was no telling how many of their neighbors were viewing this sordid display. Dudley tried to make a run for it back to the car, but Hermione threw an Impediment Jinx on him to stop him. She also shot one at Uncle Vernon.

"Erm...Hermione, what do you think you're doing?"

It wasn't that Harry minded watching the Dursleys be humiliated, it was loads of fun seeing Dumbledore mess with them the summer before; he just didn't like the fiery look that was burning in Hermione's eyes as she spelled the family.

"Blimey Hermione," concurred Ron, "you could get in terrible trouble for all of this."

"Don't worry, no one saw," she told them. "Besides, right when the car pulled up, I surrounded the doorway with a Confunding Spell. If any of the neighbors happened to have glanced over, all they would have seen was the six of us having a jolly little chat on the front steps."

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione as if she were a creature they had never encountered before. All Harry could do was thank whomever was responsible for fate that Hermione was on his side. It was scary almost the number of spells she was able to perform.

"Now Ron if you please, levitate Tiny over there into the house. I'll take Mr. Reasonable over here," she said sarcastically, walking up to Uncle Vernon and plucking the house keys from his frozen hands.

Harry was just about to whip out his own wand to levitate his aunt when Hermione furrowed her brows together and shot him a disapproving glance.

"No Harry, you're not of age yet. If Ron or I catch hell for this at least we will have that argument to back us up. We can't afford for you to get in any unneeded trouble."

Although Harry felt a tad annoyed and hampered in by Hermione's authority, he did have to admit that she made sense. So instead of using magic, he lifted his aunt Petunia in his arms so he could carry her into the house. It wasn't an easy task either. For such a bony looking woman she was quite heavy!

Once Hermione unlocked the door, and all three teens managed to get their perspective Dursley in the house, everyone settled into the living room. Hermione had the boys place Harry's aunt, uncle, and cousin on the couch. Ron took a seat in a chair nearby and Harry went to stand by the fireplace. Hermione sat down on the little coffee table in front of the Dursleys. She then ended the spells on them and sprayed a shot of water out of her wand on Aunt Petunia to rouse her from her faint.

"HEY NOW, GIRL! WHAT IS IT YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY WIF-"

Hermione sighed as she daintily crossed her legs in front of her and rested her wand arm on her knee.

"I was actually trying to wake her up so we all could discuss some important business. But silly me Vernon, you seem incapable of doing anything that even remotely resembles the word pleasant. That's why I had to shut you up again."

Hermione was looking Harry's uncle straight in the eye, a hint of malice colored her voice.

"You may also notice that you can't move your legs or arms. I've made you incapable of doing so."

Ron and Harry looked at each other across the room. They hadn't even noticed Hermione saying the incantation to do such.

"What do you want from us?" Aunt Petunia asked in a tremulous voice. Apparently Hermione had only silenced Harry's uncle.

Hermione studied Aunt Petunia's face before speaking in a low, yet clear voice.

"What do I want from you? What do I want?" asked Hermione mockingly, her eyes never leaving the older woman. "Hmm...There are many ways I can answer that question. Let's see, I want you to learn how to make your husband shut his gob a time or two so we could have a civil conversation."

At this Uncle Vernon began pitching back and forth in his seat. He was beyond upset and began to make a blustery noise at the back of his throat. Regardless, Hermione's spell still stuck.

"I want that beady eyed whale of a child of yours to stop leering at me as if I were a chipolata."

Dudley indignantly gasped at the comment. Truth be told, he had been looking at Hermione as though she were good enough to eat.

"And I want a nice helping of steak and kidney pie this evening because I'm famished and would like to enjoy a decent meal if I have to put up with the present company. That is just a sampling of what I want. Truth be told, what I want could fill up Buckingham Palace!"

Ron looked on at Hermione concernedly. Neither boy had ever seen her in such a state. He slowly moved to get up from his seat, but with a simple hand gesture Hermione waved him back into it. Oddly enough she had never taken her eyes from the Dursleys, so Harry couldn't figure out how she was aware of anything else going on around her. He himself was entranced by the picture of Hermione working herself into a right proper rage. Even the bird incident in Flitwick's classroom had nothing on this.

"But what I need," she continued, "oh, what I need, that is an entirely different question."

Hermione scooted closer to the edge of the table making the Dursleys scoot back on the sofa in trepidation.

"You see my dear Petunia; I need for the three of you loathsome..."

She looked at Uncle Vernon.

"Miserable..."

She looked at Aunt Petunia.

"Disgusting people," she said turning to stare Dudley down, "to act like human beings for once in your petty little lives."

Aunt Petunia had had about enough of this.

"NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU SILLY GIRL," she began, voice rising, eyes popping out of her skull-like face. She opened her mouth to continue, but Hermione silenced her as well. Harry almost wondered if Dudley was going to speak up so that Hermione could make it a hat trick.

"No," Hermione countered forcefully, "you listen, Petunia. You see that man there?" she asked gesturing to where Harry was on her left. "No Vernon, he no longer is the boy you're so fond of calling him," she said nastily as she turned to stare at the still fuming man. "No one can remain just a child after the horrors he's endured in the last few days. Ha! Few years!"

Hermione was heating up to her subject now and the sheer power that hung about her was enough to give even Uncle Vernon pause. She had their full attention now.

"Albus Dumbledore died just a few days ago. Did you know that?" Hermione asked, looking back and forth between the three on the couch. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. Pity information like that wouldn't be found in the Muggle news. Information that is about to affect a great deal of Muggles very soon. Muggles like you, in fact."

At this news, Harry's Aunt Petunia's eyes seemed to outgrow her head. He figured that out of all of them she would be the one who most understood the significance of Dumbledore's death.

"Harry has barely just come from Professor Dumbledore's funeral, a man whom he loved and admired. A man who was the last thing close to a father figure he had in this world. But can he mourn for that man? No. Why? Because he has to go save the whole bleeding world, that's why!" she said angrily brushing a single tear that rolled down her cheek.

She took a few seconds to collect herself before continuing.

"Let me speak plainly and in small words so that your tiny, inept brains can process what I'm saying."

At these words Hermione's voice dripped with venom.

"There is a very bad man out there. A very bad man with a superiority complex. A very bad man who wouldn't right give a tinker's damn if you or I were to die right now. You see," she said putting a hand to her chest, "I have the bad grace to have been born to two parents who wouldn't be able to transfigure a hedgehog into a pin cushion. To him I'm filth!"

Hermione practically spat out the hateful words. It hurt Harry almost as much to hear her say it, as it must have hurt for her to say. Looking at Ron, Harry could tell that he felt as much the same.

"But you? Ronnie, what's lower than filth?" Hermione asked, barely looking at the redhead.

The question stumped Ron for just a second before he answered uneasily, "Mountain troll dung?"

"Ah yes," she said as she shot Ron a pleased smile that made his face match his hair, "Mountain troll dung."

She looked back at the Dursleys.

"You three are the parasites that reside in Mountain troll dung."

Hermione was being unflinchingly cruel to Harry's family, but Harry couldn't have stopped her from her tirade even if he wanted. Which he didn't.

"If you were wiped off the face of the planet I'm not sure that there would be too many people who would even notice, even care."

She paused and looked at him then. Their eyes locked and for a second Harry felt as though all of the air had escaped the room. But the moment passed as soon as Hermione looked back to her captives.

"But Harry would care. Oh yes, he would. You may have treated him like rubbish his entire life, you may have made him a slave in his own home; you may have even tried your damnedest to kill his spirit, but Harry would still care. Even after you left him to grow up in a cupboard for the first few years of his life-"

"Hermione, please-"

"NO HARRY, LET ME HAVE MY SAY!" she protested fiercely.

He simply turned his back to the room. The emotions that were pouring out of the girl were becoming almost too much for him to endure.

"Harry would care, because his heart is too big not to care. Harry Potter was put in this world to save so many countless lives. Not because he loves the glitz and glamour of being a hero, but because he would rather sacrifice his own life than see others suffer. That trait is as much a part of him as the green eyes he was born with or his black hair. And that is what he has to do now."

Harry turned back to watch her, amazed by her words.

"He has to face that big bad man, that megalomaniac who wants to fix the world to suit his image. That monster wants to take away all that we hold dear. Freedom. Love. Life. I might think that you people are vicious, heartless beasts, but even I don't think you deserve to die simply because you were born what you are. And neither does Harry!" Hermione cried as she fought for breath. Her nose was red and running and her hair stood on top of her head, a beautiful mess.

Ron was gazing at her as though she were the loveliest thing he had ever seen. In that moment Harry would have been hard pressed not to agree with him.

"Harry is the only person who can make sure that such a tragedy doesn't happen, and right now he hasn't got that much time to do so. Now for some reason he has to come back to this godforsaken place before he can start. Due to some thankfully," she stressed the word, "insubstantial amount of DNA he shares with you lot, he needs whatever protections this place affords him. He has to stay here for a few weeks before he can be on his way, never to be seen by the likes of you again," she said pointing between them. "Ron here and I need to be with him every step of the way."

Hermione then dropped her head into her hands. Her tremendous amount of hair fell in her face, veil-like. When she looked back up at the Dursleys, Harry thought he caught almost a pleading look on her face.

"I don't ask for your hospitality. I don't ask for your kindness. I don't even ask that you pretend to care if your nephew lives or dies. But what I do ask is that you don't fight us on this. Do it for your own sorry existences, if that will help you sleep at night."

At this Uncle Vernon made a noise that sounded like the cross between a scoff and a cackle. His trollish eyes still burned like brimstone. Hermione seeing this rolled her eyes and pointed her wand threateningly at the man.

"YOU KNOW WHAT, SCRATCH THAT! I'M TELLING YOU!" she steamed, her voice sounding caustic. "Simply put, the three of us are staying here! Harry, Ron, and I are going to be staying in your house for however long we need to and you won't even think to object. You won't, or God help you," Hermione aggressively added, "because we won't!"

For a moment silence reigned in the living room of Number 4 Privet Drive. All the other occupants seemed fixated on what the bushy haired girl would say, or do next. Even Uncle Vernon had the good sense to take the threat in Hermione's statement seriously. Then Dudley, being his usual cloddish self, broke the spell.

"But Harry can't do anything to us. Dad said," Dudley smugly retorted. "Harry got in all that trouble when he blew up Aunt Marjorie. Harry can't perform magic until he...he...gets of age. That Dumbly man said that won't happen 'til he's 17."

Uncle Vernon turned his large head as much as he could on its fat neck to shoot his son a proud smile. Hermione, however, seemed to find the whole thing a joke. She even laughed a bit before she turned all of her attention to Dudley.

"You really are stupid, aren't you."

It wasn't said in the form of question. Dudley looked almost humiliated at the remark.

"But you're right; Dudley is it? Harry isn't 17 yet," she said in an almost sickeningly sweet tone. "But I am."

Everything happened fast after that. Harry was so perturbed by the chilling note in Hermione's voice that he almost didn't move out of the way fast enough when she pointed her wand quickly at the fireplace behind him and shot a bluebell ball of flame into it. The hearth instantaneously exploded into a roaring blaze that not only scared the Dursleys witless, but seemed to frighten the hell out of Harry and Ron as well.

But Hermione wasn't finished quite yet. In a loud crack that echoed through out the house, Hermione Disapparated herself in front of the cowering family. Harry then heard the second crack of her reappearing in a room above them on the second floor. He couldn't tell if Hermione was upset or not due to her outburst, but he figured that she would need one of her friends desperately if she was. He asked Ron to lift the jinxes off the Dursleys while he went to see about Hermione. It also didn't hurt to let the sniveling idiots know that there was also one other guest who was allowed to perform magic in the house.

Harry ran into the hall and up the stairs. At the sound of feet on the steps, Harry's door swung open. Standing in the frame looking none the worse for wear was Hermione.

"I figured this room was yours," she said, eyes twinkling. "It reeks of unkempt boy"

Harry could only stare at her in awe. It was as if the Hermione standing in his room was an entirely different person from the one who had terrorized the Dursleys downstairs. In fact Harry wouldn't be shocked if Dudders had left a dudder in his trousers at the fabulous display of wand skill she had just put on for the family.

"So what did you think? Was it a bit much?"

"W-w-what?" Harry stammered out.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, pulled him quickly into the disorganized room that hadn't been cleaned since the last day he was in it, and brought him over to his bed. They both sat down facing each other. Harry was still perplexed as Hermione grinned a mischievous, naughty little girl smile at him.

"I figured that for people as obtuse as your aunt and uncle I would need to put the fear of...well..." she said pausing, "a crazed witch with PMS into them. I remembered you telling me and Ron how Dumbledore toyed with them last summer and figured that something similar would do just the trick again. So did it?" she asked hopefully.

All Harry could do was laugh. Hermione truly was the cleverest witch of her age! Hell, of any age!

"Are you kidding me? I think Aunt Petunia is trying to figure out just what you'd like to have for afters once you've finished your steak and kidney pudding," Harry delightedly said.

Hermione only rolled her eyes mirthfully.

"Silly woman, I said pie."

The three friends stayed at the Dursleys for the rest of the month of June. The teens slept in Harry's room. Hermione was given the bed, while he and Ron slept on the floor on either side of her. At first Harry offered Hermione the use of the spare bedroom. He honestly believed that since the Dursleys thought that Hermione was insane they wouldn't object, at least not where she could hear them. But she declined the offer. She believed that all of them needed to be within arms reach if needed. Harry couldn't disagree with the idea.

The three of them would hold themselves up in that tiny room for hours. At times they would talk about the murky path ahead of them, but those were rare moments. Mostly they laughed and joked together, sharing warm memories of their childhoods (Harry didn't have much to add to this of course), silly anecdotes about friends and schoolmates, and fond thoughts of people who had passed on. Sometimes they didn't even speak, just sat near each other, content to be in each other's presence.

The Dursleys mainly left them alone and the Trio returned the favor. The only time their paths would cross was when Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the kitchen for a bite to eat, or if they needed to use the loo or take a bath. But there were no big altercations. Except for the day that Ron turned Dudley into an albino piglet, that is.

Harry and Ron had been downstairs in the hall waiting for Hermione to come down so they could go out to eat for a change. Hermione was still in the room changing. As of late, her tendency to be even more girlish was becoming increasingly bewildering to Harry. Ron on the other hand didn't seem to mind at all. He said he would pop upstairs to see what was keeping her. Five minutes later Harry rushed up the stairs due to the commotion. All he could hear was the angry squeals of a pig, the high strung shrieks of his aunt, and the crazy giggles of Hermione and Ron. When he reached the landing, he saw Petunia cradling a baby pig in her arms as she shouted angry words at Ron. She wouldn't as much as glance at Hermione. Upon seeing Harry, they each grabbed a hand of his and took off down the stairs and out the door laughing like hyenas all the way.

They were so tickled because Ron had caught Dudley watching Hermione change her clothes in Harry's bedroom. Unluckily for him he didn't even get a good peek before Ron discovered the Peeping Tom, and angrily jinxed the Muggle boy. Ron was in such a strop that he didn't even know what he had changed Dudley into until the little pig began to run around the upstairs hall in a panic, the sound bringing Hermione and Aunt Petunia out of their respective rooms. All three kids had a good laugh at the incident. Hermione even told Ron that it was NEWT level work. Ron blushed at the compliment. Harry realized that his friend was doing that a lot around Hermione these days.

On July 2nd Harry prepared to leave Privet Drive for the very last time. He didn't know if he wouldn't be back due to bitterness or death, he just knew that whatever the cause he would never walk through those doors again. As he and Hermione waited in the hall for Ron to appear, Harry turned to stare at the tiny cupboard under the stairs. That small cramped space had been his home for almost all of his life. Harry knew as he gazed at it that he should be feeling a sense of anger and disgust at the treatment he endured at the hands of his aunt and uncle. That cupboard was the embodiment of that treatment. But all Harry could feel was a cold, dead numbness within. What if the road ahead only led him to just one more small box that would trap him in, this time forever? As if in answer to the questions hurtling through his head, Hermione grabbed his hand and brought his attention to her.

"You'll never have to go in there again."

She spoke plainly and her eyes glistened. Her fingers felt warm in Harry's surprisingly much larger hand. He wondered briefly when nature had wrought such a change, before squeezing it to let her know that he believed her. Ron then came bustling down the stairs and the two dropped their hold on each other. The Trio then departed the Surrey neighborhood to begin the next leg of their journey.

If Ron was Harry's brother, Hermione was his sister. She stuck by him through all of his endeavors, much like any sibling would. So then why do I see her naked every night when I close my eyes, he now wondered. Surely there must be some law against that kind of familial bonding, Harry thought. He had no solutions. At least none he would like to try twice.

He tried having sex with Ginny as much as he could at first, but that only seemed to fuel the strength of the fantasies. They started coming at him during the day. Slowly but surely he stopped sleeping with his wife altogether. It started to feel like he was betraying the woman in his dreams instead of the other way around.

Harry then decided to wear himself out in a different way. He threw himself into his work. Harry's group of Aurors started making collars at a breakneck pace, so much so that the Second Squad started to get even tougher cases assigned to them. But after a few weeks of great successes, he started to have daydreams about Hermione while at his desk. Actually the dreams took place on the desk, but that was beside the point. It all was becoming increasingly too much to handle.

Harry next decided to try a Muggle therapist. If he went to a mental Healer he was sure that word would get out all over the wizarding world in a matter of days. That would be a disaster! So he found the address of a well recommended psychologist one day while in Muggle London, and made an appointment to see him. Once Harry was laid out on the man's expensive leather couch, he unburdened everything about the dreams on him. Unfortunately, the stupid git only wanted to ask questions about Ginny and their marriage. Harry only saw the ponce the one time.

It was in April that a brand new theory began to run around Harry's head. When Hermione disappeared back in the spring of 2000 she didn't tell anyone of her plans. Harry later found out that at the time she was being courted by several foreign ministries and even a school of magic. At first it had hurt Harry deeply that Hermione hadn't confided any of this information in him, he was under the impression that they shared everything with one another. But Harry soon jumped to the conclusion that Hermione might have actually left the country under some sort of duress.

According to the detectives that he and Ron hired, she didn't take any of the jobs she had been offered. They checked every foreign ministry for any sign of her. They paid close attention to the French speaking nations since she was fluent in the language. They scoured all of Ireland thinking she may have gone to the place of her grandmother's birth. They checked all of the warm weather countries since she seemed to like the hotter climates. Nothing turned up. Except for one occasion, her wand was never used again. For all intensive purposes it appeared as if there had never been a witch named Hermione Jane Granger. Harry wondered just what could have happened to make Hermione abandon her life so completely.

For the first few years after she left, Harry worried himself almost sick after his friend. He didn't think anything foul had happened to her, he and Ron felt in their hearts that if something truly unfortunate had befallen Hermione they would have both somehow known. However he still feared that if Hermione was out there, somewhere, needing his help, she wouldn't be able to reach him. Harry's Quidditch game began to suffer. He started spending long hours at the Ministry trying to find out if they had any new information on the Granger case. He even turned to Malfoy to see if he and any of his contacts in the Auror department could find any leads on her. Harry was desperate! Eventually Ron and the rest of the family convinced him that when Hermione was ready to come home she would let them know. Harry decided that they were right and tried to move on.

That is until the dreams started attacking him relentlessly. Harry came to the conclusion that Hermione must be trying to reach him through these dreams. Riddle had used similar tactics with Harry, sending him visions and messages while he was sleeping. No one knew this better than Hermione. As soon as the idea waltzed through Harry's head, he popped over to Hogsmeade so he could use the library at Hogwarts. It was one of the finest wizarding libraries in Great Britain, in fact on the planet. If Hermione was using his dream world to call for help, Harry would find the answer there.

Soon he found himself ensconced at a table in the back of the library. The librarian, Madam Pince, helped him find the books that would come in handy for his research. She even barely looked down her nose at him this time. Harry figured that growing up and becoming an adult came with some perks.

Harry paged through book after book dealing with the astrological importance of dreams, the significance of numerology in them, and other books dealing with Oneiromancy. He wanted to tear his hair out when he realized that all these books were about were some form of Divination or other. Surely what he was looking for could not be found in this garbage, he pondered. Harry even read through a book about astral projection. The theory was that the soul could inhabit an astral body that could then travel outside its physical one. Although Harry was intrigued by the concept, he soon brushed the notion to the side. Somehow the idea of Hermione Granger sending her astral body across the cosmos just so she could sit on his face held no merit.

After an hour of searching through several musty old books, Harry dejectedly decided to give up his research mission and leave. As he was exiting the library, he ran straight into Head Mistress McGonagall, his former Transfiguration teacher and Head of House. The older witch had come to the library in search of him. The Gray Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost, had spotted him in the library and reported the news to the professor. The Head Mistress, never one for beating around the bush, got right down to business with Harry as soon as he took a seat in her office. She told him that her current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Vervain Lermontant, was vacating his position at the end of term.

Vervain was an American wizard from New Orleans. He was said to be a descendant of the famous Voodoo Queen, Marie Leveau. Harry knew him pretty well and found him a good enough chap, just oddly magnetic. Women flocked to him. Men aspired to be like him. His charm even seemed to work on animals. He had been the Defense teacher since the War ended and Hogwarts reopened. It would seem whatever curse the position once held died with Riddle. Now, after seven years of teaching young minds, Lermontant decided that it was time to head back home to the city of his birth. McGonagall was sad to see the man go; he was a fabulous and dedicated teacher. He also wasn't too hard to look at, though Minerva McGonagall would have never shared that thought with a single soul.

Although there were no dark lords hiding behind every corner any longer, Minerva still believed that it was important for her students to have a strong defense curriculum. She didn't want to just hire any old coot for the job. When she heard that Harry Potter was currently in the building she felt that her prayers had been answered. Potter would be perfect for the position! Sure he had little regard for rules per se, that however did not negate the fact that the young man's Defense OWL had been exceptionally high, he had been the leader of his own dark arts defense league, and was now currently a well trained and highly ranked Auror. There was also that little thing of him defeating Lord Voldemort. Potter was made for the job!

Minerva was certain that the school governors would agree with the choice. Even after the War some families were still reluctant to send their children back to Hogwarts. Many even opted for home schooling their children. The school never reached again the full capacity it had held during the Golden Age of Dumbledore. But Minerva figured that with Harry Potter as a professor there they might have to actually turn down hopefuls.

When McGonagall made her offer to Harry he was at first shocked, then pleased, then elated by it. Harry Potter, professor. It sounded right to him, never mind the fact that he would be teaching the subject that was closest to his heart, in the first place that he had ever considered home. It was a perfect fit! Harry left Hogwarts that day with a renewed vigor. He would leave the Department and teach at Hogwarts. Maybe this was the answer to the emptiness that wouldn't quit his heart.

Sadly, the new career prospect did nothing to alleviate the Hermione problem. He was still dreaming about her constantly. So much so that she began to fill his waking thoughts. If it had only been about sex he could have handled that. If all Harry had wanted to do was shag her just one good time to get some long buried curiosity out of his system, he would have found that completely understandable. Maybe the old adage was true; men and women just couldn't be friends.

But Harry was never good at lying to himself, at least not for long. He longed for Hermione. He longed for her in much the same way he wanted his parents' care, Dumbledore's guidance, and Sirius' companionship. It began to feel like he lived and breathed Hermione. Memories of their years together played themselves inside his head constantly. He soon realized that he was truly happy only when he had his brown haired witch in his arms. Even if it wasn't real, it was real in his heart. And that's when the horror of it all struck him. He wanted a woman that could never be his! He wanted a woman whom he had no idea where she was. He wanted a woman who technically was just a figment of his imagination. He wanted a woman who he should have never wanted in the first place.

It wasn't that he didn't think of Hermione as attractive. In fact there were times in those last few years that he would look at his voluptuous best mate and wonder where the bossy little know-it-all went to. Not to say that she stopped being bossy, or being an insufferable know-it-all, it's just the package that all that came wrapped in became infinitely more pleasing to look at. He never dwelt on those thoughts long, though. It always felt like he was betraying his other best friend, Ron. Harry felt that way even when Ron and Hermione were broken up which they always seemed to be.

Then there was Ginny to think about. Ginny probably wouldn't have taken kindly to the idea of Harry checking Hermione out. More importantly the idea that he could view the girl who was as good as his better half as just some bit of skirt seemed sacrilege to Harry's mind.

So Harry compensated by trying to view Hermione only as some asexual being. This was hard, especially when Hermione began to flaunt and indulge in her burgeoning femininity. She wore clothing that was entirely too provocative for her (Harry secretly blamed her flat mate for that development). She even went to Muggle nightclubs every now and then (once again, the flat mate). But worst of all she began to notice other men, and Harry couldn't help himself from noticing men noticing her back.

When Hermione and Ron was a couple, Harry didn't mind it so much. One new bonus of their relationship was that their arguing decreased dramatically. Harry couldn't be sure exactly when the two of them had officially gotten together, he suspected sometime around the period when the three of them went to Godric's Hollow, but he was thankful for the cease fire. Although Harry valued their camaraderie, he wasn't so sure that he would have been able to handle the task at hand with their constant bickering.

But instead Ron would just shoot puppy eyes at Hermione, while she blushed a maddeningly pretty shade of pink. It was then that Harry would wish they would go back to fighting like the olden days. Thankfully they didn't do too much of that. Harry wasn't sure his stomach could take it, plus it made him envious. He would have liked to have someone to cuddle with too. Ginny would have been nice. But whatever exactly encompassed Hermione's relationship with Ron, they mostly did a good job keeping it hidden away from him. He figured that was Hermione's doing as well, she was always rather modest. Sure he saw a quick kiss here and there, but really nothing too much to make him that queasy.

By time the three of them lived together shortly after the War, Hermione and Ron, or "the Heron" as the twins jokingly called them, were entering Break Up #1. Harry was very happy he didn't have to encounter any hanky panky on the living room couch. He figured it would be too weird, seeing his brother going at it with his sister in the room he liked to eat his bowl of cereal. Sure he wanted them to be together, he just didn't want to have to see it.

With their relationship over, Hermione and Ron's arguing returned in full force, especially when she began to date. Her first paramour was Roger Davies, a former Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. Although Harry wasn't certain how well Hermione knew the bloke back in school, he naturally assumed they had become close by working together at the Ministry.

What started out as a few harmless outings soon turned into a full fledge relationship. Ron would seethe at the sight of them. Harry was just happy that whatever Hermione and Davies chose to do, they never spent the night at the Trio's flat. It would have been too awkward, what with Ron glaring at the ponce from across the table as his current squeeze, Lavender (ugh!), buttered his toast (double ugh!). He could just see Hermione finding the whole scene boring, stuffing her face instead into a Muggle law book or something, while Harry tried to pretend that he didn't want to throw a plate of hot kippers at Davies' face. He might think Davies was an ok fellow, but that didn't make the berk good enough for his Hermione. Quite frankly Harry was rather relieved when she broke up with the jackarse after only seven months of dating him.

Soon Hermione and Ron got back together. Harry never knew if it was a passionate reunion, because Hermione was living in a flat in South London by this time, and the couple spent most of their time there. But the happiness was short lived. Hermione and Ron got back together in June of 1999 only to break up again in August. It was Ron who chucked her this time. He really wanted to be married and Hermione just seemed disinterested in the whole idea.

Harry almost didn't know who to be angrier at, Ron for doing the dumping or Hermione for not saying yes to his friend's proposal. His irritation with her only increased when at the start of Quidditch season, she began a steamy, in your face affair with Oliver Wood, Harry's team mate at Puddlemere. Sure Ron was being a git as usual by taking back up with Lavender (Merlin), but that didn't give Hermione any right to go snogging Wood in the locker room after matches, Harry nauseously thought. He tried to forget that he might have been the person responsible for the couple getting together in the first place.

Usually after every big win Harry, Hermione, and his team mates would go to a nearby pub to celebrate. Even after all these years Hermione still faithfully came to every single one of his games, Quidditch fan though she was not. Most times he would also schmooze her into coming out with the team afterwards. Ron would come to the victory benders occasionally, but since he was the enemy (proud wearer of the orange and black); he didn't make it a common habit.

One night at the start of October, after a particularly grueling game with the Magpies, Hermione was at his side as usual as he, Wood, Casey, Haversham, Wadcock, and the rest celebrated their hard fought win with bottles and bottles of Firewhiskey. Hermione had been looking particularly fetching that evening in a snug black turtleneck, painfully tight black jeans, a matching calf length button down jumper, and pencil thin heeled boots. Malinde Wadcock, one of Puddlemere's Chasers and the daughter of one of the team's former players, seemed to think so too as she flirted with a clearly inebriated Hermione, tugging on the chestnut curls that were falling on her shoulders.

A very beastly, very male fantasy of what the two very attractive women would look like sliding together on satin sheets rose up in Harry's head. Then somehow Madeline got tossed out of the bed in favor of a chap whose hair was black like his, and whose eyes were just as green…

Before this picture could go any further, Harry very sternly beat the image down in shame. Hermione was his friend; he had no right to think of her in such a way. Harry then decided to leave that very moment so he could clear his head. The alcohol was obviously messing with his good senses, plus he needed to go to the Burrow and check in on Ginny who was expecting him. She couldn't join them at the Horse's End that night because she got stuck baby sitting Marcel and Lionel.

Harry told Hermione that he had to leave to go see his girlfriend and asked if she wanted him to accompany her home first. Hermione declined the offer. He was worried that she might have had too much to drink, her eyes were rimmed in red, but she told him to hurry and get to Ginny so the younger girl wouldn't worry about him. Malinde half-jokingly told him that she would make sure Hermione got home safe. Harry, reading correctly the appraising look in the woman's eye as she looked at the comely brunette, asked Wood to see Hermione home instead. Harry then darted out the pub and Apparated over to the Burrow. He enjoyed a few nice snogs with Ginny before heading home. In the morning he popped over to Hermione's to check on her, and was shocked to discover Oliver Wood looking at him sheepishly from the couch while dressed in one of Hermione's much too small for him dressing gowns. Crookshanks was nestled in his lap, purring lazily as Wood petted him. Traitor!

That relationship sold Daily Prophet issues for weeks much to Hermione and Harry's dismay. Hermione and the Prophet seemed to have a long lived love/hate relationship. She hated anyone involved with it and they loved to characterize her as some social climbing, bed hopping vixen. Rita Skeeter's portrayal of Hermione all those years ago had affixed itself in the minds of most of the Prophet's readership. It also didn't help that Skeeter had somehow managed to claw her way back to the top, and was now currently the Editor-in-Chief of the paper. But the Prophet wasn't the only publication that exploited the new couple. Hermione and Oliver were constantly seen on the front cover of all of the magazines and tabloids, usually snogging. It was a sensationalist wet dream, what with Ron (Hermione's long put upon ex-beau) playing Keeper as well on one of Puddlemere's rival teams. It got to the point that Harry stopped reading the news all together save for the Quibbler. Out of respect to Hermione and Luna's friendship the editor, Mr. Lovegood, left her alone.

Ron was heartbroken over these turns of events. Though he still dated Lavender, his heart just wasn't in it. It was with Hermione. The flat the two boys shared began to feel like a funeral to Harry now that his flame haired friend went from being chipper and sarcastic, to being a morose shell of his former self.

Harry felt cut a drift from Hermione as well. Where once he wouldn't hesitate to Apparate directly into her flat, he now was apprehensive to do so. Once Hermione's flat mate Glinda discovered that Hermione and just about all her friends were witches and wizards, Hermione chose Harry to be her FailSafe. A FailSafe was the one person who could Apparate and floo into a home at will by bypassing whatever elaborate wards the caster had set up on their place. A FailSafe came in handy in cases of emergency. When Glinda started seeing Fred it made it possible for Hermione to have a FailSafe, and since she was on the outs with Ron at the time, she unsurprisingly chose Harry. Even during the short periods that she got back with Ron she never changed their status. Harry took advantage of the situation to have breakfast with his best friend on many mornings, the two of them sitting at the comfy little breakfast nook that had once sat in the kitchen of the Grangers' old home in Notting Hill. They would dine on black pudding or French toast as Harry babbled on about anything and everything that came to mind. Hermione never seemed to mind him popping in on her, and she always was there to listen to him.

But when Wood entered the picture, Harry was reluctant to continue the practice. What if he floo'ed in only to catch them going at it on the lounge room floor? Harry would rather pluck his own eyes out at that prospect. So he stopped coming over to visit Hermione all together. It was painful for him to break off contact with her like that; since their days spent hiding from Riddle during the War Harry had never gone more than a few days where he didn't see her face. But his feelings were too conflicted on the subject now. Harry felt that Hermione should be with Ron and he didn't like the idea of some random bloke, even one he saw naked in the locker room shower every day, pawing all over her. Harry ended up spending even more time with Ginny, which wasn't such a bad trade off. He just wished that everything would go back to the way that it had been so he could have his Hermione back. Then, like an answer to his prayers, Hermione and Wood ended their relationship amicably before Christmas.

Harry was ecstatic over the news! Of course he didn't show his joy to Hermione. He did let her know that if she wanted to cry on his shoulder over the break-up, he was there for her. Hermione, however, didn't seem upset over the end of the affair in the least. Although she wasn't so forthcoming on details, thank Merlin, she really seemed to see the relationship as nothing more than a fling.

If she was really broken up over it she didn't have much time to stew because her grandmother, Bridget Granger, passed on Boxing Day. She and Harry went to Ireland shortly after to bury the old woman and to handle her estate. Hermione then decided to go to Hyères, a town on the Côte d'Azur for a week so she could recharge her batteries. She promised to meet up with Harry after his upcoming game with the Kestrals on the 13th of January. They would then go have a few drinks at the Spotted Jack afterwards.

Harry was despondent over his team's loss to Kenmare, but even more so when he realized that Hermione had missed his first game since their Hogwarts days. She didn't show up at the pub either. Harry had barely gotten Ginny home with little more than a quick kiss and a pat on the head, when he immediately Apparated over to Hermione's.

His usual point of entry was her living room. The flat was small, just two small bedrooms in the back, a bath, and a tiny lounge area that seemed to barely fit the comfy furniture, Hermione's bookshelves, her computer, and the telly. Crookshanks' cat bed stood empty by her desk. The ginger cat hadn't been home in weeks much to Hermione's despair. The living room was separated from the kitchen by only a bar and half of a wall. Despite the size of the place, it always felt cozy in that as soon as you walked inside you could smell and see what was cooking in the kitchen. However this day Harry did not like what was on the menu. In fact what he saw almost made him vomit every meal he had ever eaten.

Though Hermione and Malfoy separated themselves rather quickly, the familiar sound of Apparition alerting them that they were no longer alone in the flat, they did not do it fast enough to save Harry from the picture of Hermione bent back over her small kitchen table while Malfoy leaned in seductively over her. Both of them were fully clothed, mercifully, but the damned Slytherin's pasty paw had been in her hair.

She tried to make herself look presentable, smoothing her skirt and patting down her wild curls, as Harry slowly and icily stalked to the kitchen doorway. A look of murder and rage sat upon his face. While Hermione had the good sense to look mortified at his discovery of them, Malfoy simply treated Harry to one of his signature smirks (the one he and Ron designated the "wouldn't you like to know"), kissed Hermione's hand (making Harry's temper reach near Uncle Vernon-like status), and exited the kitchen past Harry's wrathful form. He let himself out the front door, his training robes billowing out behind him dramatically. Twat-face!

Harry watched Malfoy's exaggerated exit, before turning the full brunt of his ire on Hermione. She had backed herself into her refrigerator and was staring at Harry with round, child-like eyes; the eyes of a child who knew that their parent was about to give them a good what for.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry asked in an oddly even and calm tone. He enunciated each and every word.

Hermione looked between Harry, who was blocking the nearest escape route, and the low bar positioned to her right. Harry could almost see the screws and wheels turning in her head, as though she were trying to figure out just what her chances of jumping over it might be. Obviously in the heat of the moment the woman forgot that she was a witch. She then turned fully towards him, Harry surmising that she realized that she was not athletic enough to make the leap, and swallowed deeply before squeaking out, "Imperius," in a meek little voice.

She wasn't serious, and Harry knew she wasn't serious, and this only helped to further enrage him. Harry stared at her unbelievingly for a second before he chuckled darkly.

"You know, I would almost believe you too, if it wasn't for the fact that I know you can throw off an Imperius almost as well as I can."

He stepped further into the kitchen.

"And then there is the little thing about Malfoy's wand being registered with the Ministry when he joined the Law Enforcement Department," he said eying her crossly. "If his wand had cast an Unforgivable in here there would have been Aurors swarming the place by now," said Harry as he folded his arm across his chest imperiously.

Hermione looked like she had about enough of his attitude. She stomped her foot angrily, crossed her own arms in a belligerent manner and said, "Oh hang it all! I don't have to explain myself to you!"

She then Apparated herself into her living room and began to head for the door. Harry was too quick for her, though. He was by her side in a moment, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to face him. She made a sound like a scalded cat.

"Oh really now? You don't have to explain to me why Malfoy was just manhandling you in the kitchen before I popped in?!" he asked, grabbing both her upper arms and shaking her roughly. "You don't have to explain to me why you looked like you liked it?"

"NO!" she shouted back at him, wrenching herself free.

It was a good thing that Hermione had made the flat imperturbable when she first moved in or all her neighbors would have been getting an earful.

"No, I don't! In case you missed the memo I am an adult, as in of age. And this is my flat. And you know what? I CAN BLOODY WELL DO WHAT I WANT IN IT!" she yelled.

He got right in her face and asked frigidly, "Does that include whoever you want as well?"

It was a low blow and Hermione returned it. She slapped him. She slapped Harry so hard that he momentarily saw bright flashes of light before his eye. He darted his hand to the spot where her hand struck him and felt the swollen flesh there. Harry had fought a basilisk. Harry had flown rings around a dragon. Harry had battled an army of dementors. But never in all his life had Harry been smacked by a girl, particularly this girl. Harry stared down at his friend and saw that she seemed to be in as much shock as he was over the situation. Her whole body wore an angry flush, and her breath came out in ragged puffs. Her hair looked like it was flying off her head.

"Oh my," she faintly whispered as her hand traveled to her chest in a motion to stop her heart from jumping out of it.

She wandered slowly over to her beige couch and plopped down forlornly on it. Her hands then covered her face as she began to rock back and forth slowly. Harry shuffled over and sat down next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she just shrugged out of his grip.

"I think you should go home now, Harry," she said huskily, not even looking at him.

Harry wasn't about to have this. He took both of her hands and held them in a tight grip as he tried to gain eye contact with her. She wouldn't let him.

"I can't, Hermione. Not when something is so obviously troubling you," said Harry in a soothing voice. "Something has you so out of sorts that you actually hit me. You hit me, Hermione! You've never done that, no matter how much we have ever argued. Hell, you never even hit Ron!"

"I was angry, alright?" she explained irritably as she tried to squirm her hands from Harry's hold.

He wasn't letting her go.

"You got in my face and that's how I reacted. I'm sorry, ok?"

"No, not ok. Why didn't you come to my game today?"

She huffed angrily before giving up on getting her hands free.

"I didn't feel like it. I was tired when I got home from my trip, and I lost track of time. Besides, Ginny was there."

Harry was mystified by her answer.

"What does Ginny being there have to do with anything?"

She finally made full eye contact with him before rolling her eyes.

"Well I figured with Ginny and the rest of your little Potterhead fan girls at the match, all the adulation you needed to boost your ego was there. One less would be no great travesty really."

She said it so scornfully that Harry almost felt like she had slapped him again. It hurt just that much.

"Do you think that's why I like you coming to my games?" he questioned dolefully. "You think I want you there only to boost my ego? Hermione, you're my good luck charm. I've never played a game without you, you know that."

The tenseness that radiated off of Hermione seemed to lessen at that. Harry took this as a good sign and scooted closer to her on the sofa.

"Even when I lose it makes me feel better to see your face there in the stands. It helps me to know that no matter what, there is one person who doesn't think I'm a loser."

Hermione's eyes pooled with tears before she sniffed and wiped them away harshly, forbidding them to fall.

"Your girlfriend-"

"Once played the game, remember? Seconds after I came out the shower Ginny was already telling me how I let Donahue fake me out. And giving me tips on what to do the next time."

Ginny could be quite annoying that way.

"What I needed was you telling me how you were going to burn some chocolate chip cookies special, just for me."

She smiled at that. Whenever Harry lost a game, Hermione wouldn't even bring up the sore subject. Instead she would do something for him to show him just how special she thought he was. Usually she would try to cook or bake him one of his favorite treats. It always came out inedible, or at best burnt, but Harry dutifully ate every crumb.

Hermione tentatively raised her hand and touched the spot where she hit him. Harry winced only slightly as she barely grazed the slowly forming bruise.

"I'm sorry," she said as her hand came down.

She then gazed into his eyes as if to apologize for every hurt she'd caused him that day.

"I'm sorry."

For a moment their eyes held. Harry felt intoxicated by the way she was looking at him. His head seemed almost too heavy for his neck, like he was feeling a strange cocktail of too many emotions all at once. He felt like he was about to fall...into what he did not know. However the spell was broken when Hermione pitched herself from the sofa and walked over to the bar, her back turned to him.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I really do think you should go."

Bitterness colored her words.

Harry knew he had a decision to make. If he left right then he knew that his friendship with Hermione would be intact, safe and sound. But if he stayed and continued to push her, find out what exactly was going on in her head, he might get his other cheek smacked for the trouble. Especially if he brought up Malfoy again!

"Sorry Hermione, but I'm not going anywhere until we have this out!"

Harry always knew he was a closeted masochist.

She turned to face him, perplexed.

"Have what out? You wanted to know why I didn't come today. I told you."

"Yes you did, but you seemed to have glossed over the pink elephant in the room. Or should I say blond Ferret?"

Hermione looked down her nose at him.

"I refuse to have this conversation with you."

"Oh really?" Harry asked mockingly. "You refuse to have this conversation with me? Well would you prefer to discuss it with Ron?"

At that Hermione's eyes bulged in disbelief.

"I can have him over here as quick as a shot if you'd like."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh I would."

"This doesn't even have anything to do with Ron," argued Hermione.

"Doesn't it? Him so heartbroken over you that he can barely stay on his broom during games now, all the while you're carrying on with Malfoy!"

As Harry said this, he had to fight the urge to cross the room and shake her again.

"Harry," she said as if trying to plead her case, "Draco and I-"

He cut her off before she could finish.

"Exactly! Draco and I...Draco and I..." Harry mocked. "Tell me Hermione, just when exactly did it become Draco?"

Hermione looked gobsmacked at the line of questioning.

"'Cause see, I know when it happened, but I'm wondering if you even realized it?"

He had suspected for some time that Malfoy might have more than friendly intentions towards Hermione. It was never anything blatant Malfoy did to worry his suspicions, it was just a hunch Harry had. He always kept close watch where the bastard was concerned. His eyes would always follow Malfoy closely to see if the jerk would make any unwanted advances towards Hermione. Harry just never thought he should have been paying attention to Hermione as well.

"This thing that's been going on between you and Malfoy..." began Harry noting Hermione's horrified look, "...oh yes, I've noticed. I've noticed it for a long time now. At first I thought it was just coming from his side. The way he would stare at you like you were the last sip of water in the Sahara. The way he would follow you from room to room. The way he would call you...ugh...'Pet'. But I told myself that whatever was going on in that little tow-head of his I didn't have to worry because our Hermione is a smart girl. If he tries anything she'll let him have it. Guess I was right, eh?"

"HOW...DARE...YOU!" fumed Hermione, her face turning pink from anger. She looked like she was ready to deck him this time so he jumped up from where he was sitting and backed further away from her reach.

"Did I hit too close to the mark?"

"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Harry! Draco just came over here because he wanted to check up on me!"

Harry snorted at that.

"It's true!" she said as she stepped closer to him. "Draco was out of town when Nan passed. He knew how much she meant to me, just as much as you did."

Harry scoffed at this.

"He wanted to see if I needed anything, if there was anything that he could do for me."

Harry snickered. "Oh yes, Draco Malfoy, the benevolent."

"Draco is a good man," she countered. "You would realize that if you took your head out of your arse long enough to see it."

"Merlin, he really has done a number on you," Harry said as he met her in the center of the room. He cupped his hands around her face as though determined to get through to her. "Draco Malfoy is evil Hermione," he said, searching her face for any sign of understanding. Seeing none his voice took on a begging tone. "You used to know this, back in school. What happened? What did he do to you?"

Hermione's eyes took on a fervent glow.

"How can you say that?" she asked him desperately. "He saved your life Harry. I...we wouldn't still have you if not for Draco."

"For which he is still awaiting a thank you very much for," Harry indignantly said. "Is that what you are, Hermione? His thank you?"

Her hand must still have hurt from the last time she hit him, because she simply pushed him from her.

"He gave his life for the Order! Just like the rest of us. He helped us bring down Voldemort."

Harry turned his back to her. He didn't like the fervent look in her eyes as she detailed the greatness that was Draco Malfoy. Hermione, however, wouldn't let it go that easy.

"He's going to be an amazing Auror one day, just you wait. He's at the top of his training class now."

She was unrelenting on this subject.

"Why, I had lunch with Alastor just the other day. All he could talk about was Draco. He says that Draco just might be the best he ever trained, like he was born for the job."

Harry forced away the jealousy that surfaced at the praise. He was getting angrier with Hermione by the second.

"Oh, so is that it now? Did you run through all the Quidditch players in Britain, Hermione? You've decided to collect Aurors now?"

Even he was shocked at his venom. Harry turned to face her and ignored the pang he felt in his heart at the destroyed expression on her face.

"You should have at least given Wadcock a turn. She's fancied you for months."

"Why are you talking to me like this?" she barely sobbed out.

"Because it hurt, Hermione!" he spat. "It hurt to fly around that stadium and not see your face in the crowd. It hurt thinking that you just blew me off when I needed you."

It was all coming out now.

"It hurt not being able to be with you these last few weeks, not being able to see your face or hear your voice. And most of all it hurt to see Malfoy, of all people, draped all over you when-"

"You were hurt by seeing me and Draco?" she franticly asked, grabbing hold of him and studying his face closely.

Once again that tangled emotion that he had experienced earlier rose up inside him. Harry was confused, he was flustered. He didn't quite get what Hermione was getting at. Of course seeing her with Malfoy pained him. She was his friend. He wouldn't want to see a friend hurt, would he? Why else would he be mad?

"Well I would have to keep this all from Ron, wouldn't I?" he asked her.

She looked at him as though she couldn't comprehend his meaning.

"This...this is about Ron?" she exasperatedly asked. "You're upset because you don't want to tell any of this to Ron?"

She searched his face, and not finding what she was looking for, sighed desolately.

"Of course that's it."

She turned and crossed back over to the bar.

"Silly Hermione," she muttered so quietly that Harry barely heard her. She was confusing him more and more.

"Do you even realize how much this is going to pain me not to tell Ron?" Harry asked as he walked up to her. "He's still crazy about you, Hermione. I mean, yeah there's Lavender. She's like a right leach, Lavender is," he paused hoping to hear her snicker at least. Hermione always enjoyed a good Lavender dig.

This time, however, it did not do the trick.

"But if you gave him any indication...any sign-"

"I can't, Harry!" she keened. "I can't do this any more. That ship has sailed."

Harry was becoming even more frustrated by Hermione's ever shifting mood.

"But you can do," he emphasized the last word, "Malfoy."

She irately glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Would you drop that, please? I've told you before, Draco is only my friend."

Harry didn't know what made him say it. He really didn't want to say it. It was as if he came down with a bad case of verbal diarrhea. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had crossed the line of all lines.

"Oh, so do all your friends bugger you on the breakfast nook?"

As long as he lived he would never forget the homicidal look on her face as she swung around to face him. She was fairly frothing at the mouth. He had never seen her in such a rage, at least not one directed towards him. Hurricane Hermione was about to make her first appearance.

First one book from her bookcase on the far wall flew at his head and struck him. Then another. Then several pelted him simultaneously. Harry was so shocked that he completely forgot that he was The Chosen One and let his arse get kicked by a couple of encyclopedias. That was when the telly in the living room shut on and the lights in the kitchen begin to blink off and on in a syncopated pattern. Harry knew that he could take down an over emotional witch in a strop, even without his wand, he just didn't want to do anything to harm Hermione. Or better yet, wind her up further.

She advanced on him menacingly, a malicious gleam in her eye.

"Pardon me, but have you never met RON WEASLEY?!" she raged in answer to his question as everything else went still.

Harry could have kicked himself. At this point he would have preferred the books again. Sure he wanted his two friends together, but he didn't want to hear about what they did together. He began pacing frantically back and forth in front of the box, his hands placed over his ears as if that could block out her voice.

"I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear it!"

Hermione, sensing Harry's discomfort, decided to go in for the kill.

"What don't you want to hear? That I let Ron-"

"AHH! STOP IT! Stop it right now!" he practically begged.

"Stop what?" she asked innocently. When she got no answer she said, "Let me get this straight. You're the bloody Heron cheerleader, but you don't want to hear about what goes on between us?"

"Of course not!"

"Why is that?" she asked forcefully.

Harry was stumped as to how to answer that.

"B-because..." he stuttered. "B-because," he tried again. "Because it's just too bloody weird Hermione!"

"Weird?" she asked and he nodded his head. "Do you and Ron ever talk about any of the other girls he's been with? And yes, I know about the Hufflepuff."

Why did he ever think he could best Hermione Granger in an argument?

"Of course."

"But that's not weird?" she countered.

"NO!" He was starting to get flustered. Why was she badgering him so?

"So what exactly is so weird about me and Ron? If it's not Ron, is it me?"

"Well, yeah. I mean...well...well Hermione it's like you're my sister!" he blurted out.

Hurt rose up in Hermione's eyes for one brief moment before her lips curved into a hard, embittered smile.

"Of course I am. I'm like the bleeding kid sister you never had."

Harry nodded his head, glad that she finally understood him.

"And you just can't stand the idea of Sissy getting any, can you?"

Shite! This wasn't going too well, Harry thought to himself.

"Hermione-" he said, trying to cut her off.

"You just can't stand the concept that Sissy has needs, that she is a sexual creature. I bet you never even noticed that fact have you?"

Just what was she going on about, he wondered.

"Hermione!"

"What did you think I did with Ron?" she waspishly asked.

Harry began to inch away from her as she came closer to him.

"With Roger?"

He inched farther still.

"With Olie?"

The back of his legs hit her recliner and he automatically sat down. She bent over him, arms on either side of the chair.

"PLAYED A ROUSING GAME OF EXPLODING SNAP?!"

He hopelessly tried to say that he didn't want to know, but she cut him off.

"SEX, HARRY!" she bellowed in his face. He was horrified at the outburst. "I'VE HAD SEX WITH THEM! EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE OF THEM! I've done things that would make you blush Weasley red, I have!"

It wasn't like Harry didn't know that Hermione was no longer a virg...that she'd had se...That Hermione couldn't go petting baby unicorns any longer. Harry just preferred not to think of such things. It kept him sane doing so. But here she was, flaunting the truth of it in his face. Why didn't she understand that he didn't want to discuss it? But Hermione continued. She would have her say.

"But you know what, Harry?" she asked hotly. "Believe me or not, I have never slept with Draco Malfoy!"

Her words were angry, yet edged in sincerity.

Harry looked in to her large brown eyes and saw the truth of those words.

"No?"

She took a hand in hers.

"No."

Once again Harry's masochistic nature took over.

"Do you want to?" he questioned her.

If asked Harry would have described her pause as being the length of the World Cup pitch, but really it wasn't even a second in length.

"No. Draco isn't who I want."

Before he could ask her who she did want, she got down on her knees in front of him, cutting him off.

"Look, this thing with me and Draco it's...complicated. But it's never going to go that far. It hasn't before."

Harry looked at her, eyes agog.

"BEFORE?!"

Realizing that she might have made the situation worse, Hermione tried to smooth his ruffled feathers.

"Listen, I don't want to be with Draco. I don't. He's my friend and that's all he is ever going to be. So what you walked in on today, that's never going to happen again. Ok?"

She looked up at Harry so innocently, so desperately. She needed for him to believe her.

"Let's not argue anymore. I don't want to fight with you. Yelling at Ron has its moments, its cheap thrills. But arguing with you...it's...it's…"

"Yes?"

"Draining."

"Just answer me this, Hermione?" he asked as he clasped her hands in his own. "Is he the reason you won't take Ron back?" Of course Harry was referring to Malfoy.

She went to answer his question, but choked on whatever words almost came out of her mouth.

Instead she said, "I know why you think you still hate Draco."

Harry scoffed at her delusion. Harry didn't "think" he hated the git. He down right despised him.

"No, it's true. You haven't hated Draco in ages. But you still see him as the Slytherin ponce, the demon seed of Lucius Malfoy, when he hasn't been either of those things for a very long time. You refuse to see that he has changed. That's because you barely have yourself."

Harry tried to untangle his hands from Hermione's grip but she wouldn't let go.

"No, it's true. You're still that dashingly noble boy you were when we first met; the kind that would stick up for a child you barely knew when a bully tried to take his gift from home, the kind that would risk his own life to rescue his best mate's kid sister, the kind that would save a hellion of a little swot from a full grown troll."

Harry tried to protest, but she covered his lips with a single finger.

"You are the kind of big hearted young man who actually befriended said girl who up until that point never knew the meaning of the word, but so desperately needed a friend. That is who you are, Harry Potter. That's why I love..."

She paused, turning her head for a moment before looking back at him.

"That's why I love you. Why we all love you," she finished breezily.

Harry felt filled with warmth, his cheeks were flushed, his head felt light. He fleetingly wondered if he was coming down with a cold.

"You were already too good to be true to start, Harry. You had no place else to go."

She gave him an adorable half-smile that made his heart quicken, but as easily as it appeared it soon melted into a frown.

"But not everyone is like you, Harry. People are not static. We...we don't all just stand still. Sometimes we change."

"Like Malfoy?" he grumped.

"Like Draco," she answered.

She then turned her eyes away from him and to the floor.

"And like me."

Harry couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of her words.

"Sometimes the thing you thought you wanted at 12 years old may not be what you want when you're almost 21. You can fight it and deny the truth of it to yourself for as long as you like, but eventually the lie...it wears you down."

The full meaning of her words pounded into Harry's head. She just couldn't mean what she was saying, though.

"Hermione," he began, "don't you love Ron still?"

If he had to pick anyone for his Hermione it would be Ron.

She wouldn't look up and meet his eyes. It seemed the carpet design was more engaging.

"I...I still love Ron. I think I'll always love Ron. But this thing between us," she said, her melancholy gaining momentum, "it's getting old. All we do is hurt each other, and try again. Hurt each other, and try again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Well I'm sick of it. I'm tired of dancing around...dancing around..."

Harry lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. Once again he felt that tug.

"Dancing around what?"

She grasped at the hand under her chin franticly as Harry held her gaze. He almost wondered if she felt the same unnamed emotion he did, but was too scared to ask. When she could no longer stand the strength of his gaze, she wrenched his hand from her face.

"Nothing Harry, it doesn't matter," she whispered.

Harry was starting to become annoyed with Hermione. He knew that there was something else troubling her, something deeper, but she wouldn't tell him what it was. This was unlike her; the Hermione that he thought he knew told him everything. Or so he thought. Harry briefly wondered if she had mentioned whatever it was that was bothering her to Malfoy, and instantly felt his anger rising at the thought. Instead he changed the subject.

"Hermione, you and Ron...you belong together. Everyone says so."

He slid out of the chair and on to the floor next to her.

"Just like they say it about me and Ginny," he finished as if bringing home a point.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, irately pushing herself away from him. "Not everyone was meant to be like you and Ginny," Hermione said, voice full of scorn. "Not everyone was fated to be together. Just because she has red hair, and just because you look like your dad; it's just not that simple for the rest of us you know!"

She quickly got up from the floor and stamped her way back into her kitchen.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said as he got up to follow her, barely withholding his own anger. "No need to take my head off. That's not what I said!"

Once again he was in the kitchen doorway. She was seated in the corner at her table, head in her hands.

"Why are you trying to put words in my mouth?"

When she would provide no answer, he continued.

"Hermione, Ron misses you."

He walked over and slid next to her on the bench.

"Quite frankly I think he's going spare without you."

Hermione looked up at that. Her face was impassive.

"Really?"

"He's writing poetry."

He made a face.

"Bad poetry. It's really awful."

The utter absurdness of this thawed her mood and made her chuckle. The sound made Harry's heart beat faster. He wanted to keep her smiling at him.

"I need you to put the bloke out of his misery. Take him back. Do it for me."

The small grin that had begun to spread on her face died midway. She suddenly looked lost. She looked wrung out. She looked defeated. Harry searched his head for anything that would make the smile return.

She started to say something.

"Harry...Harry I...I-"

"You know I always pictured us together..."

Once again the smile appeared. It then stapled itself to her face.

"Someday. Me and Ginny, you and Ron."

He threw his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to him.

"We'll all live next door to one another. I always pictured us being at the Hollow, but I wouldn't mind living in St. Catchpole. We will be in and out of each other's doors all the time. All of our children will be in the yard playing together. You and Ron will have a cute little flame haired kid, named Harry of course. And I...I don't know how good a dad I'd be, but me and Gin might one day have our own little Ron."

All through this speech Harry's eyes were set before him as he pictured this perfect future. It was the simple desires of a man who only wanted peace after a life of so much pain and uncertainty. Some might say it was sedate, and boring, but Harry only saw it as normal. After everything that Harry had endured these last few years, that was all that he wanted; a little bit of normal.

"And what if you had a girl?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were very wet. Harry could see that his dream touched her as well.

"I 'spose Rondah will do," he replied.

Hermione gaped at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

"Then again Ronilla also has a nice ring to it," he continued, enjoying the playful way she slapped his arm once she realized he was indeed taking the mickey.

"That child would hex you and Ginny as soon as it got of age," she responded. "Probably Ron and me too for allowing it to happen."

Harry just smiled contentedly.

"Well, it's just a silly little fantasy I've had."

Hermione turned her head to get a good look at him.

"And that's really how you see us, the future? That's what you truly want?" she asked him.

"Well I'm no Trelawney, or anything," answered Harry giving her a small squeeze, "but it's a nice dream. Don't you think?"

She regarded him carefully before answering.

"It sounds perfect."

Harry would never get his dream, though. Well, not exactly. He and Ginny came home from their honeymoon in early May of that same year to discover some shocking news. The newly wedded couple had been in Australia and New Zealand since the day of the March wedding. They indulged in their time alone together, never even checking in at home while they were gone. As soon as the couple got back from their trip, they headed to the Burrow. They were met by several grim faces there.

The whole family knew that the newlyweds would be coming home that day. Harry had to be back to join up with his team for the British Cup finals and he needed to begin practice soon. He and Ginny were all smiles as they walked into the Weasley family kitchen hand in hand. Molly and Fleur were standing at the sink, whispering in each other's ears as both held one of the quarter veela's small sons in their arms. Glinda was breast feeding her newly born baby girl at the table as Fred stood behind her chair, hands resting protectively on her shoulders. She seemed upset, but Penelope awkwardly tried to comfort her with soft words all the while balancing her own infant son in her lap. Bill, George, and Ron came bursting into the room while discussing something in hushed, ominous undertones. Everyone seemed to pause as they realized all at once that the happy couple had finally arrived. Ginny had jokingly asked who died. When no one laughed, both she and Harry nervously asked the question again.

All the other occupants in the room looked at each other apprehensively. Harry felt a sickening chill amass in the pit of his stomach. He realized that Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He caught Ron's eye and asked him anxiously where his girlfriend was. Harry didn't know at the time that the two, who had gotten back together not too long before his engagement, had broken up yet again shortly before his wedding. When only silence reached his ear, Harry ran into the living room to look at the family clock, the rest of the troop filing in after him. It displayed the status of all of Arthur and Molly's brood. He and Hermione had been added to it long ago. While Harry's hand rested on HOME, Hermione's was pointing to LOST. Before Harry could go into hysterics, Arthur and Percy floo'ed home and joined the rest of the family in the living room. The two men had just come from the Ministry where they apparently had been seeking further leads on Hermione's disappearance. Arthur sadly informed the family that so far they still had none. Hermione was gone.

Now here Harry was, years later, madly in love with her.

A/N: Next up is Ginny's POV. Things to look forward to: lunch with Lavender, gossip, and a closer look into the Potter marriage.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Bath'sheba Holliway, Donovan Jacoby, Casey, Haversham, Donahue, Malinde Wadcock, and Bridget Granger are canon.

2) "You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?" is taken from Chapter 30 of HBP.

3) Oneiromancy is a form of Divination that is dream interpretation.

4) Marie Leveau, often referred to as the Voodoo Queen, was one of the most revered and feared (if not the most) voodooiennes in 19^th century New Orleans.

5) According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a runespoor is a magical three headed snake, a favorite pet of dark wizards. Their eggs are profitable on the black market.

6) The Spotted Jack and The Horse's End pubs, the FailSafe concept, as well as the Animatentia poison are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.