Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

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

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

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 22,549

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: None really, but it might be a bit angsty for some. And super long. 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.

Saturday, 05/28/05

Harry was sitting at a table in a pub located a few steps into Knockturn Alley. The place was called the Haggling Hag, and because of its prime location it was able to serve both the dregs of the magical world and those that wanted to associate with those dregs. It was the kind of place where a hag didn't have to hide her face, a fellow could openly buy a poisoned potion with no thought of recrimination, it wasn't too uncommon to see a goblin picking up a human trick for the night...and everyone knew your name.

It was also the kind of place that a respected Auror could meet with an informant and no one would pay either any mind. That was what Harry was doing there. He had come to the Hag to meet with Mundungus Fletcher for lunch, a few pints, and whatever information the ginger haired criminal could give him. Mundungus had sent an owl to Harry's house earlier that morning. According to him he had some information he felt that Harry would be very interested in hearing.

When Harry got up from the breakfast table to leave the house for the day, Ginny had thrown a tantrum. She was furious that he would actually use his Saturday off to do department business, especially when most of the family would be over at the Burrow helping prepare for the Commencement ceremony the next day. Harry tried to explain to his wife how important it was to close the case he was working on, and that he was sure that Ron wouldn't be too upset that he couldn't make it. Knowing Ron, Harry assumed the redhead probably would be hiding out somewhere himself.

It turned out that Fletcher did not have info on any of Harry's current cases, but instead had heard some gossip pertaining to a plot to kidnap the very popular WWN personality, Glenda Chittock. There were some folks who felt that their favorite group, The Hobgoblins, were not featured nearly enough on the program that Chittock hosted and were determined to rectify the situation, never mind the fact that the group had broken up ages ago. 'Dung, who just so happened to be an ardent devotee of the stunning Miss Chittock, and a big fan of The Witching Hour, felt that it was his duty to make sure that Harry knew about this nefarious plot. He also was hoping to score major brownie points with the young Auror.

Mundungus had recently fallen in with a two-bit ring of crooks who were selling malfunctioning sneakoscopes to Muggles illegally. The things were being billed as personal alarm systems, and were being sold to poor little grandmothers in Hackney all the way to young mothers in Chessington. The stupid things didn't work a bit, but that didn't matter. The Muggle Protection act had been violated, and due to Mundungus' very extensive rap sheet, he was guaranteed a nice long stay in Azkaban as soon as someone from the Hit Wizard Squad caught up with him.

What Fletcher desperately needed from Harry was a recommendation. Even with the dementors now gone, Azkaban was still a dreary, desolate, soul destroying place. Misery clung to the prison as if it resided in the very stone walls. This after all was where Riddle had made his last stand. Some said the essence of the monster practically permeated the air, and that alone was enough to make a man go insane if he stayed there for more than a fortnight. After the War ended and the prison was reopened, this was where the Ministry sent all of the wizards who hoped to fill Voldemort's shoes, as well as the career criminals they hoped to be done with. 'Dung fell in this last category.

A few years ago, to curb over crowding, the Ministry built a new prison village on one of the Outer Hebrides Islands, St Kilda. It was named Darthmont and it was the place that wizards and witches were sent if they were guilty of smaller petty crimes. Sure the place was volcanic and the landscape foreboding, but in comparison to Azkaban, Darthmont was a bloody holiday resort. This was where Mundungus was hoping to get sent to if he was caught. All he needed was for Harry to put in a good word for him.

Harry was not pleased with Mundungus' news. He had been hoping that 'Dung had some information on any possible whereabouts of Ptolemy Cadmus. That was the biggest case that the Second Squad was working on and the case that Harry most wanted to close. Some alleged kidnapping, that was probably just drunken talk heard in a seedy pub, was of little interest to him. 'Dung was quite lucky that Harry didn't call in a team of Hit Wizards right there on the spot. It was only because of Fletcher's past ties to the Order that Harry stayed his hand.

Harry's relationship with Mundungus Fletcher had been contentious for years. 'Dung was a useful snitch, but Harry had never fully trusted the bounder after that day in Hogsmeade when he caught the crook with goods he had stolen from Grimmauld Place. In Harry's mind Sirius was barely gone, yet here was Fletcher already picking the meat off the carcass. In fact when he, Hermione, and Ron cottoned on to the fact that they might have actually come across the Slytherin Locket at Grimmauld just two summers before, Harry automatically assumed that Mundungus had it.

It wasn't that large a leap for them to deduce that the R.A.B. that stole the locket Horcrux might actually have been Sirius' younger brother, Regulus Black. It was during one of their late night brain storming sessions on Little Whinging that Ron remembered seeing a locket just like the one Harry described to them. It had been one of the many objects they came across in the drawing room of number twelve. As Ron recalled, none of them could get the thing opened. Harry shared the fact that Regulus had been a Death Eater who for some unknown reason went on the run shortly before he was killed. Hermione provided them with the information that Regulus' middle name was Arcturus, named so after the Black brothers' paternal grandfather. She found that in a book she was reading that she had removed from Grimmauld back when Sirius was alive and had given her permission to. Nature's Nobility was a book on genealogy and listed every pureblood, magical family of worth. It was a veritable who's who of the wizarding world, so of course the House of Black had its own chapter. Why Hermione was reading the book she wouldn't say, but the pieces of the puzzle were finally starting to come together. Could Regulus Arcturus Black have become disillusioned with Voldemort's plans? Could that be his reason for stealing the Horcrux? Could that have been the reason why Voldemort had him killed?

Harry had no answers for these questions, but he did know that if that mysterious locket that they found once was the Slytherin heirloom, they needed to find it again posthaste. When Harry noticed Mundungus at the Burrow after the wedding, he quickly cornered the fellow near the broom shed. 'Dung denied ever seeing the locket of course, but Harry didn't believe him. He was a thief, wasn't he?!

It had taken the combined efforts of Ginny, Neville, Fred, and George to pull Harry off of the older man. Harry was incensed! His judgment was so impaired by anger and fear that he barely listened to a word that Mundungus said in his defense. Hermione and Ron, looking rumpled and harassed, soon entered the mêlée. Both of them grabbed an arm as they pulled their enraged friend away from the throng.

To say that Hermione read Harry the riot act wouldn't even come close to describe the tongue lashing that she dished out.

"Are you bloody mad?! To attack poor Mr. Fletcher like that? An Order member, Harry?! AN ORDER MEMBER! How could you?! And then on top of that you announce to anyone within hearing distance that you're looking for something important! Way to go Potter! Why don't you just alert Voldemort to all our plans right now, it would be easier!"

After he and Hermione had a screaming match that put any she had ever had with Ron to shame, it was agreed upon that Mundungus more than likely didn't have the locket. Their next course of action was to search Grimmauld Place. Harry wanted to go off then and there that very night, but Hermione and Ron vetoed the idea. Or rather Hermione said that she didn't think it was a very good plan and Ron agreed with her. When the hell did Ron start taking her side over mines, Harry briefly wondered as he fought down the intense wave of irritation that had reared its head.

"In a couple of weeks the Ministry is going to have a testing day. We can all floo into Diagon Alley, and while Ronnie is taking his Apparition test, you and I can search the house. We'll stay the night at the Cauldron, then we can take the train into Nottingham station. Hopefully someone can take us the rest of the way."

Harry also wondered just when the hell she had started calling their best mate Ronnie? What the bollocks was that all about?!

With a course of action set, the three friends spent the remaining few days at the Burrow enjoying what freedom they had left before they got down to the serious business of Horcrux hunting. At least he assumed Hermione and Ron were enjoying themselves. Harry instead preferred to isolate himself from them, Ginny, and everyone else in the house. He was beginning to feel the burden of his destiny settling about his shoulder. It was cumbersome, it was wearying, and most of all it wasn't fair!

What happens if I fail? Why is this job mines to do?

What happens if I fail? When do I ever get to live my life?

What happens if I fail? How am I to manage this?

What happens if I fail? Where are my parents' happy ending?

What happens if I fail?

What happens if I fail?

What happens if I fail? Will anyone even care?

That was the constant refrain that played itself inside of Harry's head. The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World; all of those were just meaningless titles to him. Down deep in the dark recesses of Harry's heart he knew exactly who he really was, the child so unlovable that he had to be locked away for most of his life. He could try all he wanted to live up to the accolades and the praise that was heaped upon him, but in the end it would all be for naught. He would die. How could he not? He couldn't possibly win. There was no way he could really take on Riddle. Never mind that scene in the graveyard after the Tournament. That was just dumb luck. Plus his parents had been there telling him what to do then. According to the damned prophecy neither he nor Riddle could live while the other survived. When he still had Dumbledore behind him Harry believed he was strong enough to do this, but now with his mentor gone...he would die. And no one would care. There would be no future for him.

The day that he and Hermione foraged through Grimmauld Place he was still holding on to these dark thoughts. It was nearing afternoon and they had been searching the house since morning. The two of them came straight over to Grimmauld after renting two rooms at the Cauldron and dropping off their shrunken trunks. Ron would be meeting them back there after he was done with his test.

Currently they were separated having split up to make the search go faster. They had already gone through the kitchen, Kreacher's filthy little cubby hole, and a few of the bedrooms. Now he was upstairs looking in the dusty, cobweb filled attic while Hermione was on the first floor in the drawing room. Harry had just uncovered a box that contained two wands and a toy model motorcycle when he heard a scream that shook him to the core. There was only one other person in the house with him, there was only one person it could be.

He ran, on legs that felt too heavy, for the stairs. He practically jumped to the first floor landing. Once he got to the door of the drawing room the sounds of sorrowful weeping reached his ears. Someone was sobbing inside.

"Hermione?" he whispered as he eased open the door.

There was no answer, but the sobbing continued. As Harry fully stepped into the room, he saw the shape of someone, a girl, cowering near the wall. Her wand was in her hand. Spread out before her on the dusty old carpet was a dead body. His dead body.

That unmistakable sinking feeling of déjà vu hit him all at once. His head felt almost weightless as he recalled the night he walked into this very room and stumbled on to a scene similar to the one before him now. Same dirty moth eaten curtains? Check. Same creature infested couch? A-yup. Opened writing desk? Oh yeah! The only difference was back then it was Molly Weasley whose worst fears were being played upon by a boggart.

"R-r-riddikulus!" sobbed Hermione.

Another difference was that the boggart back then had the good grace to not only change into him, but every Weasley son as well as the father. But no, Hermione had used the spell to banish the creature and yet it still remained and still looked like him.

Blood was matted in boggart Harry's dark hair, his glasses were cracked and dangling off of his nose, and his green eyes were dull and sightless. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead was now a livid looking red welt that stood out on his pale, bloodless face. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head hoping to clear the picture from his mind, but when he opened them again boggart Harry still remained dead on the floor. The only difference was that now Hermione had draped herself over the lifeless corpse.

"Oh Harry!" she heartbreakingly wailed.

She hadn't realized that the living version was also in the room with her. All of Hermione's attention was focused on boggart Harry. Harry watched, spellbound, as she lifted her head and ran her hand tenderly through the hair on boggart Harry's bloody head. As a tear fell from the tip of her red, raw nose she closed her eyes and silently mouthed his name again. It was this act that forced Harry to finally take action.

He noiselessly crept across the room and settled himself on his knees on the other side of the boggart. Hermione was facing him.

"Hermione, luv," Harry said gently, "make it go away."

He knew she heard him because she shook her head childishly, as though she were trying to ward off the Boogey Man in the room, but she didn't raise her eyes from the body. Harry tried again, this time with a little more force behind his words.

"Hermione, you know it isn't real! Please Hermione, make it go away."

Her eyes drifted up and bulged at the sight of him. She quickly looked back at the body on the floor as her mouth began to work itself open and close wordlessly. He'd never seen Hermione so upset. He could see the confusion and turmoil in her eyes. He also saw when some sort of realization snapped into place.

"No, no, no, no..." she cried frantically as she scuttled away from the body like a bug and pressed herself against the wall. She continued to moan and wail the word "no" over and over again as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her ears with her hands, dropping her wand.

Seeing that Hermione was going to be of no help, Harry pulled out his wand from his jean pocket and pointed it at his own image. But in the blink of an eye his body vanished, and in its place a black robed figure stood over him, reaching out its scabbed, slimy-looking hand to him. Harry felt the dementor's rattling breath to his very bones. His glasses fogged due to the rapid temperature drop in the room. But either he no longer feared fear, or he was more concerned with his friend's continuous whimpering to pay the creature any heed. Whichever it was, Harry pointed his wand at the dementor as he rose slowly from the floor.

"RIDDIKULUS!" he shouted very firmly, very clearly. And just like that the boggart disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The silence that remained after the boggart was banished was almost deafening. The two people in the room said not a word to each other. By this time Hermione had opened her eyes again and was watching him with a wary expression on her face. Harry didn't really know what to say to her, how to react. What he did, however, was scoop her wand up from the floor and step over to her prostrate form. As he offered her the wand, her large brown eyes, glistening with the tears that still demanded to be shed, shifted between the thin vine wood to Harry's eyes. She reached out her hand, hesitantly, eyes never leaving his. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could leave his lips Hermione grabbed her wand from out of his hand, leapt up from her position on the floor, and ran out the door so fast that one would have thought a grim was nipping at her heels.

Harry was astounded. It all happened so quickly that he hadn't realized she was making a run for it until he heard her footfalls on the stairs. He turned on his heels to follow her out. By time he got to the musty, dimly lit entrance hall the place was a cacophony of shrieks and shrills. Hermione had apparently made such a ruckus in her haste to exit the house that she roused the hated portrait of Sirius' mother from its rest. Harry could hear the Black matriarch screaming about disgusting creatures of dirt spoiling the purity of her home, and complaining about half-breed monsters that didn't have the decency to die properly. Harry simply ignored her and the rest of the family portraits who had begun to squawk and bellyache inside their frames as he ran pass them and headed for the wide opened door, nearly tripping over the overturned troll leg umbrella stand that was lying on the floor. By time Harry got outside there was no trace of Hermione to be seen. She had obviously Apparated away. Harry sighed wearily to himself. It was going to be a long walk to Charing Cross.

Almost an hour later Harry was greeted by the sight of his two best friends sitting at a table in the dining room of the Leaky Cauldron, chatting animatedly with one another as their near empty plates sat before them. Ron's back was facing the door so Harry couldn't see what kind of a mood he was in. Harry was hoping that it was a good one because that would mean he had passed his test. With Harry not being eligible to take his test until August they could use another person who was legally allowed to Apparate. It would come in handy in cases of emergencies, like if one of them got separated from the others. Harry would still be able to side along with the other one. This thought and his aching feet brought his attention over to Hermione.

She had changed from the faded blue jeans and red and white striped cotton shirt she was wearing that morning into a light weight yellow jumper and denim skirt. Her hair was pulled into a neat pony tail. She looked fresh faced and cheerful, and if Harry hadn't seen it for himself he would have never guessed that this was the same girl who had seemed practically broken only a couple of hours before.

As he walked over to their table, Hermione looked up from her conversation and smiled cheerfully at him. Harry momentarily lost his footing and almost tripped over his own feet. The total 180˚ turn of her personality must have unnerved him to the point that it actually disturbed his equilibrium. Yeah, that had to be it. Ron, wanting to see what or who Hermione was beaming at, turned in his seat and offered up his own large grin at the sight of his best friend. Harry couldn't help but return the smiles.

"Guess who passed his test with flying colors?" Hermione asked brightly while turning to look at Ron affectionately.

Harry took a seat at the table and turned to look at Ron as well.

"Since I see both eyebrows are still firmly in place, I'll wager a guess and say Weasley here. Although...your nose does look slightly higher than it did this morning."

Ron chuckled humorously.

"That's it, take the piss. I don't mind much," he quipped as he threw a dinner roll at Harry.

Being the brilliant Seeker that he was, Harry expertly caught it, then gnawed off a piece hungrily. During his walk he had worked up a ferocious appetite.

Hermione stood up from the table as she took a couple of silver sickles out of her pocket and laid them on the table. Ron picked the money up and handed it right back to her. An argumentative look crossed her face before it faded causing her to only shake her head complaisantly. Harry watched all of this with an odd, removed interest.

"I think I'm going to go into Diagon for a bit, probably get a new quill. Do you lot want anything?"

"The twins have these new sweets called Sour Apes. Your mouth puckers up so much that you can barely talk except make sounds like an orangutan. Then you're filled with a sudden yet overwhelming urge to climb a tree. They're wicked! Get me a few packs of those, please?" Ron asked sweetly while grabbing on to her hand.

Hermione rolled her eyes skyward in false seriousness.

"I'll enable you, but my poor dentist parents might need to deprogram me once I finally get back home after all of this."

Both boys laughed.

"Would you like anything Harry?"

Harry looked up into her large brown eyes and didn't see even a trace of the frightened girl he had encountered in Grimmauld's drawing room. He wanted to tell her that he needed to know what the hell was going on with her. Why did that boggart turn into him? Why was her reaction so extreme? But the girl seemed determined to act as though nothing was amiss between them.

"No, nothing thanks."

As she walked out of the room both boys watched her go; Ron looking as though she was a chocolate éclair and he was a starved man, while Harry's face wore a more thoughtful, contemplative expression.

"So Hermione tells me that Grimmauld was a bust," Ron mentioned as he turned to face Harry. Harry had been looking out the doorway still, so he missed what Ron said at first.

"Come again?"

Ron frowned at him exasperatedly.

"The Horcrux Harry!" he said, a little too loud for Harry's liking.

"RON!"

"Sorry," the redhead mumbled sheepishly. "She just said that you two didn't find anything at the house."

"No," Harry dolefully replied. "And we looked high and low."

"Rotten luck."

"Yeah," he said dejectedly. "Say Ron, is that all Hermione mentioned?" Harry asked curiously.

Ron pondered on the question for a moment before answering in the affirmative.

"Why, did something else happen? Is that why you hung back after she left?"

Harry looked at his best friend for a moment as he tried to decide what he was going to say. For some reason Harry knew that Ron wouldn't take this boggart story well. When both he and Hermione had been invited into Slughorn's Slug Club, Ron was not quiet about his unhappiness at being left out. And there were times still that his hot tempered mate would get almost jealous if he and Hermione were off alone for even a moment. Although that had lessened somewhat as of late, that still didn't make Harry want to share with Ron what had gone down at number twelve any faster. He wouldn't lie to his best friend, but he wouldn't tell him the full story either. Besides, Harry reasoned, how can I explain something that I don't understand myself?

"Well there was no Horcrux there," he began as he motioned to Tom across the room so that he could place an order, "but you'll never guess what I think I did find."

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

The next morning the three Gryffindors took a cab to St. Pancras station and bought tickets to Nottingham. They were costly, and Hermione and Ron tried to put up a fuss when he paid for them all to ride, but Harry eventually prevailed. The trip reminded them of so many journeys on the Express to and from school that they all almost expected Ginny to run in at any moment to share the goings on of the rest of the train, or Luna and Neville to join them. But it was just the three teenagers in a car by themselves. They didn't even speak, just left each other alone to their own thoughts as Harry sat across from Ron and Hermione. It wasn't that long of a trip, just under two hours, but at one point Hermione fell asleep against Ron's shoulder. He carefully maneuvered her into a position where she could stretch out her body on the rest of the seat while her head laid comfortably in his lap. As Ron reverently ran his fingers through the sleeping girl's curls, Harry had to turn his head from the scene. It reminded him too much of the day before, Hermione doing the same thing to his blood soaked hair. Ron was absentmindedly staring into space so he didn't notice Harry's unease.

Once they reached their destination they decided to eat first. Although none of them exactly voiced it, they were not sure what would be waiting for them once they got to the Potter cottage. None of them wanted to meet that prospect on an empty stomach. Hermione suggested the old Inn, she had read that it was actually carved into the castle and wanted to see it. She also figured that they could find someone there to give them a ride out to the Hollow. The two boys were so famished that they didn't really care where they went.

It was when the cabbie refused to drive them to the former Potter home that they first realized that something was off. The bloke let them off in front of the church and told them that he wouldn't go the rest of the way. The house they wanted to go to was haunted and if the three of them had any sense they would stay the hell away from it. Hermione paid the man and thanked him for his advice. Luckily all of their trunks and belongings were nicely fitted into Hermione's book bag so the walk wouldn't be that difficult. The two boys took turns carrying it although she continuously reminded them that she was no helpless female. They were all dressed comfortably in trainers and jeans and looked like just the average uni students from town. No one paid them any notice as they walked down the main road, Harry and Ron on either side of Hermione.

Remus had already told them that the house would be at the far edge of the village so they at least knew where they were going. Remus had also told Harry that his parents were buried in the small cemetery of the village church. Harry tried not to focus on that last piece of information, tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but all he could wonder was if his parents had a nice shaded spot under a tree. Was there anyone who took pity on their poor untended plots and maybe put flowers on them from time to time? With his head held low as he walked, and his mind wrapped up in these torturous thoughts, Harry almost missed it when Ron and Hermione came to a halting stop. He was confused by their awestruck faces until he turned to face the cottage in front of him.

"It's beautiful," Hermione whispered in wonder.

And it was. It was the kind of cottage where a beautiful princess from a storybook was likely to live with her Fairy Godmother. Or you fully expected a troop of singing dwarves to make their way out the door at any moment. Hansel and Gretel would have marveled at the spacious two story Gingerbread cottage standing before the three teens, though they wouldn't have been able to satisfy their sweet tooth on it. The thatched roof looked well maintained and there was a little chimney stack protruding from it, while the wide bay window in front sparkled from the rays of sunlight playing across it. On the right hand side of the foyer door stood a well tended rose bush, while the rest of the house was surrounded by flowerbeds of various blossoms. The whole splendor of the place was almost too much to take in. Harry's breath hitched in his throat, he knew he had finally come home.

"I thought you said the house was rubble?" Ron stage whispered to the still enthralled girl.

"I thought it was," Hermione whispered back at him through her gritted teeth. "At least it's supposed to be. According to The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century the place was completely destroyed."

"That doesn't look like a heap to me," Ron smartly replied under his breath.

"Well what do you want me to do about it, Ron?!" she retorted shrilly.

"You guys know that I can hear you right?"

Hermione and Ron turned to Harry as though just realizing he was even there.

"Sorry, Harry."

"Sorry, mate."

Harry hadn't taken his eyes off of the house. He felt spellbound to the spot and his nerves tingled through out his body. It felt almost as if he had entered an electricity field.

"What do you reckon happened here?" he asked.

Hermione's face wore an expression of unease and apprehension.

"I'm not sure. But you feel it too, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry stated, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. "The hairs on my arms are practically on end."

Ron looked at his two friends incredulously.

"What the bollocks are you two yammering about?"

"Magic, Ronnie! Very powerful magic. It's all around this place. It's fairly humming in my ears," she said in answer. "Can't you feel it too?"

Ron's face scrunched up in concentration for a moment before settling on a frown.

"Nope, but I do feel my stomach talking to me. I'm starved."

"WELL RON, IF YOU WEREN'T SO CONCERNED WITH THAT BOTTOMLESS PIT YOU CALL A BELLY-"

"Guys, please," Harry pleaded, "if you two start in on each other now I don't think I could take it."

For their parts, Ron and Hermione both looked ashamed for bickering at such a critical juncture.

"Sorry, Harry," they both said.

For a moment none of them said anything else. Harry just continued staring at the cottage while the other two stared at him, waiting for some sign. After a few minutes of this, Hermione caught his attention. He looked at her as she raised her palm to his face and wiped at the tears on his cheek. Harry hadn't noticed he was crying.

"Why don't you show us your home, Harry," she fondly said as she gave him an understanding, reassuring smile.

He smiled back and nodded his head firmly.

"Well," said Ron breaking the moment, "let's do this on three then."

The other two nodded in agreement.

"One," Hermione began as she took Ron's hand in her empty one. They all inched forward.

Ron smiled down at her as he said, "Two."

The Trio moved closer to the house yet again.

"Three," Harry called as the friends all squeezed each other's hands for courage, each stepped forward with their right foot...and promptly fell back into the grass.

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

When Harry came to he was lying on a soft, comfortable bed. It was very similar to the one he had at Hogwarts, but only larger with dark blue hangings. They were currently pulled back. He felt a cool hand on his forehead and didn't want the soothing sensation of calm and security it filled in him to stop. As he opened his eyes, it was Hermione's face Harry saw.

"Finally decided to join the living?"

"Where am I?" he huskily asked, his head feeling like someone dropped bricks on it as soon she removed her hand.

She got up from the chair she had been sitting on and walked into an adjoining room. When she came back out with a wet cloth, Harry deduced that it was a bathroom. She laid it across his head and took her seat again.

"This was your mum and dad's room. I figured you'd like to stay in here," she began. "The only other bedroom in the house is your nursery across the hall, but I didn't think you would fit in the crib."

"My...crib..."

"Uh huh. And your bassinet. And about fifty gazillion toys and games."

She smiled impishly at him.

"You were a spoiled little monkey weren't you?"

Harry tried to sit up and lean against the stack of pillows on the bed, but she had to help him.

"I don't really remember," he said frowning sadly.

Hermione's smile faded slowly.

"No, I suppose you don't."

She then gave his knee a comforting pat.

"But I left it all there for you to see, although I am going to need a place to sleep myself. I figure I can take one of these pillows and transfigure it into a cot or something. Fit it in the corner or maybe just sleep downstairs on the sofa."

"Not on your life," said Harry shaking his head furiously. "You can sleep in here and I'll sleep on the cot."

"And where will Ron sleep?" she asked tartly.

Harry's face went beet red at the implications of the question.

"Let's compromise," she suggested trying to withhold a smirk. "We can move little Harry's things into the basement downstairs later on, and I'll conjure myself up a sparkly pink canopy. How does that sound?"

He grinned at the thought of Hermione sleeping in something so girlie and monstrous.

"Excellent."

"It's really a beautiful place, Harry," she enthused. "You can tell that there was love here."

Hermione then blushed at the boldness of her own statement. All Harry could think was how she endeared herself to him more and more each time she did that.

"Goodness, I'm making no sense."

"You are to me," he said smiling.

"Well your parents must have owned a car at one point because there is a huge garage. And there's this great big kitchen. Almost makes me wish I could boil water. There also is an absolutely lovely wrought iron porch glider on the outside patio, and a great big green backyard with a tree swing."

Her excitement was rubbing off on him.

"And the tree! Oh! You should see this tree, Harry. There must be magic on it. It's gargantuan and loaded with dozens of different fruit. Ron pinched a few before he went off."

He couldn't wait to see all of this for himself. Harry's mood was almost taking an upswing until he went to run his fingers through his hair and felt the lump on his head.

"Ouch, bugger," he groaned. "What happened to us, Hermione? One moment we were outside, and then the next I have a bruise the size of Millicent Bulstrode on my noggin."

"It was the SnowGlobe," she simply answered.

When Hermione gave no further explanation, Harry gave her a baffled look.

"Obviously I have a concussion because you are making no sense whatsoever."

She chuckled at that.

"No, no concussion. That bump might take a bit to go down, though. I'm not nearly as good at my healing charms as I would like," she admitted.

This truly was a day of surprises. It wasn't everyday that Hermione Granger admitted to not knowing something.

"What we ran into was a SnowGlobe Charm that was surrounding the house," she explained. "It's kind of like the Bubble Head, but much larger and infinitely more complex to produce. They don't even teach it for NEWTs. You've seen a snow globe before, haven't you? They're usually these tacky little tourist gifts you pick up on vacation. Shake them up and snow falls on a little cabin on a mountain, or glitter on a sandy beach."

"Dursleys never really took me anywhere."

"Beasts," she sniffed disgustedly.

She shook her head as if to clear it of their foul presence.

"Didn't you see the ones the twins got for their shop? They were showing all the guests at the Burrow; poor Filch."

Harry did recall the little novelty items the twins had been terribly proud of. They had been showing them off at Bill and Fleur's wedding. George had given him one on the house. The twins had designed a miniature Hogwarts suspended inside a small glass ball. When you shook it, four little figures dressed in the four house colors came out the building and flew around the castle on their tiny brooms. Then when they flew back in the door a minuscule, gray haired, balding Caretaker would jump off of the Astronomy tower. It was brilliant!

"Well that's how the charm works. Everything inside that ball never changes, and nothing from the outside can get in and disturb it. That is unless you break the enchantment."

Hermione told him how she was the first one to wake-up after all three of them were knocked out. Since she had read about the SnowGlobe Charm over the Christmas holiday she had an idea that that was what they had encountered, though she had no idea how to cancel the spell. A simple "Finite" wouldn't work. So she had to Apparate to her house because she had accidentally left the book that had the spell she needed there.

"Did your parents leave on their trip yet?" he asked nervously.

"Sadly no. Dad looked so happy when he saw me. He thought that I had decided to change my mind and visit Nan after all. When I told him that I had no intention to go to Killarney with him and mum he was not pleased. Dad even tried to use Nan against me. He gave me some old song and dance about how the poor old dear might not be with us much longer and that I needed to be with my family."

"You know Hermi-"

Before the words could even leave his mouth she cut him off with a defiant glare.

"Don't you dare say it! Don't even think it!" Hermione stated as she folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs. "My Nan is as tough as nails. She'll outlive us all, I swear! Besides if she knew what all of this was about, she would tell me herself that my place was here beside you."

She said this with so much conviction that Harry could almost believe it was true.

"So I got the book and popped back over here. Ron was already coming to by then. We floated you in and I sent him off to that Muggle grocery we walked by earlier. Unfortunately, whoever put the SnowGlobe up didn't leave us with any food or supplies."

"I'm still confused. Why isn't this place in ruins?"

She shrugged her shoulders at the question.

"No idea. But I figure it was the same person who put the place to right as well. I think this may even be the original furniture. It would have taken something far stronger than a Reparo, that's for certain. All I can think is that a very powerful wizard was here before us."

Harry really didn't have to ponder too long on who that powerful wizard could be.

"Dumbledore."

"My guess as well."

"He must have known that...that I would want to come here. To see it in case...that is...if I don't..."

His words choked up on him and he had to pause a moment before he could speak again. Hermione stroked his hand with care, urging him to go on.

"And he must have known you would be with me."

"We don't know that at all," she said while blushing charmingly again.

"No, it's true. He told me that I needed you…and Ron. He said that I would need you two more than ever and he was right. Who else could have taken down that spell? He had to know you two would follow after me."

She gave him a fond look.

"Well you do yourself a great disservice. I'm sure you could have broken the SnowGlobe yourself somehow. You didn't need me. I told you that you were a great wizard once, a long time ago. Remember?"

"Yes, but you were 12 then. Twelve year olds don't know any better," he answered in false seriousness.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. She then got up and headed to the door, but before she could walk out Harry called out her name.

"Yes?"

He knew he should have left it alone, but Harry felt that something had to be said.

"About...about the boggart, Hermione..."

A queer look ghosted her face for a moment. It was the kind of expression you wore right after you've tasted something sour and displeasing. She quickly smiled shyly at him as she came back in the room. But instead of coming closer to where Harry was laying, she wrapped her arms around the post at the end of the bed.

"Big difference from the little swot who went running out of the room because she thought Professor McGonagall was going to give her all Trolls, hmm?"

Harry smiled to himself as he remembered that day in Remus' class. It had taken forever to calm Hermione down back then.

"Good thing Ronnie wasn't around to laugh at me again."

That remark curbed his amusement. Harry didn't know why, but her bringing Ron up in conjunction with this whole boggart business made him feel uncomfortable for some reason. She must have thought that he was going to suggest that she go back home to her parents or something because she quickly became defensive.

"Look, I'm not going mad or anything like that. Don't think I'm becoming some swooning girl or something."

"I don't think that."

"Good," replied Hermione. "Besides it's not really a big deal, is it?" she continued airily. "You and Ronnie are the people I care for the most in this world, save for my mum, dad, and Nan of course. And with everything that's going on with Voldemort it's no big shock that that...thing would turn into you. It very easily could have been Ron."

Hermione let go of the bed post and began slowly backing towards the door.

"Trust me Harry, it really isn't that big a deal," she said before walking out the room.

Except it was a big deal. It was a big deal to him. But if Hermione wanted to sweep the whole thing under the cauldron, so be it.

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

They stayed at the Hollow for two weeks; up until Harry's birthday. Because the tiny village contained only 300 souls altogether, including the three friends, and because of the isolated location of the cottage they didn't have to worry about anyone prying into their affairs. The three of them soon settled into a cozy routine. After Hermione nearly burnt the kitchen down in a sweet, yet misguided attempt to cook breakfast one morning, they all began Apparating into Nottingham for meals. During the day Harry and Ron would practice their wizard dueling outside on the Potter's wide expanse of backyard, and at night they usually played chess or Exploding Snap in the living room. Hermione would read and make suggestions from nearby. Ron also helped him go through his parents' belongings and store what he wanted to keep in the basement.

He visited his parents by himself. He knew that all he had to do was ask and Ron and Hermione would have gladly accompanied him, but Harry felt that it was something he needed to do on his own. He gathered a bouquet of cabbage roses, daisies, peonies, and wildflowers from the bushes and flowerbeds outside the house and brought them for his mum and dad. Hermione informed him that all of the plant life surrounding the house was protected by an Ever Blooming Charm. So that even when plucked, the flowers never withered and died. That knowledge comforted him. It meant that the flowers would remain fresh and beautiful as the day he placed them on his mum and dad's graves; Muggles be damned. Harry was also pleased to discover that the Potters did indeed have a beautiful shaded spot under an old English oak.

What Hermione did with her days, they didn't discover until later. She was always rushing off to the small village library that also doubled as a town hall. At first Harry assumed that she was looking up information on the Founders, but that didn't make much sense to him. Why would she be doing research in a Muggle library?

During the evenings Hermione was usually obsessed with looking through book after book on Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Since they already knew that Riddle had broken his soul in pieces and put them into objects that belonged to the other two Founders, they were trying to figure out what heirlooms of Godric's or Rowena's Riddle could have gotten his hands on and turned into Horcruxes. Harry and Ron tried to give her a hand, but she got so frustrated at their efforts that she forbade them to touch any of her books. She had gotten special permission from McGonagall to borrow most of them from the Hogwarts library and she was under strict orders not to damage any of them. She was so uptight about the maintenance of all of those old books in fact that one night she nearly went mental over them.

"ARG!"

Hermione was sitting on the floor in front of a little wooden coffee table, a pile of books stacked on it and spread out around her. Ron was in the kitchen foraging for food, while Harry was sitting before the empty fireplace. He turned to look at her.

"What's the matter, Hermione?"

"THESE BLOODY BOOKS, THAT'S WHAT'S THE MATTER!" she screeched, tugging on her own hair. "THEY'RE ALL SO BLOODY USELESS!"

Ron came strolling out of the kitchen holding a plate with a sandwich in one hand and a large cut glass bottom tumbler filled with water in the other.

"Hermione's putting down books?" he wondered aloud as he sat down on the sofa she was leaning back against. "Has the world gone mad?"

Although Harry wanted to laugh, one look at Hermione's face told him that to do so would be a suicide mission.

"I've been going through all these books on Ravenclaw and they all say the bloody same thing," she grumbled. "Moving floor plan, moving floor plan; oh look, BLEEDING MOVING FLOOR PLAN!"

As if to prove her point she pointed accusingly at all of the books closest to her.

"Can't any of them come up with anything original?!"

"That's all you've been able to find?" asked Harry anxiously.

She wearily sighed.

"I'm afraid so. I mean the older texts suggest that she might have fashioned the very first Pensieve, but I've yet to find anything to substantiate that claim. For all I can tell it is just hearsay rot. I can't even find proof that Rowena Ravenclaw even owned a Pensieve, much less made one," she said morosely.

"Well what's this one about?" asked Ron as he leaned over to place his now empty glass on the table and picked up a smaller paperback book that had been lying on the sofa. "Ravenclaw of Gaul," he said, reading the title of the book out loud.

"Oh that?" she dismissively asked, barely looking up from the huge tome she held open on her lap. "It's just some stupid historical novel. Historical, please! It's supposed to be about the Founder's years after Hogwarts."

Harry's interest was piqued.

"After Hogwarts?"

"Yes, she left Hogwarts sometime around...1169. She got called in front of the Wizengamot, but refused to appear before the court and instead went into exile. According to that book Ravenclaw lived out the rest of her life somewhere in France. That tripe is practically a bodice ripper. Ravenclaw would have been, at the least, over two hundred years old. Bunch of over romanticized claptrap if you ask me."

Now she had both boys eager attention. This wasn't the kind of thing you heard in Binns' class.

"Wha'dshedoosh?" came Ron's mush mouthed question between bites of his sandwich.

Hermione made an exasperated sound of disgust at Ron's negligent table manners and looked between the two of them.

"Do you two really want to hear this? Because if either of you so much as yawn, I'll turn you both into kumquats."

The two male members of the trio grinned at each other before smoothing their faces into studious, serious expressions.

"Alright," she said as she moved the book off of her lap and folded her legs under her. "Have either of you ever heard of the Auld Alliance?"

Harry and Ron both answered no.

"Well it was this agreement, you see, between Scotland and France. They became allies. It was decided that if ever England were to enter into conflict with one country the other would invade English territory."

"But what does this have to do with Ravenclaw?" a puzzled Harry asked.

"Well, although there is no proof, it's believed that the Auld Alliance was initiated back in 1165. William "the Lion" was the Scottish King and it was rumored back then that he had a secret adviser. Some even said she was a witch."

"Ravenclaw?" Harry asked, thunderstruck.

In answer to his question Hermione nodded her head.

"England and Scotland's relationship with one another was contentious for hundreds and hundreds of years until King James took the throne. They say that it was Ravenclaw that brokered the deal; she played Merlin to William's Arthur. No one really knows if any of this was true of course because she took off."

Ron continued to chomp on his food.

"Sh-o, wha-'s sh-o wong 'bouth at?"

Hermione eyed Ron irritably.

"What's wrong is that it totally violates the most important tenet of the Wizengamot and wizarding society as a whole. As magical people we are not allowed to interfere in the affairs of Muggles. We don't play Fairy Godmother for them. Wars, disease, weather, famine; if it doesn't affect wizards and witches on a whole, the problems of Muggles are not our concerns."

"But say if a power mad, self-styled dark lord wants to clean the slate of them..." pondered Harry aloud.

"Then yes, that is when we step in. But monsters like Hitler, Napoleon, and Nero? When it comes to them we just sit on the sidelines as casual observers."

"Hardly seems right, does it?"

"Well Harry, it protects the natural order of things. Look at it this way, Merlin was the greatest wizard of all time and he felt that wizards should help Muggles. That's what he created the Order of Merlin for. And yet even he screwed over the lives of a lot of the poor Muggles he came into contact with. No," she said resolutely, "there is a reason why we have these rules."

"So let me get this straight," said Ron as he finished his sandwich and placed the plate on the floor by his feet. "Ravenclaw breaks this big bad rule so she decides to make a run for it?"

"That is what is believed. No one knows where she went off to, though."

"Except she might have gone to this Gaul place..." Ron said as he thumbed through the book he was still holding.

"...and Gaul is what is now considered modern day France. Like I said, it's garbage."

She had her body turned around to face Ron when she noticed his plate on the floor.

"Ronnie! Must you leave your dishes all about the place?!" she exclaimed as she picked the plate up and went to place it on the table. That was when Hermione noticed where Ron had placed his tumbler.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

She practically roared his name. Harry at first didn't realize what had set her off until he noticed Ron's glass sitting on one of the open books on the table. Harry knew right away that this wasn't going to be pretty.

"THESE BOOKS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE BLOODY COASTERS! HOW CAN YOU BE SO CARELESS?!" she yelled bitingly as she rose up from the floor.

Although Ron was huge in comparison to Hermione, he cowered before her wrath appropriately.

"Madame Pince will murder me in my sleep if I bring back one of her books with rings on its pages!"

As she said this, she reached to lift the glass off the book it was resting on when suddenly she stopped. She was looking strangely into the bottom of the glass.

"BLOODY HELL!"

Harry was by her side in an instant. Ron stood up on the other side of her.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry apprehensively asked.

"Look at this picture," she said. She was wound tight, ready to burst.

Ron and Harry looked at the portrait in the book. It was of a woman dressed in a set of ornate medieval dress robes. Her dark hair was threaded with elaborate hair accessories. She looked out of the book at the three teens with keen, intelligent eyes.

"Rowena Ravenclaw, right?" asked Harry.

"If Ron hadn't been such a clever prat I would have never noticed this."

She took Ron's glass and put it back over the picture.

"This makes a right nice magnifier," she said in reference to the glass. "Now look at this picture again."

First Ron looked, but he shook his head confusedly. He saw nothing. Then Harry looked.

"In her hair!" he said in a strangled whisper. "That's a Pensieve! A miniaturized Pensieve is fastened in her hair!"

"Indeed!" Hermione replied. Her brown eyes were filled with glee and Harry briefly thought she had never looked prettier or more vivacious.

She picked up a few more of the books and turned them all to pages with pictures of the Founder.

"All of them have the Pensieve in them. It was quite common for noble women of that era to wear jewels threaded throughout their hair. Some even fastened gold balls on the end of their curls. She must have carried it around like a hair decoration to hide it. It looks more elaborate than the stone basins of today. No one would have been any the wiser. Guys, I think that this just might be what we've been looking for."

Harry grabbed her in a fierce hug.

"You're brilliant, Hermione!"

As he looked over her shoulder he saw Ron's jealous scowl. He quickly let her go to the sound of awkward silence.

"Y-yes, w-well..." stuttered an overwhelmed Hermione trying to break the unease in the room, "if it wasn't for Ron here we would have never figured it out."

She then gave the redhead a tiny smile and leaned over to kiss his cheek. But before her lips could reach their intended target, Ron turned his head, ever so slightly, and their lips met instead.

Harry hardly felt his feet move. He didn't even remember opening up the sliding glass doors that led out to the patio. Just one moment he was watching his two best friends play grab the Snitch with their tongues, and in the next he was sitting outside on the grass under the large tree in the backyard. He couldn't explain his strong reaction. He remembered back to that day in Herbology just last school year when it looked like Ron and Hermione were about to finally figure things out between them. Harry had worried then that if they got together and then broke up it would ruin the trio's friendship. But the two practically killed each other (well if he was being honest it was Hermione that attacked Ron) last term over petty jealousies, yet here they all were, still close. So that couldn't be what was bothering him now. Maybe he still thought that the two of them would abandon him. Would Hermione actually do that? Would she desert him right when he needed her most?

"Sorry about that."

Harry looked up to see the girl he was just thinking about sitting on the tree swing, pushing herself back and forth slowly with her big toe.

"About what?" he asked evenly although he felt his stomach roil.

"The kamikaze kiss you were witness to just now; sorry."

Harry lay back on the grass, propped up by his elbows, and tried to put on an air of indifference.

"You and Ron kissed?"

Of course it would have helped if his voice hadn't cracked on that last word.

"I know that it upset you, but-"

He sprang up into a sitting position quickly, rushing to his own defense.

"Who's upset? I'm not upset. Why would I be upset?"

"Because of Ginny of course," Hermione answered, cocking her head slightly to the side.

"What?!"

"It can't be too easy seeing two hormonal gits pawing at each other," Hermione explained. "Especially seeing as how you and Ginny...I wanted to spare you of that; is all. I guess Ron just forgot."

"I'm happy for you two," Harry insisted. "W-why would you think that would upset me?"

The agitation in his tone almost made his declaration seem null.

Hermione gave him a questioning look. "Because you miss Ginny obviously."

She then bent forward to look at him more closely.

"You do miss Ginny, don't you Harry?"

In truth he did kind of miss his former girlfriend. He could talk to her about Quidditch, hold her hand, and kiss her. And best of all she didn't cry when he did it.

"You know, for a few weeks there I felt normal. And free," Harry answered wistfully as he cast his eyes down and played with the grass under his fingers. "And things were so uncomplicated for once. I didn't even have to think."

"Well snogging does have that particular effect on the brain," she tried to joke lightheartedly. However it had no effect on his melancholy mood.

"Things just seem so difficult again," sighed Harry ruefully.

When he happened to glance up he felt comforted by the compassion he found in Hermione's gaze.

"Having you and Ron here does help," he added gratefully.

She smiled.

"I'm glad."

"So you and Ron then?" he asked, nervously clearing his throat as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Yeah," she bashfully responded.

"I thought at the funeral...but then I wasn't sure."

"We've finally stopped snogging third parties and sending bird minions after one another. In therapy they would call that progress," she jested.

Harry honestly tried to laugh at her little joke, but his heart just wasn't in it.

Hermione stopped swinging and stared at Harry hard before saying, "After we finish what we've set out to do you can come back and have that easy, normal life again, Harry. You and Ginny can get back together. Things will go back the way that they were. You'll see."

"You sound so hopeful, so sure. I just can't see it from where I'm sitting right now."

"Well, it's always darkest before the dawn." Harry looked at her curiously which made Hermione sheepishly grin. "My schedule planner gives me words of wisdom to live by each morning; that was yesterday's maxim. Today's was, 'After shaking hands with a Slytherin, count your fingers'."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. She joined him. When their laughter finally began to peter out he said in a reflective, musing tone, "Darkest before the dawn, huh? I could almost believe you." He sighed. "I want to believe you."

"Well you should," she remarked. "I hear I'm pretty clever. I knew that you would eventually realize that the perfect girl for you was standing beside you all the while, didn't I?" she smugly continued.

"About that," he smirked, "Ginny mentioned how you'd been coaching her this whole time."

The gobsmacked expression on her face was enough to lift Harry's mood exponentially.

After the shock wore off and Hermione finally managed to close her mouth, she muttered, "Ginny has a big fat yap."

Harry fell back on the grass laughing hysterically. When he finally calmed down he continued to grin at her scampishly.

"I should have known you had your fingers in it. Don't think I didn't notice all those sly looks you would shoot me whenever Ginny was around."

She was completely flustered.

"Y-yes...w-well...it worked, didn't it?"

That just sent Harry into a fresh gale of laughter. When he was finally able to catch his breath he noticed that Hermione was staring at him intensely.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you Harry. You know that, don't you? What ever it took to make you happy, if it was within my power to get it for you, I would. I'd do anything to ensure your happiness. It's..."

Hermione paused in search of the right word.

"...important to me."

The sincerity of her words made his heart ache.

"I know," he breathlessly answered.

Obviously pleased with his answer she smiled impishly at him as she jumped out of the swing.

"Good. Come along then," she said as she held out her hand for him. He grabbed on to her as she hauled him up. "I've got Ron reading through some books on Godric for his penance."

"You're punishing him?"

"He knows why," she drawled. "Besides we still have so much left to do. We don't even know where to begin to look for these blasted things. We haven't a moment to spare. After all, time and dark lords wait for no man."

"Ack! Hermione, that one was just awful," he complained, making a face. "Did you get that from out your planner too?"

"And what if I did?!" she demanded. "It's still true, isn't it?!"

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

On Harry's birthday the three friends Apparated into Nottingham and spent the day at the small amusement park in town. It was really a place for small children, but they didn't care. This was one of the last few days they would get to be just kids. They played miniature golf and drove the pedal karts. They even jumped around in the bounce house much to the chagrin of most who watched them. Harry felt certain that it was the best day of his life.

When they got back to the cottage Ron and Hermione both presented him with his gifts. Ron gave him Galvin Gudgeon's (the hapless Seeker for the Chudley Cannons) brand new autobiography, To Seek, or Not to Seek. Harry thanked him, but he was far more pleased with the colossal sized bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans Ron gave him as well.

Hermione decided to surprise all of them by baking a chocolate torte the Muggle way. Even though she some how managed to make it crunchy on the inside and tasteless on the outside, Harry still was touched. The thought, after all, was what counted. It was the second gift that she gave him that evening that meant the world to him, though.

"This is for you," she said handing over to him what looked like a diary. He and Ron had been sitting at the kitchen table playing chess, as was the norm.

Harry eyed the journal nervously.

"Um, Hermione, if you remember we don't do too well with those."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's not a diary. If you'd open it you'll see that I've already written in it. It's some research I've been doing."

Ron was appalled.

"You're giving him homework?!"

Hermione scowled at him before returning her attention to Harry.

"It's not homework," she replied. "It's something far more important than homework."

If it was something that Hermione deemed more important than homework then it must be something special indeed, he thought. He turned back the cover of the journal and on the first page, written in Hermione's neat hand, was the name James Ellis Potter. Listed by it was the date of his birth and the day that he died. He didn't know about the Ellis part, but he knew the rest of the name well. It was his father's name. The rest of the page was filled with other facts about James Potter. On the next page was the name Julian Jameson Potter and Sylvia Witherspell. Written next to those names were the words grandparents. The dates of their births and deaths were listed as well. Harry flipped through a few more pages as the enormity of just what Hermione had given him began to weigh on him. He saw Potters after Potters, but he also noted the other surnames as well. Wilbanks, Huxley, Cosgrove, Blane, Quigley, Bulwater, Pleasentgood. There was even a Black!

"I've been working on it since Christmas before last," she said shyly. "I found this book on wizard family lines in Grimmauld's library and got the idea from there. Sirius even helped me with it a bit. I had hoped to finish it that summer and give it to you for your 16th birthday but..."

She didn't have to explain what got in the way. Dolohov's curse, Sirius' death...

"I kept working on it though, every chance I got," she continued. "I read through book after book; I've Got a Witch up My Tree, How About You, Of Warlocks and Wizards, and Sons of Albion: A Historical Study of the Magical Families of Olde Britain. My Morgana! That book was heavier than I am."

"Let me see that," Ron said as he excitedly snatched the journal from Harry's hands. Harry was in such a daze that he didn't even think to protest. All he could do was gape at Hermione in awe.

"Cor Harry!" shouted Ron as he thumbed through the book. "There's a Prewett in here. We're cousins, mate!"

Ron slapping his back hard brought Harry out of his daze.

Hermione giggled as she plucked the book from Ron's hands.

"Yes, you and Harry are connected on Mrs. Weasley's side, but very, very distantly related. About twenty times removed in fact."

"Don't care, it's still wicked! I'm going to pop off home and tell mum right now. Probably tease Ginny that she's been kissing her cousin all this time too."

Ron Disapparated on the spot.

With Ron gone only Harry and Hermione remained in the kitchen. Harry was still stunned by Hermione's gift to him. He felt practically Spellotaped to his seat. Hermione seemed to ignore his strange behavior because she kept babbling on.

"Sadly, I couldn't find any direct line living relative of yours. The Potters weren't much like the Weasleys. For most of the last two centuries only one Potter son seemed to be born in each generation. But you'll find Harry that you'll see a lot of familiar names. Fawcett, Tugwood, Abercrombie; most pureblood families are interconnected and intermarried somehow. But your line has stayed mostly Potter. In fact that little library down the road helped a great deal too! Your family has lived in this town for ages."

Hermione began to flip through the pages looking at all the different entries.

"James Wynnton Potter, Ellis Elijah Potter, Rordynn George Potter...he ran off the Gytrash of Groby. I reckon you just have that saving people thing in your blood."

"It's so much. So, so much," was all that Harry could choke out when he finally regained the use of his voice.

"Believe me at one point I had to stop or I would have never been able to finish it and give this to you. I wanted you to have it more than ever this year. In fact I wanted to do your mum's side too. But every time I walked into the room your Aunt would scurry out."

Hermione smirked naughtily.

"I can't imagine why."

"Why would you do this for me?" Harry asked in all seriousness.

For a moment it looked like Hermione didn't understand the question. She sat back in the chair Ron had been sitting in and pensively chewed on her bottom lip before replying.

"Do you remember finding the Mirror of Erised?"

How could he ever forget that night, as well as the two consecutive evenings he had sat before it?

"You told me how you saw your family in it. The faces that you had never seen before, but you knew they belonged to you and you to them. Do you remember how that made you feel?"

"Complete," he murmured. "Like I had a past. A history. A real family. But that was only fleeting. It wasn't real."

"True. But this..." she said pushing the book across the table to him, "...is. Since I couldn't give you the Mirror I thought that this would do just as well."

She stood up from the table.

"I'm going to leave you alone with them," she said as she headed for the doorway. As she reached it she gave him one final look and said, "Just know that you have a future as well, Harry."

And with that parting thought she left for the stairs.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

The sound of someone calling his name almost spooked Harry out of his chair. As he grabbed a hold of the table and righted himself again, he turned to look into a heart shaped face framed by a cloud of short, curly, fire engine red hair. The woman had taken the chair in front of him.

"Dammit, Tonks! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he irritably gritted out between his teeth. Although his greeting was rude, it only seemed to amuse Tonks.

"Trying to say hello to you for the last five minutes, that's what. I saw the back of your head from the door and we decided to pop in."

She turned to the beige and white pram that Harry just realized had been sitting there all the time. The hood was up so he couldn't see the baby that was in it.

"Isn't that right li'l Wolfie?" she cooed to the sleeping infant inside.

Harry's eyes bugged out in shock.

"Tonks! Are you mad?! What are you doing in here with a baby? Knockturn Alley's no place for a kid!"

Tonks rolled her eyes.

"It's like I said, I saw you when I was walking by the door. I was looking for that hag who sells those teething talismans, but she must have moved her stall."

"Aren't those things illegal?"

When placed around the neck of a teething child the talisman relieved a baby of the pain and irritability caused by a new tooth coming in. The problem was that part of the talisman was made from goblin skin and bones. The relationship between wizard and goblin kind was already strained. The goblins didn't take kindly to the fact that wizards used the remains of their dead for cheap novelty items. Years ago the Ministry, in an effort to improve relations with the goblins, banned the making and selling of the talismans, much to the despair of young nursing witches everywhere.

"'Course they are, but you try sleeping the night through with a screaming 5 month old! The sleeping charms just don't stick!" Tonks said huffily. "And if you've forgotten, I'm an Auror same as you Potter. I can stun a perp and burp li'l Wolfie here without breaking my stride. Don't go treating me like some li'l witch just 'cause I popped out a kid," she berated him. Her eyes twinkled though so Harry knew she wasn't really upset at him.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, holding up his hand before him in entreaty.

"And look at you, Mr. Super Auror, sitting with your back to the door. Hanes in the Arse would write you up if he saw," she teased.

Harry's lips curled in disgust.

"Ugh! Don't remind me. Any roads, I chose this seat for specific strategic purposes."

"Spying on a suspect?"

"No, I met 'Dung Fletcher here for lunch earlier. I didn't want to sit downwind of him."

Tonks, who was bent over to fix the blankets around the baby, snapped back up and gave Harry a look of mock horror.

"Blimey! If that isn't a good enough reason I don't know what is."

They both laughed chummily at that.

"The last time Mundungus came by the house he reeked of Ogden. I had to send a freshening charm at his back. And then he wanted to hold the baby! You should have seen his fingernails, Har! No wonder your eyes were all glazed over when we came in here. I swear I watched you for about five minutes and you didn't blink once."

In truth Harry's meeting with Fletcher had been very short. After Harry dismissed the berk, his mind had drifted back to memories of looking for Slytherin's locket. But then the next thing he knew his brain had wandered onto thoughts of Hermione. This was his usual state as of late. He would see a girl dressed in yellow and think back on how that was her favorite color. He would smell the scent of wildflowers somewhere and remember how Hermione loved to pick the lady slippers, orchids, daisies, buttercups, honeysuckles, and hogweeds that grew in his mother's yard. If he saw a head of curly brown hair walking away from him he had to curb his footsteps from following after. It was really becoming maddening.

"Yeah," Harry said sheepishly, barely meeting her eyes. "'Dung really did a number on me. Let me get you something Tonks," he said, jumping out of his seat and hoping to quickly change the subject.

"Thanks, Har! Butterbeer would be nice."

Harry ran to the bar and was back shortly with two bottles of butterbeer.

"How's Remus?" he asked as he sat back down and pushed a bottle over to her.

Tonks made a sound of frustration as she popped her butterbeer open and took a swig.

"Driving me mad and him to boot! His editor has been on his case for months looking for a sequel."

Harry's former professor had had a tough time of it after the War. Although he was counted as a hero when his work with the Order of the Phoenix had been exposed to the public, Remus Lupin almost drowned himself in self-hatred and guilt after the War. Having lived with the Werewolf curse since he was a small child, he'd never killed anyone. That is until the final stand at Azkaban. The night that Harry vanquished Voldemort, was the same night that Remus killed Fenrir Greyback. He had been kidnapped and held in a cell at the prison for months. He'd had to endure the change without aide of the Wolfsbane Potion during his stay. Why Voldemort chose to keep him alive, he never understood, but when Harry and Hermione had come to rescue him he almost killed them. The only reason he didn't succeed in doing so was because Fenrir, who had just completed his own change, had entered the tower. The two alpha-males ended up doing battle with one another over the human kill. In the end Remus came out of the fight alive. He also took out a few random Death Eaters as well.

The next morning after Remus came to he wanted to die from the shame of what he had done. Everyone tried their best to convince him that they didn't think he was a monster. After all Fenrir was the person responsible for him even being a Werewolf in the first place. But that argument fell on deaf ears. Although the rest of the wizarding world was celebrating the defeat of Voldemort, Remus began to withdraw himself from his friends. After Harry signed Grimmauld Place over to him, Remus went and shut himself in the old decaying house like a hermit. It seemed as though there was nothing anyone could do for him. It was when he tried to end his already tentative relationship with Tonks that his friends finally decided to take action. They convinced Remus to see a mental health Healer. After months of crystal therapy and aura readings did nothing to help him, his Healer suggested that Remus try writing in a journal. The Healer convinced him to use parchment and quill to drive the dark thoughts out of his head. Having run out of options, Remus decided to give it a try.

Remus ended up writing his life story. He poured out the whole tale from how he became a Werewolf, to watching his parents die in a fire, to his school career and his joining the Order. It was a compelling, enthralling read, and once finished Tonks and Hermione convinced him that it was worthy of being published. Hermione thought that it would work wonders to improve the welfare of Remus' fellow Werewolves. However My Memoirs gathered dust on shelves from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade for years.

It wasn't until much later that Remus caught a break. A well known and respected publisher in New York City came across My Memoirs. He was a Muggle, but his wife was a witch with a Werewolf fetish. He read the book and thought it was a brilliant parody on the vampire novels of the day that were so popular and put out by his publishing firm's rival. He got on a plane the very next day so he could meet Remus and convince him to let his company reissue the book, this time for Muggles. After verifying with the Ministry that the book would be billed strictly as a work of fiction, thus not in violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, Remus agreed to the deal. In the end A Limey Lycan's Life ended up becoming a moderate success in the States as well as in Great Britain.

"What's the matter, writer's block?" Harry asked Tonks.

"No," she sighed, "nappies. No one wants to read about a happily married Werewolf who can't wait to be a peewee Quidditch coach."

Harry raised his butterbeer to his mouth to drink it and hide the smirk that was on his lips. He polished it off in one long gulp.

"Although I am glad that the first book got made otherwise Remus would have never married me. Thought he was too poor. I was getting so desperate I almost went and got myself sprogged up on purpose."

"TONKS!" Harry cried, horrified, as he nearly dropped his empty bottle. He slammed it down and glared at his friend. "TOO MUCH INFORMATION, TONKS!"

The expression on Harry's face nearly sent Tonks into hysterics. She laughed so hard that she ended up jostling the table, knocking over her butterbeer, and spilling the drink everywhere; even getting some in Harry's lap. He barely blinked at her clumsiness before vanishing the mess, and ordering her another bottle from the bar. As he slid the bottle across the table and sat back down, she began to tease him some more about her and her husband's very active sex life, but the sight of two blonde, pigtailed heads peeking around the corner of the pub's open doorway distracted her. When the twin girls became aware that Tonks had spotted them, they quickly drew back out of sight.

"Har, I think you have company."

Harry, who had just regained his composure after Tonks' bold disclosure, glanced over his shoulder towards the direction she was looking in. When he saw the two identical faces that Tonks was referring to, he quickly covered his ears to block out the earsplitting screech he knew was coming.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"What the bollocks was that?!" shouted Tonks as the girls squealed in glee and ran from the doorway. The noise barely drew the attention of the other patrons of the Hag, but it did wake-up Wolfie Lupin.

Tonks reached into the pram and pulled up the cranky, crying infant. She took a blanket out of the pram, threw it over her shoulder, and rested the baby's head against her shoulder. She began to rock him and smooth his back. Eventually the child was quieted.

"That would be the Poe sisters," Harry said as his face began to flush from embarrassment.

"Poe? As in Clayton Poe? As in owner of the Magpies?"

"One in the same. Those were his daughters, Hecuba and Hecate. They call themselves Pottermates," he said, chagrined.

"Pottermates? Blimey!"

"Yeah, and they are annoying, believe you me. Those two are the self-appointed presidents of my fan club. They follow me around, do that screechy thing that only dogs can hear, send me gift baskets full of canary cremes, and give Ginny dirty looks on the street."

"Lucky you," said an amused Tonks. "But look on the bright side. By the looks of them they should be off to Hogwarts come next term, right? You won't have to deal with them much longer."

At this Harry's lips curved into a shy, nervous smile.

"Well Tonks...you see...the thing is...I'm going to be at Hogwarts next term as well."

Tonks cocked her head sideways as if trying to make heads or tails of Harry's confession. Coming to the conclusion that he must be making a joke, she quipped, "Fail Divination, did we?"

"Har, har," he said drolly. "Actually Mrs. Nymphadora Lupin," Tonks narrowed her eyes at the dreaded name, "you are looking at Hogwarts next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Harry finished proudly.

"You're joking!"

"'Fraid not."

Tonks face broke into a wide smile, before a pressing concern weighed in to make her frown suddenly.

"Oh no! But what's going to happen to Mr. Tall Dark and Dreamy?"

Harry rolled his eyes in irritation. Although he liked Professor Lermontant, it was a bit bothersome the way that women flung themselves at the man. At the last Victory Ball there was a seven witch brawl, all admirers vying to partner him in the opening dance. A few curses were thrown, a black eye was handed out, and Roger Davies new wife lost the heel of her shoe...and a fistful of hair. It was a bloody massacre!

"The man has a name, Tonks. It's Vervain. You women are ridiculous with the way that you drool over the poor chap. Glinda calls him the Creole Cupcake. To his face! It's no wonder he's running away from you lot as fast as his feet can carry," he remarked. "Even Ginny gets all syrupy whenever she sees him. I hope poor Remus knows that his wife finds some other bloke so fanciable."

"Shows how much you know. Remus thinks Vervain's quite dishy too. Probably attracted to all that raw animal magnetism; Big Wolfie is very modern like that."

Harry covered his ears and closed his eyes as if that would block out her voice.

"I can't hear you."

Tonks laughed and laughed at Harry's distress. Her cackling only ebbed once Wolfgang gave an infuriated cry.

"Poor thing is hungry. I'm going to need to feed him soon," she said before slapping her free hand to her head. "Cor! Now it's all making sense!" she cried.

Harry had no idea what she was going on about.

"Hanes called me in today, more like summoned really, because he wants me back at my desk Monday."

"What? He can't do that! You're still on maternity leave!" an outraged Harry exclaimed.

"It's alright. Big Wolfie and I were getting on each other's nerves anyway. I think he wants me out of the house just so he and the cub can bond. Men!"

"But why would Hanes call you back in? You still have one more month, don't you?" questioned Harry, completely perplexed.

"Well Hanes has it on good authority that one of his Aurors is going to be quitting soon. Bit of office gossip that had been going around Level 2 until he squelched it under his boots, to hear Hanes tell it. He said that he needed his best, which would be me," she rested a hand on her chest, "back on duty as soon as possible to help with the transition."

"That opportunistic bastard!" Harry fumed. "He probably just hated the fact that the Department was paying you to sit on your bum and eat chocoballs all day."

"Whatever the case," began Tonks frowning at Harry's remark, "I agreed."

"Bugger. Wonder how he found out," he said running his hands through his hair. "Hardly anyone knows. Sure I told Ginny..."

"How'd she take it?"

"Oh...pretty much like a Bludger to the head," admitted Harry.

"Not pleased then?"

"She thinks teaching is below me. She pretends like it's not even a subject up for discussion."

Tonks raised the fresh bottle of butterbeer to her lips and gave Harry a pointed look after she took a long sip.

"The wives of Hogwarts professors rarely make the cover of Witch Weekly."

"She's not that bad," Harry offered weakly, although if pressed he would have conceded that Ginny did like the spotlight more than his liking. "But I honestly had no intention to just skive off my duties. Lermontant still has to finish out the school year. And I still have Cadmus to find."

Tonks noticed the glint of fire that flared in Harry's eyes as he spoke the name of his current quarry.

"How's that going by the way?" she asked, shuffling the baby from her shoulder and cradling him in her arms.

"It's not," he sullenly groaned. "It's like the man is made of smoke. I can see him. I've seen all the chaos he's caused and yet...I can't put my finger on him. I've never had a case that frustrated me so."

Harry rested his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his upturned hands.

"At least we finally got the Prophet to stop spelling it out whenever someone married a Muggle. We haven't had an incident for a month now since."

"All you have to do is ask if you need any help Har. I've got your back," said Tonks encouragingly.

Harry's eyes began to dance mischievously.

"What? A celebrated member of the illustrious First Squad wants to help my lowly team?"

"Stop taking the mickey you," she said in a fake huff. "You know I'm a member of Potter's Posse in my heart."

As Tonks suspected, Harry's modesty made him cover his face with both hands. Harry was good at what he did, but he was no glory hound. Accolades always made him uneasy, and his teams' devotion to him, though merited, often made him blush.

As though finding his godfather's abashed reaction funny, the baby gurgled merrily in Tonks' arms.

"Oh, look who wants to join the party?" she cooed into the face of her little boy.

Wolfgang grabbed onto a few of her fingers and held on tight. His merry, chubby face, a pleasant mixture of both of his parents, stared up at his mother in rapt adoration as he began to smack his lips. It was a look that said that Tonks was the most important person in his world. The little scene tugged at Harry's heart. He wondered what it would feel like to have someone love him so purely.

"He's a cute kid, Tonks."

Harry ignored the little tickle of want in his chest as he said it.

"Thanks. I think we'll keep him," she said sweetly.

She then opened up her robe, unbuttoned her blouse, popped out a nipple, and proceeded to breastfeed her son...in the Hag...next to a table of goblins paying cards.

"TONKS! WHAT THE BOLLOCKS DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" scolded Harry, averting his eyes quickly. He turned from side to side hoping that no low life scum was trying to cop a peek at her goodies. No one really seemed to be paying them a whit of attention actually.

Tonks was quite amused by Harry's reaction.

"Ya know Har, you are entirely too high strung. Are you getting enough lately?"

Harry peevishly turned his whole body to the side to avoid looking directly at her. This only caused Tonks' grin to widen.

As she continued to feed her son, and lovingly caress the little tuft of brown hair on top of his small head, she added, "You really should get one of these, Har."

"What, a breast?" he snidely questioned.

"No! A kid; they're dead fun!"

"So says the shadows under your eyes."

"Seriously, when are you and Ginny going to pop out a wee'un or two?"

Harry was used to his family and friend's asking this question.

"You just want company in your sleepless nights."

He was also used to giving evading answers.

"Well that too. Not fair that you lot get to be all sexy and fancy free. You don't know what it's like to have to check your robes for spit-up every time you leave the house," she told him sounding only slightly bitter.

"Look," Harry began weakly, "Ginny and I love our lives. It's nice. It's easy. Besides we're too youn-"

"Yes, yes too young," she quickly dismissed. "You've given me this speech already, Potter. And it was rubbish then too. You're almost 25, mate! And Ginny isn't getting any younger. Hell, me and Remus even beat you to it and we got married after you two."

Harry, trying his best to keep his irritation on a leash, tried to take the focus off of him.

"You're starting to sound like my in-laws. Arthur drops Ironbelly-sized hints about me and Ginny having kids at almost every family dinner. You'd think with Fleur's litter living with them they'd be satisfied, but nooooo."

Despite the nursing baby, Harry turned back to face Tonks fully. He sighed dismally.

"Now is just not the right time for Ginny and I to...we just aren't ready yet," he explained.

"I don't know, Har. Ginny looks plenty ready to me," Tonks shared conspiratorially. "The other day Molly had me come over to get some of Dash's old togs. I reckon Fleur must be having a girl again this time. Anyways, Ginny was visiting and she couldn't keep her hands off of my Wolfgang. The way she was looking at him...you better be careful Harry. Your wife's got the smell of new baby up her conk."

Although Harry hated to admit it, he knew that Tonks was telling the truth. He wasn't blind to the fact that his wife was chomping at the bit to have a baby with him. He didn't miss the look of yearning that would pass on Ginny's face as she held on to one of her nephews or her nieces. He often heard the slightly jealous tone her voice took on as she regaled him with tales of how Lavender bragged on Violet Pye's latest grand feat of accomplishment; tying her shoes all by herself, or not eating the plimpy egg paste at day school. Nor could Harry pretend that he didn't understand the plea that was practically shouted at him each time his green eyes met her blue ones. When Harry? When?

But Merlin help him, even though he hated the fact that he was causing Ginny so much anguish, Harry's answer never wavered. He wasn't ready to be a father. He wasn't sure he would even make a good father, wouldn't even know how to be one if he tried. It's not like he had long term, first hand experience of how a real dad was supposed to be. Sirius had been in his life much too briefly. He had spent a good year being bitter and angry towards Dumbledore when he should have been striving towards the relationship that he eventually developed with the old wizard. That was one of the things Harry regretted most after his former Headmaster was struck down. Harry once imagined Arthur Weasley as the kind of dad he would have liked to have had, but then he started dating the man's daughter. Then he married her. Then their relationship just became...strained. Harry didn't like to dwell on it. Harry and Remus had grown close over the years, Harry was even godfather to his and Tonks' son, but Remus was more like a favorite uncle than a father figure in his eyes. More so than Vernon ever was, Harry would sometimes think broodingly.

And as for his own dad...Harry always imagined, always dreamt that his father would have lived up to his every hope, wish, and desire. But the unfortunate truth was that Harry would never know. Just another sad fact of his life. Yes, Harry was very conflicted when it came to issues of fatherhood.

But it wasn't that he hated kids or disliked them. In fact the exact opposite was true. Harry had a huge soft spot for children. There was nothing more that he loved than being Uncle Harry to the large number of Weasley grandchildren.

Whenever Harry did think about the prospect of having his own set of ankle biters he often thought that Marc Weasley was the ideal child. Marc was Bill and Fleur's oldest, born right as the War was ending. He was the kind of fearless, reckless kid that any man would be proud to call son. He was the kind of kid that would "borrow" his Uncle Ron's brand new racing broom so he could go for a spin. He was the kind of kid that would jump in the pond behind his home, dressed in his very best robes, just to rescue a drowning gnome. He was the kind of kid that would bloody any little tyke's nose who dared to tease his baby sister, even if the bloke was his own kid brother.

Or Harry would have loved to have a little girl like Fred and Glinda's 5 year old, Felicity. Adorable Felicity was a cocoa colored cutie with large dark eyes like her mum, and was a Weasley through and through, minus the red hair and freckles. It was like someone decided to take all of the other Weasley key traits (mischief making, love of laughter, enormous temper), mix them in a pot and boom...out popped Lish. Even when the child was going through a bout of bad health, she still managed to pass on to anyone who crossed her path one of her infectious smiles. People rarely didn't smile back at Lish.

Harry didn't have any problem with the idea of kids; he was nothing at all like Hermione. Hermione seemed to have had an honest to God fear of children. Harry wondered if that stemmed from her childhood. According to Hermione when she was younger she never learned quite how to socialize with children her own age. She preferred the company of adults even back then. This led to her awkwardness with most of the Weasley tots in her later years. Whenever Molly tried to lasso her into babysitting Marc and Leo, or on a very rare occasion Percy's Junior, to prepare her for the day she had her own little Weasley, Hermione without fail found some way to weasel (pun intended) out of the chore. Ron would joke that she just hated kids because no matter how brilliant she or anyone else thought she was they would still tease her unmercifully about her hair. Hermione figured that she was just one of those women who didn't possess a maternal bone in their body. Somehow Harry found both of those answers too pat.

Interestingly enough Hermione was unknowingly responsible for the one other reason Harry was subconsciously reluctant to have children. Well, maybe not responsible. That was too strong a word. That was the kind of thinking that would send Ginny searching every hovel and hole in the world so she could scratch Hermione's eyes out of her face. Ginny would not hesitate to blame the other girl for her misery. No, it was more like Hermione explained to him just what having a child would mean for him and Ginny. She did it intending to help him understand the choices he was making. She probably never thought it would leave him in a self-imposed limbo.

He proposed to Ginny on Valentine's Day. It seemed right. They had been back together for almost two years by then and Harry figured that it would make sense to finally make everything official between them. Everyone else acted like their marriage was a forgone conclusion anyways, so Harry didn't really see any reason to go against the grain. Besides, marrying Ginny seemed like the natural thing to do. He pretty much loved her and figured it was time for him to grow up and fully embrace the life he was now free to live.

If he was being honest with himself it was a less than romantic proposal. All the family, save for Percy, had come to the Burrow with their significant others for a big dinner. They were celebrating the holiday as well as having a baby shower for Glinda. Charlie was in town and Molly had convinced Hermione to invite one of her friends from work over to the house; a Bernadette Fournier. None of them were quite sure if she was supposed to be there for Charlie or for George, but they were all enjoying the spectacle of watching Molly throw the poor flustered French woman at both of her sons trying to see which one she stuck to. Molly was enjoying being a grandmother immensely and she was ready to get the rest of her children paired up and married so she could have more. It would seem that Charlie turned out to be the lucky fellow because he and Bernadette soon went off for a walk down the lane after all the food was eaten.

Harry and Ginny decided to go outside as well, to get some fresh air they told everyone. George and Fred made smooching sounds as they walked out the door. As they laid down on a stretch of grass beside the pond, they somehow wandered into a discussion about their collective futures. Ginny had been out of Hogwarts since June and she hadn't really made any long term plans since leaving school. She intimated that her reasoning for being such a layabout was that she thought that she would have had other plans by this time, but since it didn't seem like that was going to be the case she might as well go to the upcoming Harpies training camp. That is unless Harry could offer her a better solution, she casually hinted. Harry, hating the idea of being bored without her in the months ahead, suggested that they just get married instead. Harry figured that Ginny broke all kids of records with the speed she jumped into his lap. She asked him if they could do things the old ways. Harry unwittingly agreed.

He and Ginny rushed back inside the house, gathered the family in the living room, and broke the big news. On a whole they reacted pretty much the way he thought they would. Molly cried. Arthur popped open a bottle of champers. The twins slapped him on the back in congratulations, the blinking light sign that George pasted on his back that read "Dead Wizard Walking" going unnoticed by all in the excitement. Ron as usual chose the joyous occasion to crack a joke.

"'Bout time, mate! I was beginning to wonder when you were going to make an honest woman of my little sister."

Ginny, who had been on the other side of the room at the time discussing with Molly the wording of the wedding announcement, turned irately to her brother and spat out nastily, "You're a fine one to talk, Ron! I don't see Hermione allowing you to make an honest woman of her. Circe knows you two have been at it long enough!"

That put a damper on the celebrating real quickly. Although the two of them were trying yet another reconciliation, Hermione's reticence on officially becoming a Weasley was always a touchy topic amongst the family. Ron left the room in a snit. Fleur and Bill made the excuse that they had to put their baby boys down for a nap. Molly asked Arthur to assist her in finding Auntie Muriel's goblin-made tiara. Glinda, Fred, and George pretended to find the titles lining the bookshelf interesting, although Harry doubted the twins had ever voluntarily picked up a book a day in their lives.

Hermione, who had been quietly sitting in a corner the whole time, pretended to ignore the outburst. The only reason Harry knew that her feelings had been hurt was because she turned a sickly, grayish color. She didn't even bother with congratulating the newly engaged couple. Instead she asked an odd question as she anxiously wrung her hands together.

"You two are getting married using the Olde Rites, Harry?"

Harry answered her with his usual knowledgeable aplomb.

"Erm..."

She bit forcefully on the corner of her mouth, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"It's just...do you even know what that means?" she questioned him apprehensively.

"Galloping Gorgons, Hermione! Could you leave the poor guy alone!" interrupted Ginny as she tore George's sign off of Harry's back and stepped in front of him. "Of course Harry knows what it means. I told him!" she insisted emphatically. "And what if he didn't? Not everyone puts their nose in a book every five minutes like you," she added icily for good measure.

Harry looked back and forth between Ginny and Hermione, bewildered. He knew that the two of them had been having some issues as of late, but he couldn't understand why Ginny would take that tone with a girl who was supposed to be a good friend of hers. He was about to ask her what was going on when Mrs. Weasley stepped back into the room.

"Ginevra dear, I need you to come try on the tiara. We need to see if it's a good fit or if we need to have it shrunk down for you."

Ginny gleefully clapped her hands and gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek before bouncing off in the direction her mother went. When Ginny was fully out of the room he brought his attention back to where Hermione had been sitting, but she was gone. He quickly peeped out the front door and saw the back of her retreating form heading down the lane.

"Hermione, wait up!" he called to her.

If she heard him she didn't acknowledge it, just kept trudging along her way. Without bothering to let anyone know he was leaving the house he hurriedly took off after her.

Something had Hermione steamed because by the time Harry reached her side she was talking animatedly to herself. She didn't even look at him. He wondered if she was just hacked off at Ginny for what his newly minted fiancée had said. He was about to ask her if that was the case when Hermione stopped in her tracks and faced him squarely.

"It's just that I don't think it's fair...you not knowing what you are getting yourself into, I mean," Hermione began aggressively. "You have every right to be sure that you are doing the right thing!"

Harry was at a loss for words. He had no idea what she was going on about.

"Harry, answer me honestly. Do you know what the Olde Rites are?"

"Has something to do with the wedding, right?" he queried nervously. "Ginny asked if we could do it in the old ways and I agreed. What is it, some kind of vow?"

Hermione snorted at his ignorance.

"More like a vow, an oath, some blood, a ritual..."

"Hang on! BLOOD?!"

Hermione roughly took his hand and immediately Harry felt the sensation of being squeezed through a bottle. He didn't know what it was about side-along Apparition that made him so queasy. He never felt half as bad when he Apparated himself to and fro. He always meant to ask Hermione if she knew why that may be, but he decided that now wouldn't be the right time. As Harry opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that they were in the bedroom of her flat.

"Damn!" Hermione swore. "I over shot."

Harry was about to ask her what the hell was going on, but she quickly told him to take a seat on the bed as she went out of the door. As he did so, he briefly worried that Ginny would get angry that he had left the house to go chasing after Hermione yet again. She often complained that he had a tendency to do that. A lot! His fear was also compounded by the fact that he had once again forgotten to take with him the little two-way mirror she'd given him as a birthday gift only two years ago. "So we never miss each other," she cloyingly told him as she showed him the one that she would carry with her. Ginny was not going to be too happy with him, not one bit, but he couldn't help but see the bloody thing as a tether around his neck she constantly felt the need to tug at. He could only see this getting worse, especially now that he had decided to marry her.

The mirror also brought up unpleasant memories of the one that Sirius had given him all those years ago that he unfortunately never got to use. Of course he couldn't bring this up with Ginny. She probably would be cross that he didn't appreciate her gift, but Harry somehow knew that Hermione would understand his reluctance to bother with the thing. She always seemed to have a way of grasping the idiosyncrasies of his mind and knowing just what made him tick.

Since he had nothing else better to do, he took a good look around Hermione's room. Harry had always liked it, although he had only been allowed inside her sanctuary on a few rare occasions. The colors she had chosen in her decorating pallet were green and a warm yellow that gave the room a tropical feel. Off in a corner stood a large, standing cheval mirror. It always amused Harry to see it, to think of Hermione as some vain bird who was worried about her appearance. But in truth he knew that the beautiful cherry wood antique meant a lot to her. It had once stood in the Granger home; it had once belonged to her mum.

Most of the bedroom furniture in her room and the apartment were actually owned by her parents before they passed, including the king sized mahogany bed that he sat on. Laid out lovingly across it was a colorful patchwork quilt he knew had been taken from her grandmother's home. When he noticed her trusted daily planner, open, resting right on the bed next to him he took a quick peek down to see what sage wisdom it had for the day. Look before you leap, it told him. Harry didn't think he needed to heed its warning so he closed it. Where he had been jumpy and on edge just moments before, he suddenly felt worlds calmer. His anxiety had mellowed considerably. Just drinking in the aroma of the room seemed to fill him with a sense of peace; serenity. What was that smell, he wondered. Lilac? Lavender? The scent always seemed to put him at ease.

"Sorry about that," Hermione said as Harry drifted back from his reverie. "I honestly only meant to bring us into the living room."

She was standing in front of him holding a gigantic book in her arms. Harry scooted over to allow her to sit beside him. As she did, she held up the cover of the book so he could see it.

"I knew I had it somewhere here, but it took me a bit to find it on the shelf."

She smiled at him timidly.

"I bought it just in case Ron decided to propose again. I wanted to be sure about what I would be getting myself into if I were to just give in and say yes one day."

Harry couldn't miss the hesitant sound in her voice. He also felt the slight lurch his own stomach made at her words. He dismissed it as the pudding he had eaten at supper.

"Rituals and Customs of Olde Briton," he read from the cover as he took the heavy book from her. "What's this about?"

"It's an interesting read actually. It's all about most of the ancient traditions and practices that were observed by the first wizards and witches here in the British Isles. Fertility charms, war rites," Hermione answered. "Joining rituals..." she trailed off quietly.

"Oh," replied Harry as he flipped the book open and began to thumb through the pages. "You mean there's more than one kind of wedding ceremony?"

"Several actually," she said as she began to fretfully pick at the long red skirt she was wearing. "But the oldest and most prevalent is called the Olde Rites. The original name has been lost through the years. It's often referred to as the Cycle as well."

"Ok, so what's so special about it?"

Hermione brought her eyes up to his, but anxiously turned them away.

"Well it was originally centered on the phases of the moon. Once upon a time the actual ceremony had to be performed on the night of a full moon, the proposal done the night before the previous one. Over time though that was done away with."

"I still don't get it," Harry declared, this whole lesson she was giving him going straight over his head.

As was her way back at Hogwarts, she became incensed at his dimness.

"Circe! Did you and Ron ever pay attention in Sinistra's class? There are only 30 days between full moons!" she snapped at him. "Well actually 29.5, but that's just splitting hairs."

Her eyes were glowing almost feverishly, and her words were coming at him far too fast. He started to get concerned that she was falling ill, but then her next words stopped him dead.

"Don't you get it yet, Harry?! Thirty days from now you are going to be Mr. Ginny Weasley!"

When the book he was holding tumbled out of his hands and fell on his foot he didn't really scream like a girl. But it was a close thing.

"T-t-t-thirty days?!" Harry managed to stammer out.

In answer to his question Hermione soberly nodded her head.

"But that can't be right," he argued. "Bill and Fleur were engaged forever before they got married!"

Truthfully they had been engaged for about a year, but that was still longer than thirty-bloody-days!

"That's because Bill and Fleur adhered more to the Franco traditions. The French don't rush about these things. Bernadette was telling me last week about her great-aunt Amalie's wedding she had just came back from. Bernadette's aunt had been engaged to her fiancé for over fifteen years! Fifteen years!"

Where Harry was sitting right now fifteen years sounded like a dream as opposed to thirty-bloody-days!

"Bill and Fleur actually were quite fast about it. Then again back then everyone was rushing to get married, with Voldemort and all...you know. That's when the Rites came back into vogue."

She reached down and pulled the heavy tome off of the floor. She flipped through some pages until she ultimately came to what she was looking for.

"The time between getting engaged and married is fully plotted out," Hermione explained as she began to read to him from the book. "Five days from the proposal, an engagement party is held at the home of the mother of the groom."

She looked at him apologetically.

"I suppose Molly could do that for you still. You know she would love to," she kindly remarked.

She read on.

"At the party all who wish to give their blessing to the impending marriage may attend. A brief ceremony is held where two large tapers are lit by the couple. It's supposed to represent the commencement of the Rites. The candles then burn until the day of the wedding. The couple must be married before the candles go out. The book clearly stipulates that. Also there is a ceremonial blade involved as well as a ceremonial chalice. You and the future bride cut your selves and bleed into the cup-"

"Hold on...wait just one minute," Harry cut her off, completely disturbed by what she was telling him. "Blood? Blade? Bleeding? BLOOD? WHAT?!"

"Very macabre sounding, isn't it?" she replied. "At the wedding ceremony mead is poured into the chalice that the blood had been steeping in, and the groom and bride drink from it. It's supposed to create this bond between the couple. A bond so immense, so intimate that if either party is ever unfaithful their spouse knows it immediately. The injured party actually feels it."

Dobby could have jumped in and made a home of Harry's mouth, it was open so wide.

"Blood magic is very powerful, Harry," she reminded him. "Now where was I," said Hermione as she went back to the book. "Ah yes! Five days out from the engagement a ceremony is held to choose the people who will stand up for the groom and bride. They call it the Naming Tea now. I suspect just to be able to have another party, but whatever. That is usually held by the mother of the bride. At this ceremony the Maid of Honour is also given her charge. She arranges the whole wedding from then out."

Hermione closed the book with a beleaguered sigh and placed it on the other side of her.

"I can't begin to tell you how happy am I that Glinda decided to pretend she was religious for her mum's sake. I don't think I could have dealt with any of this."

One of Harry's eyebrows crept up at that statement.

"Didn't you just say the other day that you wished that Glinda would stop pretending to be religious so you won't have to be named godmother at the bloody christening once the baby is born?"

"Must you remember everything I say?" she asked vexedly, yet there was a small hint of a smile on her lips. "Well she won't let up. Yesterday she threatened to turn me into a tampon if I didn't agree to it. Of course I keep reminding her that although she is married to a wizard she can't use a bloody wand, but does she listen?"

Though Harry wouldn't have minded listening to her complain about her insistence that she would not make a good godmother, he needed for her to go on about this clusterfuck he had haplessly gotten himself into.

"So is there anything else I..." he paused to swallow tensely, "should know about?"

"Pretty much the rest is cut and dry," she answered. "There are a few little things that get taken care of before the wedding; the bride's robes must be charmed, a ribbon must be picked out, fertility rituals done..."

"Fertility rituals?"

"Yes; getting married quick, and having a baby quicker seem to be the name of the game. Oh! I almost forgot about the Seclusion."

"Seclusion?"

"The bride and groom are isolated from each other for seven days. This happens right after the Temptation day. For the Temptations the couple used to be confronted with the opportunity to change their minds. Ages ago the wizard was taken to a Muggle brothel and left alone with one of the prostitutes. If he didn't touch her he was golden."

"What about the woman?"

"I'm sure she still got paid."

"No, Hermione, I meant the bride."

"Oh!" Her cheeks colored. "Oh, well...I haven't read too many stories about what the woman went through. Probably nothing as big as all that, though. Bloody double standards! A man can be all virile and do what have you, but let a woman-"

"HERMIONE!"

"Sorry. Like I was saying, you won't have to worry about the Temptations. Now it basically is just a bachelor and bachelorette party. Then that segues into the week long Seclusion right before the wedding. The bride and groom are not allowed to see one another until the reception the night before. They, however, can not be left alone."

"Why not?"

"As not to damage the bride's purity, or something or other. Way back when she had to be as lily-white and pristine as the day she was born," Hermione said, smacking her lips in disdain. "Even nowadays they still like to give the pretense that such is the case. Bah! As much as Muggles get criticized, at least they aren't as ridiculously antiquated as wizards."

"Well I guess that's one thing me and Ginny won't have to worry about," Harry murmured absentmindedly. When he realized what he had said, he instantly wished he could Avada himself so he could be let out of his misery.

"You mean...still..." she began wondrously.

"Ginny and I decided to wait," Harry shyly confessed. "Well, uh, she told me we did. She said something about dung and buying space cows. Totally didn't understand it, but I respect her wishes."

Harry hated to think of what shade his face was.

"Ah yes, the proverbial mooncalf. Honestly! Like there is something so condemnable about a woman with a robust sexual appetite. It's perfectly normal and healthy!" Hermione blurted out.

Scarlet. He decided that his face was probably scarlet, probably getting redder by the minute if such a shade existed. He did not want to go down that road again with Hermione; especially not in here, not on her bed. Oh Merlin, he was on her bed!

"Yes, um, well..." Harry sputtered as he shot off the offending piece of furniture and instead pitched himself against the bed's matching wardrobe closet.

"Sorry," she said in apology. "As I was saying, so as not to get up to any hanky-panky the couple can not be left alone. It would definitely be a disaster if they were and the bride got pregnant."

"Why?"

"Because the bonding will not have taken effect. That doesn't happen until the wedding once the ribbon is tied and the mead has been drunk."

Harry's head swam with all of the confusing details Hermione was giving him.

"I still don't understand any of this."

"Harry, look at it as if...you were signing a contract. Each ceremony and ritual you perform for the Rites is an article of the agreement. You initial each one as you complete each task. Once you get down to the bottom there is a place for you to sign. Having a baby is effectively you signing that contract. Once that's done, sure as Bob is your uncle, you are bonded for life. There is no getting out of it."

"None?"

Harry was wracking his brain, trying desperately to remember when Ginny could have told him any of this.

"Nope. None. Wizards don't really believe in divorce. Sure there are some that get the Rites overturned, but that's only when no child has been born of the union. If that's the case, and you can show just cause why the marriage should be dissolved, you can petition the Wizengamot. The problem is that then you have to deal with the social stigma being divorced carries. But back when the Rites were first practiced...there was no divorce. There wasn't even a term for it. No, once you are married under the Rites and have a baby that's it. You and your mate are bound until death parts you."

"Until one of you die?"

Ok, Ginny definitely did not tell him any of this. Not one bit!

"I'm afraid so. Even if you try to move on or run off the bond between you won't allow it. Both parties become a shell of their former selves. Food has no taste, your mind starts to go, you no longer feel joy; you...you wither away, Harry. Your soul withers away."

"AND GINNY WANTS TO DO THIS?!" he hollered as the sound of a heavy object crashing to the floor was heard from the next room. Both of them looked towards the door.

"Hmm, sounds like that was the bookcase. Well, no matter," Hermione said, disregarding it.

She turned to face him again.

"Maybe..." she began uneasily, "maybe Ginny wants to ensure that you stay by her side. Forever."

Harry's stomach bubbled at the word...FOREVER.

"Maybe she thinks this is the best way to make sure that happens; by giving you no other options, by binding you to her for the rest of your life. Because that is what this would mean, Harry. You and Ginny; together forever."

There was that word again. Did he really want to be chained to Ginny forever, his jumbled thoughts franticly asked?

"Or perhaps she feels if you love her enough all the rest doesn't matter," continued Hermione nervously.

For a moment Harry was lost in a world of his own thinking. Every thing Hermione was telling him seemed too much. Blood, and ribbons, and the possibility of not being able to enjoy a good treacle tart when he wanted it; Harry wasn't so sure he was ready for all of this. Was he ready for all of this?

"Does it?"

Harry's attention was drawn back to the bed where Hermione was staring at him skeptically.

"Does it matter?"

Harry suddenly felt like he was being Apparated against his will. That feeling of being pushed at from all sides was upon him again. He felt exposed to Hermione, like he had been caught in just his skivvies. Did she realize that he was this close to marching right back to the Burrow and telling Ginny to forget the whole thing? The whole damned thing!

"Knowing what you now know...do you...I mean, do you still want to marry Ginny?"

Hermione's face was lined with worry and dread.

Of course Hermione would get to the bottom of it. Who knew him better? But that same thought made Harry shrink from telling her the truth. What would Hermione think of him if he admitted that he was now wishing that he had never agreed to this whole crazy scheme? Would she think lowly of him? Would she be disappointed in him? Hermione was one of the few people whose opinion of him truly mattered to Harry. He didn't want to look bad, not to her! What kind of git proposes to a girl he wasn't willing to bleed for and then...*gulp*...drink it? Deny, deny, deny was the refrain that played through his head.

"WELL SURE I DO!" he yelped, his voice sounding too loud in his own ears. "I mean, I asked her to be my wife. Of course I want to marry Ginny!"

"Oh," she quietly said as she looked down at her shoes. "Ok...I um, I just wanted you to be sure."

She was standing up now, a huge smile pulling at both ends of her mouth. The kind of smile that looked like it kind of hurt. He was looking at her lips so intently that he almost missed the rest of what she was saying.

"...to know what you were getting yourself into. I mean if anything you can just tell Ginny that you've changed your mind. That you prefer to get married the Muggle way or something less...drastic."

"No, no..." he said plastering on a smile of his own to match hers. The difference, in his mind, was that he knew his was a fake. "If Ginny wants to do this, why not? What's the harm? It's not like I'm going to wake-up years from now and want to take it all back, right?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed as she quickly walked over to him. "You love her. It's as simple as that. Meant to be…written in the stars…destined for each other and all that. Ginny gets what she wants and everyone is happy."

Her voice trembled on the last word and Harry suddenly realized that Hermione might not be as cheerful as she was letting on.

"Hermione, is there...what's going on with you and Ginny?"

"What?" Her eyes bulged at the question and her smile momentarily fell from her face. "Nothing! W-why would you think something was going on?"

"Because of that scene at the Burrow, because of the way that Ginny was talking down to you."

"Oh that? That was nothing," Hermione insisted as that almost plastic-like smile appeared again. "Don't even worry about that."

"But I do worry. I don't like it when Ginny talks to you that way. I've talked to her about it before. I mean, sure I used to think it was brilliant the way she would stand up for me back when I thought you were just being a dull old nag."

Harry pulled Hermione forward and engulfed her in a warm hug.

"It just took me a while to realize that you were honestly trying to look out for me. Like you always do. Like you did just today telling me about this bonding business."

"I'm your friend," she said, pressing the side of her face into his chest. "That's my job."

"You are more than my friend and you know that," he said, pulling back to look at her pointedly, before wrapping her closer to him again. He inhaled deeply, feeling as if all was right in the world, when all of a sudden a stunning realization almost toppled him.

Jasmine! Harry had finally figured out what that smell was. Jasmine.

"Sorry about Ginny."

"It's just that she's not too happy with me right now. A few weeks ago at that dinner, when Ron announced to the whole bloody restaurant that we were back together, she looked less than congratulatory. I think she believes I'm stringing her brother along."

Although he could see that his best friend was in a blue kind of mood, Harry had to wonder if maybe Ginny possibly had the right of it. Maybe Hermione was just stringing poor Ron along. Maybe she was just putting on a show with Ron when she was really after someone else. What was it she had said to him just weeks ago? Something about not wanting the same things she wanted when she was twelve years old anymore. What did she want now? Who did she want now? Was it Malfoy? Harry's wand hand began to itch at the thought.

He had seen Malfoy just recently with one of his little conquests, the redhead with the bony, horse-like face, at a Quidditch match he was playing. Harry almost flew his broom straight into the stands so he could knock the blond's arrogant sneer off of his face right then and there. How dare he think that Hermione was one of his slags he could have his way with then discard like she was nothing! Little less than a month ago he had caught them at it here in this very flat. Then the next thing he knew he was watching Ron bashfully tell everyone to raise their glasses as he shared with them the "good news". Was Hermione just using Ron as some sort of smoke screen for whatever she was really up to? Did she fall in love with somebody else? Was she in love with someone that Harry didn't know about?

"Are you?!" he menacingly growled.

Nice one Harry! That definitely came out far harsher than he intended. Hermione obviously thought so too because she violently pushed herself away from him and stormed out of the room. When Harry finally got his wits about him he found her in the kitchen pacing angrily back and forth.

"My God, Harry! MY GOD!"

Every nerve of her body was tensed as she swung around to face the doorway where he was standing.

"Do you really think I would want to do that to Ron? Do you really think that lowly of me? You're the one who convinced me to try again!" she said pointing an accusing finger at him. "'Take him back, Hermione. He's going spare without you Hermione'!"

Harry vaguely understood that she was doing a piss poor impression of him.

"Remember? It was in this very kitchen?"

"Don't remind me," he groaned, purposefully avoiding casting his eyes on the evil and accursed table.

"Well I did what you wanted!" she yelled as her eyes began to redden. "I did it to make you happy! I'm trying Harry! I am honestly trying, but...but it's hard! You just have no clue how hard it is!"

Taken aback by her frankness, he asked her meekly, "But it shouldn't be that hard, should it?"

Hermione gave him the most withering of looks.

"Sometimes loving someone with all of your heart can be the most difficult thing to do, Harry. Trust me, I know."

Sometimes Harry wished he could find a Time-Turner, have that conversation with Hermione again, and tell her that he now understood the full meaning of what she had said that day. He could even one up her. If she thought that trying to make a relationship with Ron work was so tough, she should try walking around in his shoes for a bit. He had fallen in love with someone he hadn't laid eyes on in years, while being married to another woman. To make matters worse, he couldn't exactly remember why he had married his wife in the first place. Now that...that was bloody hard!

But it wasn't like Harry was trying to find some way out of his vows to Ginny. He had made a commitment to her he had every intention of seeing through. He wasn't searching for some kind of loophole in their agreement.

He just wasn't in such a hurry to sign on the dotted line.

"I think someone needs to have his nappy changed."

"For the love of Merlin, Tonks! Even the Hag has some standards of decency!"

Tonks was standing over Wolfgang's pram as she effortlessly placed the baby inside. Harry marveled at how graceful she almost seemed. She expertly swathed the child in his many blankets before giving him a pacifier, and almost instantly the baby's brows puckered as sleep descended upon him. Harry figured that Tonks had placed a Lullaby charm on it.

"He likes his dummy meat flavored. Go figure," Tonks shared with him as she straightened herself up and took the handles of the contraption. "And it wasn't like I was going to change him right out in the open. What do you take me for?"

Harry wanted to remind her of how she had just flung her fun cushion out in the open, but he thought better of it. Although the former Miss Tonks, now Mrs. Lupin, carried all of the trappings of a staid matron; that did not negate the fact that the woman would not hesitate to give Harry a good arse kicking if he asked for it.

"I have a husband at home who is completely mad about me," she said loftily. "I'm going to go fool around with him instead of hanging around here with my current surly company."

Harry's mood had definitely taken a turn for the worse. It was just that every time he looked back on what a mess he had made of his life, Harry couldn't help but become a grouch. He needed something to improve his mood. Maybe the library dream, he pondered. Yes! The library dream, with Pince lurking somewhere nearby and Hermione dressed in her old school robes. Just her school robes! Harry's mood suddenly perked up. Other parts of him did as well.

"Listen, sorry for bringing up baby stuff with Ginny and all that. I know that it's a bit of a touchy subject. Remus and I...well, we just want you to be happy, Harry. You know how happy people are, they just want everyone to be happy right along with them," Tonks apologized.

Harry felt honestly touched by the concern.

"Hey! This should cheer you up. You know what I was thinking about just the other day? That time in France; me and Hermione in the nuns' habits. Remember that? Wasn't that a scream? 'Course at the time we were all thinking we were going to die at any moment. But looking back those were some wild times weren't they, Harry?"

Harry's face spread in a huge shit eating grin. He did recall their mission to France. How important it was and how scared they all had been. And how damned cute Hermione had looked dressed in the black and white get-up. If there had been nuns that looked like that back at St. Brutus's Harry thought that he probably would have ditched Hogwarts altogether.

And just like that Harry groaned inwardly. He had a pretty good idea that he wasn't going to be dreaming about a certain back table at Hogwarts later that night. Oh no. But it should be interesting.

And sick, sick, sick another part of his brain told him.

Yeah, but probably a helluva lot of fun too!

"Isn't that a gas, Har? I don't know what made me think about that," Tonks continued, thankfully unaware of Harry's inner thoughts.

"Does that ever happen to you? You get someone inside your head, for some reason or another, and you just can't get them out again?"

Harry snatched up his bottle of butterbeer and instantly became frustrated when he couldn't seem to get anything out of it. Once he realized that there was a pretty good reason for that, seeing as how the bottle was empty, he dismally set it back down on the table.

"Tonks, you have no idea."

A/N: Next up is Neville's POV. Things to look forward to: a different side to Ginny, a hottie on a train ride, and someone who just may know a little more about the Harry and Hermione situation than he is letting on.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Julian Jameson Potter, Sylvia Witherspell (Potter), James Wynnton Potter, Ellis Elijah Potter, Rordynn George Potter, Clayton Poe, Hecuba Poe, Hecate Poe, Percival Weasley Jr., Bernadette Fournier, and Amalie Fournier are canon.

2) The Auld Alliance was real but has been tweaked for the purposes of this story.

3) JKR decided to reveal her family tree for the Blacks waaaaay after I finished this chapter. Thanks a lot JK! (said lovingly of course) so Sirius' family tree as well as Harry's has been revised for this story.

4) Arcturus is the brightest star in the constellation Boötes, the Hunter (or Herdsman). She used the same name for the Black boys' grandfather too. Obviously we have a co.nec.tion. :)

5) I take liberties with the Founders and the Horcruxes.

6) I've based Godric's Hollow on the small village of Bulcote in Nottinghamshire.

7) According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a plimpy is a fish like creature, shaped like a ball, with two long legs and webbed feet. A gytrash is a huge spectral hound that lives in forests.

8) The Olde Rites is my own little baby. In my universe there are several wizarding wedding traditions, but the Rites is the oldest and the hardest to get out of. Make note of the order of events, it will come in handy later on

9) The books Ravenclaw of Gaul, To Seek, or Not to Seek, I've Got a Witch Up My Tree, How About You, Of Warlocks and Wizards, Sons of Albion: A Historical Study of the Magical Families of Olde Britain, A Limey Lycan's Life(My Memoirs), and Rituals and Customs of Olde Briton as well as Pottermates, Hogwarts House Globes, and the SnowGlobe concept are all original to this story.

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