Hermione's Song by cuteybearkel

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 30/03/2009
Last Updated: 09/04/2009
Status: Completed

When Harry Potter woke up on one gray, gloomy day and found Hermione singing to herself at the
table, he thought that he must be losing his mind. Or, perhaps, that the world was imploding. What
he didn't know was that he was quite wrong, and that that morning had the power to change his
life for the better... forever.




1. Waking Up and a Moment in the Snow
-------------------------------------

A/N: So… *waves shyly*

I know that this chapter is freakishly long, at least for a first-time post, but this story was
originally intended to be a one-shot, though it didn't end up turning out that way. I hope that
explains both the length of the chapter and the pace at which the story moves.

Hope you like it!


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Harry Potter woke to find a gray, gloomy sort of sunlight drifting lazily in through the small
"window" in his room in the tent. It could not really be called a window - it had no
glass and was simply a square-shaped opening in the side of the tent, covered by thick plastic to
keep the cold out - but it did allow a moderately good view of the outside world, though it was
sometimes oddly skewed in places where the plastic had crumpled a little. Gazing groggily out of
it, he could tell that it was early morning. It was also snowing. He knew that it must be near
Christmas, by the look of things, and he remembered how Christmas used to be his favourite time of
year at Hogwarts, with the breathtaking decorations going up and Peeves having great fun inventing
his own (rude) lyrics to familiar Christmas tunes. Everyone pretended to hate the songs he made up,
but every last person at Hogwarts, including teachers, would admit to having caught themselves
humming or singing one of his little compositions at random moments during (and sometimes not
during) the holiday season.

He sighed as he remembered his first Christmas at Hogwarts, when he and Ron had still been
friends, roasting anything edible in the cheery fire that was always lit in the Gryffindor common
room during the winter, and making up elaborate ways of getting Malfoy kicked out of school, which
had been great fun to plan even though they had both known full well that their plans were
impossible.

Things had been so much simpler then. They just hadn't realized it at the time. Even with
the whole Philosopher's Stone ordeal, things had been so much easier, so much simpler…

Harry sighed again. Those times were gone. Ron had abandoned Harry and Hermione when they needed
him most, chickening out when things got bad. Harry remembered the terrible screaming fight they
had had, which had escalated to the point where Harry knew that they would have duelled had
Hermione not managed to react faster than either of them, casting a split-second Shield Charm
between the two boys. Harry would never admit it, but he felt guilty for his instinctive reaction,
reaching for his own wand before he knew what he was doing. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that
in that crazed moment, he probably would have duelled Ron with no regard for his (ex-) friend's
safety.

Thank Merlin for Hermione being incredibly fast when it came to her spellwork. Things might have
gotten messy had she not intervened.

An image of Ron lying mangled and bloodied on the ground after a fierce duel floated into
Harry's head, but he shook it away and got up and dressed, making a very half-hearted attempt
to flatten his always-messy hair. Stretching, he took another look out the window to find that it
was still gray and snowing. The sun came up very slowly this time of year, feeling lazy like
everything and everyone else as the world prepared for Christmas and the small break that usually
came with it. Harry sighed again. He definitely appreciated the absence of his seventh-year
lessons, but he thought that it would have been worth it to suffer through mounds of schoolwork if
only he was back at Hogwarts again, warm and safe within the walls of the castle, with Ron as his
best mate and Ginny as his-

Well, no… Take off the "Ginny as his girlfriend" part. Harry had realized, with
Ginny's sudden kiss that summer, that he didn't really feel anything special about Ginny.
Sure, he had snogged her a few times, but he had done that with Cho Chang as well, and nothing had
come from it. Ginny was Ron's little sister, and she always had been. Six years of knowing her
like that had kind of turned off any romantic impulses towards her, minus that sudden chest
monster, which he didn't really care for all that much. It felt like heartburn, but worse. The
kind of heartburn that you couldn't swallow some Pepto Potion (which was, oddly, violently
pink) for.

The chest monster had confused him for a long time, but out here, in relative solitude (minus
Hermione, of course), he had had plenty of time to contemplate the occasional rumblings of the
chest monster (and a few other issues as well). He now had an understanding of why people went out
into nature to think about life's greatest mysteries. Being free of a schedule, free of the
possibility that someone was going to pop in and ask you to do something, and having the freedom to
spend as much (or almost as much) time as you liked just thinking about things, just random things,
was a very good recipe for reflective thought and, sometimes, if you were lucky, profound
revelations. Especially, Harry had discovered, when you got to sit in the middle of a forest that
was bursting into full autumn colour and not be bothered by anything except, perhaps, a crisp
breeze now and then. Harry had thought about taking up meditation, his environment was so perfect
for it, but he thought that Hermione would seriously think that he had lost his marbles if he took
to sitting under trees with his legs crossed and his eyes closed. (She had already been very
tolerant of his desire to sit quietly by himself for long periods of time, sometimes even hours,
while he reflected about all sorts of things. She seemed to think it was good for him to work
through whatever stray fears or worries he had running rampant in his system, and occasionally
seemed almost relieved that he had finally figured out how to cope with everything without
completely shutting himself off from everyone and everything around him for days at a time.)

Harry had managed to have three profound revelations, and was very proud of himself. OK, maybe
these were not *such* profound revelations, he hadn't found the true purpose of his life
or anything, but they were profound enough to have changed the way he saw things nowadays. And
besides, he felt that someone as tentative as he was to take any small step toward the complex
realms of human emotions should be proud to have had any vague hint of a revelation.

First of all, he had realized that he was not pining for Ginny, it had merely been the sight of
her and Dean kissing so… er… *passionately* that had awakened his chest monster. Not because
it was Ginny, but because seeing her kissing Dean like that so soon after she had broken up with
Michael Corner had made him realize that after he and Cho had called it quits, he had never picked
up the shards of his love life and moved on. No, he wasn't carrying a torch for Cho, but he
realized that he might as well have been. He had never bothered to fancy another girl since his
relationship with Cho had gone down the tubes. He didn't need relationships, he had thought.
They were too much trouble.

He had thought.

Which led to his second revelation: he was lonely. Seeing his two best friends finally start
openly fancying each other that year had made him feel left out and alone. And since Ginny had been
the one to awaken the chest monster in the first place, his confused brain had categorized her as
the person who could fill the little gap of loneliness in his heart. So he had gone to her. And she
had managed to fill that little gap, seeing as when he was with her, he did not feel lonely, but
there was a new gap: he didn't just want to stop feeling lonely.

He wanted to *start* feeling loved.

Yes, yes, that was your cue to burst into tears. How *cute*, the hero of the wizarding
world wants to find love. Rita Skeeter, eat your heart out. But despite how positively sappy it
sounded, Harry knew that it was true. Ginny fancied him, he knew, and she was an excellent snogging
partner, but she never wanted to talk about anything but herself or him, and sometimes a little bit
about what she had read in the *Daily Prophet*. They never actually talked about their
feelings for each other, they just kind of assumed what they assumed and then sealed it with a good
bit of snogging behind some random suit of armour. But neither had ever said the words, those three
small-yet-unbelievably-important words, to the other. Neither had even told the other that they
fancied them. Their words (in between their snogs) had been small talk about the two of them, or
sometimes even a little about the rest of the world. Discussing emotions was not a strong point in
either of them, especially not when either was around the other. Merlin knew whom Ginny *did*
talk about them with, if at all, and Harry went to Hermione for that sort of discussion.

Then again, he *had* been dealing with any and all confused emotions by himself lately (and
he now knew that he had a fairly good reason to keep things to himself…), which was much easier in
the complete solitude of the forest (well, solitude minus the company of one certain brown-haired
witch).

Which had led to his third revelation (and this is what made him very grateful that said
brown-haired witch didn't try to make him tell her what he had been thinking about when he
finished up one of his reflective sessions):

He was in love with Hermione.

Again, that was your cue to burst into tears. Rita Skeeter, buy some more ink and a few extra
Quick-Quotes Quills, you're going to get one monster of an article out of this one. How
*adorable*, the hero of the wizarding world falls for his best friend and trusty sidekick,
that "plain-looking" girl who stands in the background and helps him out while he gets
all the glory. That girl who everybody thinks is going to end up with the other (not-so-) trusty
sidekick, because she's *certainly* not *worthy* of His Highness Harry Potter.

Well, bug off, Rita Skeeter.

*OK,* Harry had thought during one of his pensive moments, *so she's not a
supermodel. Big freakin' whoop! Isn't it remotely possible that His Highness Harry Potter
gives a darn about something other than looks? And by the way, Rita Skeeter,* he had thought,
frowning as anger at what that woman had said about Hermione all those years ago bubbled away
inside of him, *Hermione's a heck of a lot better looking than you, you cow, so why don't
you take that quill of yours and shove it up-*

Well, you get the idea. Hey, who said that reflective sessions had to be G-rated? It was in his
head, for heaven's sake, it wasn't hurting anyone. (Besides, he was already censoring
himself most of the time, hence the "big freakin' whoop", thinking that swears were
probably not all that beneficial to the whole dealing-with-your-problems-properly thing.)

There were plenty of things about Hermione for him to love, even if you were the persistent kind
and insisted that she was just "plain-looking". He loved her laugh, her smile (both
because he thought it was beautiful and because it made him happy to watch her smile), her thirst
for learning (unlike his previous girlfriends, who seemed to be in school only because they had to
be), her passion for helping house-elves (which, he thought, showed enthusiasm, determination and
kindness all at once), and even her little version of a "saving-people thing" (had she
not saved Harry from certain death at least six times, both Harry and Ron from their homework more
times than any of them could count, Sirius from imprisonment, and even Crookshanks from the Magical
Menagerie, where no one wanted him?), to name a few.

There were so many things about Hermione that he loved, he wondered how he hadn't realized
it before now.

This revelation of his was the reason that he was very glad for Hermione's apparent
understanding of the fact that he wanted to be able to think about things by himself. He was
*not* going to tell her that he was in love with her. Ever. (Unless, of course, the Apocalypse
was coming or something, in which case he would tell her, just because they were all going to die
anyway and it wouldn't matter.) He could tell that even though they fought a lot, his friends
were happy with each other, and he was not going to be the one to ruin that by dropping this bomb
on them. He could manage the single life, it wouldn't kill him. And if it did, well, the Potter
line would die out at last. Big whoop. The Weasleys could be one big, happy family, and he would be
glad for them. He had managed to sincerely promise himself that he would, during one of his many
pensive moments, and he intended to keep that promise, even if it meant him staying single for the
rest of his life. Or, perhaps, he'd settle for someone who wasn't Hermione. Either way, he
couldn't have her.

And that nearly broke his heart. But he would deal with it. He had learned how now.

Harry stepped out of his room and heard an odd sound or two, sounding like they were coming from
farther away inside the tent. *Hermione must be awake*, he realized, following the sound for a
moment before nearly starting to chuckle.

Hermione was awake, yes. And she was *singing*. Hermione, Harry had always thought, was not
one to sing, *ever* (unless, of course, the Apocalypse was coming or something, in which case
she might as well, because they were all going to die anyway and it wouldn't matter), but he
could tell that this was more than just her talking to herself. Nobody talked to himself or herself
in that sort of tone. He had to admit, though, her singing wasn't half bad. The notes sounded
good together, anyway, forming a relatively slow tune that Harry thought sounded a little sad.

He crept closer to the sound, which was coming from the kitchen, where she usually sat in the
morning, waiting for him to get up so they could start working (fruitlessly, Harry had to admit) on
brainstorming new possibilities for Horcruxes and their locations. He knew that both he and
Hermione were a little frustrated, having so little information at their disposal, but both were
coping. Hermione had managed to adopt Harry's more relaxed, thoughtful attitude, which was a
big change in her character.

This is not, of course, to say that they were not taking their Horcrux hunt seriously, but both
had decided that there was no point in going into fits of hysterics over something that they
couldn't do any more than try to make good guesses about. Besides, Hermione had pointed out
once, it would be easier to think clearly if they tried to calm down, making it easier to
brainstorm more than desperate, far-fetched guesses at where and what the remaining Horcruxes might
be. Harry agreed. It was better to take the time to form better ideas than to go running all over
the globe, searching for objects that were probably not even there.

Peeking around a corner, he found Hermione sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea and
staring almost dreamily - yet somehow looking a little sad at the same time - out yet another
"window", murmuring a song to herself. Harry was finally close enough to catch the
lyrics.

*"And you don't see me*

*And you don't need me*

*And you don't love me*

*The way I wish you would*

*The way I know you could…"*

She sighed quietly, sadly, and took another sip of her tea. Harry was completely dumbstruck.

*OK, let's assess the situation,* he thought to himself, attempting to process this
strange event. *I woke up to find that not only is Hermione* singing*, she's sitting
there singing a* love song*. And since when can she even put on an expression like that?
She's reminding me of Luna Lovegood, honestly! Plus, Hermione doesn't* *ever sigh like
that,* ever*. Female or not, Hermione does not sigh like… like a* girl*!*

Harry rolled his eyes. *Merlin, it must be* that *time of the month again. Inch away
slowly, Potter… Slowly… Stay five feet away at all times…*

"Oh! Hi, Harry," came Hermione's surprised voice.

*Darn*. "Hi, 'Mione," he replied, taking a step into the kitchen. She looked
at him curiously.

"What are you doing, skulking in doorways like that?" she asked.

"What are *you* doing, singing *love songs*?" he asked in response, raising
his eyebrows at her. She went a little pink.

"Oh, you heard…" she said, looking embarrassed and becoming very interested in her cup
of tea. "Sorry about that…"

"Sorry?" Harry asked. "Why are you sorry? You're not a bad singer. You're
pretty good, actually." He tried very hard to make sure that she knew that he actually meant
it.

She only went redder. "How long was my singing under your scrutiny, exactly?"

"A minute or two," he replied. "Why?"

"No reason," she said. "Just curious."

"Oh. You still haven't answered my question."

"Which was…?" she asked innocently, though she knew full well what his question had
been.

"What are you doing, sitting here singing? Singing *love songs*, no less?" he
added, raising his eyebrows at her once again.

Still finding her tea extremely fascinating, she managed to murmur, "It is *not* a
love song…"

"*Right*," said Harry disbelievingly.

"It's more of an anti-love song, really," said Hermione.

"How?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I don't count songs about love that never
happens as "love songs"," she said. "They're just sad songs, that's
all."

"I guess so," said Harry, nodding slowly. "Why are you sitting here singing sad
songs, then?" he asked her. "Jeez, what a tongue twister," he added.

She finally averted her attention from her tea and grinned a small grin, which faded after a
moment. "I don't know, Harry… It just kind of popped into my head, that's
all."

Harry didn't completely believe her. He pulled up a chair beside her, a little concerned.
She seemed sort of depressed.

"Feeling blue?" he asked, with a mock-pouty lip.

Again, his little attempt at humour earned him a small, quick grin. "A little, I
guess," she admitted.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She sighed, resting an elbow on the table and leaning her cheek against her hand. "I
don't know, Harry…" she said, for the second time that day. "I guess I'm just
kind of… lonely."

"Hey!" he said.

Another small grin. "Oh, not lonely like *that*, Harry… Lonely in that other
way."

He chuckled a little. "Not used to sleeping alone, are we?"

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "Jeez, see if I ever try to be serious with you
again…"

"Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"It's OK," she said. "I guess I'm being a bit of a downer, huh?"

"Nah, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "But it's not all right for
me to just stand by and let you wallow in misery."

"I'm not wallowing in misery," she protested, "I'm just… blue, as you put
it."

"So, you're blue because you're lonely in some mysterious way that doesn't
involve sleeping alone," Harry recited, trying to assess the situation.

"Yeah, some mysterious way," she said, sighing a little. "For sure."

"Aw, come on, 'Mione, tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. "You're
killing me, here."

"You'll laugh," she said quietly. "It's stupid."

"*Hermione*," he said, "anything that is managing to depress *you*, the
queen of complete and total calm, is not stupid."

"It is," she persisted, "and besides, no matter how I phrase it, it always sounds
like I'm just fishing for compliments."

"I know that you don't fish for compliments," said Harry. "Please, Hermione,
just tell me what it is that's bothering you."

She sighed, becoming vaguely interested in her tea again. "Why doesn't anybody love me,
Harry?" she asked quietly.

Harry had to admit it, it *did* sound like she was just fishing for compliments and kind
words, but he could tell from her general attitude that she really meant it.

"'Mione…" he said, getting up and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Lots of people love you. I'm pretty sure that every single teacher at Hogwarts loves you
to bits… well, maybe not Snape," (she grinned again), "Hagrid loves you, Remus and Tonks
love you, all of the Weasleys love you…"

She made a small, disbelieving noise.

"Ron does too," Harry said firmly. "No matter what he's done, I know he loves
you just as much as everyone else. And I love you, of course," he finished, giving her
shoulder a reassuring squeeze and hoping that she wouldn't notice anything hidden in his
words.

She sighed again. "That's very sweet of you, Harry, but you don't
understand…"

"What don't I understand?"

"Harry," she said, "I don't mean *that* kind of love. I mean, you know,
*real* love."

"Well, that doesn't make me feel like chopped liver at all," said Harry.

"You know what I mean, Harry. I mean real love, like what Remus and Tonks have got, what
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have got, what Bill and Fleur and Hagrid and Madame Maxime have all got.
*Real* love, the man-loves-a-woman sort of love. Nobody loves me like *that*."

"Oh, 'Mione, that's not true…" said Harry. *I know it's not true, seeing
as I love her exactly like that…*

"It is," she said miserably. "It's true. Nobody loves me like that, not even
close. I thought Ron did, but… well, you saw what happened. He obviously didn't care enough to
stay when I ran after him, crying my eyes out," she said, her voice slightly shaky.
"*I* loved *him* like that, Harry, I did…"

Harry was a little dazed. Hermione wasn't exactly one to profess undying love. Then again,
he didn't suppose that this was *undying*, and he addressed that next.

"You *did.* So you don't anymore?" he asked.

She stalled by pushing her hair behind her ears. "I don't know anymore, Harry… I used
to love Ron like that, I know I did, but since he ran off, I just don't know anymore… And now…
now I think I might be in love with someone else, but I just *don't know*…" She
sighed. "Don't know much, do I?"

"You know plenty of stuff," said Harry. "You're just a little confused. It
happens. Why d'you think I spent hours and hours sitting outside thinking about things before
it got too cold?"

She looked at him curiously out of the corner of her eye. "Really? You're confused
too?"

He shook his head. "I was. I've worked things out now. But anyway, we're not
talking about me."

"Right, my confusion's under your scrutiny."

"Scrutiny?" asked Harry, caught off guard. "I'm not scrutinizing, I'm
trying to help you… Sorry, I'll stop if you like," he said, taking his hand off of her
shoulder and feeling a little stung.

"Oh, no… I didn't mean it like that, Harry, really," she said, finally looking
straight at him instead of at her tea. "I'm really sorry," she said miserably,
"you're trying to be nice to me and I hurt your feelings. No wonder nobody loves me like
*that*…"

"It's OK, 'Mione," he said reassuringly, whatever sting her words had
inflicted on him quickly fading away. "I know that you didn't mean it in a hurtful way.
Come on now, tell me about this mystery lover of yours."

She went a little pink. "He's not my *mystery lover*, seeing as he doesn't
even fancy me. He's already got a girlfriend a thousand times prettier than me, a thousand
times more popular than me, and much less of an insufferable know-it-all than I am. Plus, she's
got about a million times more snogging experience than I've got," she added, with a tiny
grin.

He grinned a quick grin back in response. "You say that this girl is "much less of an
insufferable know-it-all than you are". So, you think she's stupid?"

"Nah, she's not *stupid*," said Hermione, "she just doesn't memorize
every word in every textbook."

"Oh, all right. And you're not an insufferable know-it-all, by the way," he added,
realizing that he probably should have said that right away. "Moving on, then… You say
she's 'a thousand times prettier than you'? Well, whoever this guy is, he shouldn't
be shallow enough to only care about looks if he even comes close to deserving you, and besides,
it's impossible that any girl is a thousand times prettier than you. They'd have to be a
direct relative of Aphrodite, or whatever her name was, in order to manage that. And even then,
it'd be pretty darn hard to top you."

She turned pink again. "Don't lie just to make me feel better, Harry."

"Who's lying?" asked Harry. "I don't lie. I'm offended that you'd
even accuse me of it," he said, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air
dramatically.

She sighed. "Come on, Harry, you can't possibly believe all the stuff you just said.
I'm that plain-looking girl who used to vaguely resemble a beaver, remember?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "OK, if you *really* want to stretch it, you might have had
*slightly* large front teeth when you were younger. And you're not plain-looking, you just
don't show off."

Hermione just went a little redder.

"Now, on top of all of that, who cares how popular this other girl is? Personally, I
wouldn't like to have my girlfriend swarmed by boys day in and day out."

Hermione coughed but didn't say anything. Harry chose to continue without pressing her for a
response.

"And finally, who cares how much snogging experience this girl's got? I'm pretty
sure that you'd have plenty soon enough if you told this guy how you feel. He wouldn't be
able to resist," he said with a grin. *I know* I *wouldn't*…

Hermione's cheeks went from red to crimson. "*Harry*…"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You're *embarrassing* me…"

"You *say* that, but I know that you're loving it on the inside," said
Harry.

"Maybe," she said.

"Hm, right," said Harry, grinning again. "Now we get to the last step: who's
this guy?"

"I… can't tell you that," she said, looking uncomfortable.

"You can," said Harry. "I'll keep it secret, I promise."

She shook her head. "I can't. It's kind of… awkward."

"Awkward?"

"Yeah."

"How so?"

"Can't tell you," she said again. "You'll figure it out."

"Why so secretive, 'Mione?" he asked with genuine curiosity. "Don't you
trust me?"

"Of course I do, Harry, it's just… Well, there's no point in telling anyone who it
is, because nothing's ever going to happen between me and him anyway, so it would really just
be a load of awkwardness for no reason at all," she said, rather hurriedly. "You know, I
think I'll take a page out of your book and go contemplate things outside for a while…"
she said, getting up from the table and gathering up her coat and gloves.

"Who says that nothing could ever happen between the two of you?" Harry asked,
following her as she gathered up her things. "Who says that he doesn't fancy you at
all?"

"He's already got the mega-girlfriend, remember?" she said. "I don't even
come close to being as fanciable as her, never mind as lovable."

"'Mione, you're extremely fanciable," Harry said truthfully, remembering how
she had said almost the same thing to him once. "And I'm sure that this guy would be
utterly mad about you if you'd just tell him how you feel."

She didn't answer him as she put on her coat and boots. She walked over to the tent's
exit, unzipped it, and paused. She sighed.

"Right, Harry, I'm sure that the saviour of the wizarding world is completely
*crazy* about a boring little bookworm like me," she said quietly.

Harry felt like somebody had just whacked him upside the head with an extremely thick and heavy
cauldron, possibly the solid gold one that Hagrid had once refused to let him buy.

"What?" he asked, nearly in a whisper. She couldn't be, she wasn't talking
about… about *him*? No, that was impossible…

She managed a sad little smile, looking relieved to have finally admitted who it was she
fancied, maybe even loved, but miserable at the same time. "Now you know," she said, just
as quietly as before. "Cue the awkwardness."

And she left, zipping the exit behind her and leaving a dazed Harry standing alone.

Harry's brain tried to process the shocking things that he had just heard. Hermione…
Hermione fancied him? Maybe even loved him? That was… that was…

Wonderful.

A grin spread across Harry's face. (*She loves me back! She loves me back!*)

And it quickly disappeared. (*And she's miserable because she thinks I love Ginny, the
"mega-girlfriend"*.)

Oh, Merlin, he had to go and tell her. Grabbing his coat and boots as fast as he could, he left
the tent to find her sitting cross-legged in a circle of grass, which had been both cleared of snow
and dried by her trusty hot-air charm, and staring emotionlessly at the snow in front of her.

"Hermione?" He kept his voice quiet, trying to avoid scaring her. It worked. Or maybe
she just suppressed her surprised jump. Who knew?

"Hey, Harry," she said, not moving her gaze from the snow.

"Can I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the snow beside her.

"Of course," she said, quickly drying a spot so that he could sit too. She made no
attempt to talk to him after he sat.

"'Mione, look…" Harry started.

"It's OK, Harry," she said. "I know you don't feel the same way. It's
really OK. I just had to tell you." She said all of this while still looking at the snow.

There was a pause.

"You know, it's very strange that you just assume that I don't feel the same
way," Harry said casually.

She sighed. "Harry, you've already told me that you only love me like the Weasleys love
me. You don't love me like *that*. Ginny's the lucky one, not me. I've never been
the lucky one. First it was Cho, now it's Ginny. Not me."

"That's quite a lot of assumption, Hermione," said Harry.

"Assumption, ha!" she said, with a laugh that was certainly not cheery. "I'm
sure that you snogging both of them meant absolutely nothing, then."

"'Mione…" he said, moving to kneel in the small cleared space in front of her.
"OK, so I snogged Cho and Ginny. That doesn't mean I loved either of them. It's
*you* I love." *Merlin, it felt good to say that.*

"Harry, please, just stop," she said, looking up at him. "It hurts. Don't
fake it because you feel bad for me, please. It only makes it worse."

"Why won't you believe me?" he asked, confused. "Hermione, I'm sitting
here and trying to tell you the truth, and you're telling me that I'm lying.
*That's* what hurts," he said, looking down at his knees and actually feeling pretty
bad. (If she did love him, why was she rejecting his efforts to tell her that he felt the same
way?)

Hermione didn't speak for a moment, but Harry could tell that she was trying to deduce
whether or not he was telling the truth from his at-least-sincere-*sounding* words and bowed
head. Her conclusion must have been good, for he heard a tiny, surprised intake of breath before
she spoke again.

"Mother of Merlin, you really mean it, don't you?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes," he said, looking up, "with all my heart."

She looked a little faint. "You've never… you've never tried to tell me before… Why
now?"

"I only figured it out a few weeks ago, when I was doing all of that profound
thinking," he said.

She smiled. "I knew that something good would come of that," she said quietly.

"It certainly did," he said, moving closer and pulling her into a hug. "I really
do mean it, Hermione," he added, making sure that there was no doubt in her mind.

"I know," she said, pushing herself to her knees and wrapping her arms around him,
pulling him close. "I know."

The two knelt there for a few moments, just hugging each other, Harry's head on
Hermione's shoulder and hers on his, until Harry spoke.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

He moved his head off of her shoulder so that he could face her. "Mind if I do something
stupid?"

"Go right ahead," she said, looking slightly curious. Well, she did, anyway, until she
learned exactly what "something stupid" was.

He kissed her. Full on the lips. Caught off guard, she didn't respond right away, but once
she did, both felt a very new feeling, like fireworks popping in their heads. (And hearts, of
course.) Neither being all that anxious to end their embrace, it lasted about ten or twenty seconds
before they finally broke apart, their arms still wrapped around one another.

Harry grinned. "Did *you* feel that?"

She grinned back. "Oh, yes."

He pulled her closer, resting his head on her shoulder again. "Merlin, 'Mione, I love
you. In that man-loves-a-woman way you were talking about," he added.

She smiled, snuggling her face into his shoulder. "I love you too. In that
woman-loves-a-man way," she added for emphasis.

He smiled but didn't say anything, savouring the moment. Oh, how wonderful it was to hear
her say that, to finally hear her say that for real… He had often imagined a moment where she would
say it and really mean it, but never had he thought that he would hear the words coming from her
mouth, instead of just from that tiny, hopeful part of his mind.

"You know," he said eventually, "it's a little cold out here."

"Yeah," she said.

"Maybe we should go in," he said.

"I can't," she said.

"Why not?" he asked, confused.

"I'm afraid that this is a dream, and if I move, it'll end," she
explained.

He chuckled. "It's not a dream, 'Mione, I promise."

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked, and he could tell that she was smiling into his
shoulder.

"I'm positive," he said. "Now come on, let's go back inside."

He stood first and held out a hand to help her up. She took it and stood up. Both of them
glanced at the other, grinned, and didn't bother to let go.

~*~

"So, what now?"

"Pardon?" asked Harry, who was hanging up his coat.

"What do we do now?" asked Hermione, taking off her gloves.

"About…?" asked Harry.

"Us," she said simply.

"Oh. What about us?" asked Harry, taking a seat at the table.

"*Harry*," she said, "was I the only one present for what just happened
outside?"

"No," said Harry, who was still basking in the happy afterglow of kissing
Hermione.

"Well, you should know what I'm talking about, then," she said, joining him at the
table.

"I know what you're talking about, I just don't know what you mean by "what do
we do now?"," Harry explained.

"Well, really, we can't just let this go, can we?" she asked rhetorically.
"Unless you want to, of course," she added suddenly, speaking quietly.

"Merlin, no!" said Harry, surprised that she would even consider the possibility of
him wanting to ignore the exchange that had just occurred between them.

"Well, then," she said, "we have to figure out what we're going to do. How
are we going to tell everyone about us? Assuming that there's going to be an
"us"…"

"Of course there's going to be an "us", if you want there to be," said
Harry.

She smiled. "Of course I want there to be an "us"," she said.
"Honestly, the two of us just said that we loved each other. We're not going to ignore
that, are we?"

"No."

"Well, then…" she said, leaving the sentence hanging and grinning as she did.

He smiled back. "I suppose this makes us a couple."

She laughed. "Merlin, we're such romantics, aren't we?"

"Absolutely," he replied, still smiling. "*Shameless* romantics, at
that."

She rolled her eyes before returning to the more serious part of the conversation.

"So, now that we've officially established the fact that there's an 'us',
how are we going to tell everyone about it? They all still think that you and Ginny are a couple,
and they think that Ron and I sort of have something going on, so they're going to be pretty
surprised by this."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it'll be a bit of a shock for everyone. I guess it would just be
better to let them find out if they ask, though. They might not take it well if we make a big deal
out of it."

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Well, you know how Ron and Ginny are," said Harry, trying to explain. "Ginny
decided to snog me before we left the Burrow, as both my birthday present and as "something to
remember her by", so she obviously doesn't think that we're broken up for good, and
Ron is probably going to be pretty ticked off if he finds out that I stole his girlfriend the
minute he left. If we make a big deal out of it, it's just going to aggravate them."

Hermione nodded, Harry had a point. "I agree," she said, "they might not take it
so well, but I do feel the need to point out that you *did* break up with Ginny, whether she
likes it or not, and that I was never actually Ron's girlfriend."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure that he thought you were," Harry pointed out.
"Even if you never agreed on it as formally as we did," he added with a small grin on his
face as he remembered the businesslike moment that had established their relationship with each
other.

She grinned back, but her tone remained serious. "Well, it's Ron's problem that we
never officially became a couple. If he wanted to hold on to me, he should have asked me to be his
girlfriend."

Harry nodded. "So, we're just going to let them find out when they find out?"

She shrugged. "I don't see why not."

He smiled. "Well, that's settled, then. So, what do you want to talk about
now?"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… how about you tell me why you fell in love with
me?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him.

"*Now* you're fishing for compliments, Hermione," said Harry, rolling his
eyes.

"You're my boyfriend now," she said, still smiling pleasantly at him,
"it's your *job* to compliment me."

He pouted. "No fair. You didn't give me a job description before I agreed to
this."

"If you wanted one, you should've asked," she said in a singsong voice, so it came
out as 'aaa-asked'. "Now, why don't we get on with the compliments, hm?" she
asked, in a more normal tone.

Harry rolled his eyes, got up, and started to pace behind Hermione.

"Let's see… OK, because I think that you're positively gorgeous, even if *you*
don't think that you are," he added, sensing that she was about to protest.
"There's that hair of yours, which I know that you hate, but which I think is beautiful,
seeing as most other girls have already screwed up their hair by now, messing with it all the time,
which you've never really done, except for the Yule Ball and the wedding last summer. Yours is
natural looking, and I like that. Then, your eyes, don't even get me *started* on them.
Never have I seen eyes as expressive as yours. They make you very easy to read, which might be good
or bad, depending on how you look at it. After that, you've got those unbelievably
kissable-looking lips, which are positively maddening to someone like me, who didn't think that
he would ever get to kiss them. And then, finally," he said, grinning as he leaned to speak
directly into her ear, "there's that womanly figure of yours to consider."

She blushed crimson. "Now, now, Harry, *where* exactly have you been looking for all
these years?"

He began to innocently whistle a random tune, perhaps even one of Peeves' Christmas songs,
twiddling his thumbs and looking at the ceiling of the tent. "I have gone temporarily deaf and
haven't a clue what you said, 'Mione."

"You pig," she scolded, crossing her arms over her chest as though she had caught him
staring at her.

"Aw, come on, 'Mione, I haven't been staring shamelessly," he said
defensively, "I've just noticed, that's all. I can't have been the only
one."

Hermione went redder, if that was possible.

Harry grinned. "Have you had enough of my compliments now?"

She shrugged. "For now. I want you to save the rest for another time."

"OK," he said, sitting back down and pressing the tips of his fingers together
expectantly. "Your turn."

"What?"

"It's your turn," he told her. "To tell me what made you fall in love with
me," he explained.

"Oh," she said, getting up to pace behind him, as he had done before. "All right,
let me think… I think the cutest thing about you used to be your taped-up glasses, which, of
course, I always had to fix for you. And then there was – and still is – your decidedly messy hair,
and that cute little smile. There is, of course, the matter of those-" and here she sighed
dramatically, "*incredibly* handsome green eyes of yours, and those lips that beg for
someone to kiss them and are, as you said about mine before, absolutely maddening to someone like
me, who never thought that I'd get the chance to give those lips what they so obviously wanted.
And, finally, if we're going to go all-out here," she leant to speak directly into his
ear, just as he had done to her a few moments earlier, "there's the matter of that
*wonderfully* Quidditch-toned body of yours."

He blushed a little, though not as much as she had. "Didn't think it was such a big
deal," he said casually.

"Honestly, Harry, ask any female under the age of, say, twenty-five, within the walls of
Hogwarts and probably outside, too, and she'll tell you that it's a *big* deal,"
said Hermione, chuckling a little.

"Oh," said Harry, going slightly redder.

"Have you had enough of my compliments now?" she asked, grinning.

He nodded. "But only for now," he warned her. "Make sure to have plenty more for
the next time I ask."

"Don't worry," she assured him, "I will. I've got more than six years of
this stuff built up, you know. It'll last for a while."

Harry looked at her, slightly surprised. "All that time?" he asked. "All that
time, and you never told me?"

She looked a little guilty. "I was too scared," she explained. "I'd never
fancied a boy before, you know. I didn't know what to say, how to tell you… It wasn't
exactly something I could read up on, was it?"

Harry shook his head. "I suppose not."

"And I *did* kiss you in fourth year, you know. I was hoping you'd catch on, but…
I guess a kiss on the cheek wasn't quite enough, huh?" she asked, a small, almost
embarrassed grin on her face.

"I guess not, but I *should* have caught on," said Harry, feeling something close
to guilt. "It only registered in my head that you'd never done that before, not that it
could mean anything. I guess I should have noticed that you never did it again after that. And then
you kissed Ron instead," he said sadly. "I should've realized what you were trying to
do before it was too late."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't go feeling guilty, Harry. I wasn't exactly
being very forward about fancying you, and besides, you had enough to worry about after fourth year
without trying to make sense of my weak little attempts at telling you how I felt. I guess I should
have tried a bit harder," she said, sounding a little mad at herself for not making more of an
effort.

Harry covered the hand on his shoulder with his own. "Maybe, but I should have tried a
little harder too. I should have tried to have a larger emotional range than a teaspoon," he
said, grinning up at her.

"Oh, Harry, you've always had a larger emotional range than a teaspoon," she
said.

"Maybe, but I should have been smart enough to pick up on the fact that you had never
kissed me before, ever, and you doing it so suddenly should have at least set off *something*
in my mind. But I guess it was like you said, I had a lot of things to worry about after fourth
year… Though I still think that one of those things should have been you."

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Ah, well, things turned out in the end,
huh?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, they did."



2. The End of the Battle
------------------------

A/N: Much shorter chapter this time, whether that's a relief or upsetting. Shameless,
cavity-inducing fluff between our two favourite characters, and a promise…

Enjoy!


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**WHUMP!**

Harry was nearly tackled to the ground as Hermione seized him and pulled him into a
bone-crushing hug worthy of Mrs. Weasley's approval.

"Oh, Harry, you did it!" she cried, sobbing into his shoulder, laughing and stealing a
quick kiss on his cheek all at the same time. Both she and Harry would have liked to snog each
other senseless, they both knew it, but that was impossible in front of all of these people. Their
relationship was still a meticulously kept secret, and not a soul suspected a thing. Even
Hermione's stolen kiss on Harry's cheek was quick enough to go thoroughly unnoticed by the
cheering crowd, including the horde of Weasleys that was now enveloping the two.

It was finally over. The most difficult months that anyone had ever known were finally over, and
the future looked bright for the first time in what seemed like forever. Voldemort had fallen,
along with Bellatrix Lestrange and most of the Death Eaters, and those who had survived were
currently being carted off to Azkaban, to wither away in the company of the Dementors for the rest
of their days.

There had, of course, been losses on the good side as well. Aberforth, the last of the
Dumbledore line, lay dead in the Great Hall, along with Professors Sinistra, Sprout and Snape, Lee
Jordan, Dean Thomas and many other Hogwarts students - Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and
Slytherins alike, all of whom had fought bravely to defend themselves, Harry and the beloved
Hogwarts castle. The pain of their deaths would come in time, and they would be respectfully
mourned, but for now there were cheers, and there was laughter. Harry and Hermione found themselves
crushed by hundreds of people, the room forming a sort of giant group hug, as witches and wizards
from every house and every walk of life threw their arms around each other like best friends. Draco
Malfoy was seen being held close by Professor McGonagall herself, the two wrapped in a bigger
embrace by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius would be taken to Azkaban in a little while, to pay
for his crimes like everyone else, but he was left to hold on to his family for just a few minutes
longer, to pull them close and make sure that they were all right, before being imprisoned for the
rest of his life.

Argus Filch, cradling a mewing Mrs. Norris, had been pulled into a hug by a group of students
who would usually have tried to beat him over the head with a broomstick if he got within six feet
of them. He had fought valiantly, especially considering the fact that he was a Squib among
wizards, fighting his way through Death Eaters using "the old one-two", as Uncle Vernon
would have said. Luckily for Filch, Death Eaters were not usually very brawny, relying on their
magic to fight. The old caretaker might not have been a wizard, but he was surprisingly agile for
his age when it came to dodging curses (perhaps it came from years and years of students trying to
hex him), not to mention perfectly capable of knocking a man out with his bare hands despite his
seemingly feeble build.

Tiny Professor Flitwick had popped up above the crowd, being tossed into the air and caught
again by a group of laughing professors and students. It was probably thanks to him that Hogwarts
castle still stood, damaged and a little shaky, but still standing tall in the light of the dawn.
He laughed squeakily as he was thrown and caught again and again by the crowd, sending triumphant
fireworks into the air and filling the Great Hall with bursts of coloured light.

Fred and George Weasley were seen soaring over the crowd on broomsticks that they must have
found somewhere, tossing some of their Wildfire Whiz-Bangs into the air, where they joined
Flitwick's magical fireworks. The air glittered with silver and gold sparks, not to mention
multiples sparkling replicas of the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and even Slytherin crests
(though it must be said that there were only a handful of Slytherin crests, while the sky was thick
with the red and gold of Gryffindor). Their shocking pink Catherine wheels whizzed around the Great
Hall, ricocheting off the walls as they went. They seemed to have charmed some of their sparklers
just for the occasion, because "POTTER FOR PRESIDENT" and "POTTER POWER" were
being repeatedly spelled out in silver and gold over the crowd, glittering for a few moments before
fading and sure to be spelled out again in less than a minute.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were the first to hoist Harry into the air, where he was quickly joined
by Hermione and Ron (though the redhead did not deserve it at all, never having returned to the
tent after deserting his friends – well, ex-friends now – but he received the attention anyway
because he was still perceived as Harry's best mate). The three were passed around the room as
the crowd proceeded outside, into the fresh air and the sunlight. The fireworks followed, soaring
high into the sky and becoming less visible in the sunshine. Fawkes was seen soaring in circles
around the throng of people, singing a wonderfully triumphant song and lifting everyone's
spirits even higher.

The merrymaking continued for a while, until everyone's throats were too raw to cheer
anymore and their arms too tired to support the Boy-Who-Lived, his (secret) girlfriend and his
friend-turned-enemy any longer. When the end of the cheering finally came, Harry, Hermione and Ron
were set down and finally given a bit of peace as everyone quieted down a little and stopped giving
them bone-crushing hugs. Madam Rosmerta appeared from the Three Broomsticks, levitating innumerable
cases of Firewhiskey, Butterbeer and other drinks to soothe everyone's throats. The wireless
from the Room of Requirement appeared and was quickly charmed to play so that everyone could hear
the music at the same volume no matter how close to or far away from it they were (within about
fifty feet). Madam Pomfrey set up a makeshift hospital in a corner of the Great Hall, quickly
restoring the less gravely injured to good health and making sure that the more severely injured
were stable enough for transport to St. Mungo's. The Death Eaters who remained were quickly
rounded up and transported to Azkaban via a mass Portkey (a mask taken from one of the Death
Eaters, ironically), and the wireless informed everyone that all of the darker wizards were being
arrested all over the world, found trying to hide in Canada, Russia and even Australia.

The crowd spread out over the vast Hogwarts grounds and the noise level declined enough to hold
a conversation without having to yell. Harry stood a little way off from the people, under the tree
that he had often sat under with his friends, the one where his father and the rest of the
Marauders had once sat together. He surveyed the crowd with a smile on his face, feeling light as a
feather (the copious amounts of Firewhiskey might have helped a little). He was gazing happily into
space when he suddenly found himself knocked to the ground by someone a little smaller than he was.
He probably would have yelled in surprised had he not recognized his attacker's laugh as he was
quickly tackled and blinded by their hands over his eyes.

"Guess who?" giggled the voice.

"Er… Merlin?" Harry guessed.

"No!" the voice laughed. "Guess again."

"'Mione, love, I know it's you," Harry chuckled.

The hands were lifted from his glasses and Hermione's grinning face came into focus, looking
down at him from his left.

"Boo," she said.

"I'm terrified."

"You should be," she said with a giggle, helping him to his feet, "if I can
tackle you that easily."

"No fair," he pouted, "I was spacing out, not to mention that I might be a
*little* drunk."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lay off the Firewhiskey, love," she said, giving him a
shove and chuckling as he nearly fell over. "I mean it. I don't feel like kissing a drunk
guy."

"Mmm… well, if there's kissing involved, I might consider your proposal," said
Harry as he slowly managed to steady himself.

"Darn right you'll consider it," she said, "it's an order."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "I don't have to listen to you, I'm Harry
Potter!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his arms in the air and nearly making himself fall
over.

She eyed him sternly. "If you ever, *ever* want there to be kissing involved again,
you'll listen to me, *Harry Potter*," she told him, crossing her arms.

"Aw, that's not fair," said Harry, "don't deprive me of what I need most,
'Mione."

Hermione's expression softened. "Promise me that you won't drink any more
Firewhiskey and you can have a kiss."

Harry grinned. "All right, no more Firewhiskey."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good," she said. Then, with an evil grin, she gave him the quickest peck on the cheek
that he had ever gotten and skipped away, giggling madly. Harry deduced that she must be a little
tipsy as well, and chased after her, intending to get a proper kiss. He caught up with her in a few
strides, tackling her behind yet another tree and holding her arms to the ground.

"I want my kiss," he said.

"I gave it to you already," she said, giggling and trying to wriggle out of his
grip.

"I want a real one."

"That *was* a real one!" she giggled.

"You're a crook, did you know that?"

"Yup."

"Well, you're not getting away with it this time," he told her, and he pressed his
lips to hers. She pulled away playfully.

"You've *had* your kiss," she insisted, trying to squirm away from him
again.

"I want another one, then."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Promise me something else if you want another
kiss."

"What should I promise?"

"Anything."

"I promise I'll stop asking for kisses," he offered.

She seemed to consider that. "OK," she agreed. He grinned and pressed his lips against
hers again. She kissed him back for a few moments before pulling away.

"OK, you've had your kiss. Someone might see us if we keep this up," she
warned.

"I don't care," Harry said, grinning. He flopped onto the grass beside her with
his arms and legs splayed haphazardly. "I love Hermione Jane Granger and I don't care who
knows it!" he said happily.

"Harry, you are adorable when you're smashed, did you know that?" she asked,
resting her head on his arm instead of on the ground.

"And yet you won't let me have more Firewhiskey."

"Only because you're going to give yourself alcohol poisoning if you keep
drinking."

He snapped his fingers a little clumsily. "Right. Forgot about that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "My boyfriend the idiot."

"The *adorable* idiot," said Harry.

"I suppose. Thank Merlin you're an excellent kisser or I'd have nothing to do with
you."

"*Right*," said Harry. "That's the *only* reason you stick with
me?" he asked, prodding her side. She squirmed in protest.

"Stop it, you're tickling me! And yes, I only stick around for the kissing."

Harry leaned over so that he was looking down at her. "Well, I'd like to keep you
around." He kissed her again. She waited only a moment before she pulled away.

"You promised-"

"That I wouldn't *ask*," Harry said with a sly grin. Hermione rolled her eyes
and poked him in the chest. He evaded any more poking by lying back on the grass.

"You're a crook," she said.

"I learned from the best."

"I want another promise as a trade for that kiss," she said.

"I want another kiss as a trade for another promise as a trade for that kiss," he
countered.

"I want another promise in exchange for a kiss as a trade for the promise that you owe me
for that kiss," she said. She was less drunk that he was and therefore more capable of
remembering this sort of sequence.

Harry's eyes rolled up towards the sky as he tried to remember how to phrase his argument.
"I want another kiss in exchange for the promise that I owe you for… For Merlin's sake,
just kiss me already!" he exclaimed, trying to press his lips to hers.

She put a finger on his lips. "Promise first, then I might consider giving you another
kiss. We've already risked being seen… er… four times this morning, I think," she reminded
him, pausing to try to remember how many times they had kissed. "It's not a good idea to
keep it up. We're going to get caught."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I've thought of a promise."

"What is it?"

He smiled at her. "I promise to tell everyone about 'us' as soon as I'm sober
enough to think straight."

Hermione's eyes brightened. "You'll tell them?"

"Of course I'll tell them," he said.

"You're not just saying that because you're drunk, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a chance."

Hermione looked doubtful.

"I promise I'll tell them," he repeated. "Really. I'll tell everyone that
I am very, very much in love with you and that we're together, whether they like it or
not."

"Really?" she asked. "You'll tell them all of that?"

"I promise," he repeated. "Though I might not tell them in those exact
words," he added thoughtfully.

She pulled him closer. "You know, I think you might get that kiss."

He smiled. "Good. But I'll tell them anyway, even if I don't get it. I said it
before: I love Hermione Jane Granger and I don't care who knows it."

She smiled as well and lightly pressed her lips to his. "And I love Harry James Potter and
I don't care who knows it, as long as he does."

"He certainly does," said Harry.

"Good," she said. "But I guess he won't be the only one, soon
enough."

Harry nodded. "Tomorrow, love. I promise."



3. Grimmauld Place
------------------

A/N: Chapter 3, yay! I've never posted chapters this quickly before… wow. It's another
short one, but I think it gets the job done nicely.

Thanks so much to everyone who's read and reviewed so far; you're really making my
day.

Also, did anybody else sit and constantly refresh the Chapter Statistics page the first time
they posted something? I can't help myself! :)

Hope you enjoy this chapter!


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The festivities at Hogwarts lasted all that day, until the sun began to set and everyone was
just too exhausted to celebrate any longer. People pitched in to clean up the grounds and then
started Disapparating home (the wards having been broken by the battle). Harry, who had sobered up
a little since Hermione had made him swear off Firewhiskey that morning, quickly ran around to find
everyone he knew (The Weasleys, the Lupins, Neville, Luna, Hagrid and even Professor McGonagall)
before they left, and told them that he was going to hold a little get-together at Grimmauld Place
the next day around noon, to "catch up with everyone". He then located Hermione, who was
nodding off against the tree they had spent most of the day lying behind. He smiled and gently
prodded her back to alertness.

"Come on, love, everybody's leaving."

She sat up straighter and rubbed her eyes. "Mmm… leaving?" she repeated. "I'm
guessing that means we're leaving too, right?"

"Right," said Harry. "Unless you'd rather sleep on the ground."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'd prefer a proper bed," said Hermione.
"Where are we going?"

"Grimmauld Place," he told her.

"Oh," she said, getting to her feet. "OK." She gave Harry a curious look
when he reached out and took her hand in his.

"I can Apparate on my own, you know," she told him. "You're the one without
the license. If anything, *I* should be Apparating *you*."

He smiled. "I know, 'Mione, but it gives us an excellent opportunity to hold hands
without anyone getting too suspicious, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it does. I guess we ought to make the most of it, huh?"

Harry nodded. "We should. Now come on, I want to get some sleep, and by the looks of it, so
do you."

She rubbed her eyes again with her free hand. "Mm-hm," she said sleepily.

"Well, try to stay awake long enough to Apparate, OK?" Harry asked with a grin.
"I'd prefer it if you didn't end up leaving half of yourself here."

"I'll try," she said, grinning back drowsily. "But no laughing at me if I end
up Splinching myself."

"All right. On three, then, and make sure to concentrate on the top step, just in case
there's still a mob of Death Eaters outside," said Harry. "One, two…" He
visualized Grimmauld Place as clearly as he could, making sure to put emphasis on the details of
the top step, as that was where he was aiming to end up. "Three."

The two turned together and disappeared from the Hogwarts grounds, being pulled momentarily into
the uncomfortable tube-like space that was Apparation. They reappeared on the top step of the
dreary Number Twelve, a quick glance around telling Harry that there were no longer Death Eaters
swarming the place. He tapped the door with his wand to unlock it and kept his wand hand raised,
just in case someone had managed to get in. The house seemed quiet and none of the protective
charms activated (they were probably deactivated, since Voldemort and Snape were dead), so Harry
relaxed a little, still keeping his wand in his hand as a precaution. Hermione noticed.

"Harry," she said, "relax. Nobody's here."

"How can you be sure?" he asked. "If those protective charms don't activate
anymore, anybody could be in-"

"Harry, just watch," she said, cutting him off as she pulled her wand from her pocket.
"*Homenum revelio,*" she said, and other than Harry feeling a weird sort of cold
rush over him, the spell achieved the same result as it had the last time Hermione had cast it:
dead silence. "See?" she asked, putting her wand back in her pocket. "No signs of
life except for us."

Harry became slightly alarmed. "What about Kreacher?" he asked. Though the elf
wasn't exactly his best friend, he still hoped that the little creature was all right. Kreacher
*had* just led an army of house-elves in an attack against the Death Eaters, possibly saving
the lives of many witches and wizards, hadn't he?

Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The spell only detects humans, Harry.
Kreacher's either here or at Hogwarts, where you sent him."

Harry nodded. "Right, right… I was worried for a minute there…"

Hermione smiled. "Wow, you were actually worried about Kreacher? That's new."

"Well… yeah, I guess I was a little worried about him," Harry admitted. "I mean,
he's not the sweetest thing, but he's still… well, I don't want to say
"mine", because that sounds pretty weird, but he's still… well, it's like
he's part of my little makeshift family."

"Your what?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I do kind of have a makeshift family, don't you think? I mean, I haven't got
any kind of real blood relation to anyone except for the Dursleys, but the Weasleys are like my
adoptive family, and you're… well, I don't really know what part you'd be, but
you're still very important. A while ago, I would have said that you were like my sister, but…
well, I don't think I'd spend any length of time snogging my sister," he said with a
grin. Hermione blushed a little and Harry continued. "And then there's Remus and Tonks,
who are kind of like my uncle and aunt. Well, the Dursleys are technically my uncle and aunt,"
he admitted, "but everybody knows how much we hate each other. Teddy gets the closest to
actual family, because he's my godson. And Kreacher… well, he's not really anything
resembling an actual relation, but I still want him to be safe and healthy, like I would with
anyone in my family."

Hermione pulled him into a hug the minute he had finished speaking. "Harry, that has to be
one of the sweetest things I have ever heard you say."

"Yeah, well… I guess I can manage the sweet stuff once in a while…" said Harry,
blushing a little as he hugged her back.

"I'm glad you've had a change of heart about Kreacher," she said.

"Well, he's not a bad little guy, I guess… I mean, he was pretty nice to us after I
gave him that locket."

"I told you, Harry, he'll be nice if he's treated right," Hermione reminded
him.

"Yeah, you were right, as always," Harry said as he gently broke their embrace.
Hermione tried not to look terribly flattered by this, but Harry could see that she liked his
little compliment. "But I think *I* was right about you needing some sleep," he
added, seeing that she looked quite tired.

"You were definitely right about that," she said, rubbing her eyes again. "Sleep
would be very welcome at the moment."

"Well, go on and find a room you like, then," said Harry. "Try not to be
suffocated by the dust, though. And make sure you look around for Boggarts and giant spiders. Oh,
and try not to get strangled by a bunch of murderous old robes, either."

"Oh, ha-ha," said Hermione. "You know that Kreacher's been keeping the place
a lot cleaner nowadays."

"I know, I know," said Harry. "Go on," he repeated, "before you fall
asleep on the floor."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You seem eager to get rid of me."

"Of course I'm not eager to get rid of you, I'm just trying to get you to go to bed
before you faint."

"Get *me* to go to bed?" she repeated. "What about you?"

"I'm going too," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked, grinning. In the tent during the winter,
the two had gotten into the habit of sleeping in the same bed (*for warmth*, they had always
agreed whenever one of them began to wonder exactly how decent their nightly accommodations were)
and had never quite given it up. Mrs. Weasley would probably have had a fit about it being
improper, but Harry and Hermione didn't care. (Well, really, they were only sleeping in the
same bed, not *sleeping together*!)

"Of course, if you want me to," he said.

"I most certainly do," she said. She grinned and threw her arms around him in another
tight hug, making uncharacteristic puppy-dog eyes up at him. "I couldn't get to sleep
without my teddy bear, could I?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled. "You know, you've turned into such a *girl* these
past few months," he commented.

"I've always been a girl!" she protested. "It might've taken you and Ron
*three years* to notice it, but-"

"I've always known you were a girl, 'Mione," Harry chuckled. "But lately
you're actually acting like one, with the giggling and the snogging and the tackling your poor
boyfriend to the ground and all."

She grinned and giggled. "That was fun."

"Yes, it was," Harry said with a smile. "And look, you're giggling. My point
has been proven," he said triumphantly. "Hermione Granger has started to giggle!
What's next, the sky turning yellow with purple polka dots?"

"*Harry*," she said, rolling her eyes, "I've always been like this, at
least on the inside. I just never had anyone to show this side of me to, that's all."

Harry looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed. "Everybody always expects me to be the oh-so-serious Hermione Granger, top
of her class, devoted follower of rules and the biggest killjoy in the history of the world. Nobody
wants to know if Hermione Granger giggles or not, as long as she brings in the house points and
keeps the Gryffindor hourglass nice and full. Except for you, though," she added, smiling up
at him. "You let me giggle."

"Of course I do," he said, kissing her forehead and holding her tight. "Oh,
'Mione, I didn't know it was like that for you. I thought you *liked* being the
oh-so-serious Hermione Granger."

"I do, sometimes," she said. "Part of me *is* the oh-so-serious Hermione
Granger, but I don't want to be like that all the time. As I said, I'm still a girl. I
giggle. I like snogging my boyfriend. And I especially like having someone to cuddle with before I
fall asleep," she said contentedly, snuggling into his chest.

"Well, stuff me and call me a teddy bear," Harry chuckled. "And as girly as this
sounds, I have to admit that I don't mind the cuddling either," he told her, blushing a
little. "But I reserve the right to deny ever saying that if you let it slip to
anyone."

"Aww, how sweet," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But I'm not to be held responsible if I
accidentally call you my teddy bear in front of Tonks or someone," she warned him, grinning.
Tonks was the worst person to let those sorts of things slip around, because she would never,
*ever* let you live it down.

"Let that slip and I might have to tickle you to death," he threatened, and before
Hermione could react, he had tackled her in a perfect imitation of how she had tackled him that
morning and was tickling her senseless, making her shriek with laughter.

"Harry James Potter – I'm going to – kill you!" she gasped through her mirth,
trying to wriggle away from him.

"Ooh, when the full name comes out, I know I'm in trouble," he said, rolling his
eyes and looking mock-terrified at the same time. He tickled her for a moment longer before he
finally stopped.

"Honestly, Harry," she panted, breathless from too much hysterical laughter. "Are
you trying to kill me or what?"

"Nah, of course not. Whomever would I snog, with you gone?" he asked innocently.

"Nobody," she said firmly. "I wouldn't let you."

"Really? Would you haunt me or something?" he asked.

"Probably. How could I ever exist without my Harry?" she asked sweetly.

"You couldn't," he said. "I'd have to bring you back with the Re-"
He stopped suddenly and got a curious look from Hermione.

"Harry? What is it?" she asked.

"It's nothing," he said quickly, running a hand through his messy hair.
"Nothing important. Come on, let's get to bed," he said, changing the subject quicker
than you could say 'Quidditch'. "It's late."

"OK," she said, still looking rather confused by his sudden subject change and curious
about why he had suddenly cut his sentence short like that. She took the hand that he offered to
help her up and got to her feet, searching his face for any indication of what was bothering him,
but finding none. She let him lead her through the house until they stopped in the doorway of a
room that she recognized as the one that Harry and Ron had stayed in during the summer before their
fifth year at Hogwarts. She was surprised that he still remembered it.

"This one all right, 'Mione?" he asked her.

"Yup," she replied. "See? I told you that Kreacher would have kept everything
clean," she added, gesturing around the spotless room. Not a speck of dust was present on
anything.

Harry nodded. "So, you'll get changed here and I'll take the bathroom?"

"Sure," she replied, digging through her bag until she found a pair of his pyjamas.
"Here you go."

"Thanks," he said, before heading back downstairs and leaving a bemused Hermione
standing in the doorway.



4. Grimmauld Place - Part Two
-----------------------------

A/N: So, Chapter 4! More fluff as the two work out some of Harry's never-ending emotional
troubles, and plenty of James-bashing and Snape-hugging. (Sorry if I've made Snape seem a lot
nicer than he is, but this was written shortly after reading the last book and finding out who
Snape really was, so I was really in the mood to write him in a better light. *dodges flying
fruit*)

And it seems Hermione has something special to tell Harry…

Enjoy!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry returned upstairs about five minutes later and knocked on the bedroom door, which was
closed.

"Come in," Hermione called. Harry opened the door and found her already sitting in
bed, a lamp on the bedside table casting a flickering glow on her face. He joined her and the two
settled down, Hermione snuggling into her favourite spot in Harry's arms. She had figured the
spot out months ago, from the first few times that they had shared a bed in the tent. They lay in
silence for a little while, before Hermione just couldn't ignore the fact that Harry seemed
preoccupied any longer. She was dying to know what was bothering him.

"Harry," she said, turning so that she could look at him, "what's
wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he answered automatically. Typical Harry.

"Something *is* wrong and both of us know it," she said firmly. "You can
tell me, Harry," she added, far more gently. "Please, love, don't keep secrets. Not
from me."

He looked at her for a moment and sighed. "What's the point? You'll always drag
them out of me in the end," he said, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

"Always," she agreed. "Now, come on, tell me what's bothering you."

Harry sighed. "Remember how none of us could figure out how we were supposed to get that
Snitch open? You know, the one that Dumbledore left me?"

"Yes," she said, wondering where he was going with this. She had pushed the Snitch
from her mind after none of them could get it open, assuming that it was just something between
Harry and their old Headmaster, a remnant from one of their top-secret lessons back in sixth year
or something. She had been preoccupied by the translation of The Tales of Beadle the Bard, after
all, not to mention the Horcrux hunt and the task of keeping both herself and her friends alive
while they hid in the forest.

"Well, I figured it out, right before I went- Oh, wait, I haven't told you anything
about what happened in the Forbidden Forest, have I?" he asked, realizing that this was going
to take a bit longer than he had expected. He probably wouldn't finish his story that
night.

"In the Forest?" Hermione repeated. "What are you talking about? When were we in
the Forest?"

"*We* were never in the Forest," Harry told her. "*I* was. Remember,
Voldemort and his gang of Death Eaters brought me out of it when everyone thought I was
dead?"

"Yes," she said, and her voice shook a little as she remembered the moment of absolute
terror, that instant in which she had thought that Harry – *her* Harry – was gone forever.
Harry must have noticed, for she felt his arms tighten around her a little a moment later, pulling
her into a reassuringly snug embrace.

"You know that I was perfectly fine," he said, both to reassure her and to continue
his story, "but I didn't know that before I went into the Forest. I only knew that I had
to let Voldemort kill me, not that I was going to be able to survive."

"But why, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Why would you just let yourself be killed like
that? Why did you give yourself up?"

"It was Snape's memories," Harry explained. "You remember how I collected
them when he died?"

She nodded. Of course she remembered; she had given him a vial to put the memories in.

"Well, I went to go and see what they were, because he obviously wouldn't just give
them to me for no reason. I used Dumbledore's Pensieve and it took me through Snape's
memories. I learned a lot about him, you know," he said, remembering his surprise when he
found out that his horrid Potions professor wasn't really all that horrid. "I thought he
was the bane of my existence, put on Earth for no purpose other than to make my life a living hell
and to do the same for everyone I cared about, but it turns out that he was really protecting me
all this time, playing spy for Dumbledore even when he could have been killed for it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Why?" she asked.

Harry swallowed. "Because he loved my mother," he said quietly.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Snape… Snape was in love with your mother? We're still
talking about *Snape* here, right? The same Snape who we suffered through Potions class
with?"

"He wasn't as bad as he seemed, you know," Harry said, finding his tone to be a
bit sharper than he had intended. "Sorry," he apologized, seeing Hermione's slightly
hurt look after he snapped at her. "I guess I feel like I have to defend him now, after all
those years when I hated him more than anyone in the world, when I thought that he hated my mother
and father and everyone I loved, and it turned out that he was actually risking his life for me
because he loved my mother."

Hermione nodded. "I understand," she said, and he knew that she did. "I feel like
that too, now that I know that he was actually a pretty good person. But… he was in love with your
mother?" she repeated, still looking completely shocked.

"Yeah," said Harry. "They were friends. He lived near her when they were kids,
and he even told her that she was a witch even before she got her Hogwarts letter. He'd seen
her perform accidental magic and knew what was happening, because his mother was a witch and he
knew that he was a wizard," he explained when Hermione gave him a questioning look.
"After that, they became friends, and after that, he ended up falling in love with her."
Harry sighed. "He fell in love with her and she fell in love with my father."

"That's so sad," said Hermione. "What happened? Did he ever tell her how he
felt? Did they stay friends?"

Harry shook his head. "They weren't even friends anymore by the time she fell in love
with my dad."

"What happened? Did they have a fight or something?" Hermione asked.

"He called her a Mudblood," said Harry.

"Oh," said Hermione. "I guess that makes sense, then. I wouldn't stay friends
with someone who called me that."

"It was all an accident, though," Harry said, actually feeling bad for Snape. "My
father and his friends were bullying him and my mum tried to make them stop, so my dad and his
friends teased Snape about having to be protected by a girl, and he just snapped and shouted that
he didn't need help from a Mudblood like her. He didn't mean it," Harry said sadly.
"I know he didn't mean it. He loved her, Hermione. He would never call her a Mudblood and
really mean it."

"Oh, Harry…" said Hermione, who was at a loss for words.

"My dad and his friends just pushed him too far, that was all," said Harry. "God,
'Mione, it hurt to see what my father really was: a bully with a superiority complex and too
much popularity for his own good, and sometimes a bit of a show-off as well. Snape's been
telling the truth all this time," he said miserably, remembering the time that he had snapped
at Snape, back in his third year at Hogwarts: "My father didn't *strut*!" It
turned out that James Potter really *had* spent his school days strutting around Hogwarts like
he owned the place, showing off his Quidditch skills by catching stolen Snitches, breaking rules
faster than Filch could come up with new ones, and always making sure to carefully rumple his hair
for the girls.

"Oh, Harry, he couldn't have been all that bad…" Hermione said, trying to reassure
him.

"He was," Harry insisted. "Well, at least until my mum managed to deflate his
head a bit," he added fairly, remembering that his mother had managed to get his father's
superiority complex under control after a while. "But, still, he was such an arrogant prat
sometimes, especially to Snape, for no reason other than the fact that he existed."

"That can't have been the *only* reason, Harry…"

Harry shook his head again. "There was no other reason, 'Mione. My dad said it himself,
when my mum asked him what Snape had ever done to deserve the treatment he got from my dad. He told
her that it was just because Snape existed. Personally, though, I think it might've been that
my dad fancied my mum and didn't like her hanging around with another boy, so bullying Snape
made him feel better. Either way, Snape didn't deserve what he got. Even when he hexed my dad
or his friends, it was only in self-defence, never for any other reason than to try to keep himself
safe. He didn't sneak up on them and curse them because he felt like it or because he was
bored," he said, remembering the reason that his father and his friends had teased Snape on
the day that the poor man had lost the love of his life by calling her a Mudblood, "or because
he fancied putting on a show for the girls or something, like they did to him. He was nothing to
them but their scapegoat, their little punching bag, who was always conveniently around whenever
they felt like having a laugh or venting their feelings on someone."

"What a story," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"And it doesn't end there," said Harry. "After Snape called my mum a
Mudblood, he stayed in front of the Fat Lady's portrait all day, begging her to come and talk
to him. He wanted to say he was sorry, but my mum didn't care. I guess I understand, I mean,
she was really hurt by what he had said. Someone who she had thought was her friend had called her
a Mudblood, after all. The only reason she ever went out to talk to him was that he was threatening
to sleep outside the common room if she didn't. They talked and he tried to apologize, but my
mum wouldn't forgive him. I guess she couldn't. She was too hurt by what he had done, even
if it had just been an accident. I mean, he *did* call her a Mudblood in front of a bunch of
people she knew. She left him standing alone outside the common room and they never really spoke
again after that."

"Poor Snape," Hermione said sadly. "Though I must say that I would never have
imagined that I'd say that."

"Yeah, I would never have imagined that I'd actually feel sorry for the man,"
Harry agreed. "And the saddest thing is, even after my mum stopped speaking to Snape and
started dating my dad, Snape still loved her. Even after my mum and dad got married, he still loved
her. After I was born, he still loved her. He begged Voldemort to leave her and the rest of my
family alone, but Voldemort didn't listen and went after my family anyway – went after my mum.
Snape pretended that he didn't care, that he didn't love my mother anymore and just thought
of her as being beneath him because of her blood, just like Voldemort did, but he became
Dumbledore's spy and took care of me even though he hated how much I reminded him of my father,
except for-"

"Your eyes," Hermione finished, surprising Harry. "Because they're just like
your mother's."

"How did you know that?" he asked her, perplexed.

"Everybody always says that you look exactly like your father, except for your mother's
eyes," Hermione pointed out. "Snape would obviously have noticed. Everybody
notices."

Harry nodded. "He did notice, and that was why it nearly killed him to look at me, because
I reminded him of his lost best friend, the woman who he still loved even though she had completely
shunned him after he made one little mistake, and the fact that she might not have ended up with my
father – who I am, apparently, the spitting image of – if Snape hadn't slipped that one time –
which, to top it all off, was my father's fault in the first place – and called her a
Mudblood."

"Oh, Harry…" was all Hermione could say.

"Snape's Patronus was a doe," Harry said sadly. "Just like my mother's.
It was a doe his entire life, even after she married my dad and had me. Even after she died. That
was how much he loved my mum."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Your mother's Patronus was a doe?" she asked.

"Yes," said Harry. "Why?"

"Harry…" Hermione said, sitting up. "I think there's something you need to
see, then. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but… Well, now seems like a good time."

"What is it?" Harry, asked, sitting up as well as Hermione got out of bed, taking her
wand off of the nightstand as she went.

"After you left to go to the Forest during the battle, there was a massive Dementor attack
on the castle. And by 'massive', I mean practically every Dementor that guards Azkaban was
hovering around the place," Hermione told him. "I guess Voldemort must have gotten them
on his side, somehow. Maybe he promised them a load of souls or something."

Harry didn't understand what that had to do with anything.

"OK…" he said, his tone telling her to continue.

"So, obviously, we needed Patronuses, unless we all wanted to get our souls sucked
out," she continued.

"Yes…" he said.

"Well, there were so many Dementors that I didn't think I was going to be able to cast
a Patronus. You know how I have trouble with it every now and then," she said. "Like back
at the Ministry, and there were only a few then, not hundreds."

"Mm-hm…"

"I didn't think I'd be able to find a memory that was happy enough to fight so many
Dementors, but then I thought of the day we became a couple, oh-so-officially," she said, a
small smile spreading across her face. "That day in the snow, remember?"

"Yeah, the day I caught you singing a love song," Harry said with a grin. "About
*me*, no less." She went a little pink but continued her story, apparently not to be
deterred from whatever it was that she was trying to tell him.

"Yes, the day you caught me singing." Embarrassed, she left out the part about how she
had been singing a *love song* about *Harry*. "Well, I thought of that memory and,
miracle of miracles, I managed to cast a Patronus."

"That's good, but what does that have to do with my mother's Patronus?" Harry
asked.

She smiled at him. "Watch," she said. "*Expecto Patronum.*"

The silvery light of a Patronus burst from the tip of her wand, and Harry was shocked to see
that her Patronus was no longer the playful, graceful otter it had been before, but-

"A doe," he breathed.

She smiled. "Yeah," she said softly, looking down at the silvery animal that now stood
in the room, its bright light out of place in a house as gloomy as Number Twelve. After a moment,
the doe vanished and Hermione joined Harry again.

"But… your Patronus is an otter," he said. "It's always been an otter. Ever
since the first time you cast one in the Room of Requirement, back when we were in the
DA."

"It changed," she said. "Patronuses can change. Tonks' did,
remember?"

"Yes, I know, but… why? I know Tonks' changed because of Sirius and Remus, but why did
yours?" he asked, perplexed.

"Oh, Harry, don't you see?" she asked. "It was you. You made it
change."

"Me?" Harry repeated, surprised. "What-? How-? How do you know?"

She rolled her eyes. "Harry, what's the male equivalent of a doe?"

The minute the words were out of her mouth, realization dawned on Harry's face. "A
stag," he said, his eyes slightly widened. "Like my Patronus."

"Exactly," she said, "just like your Patronus." She rested her head on his
shoulder and smiled up at him. "Mine changed to match yours, Harry."

"But… why?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Guess," she said, and pressed her lips against his.

~*~

There was a blissful few moments of silence after that, in which our two lovers remained
thoroughly occupied by each other. Once they broke apart (ah, the need for air is such a bother
sometimes), Hermione returned to leaning her head on Harry's shoulder and he wrapped his arms
around her in a snug embrace.

"Oh, 'Mione, I don't believe it," said Harry, who was feeling rather awed.
"You really think your Patronus changed because of me?"

"Of course I do, Harry," she replied, smiling. "A stag and a doe. How
fitting."

"Very fitting," Harry agreed. "But… why would it change just because of me? I
mean, I know we're a couple and all, but you and Ron were sort of like that a while ago-"
(Hermione made a face) "-and it's not like your Patronus became a female terrier or
something."

"Oh, Harry, you're so daft sometimes, did you know that?" she asked him.

"Yes, you've told me that once or twice," he said with a smirk.

"*Harry*," she said, with the air of explaining something to a five-year-old,
"I never felt the way I feel about you when it came to Ron, you know that. Patronuses
don't change their forms easily," she pointed out, and Harry began to understand the
situation a little more, realizing why this hadn't happened when Ron and Hermione had been
'together', "it usually takes some sort of big emotional change in a person.
Tonks' Patronus changed when she lost Sirius and fell in love with Remus, and as for
mine," she snuggled closer to him, "it must've changed when I fell in love with
you."

Harry smiled fondly at her. "My doe," he said softly, kissing her forehead.

"Don't you mean 'my *deer*'?" she asked, grinning.

He rolled his eyes. "You know that that's a terrible joke, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but I couldn't help myself."

Harry just rolled his eyes again. "Well, now I have something embarrassing to call you if
you ever call me your teddy bear in front of Tonks." He grinned evilly at her. "You call
me your teddy bear and I'll call you my doe."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't mind if you did. I think it's sweet that our Patronuses
match."

His grin went from evil to affectionate. "It is sweet," he agreed. "Just like
you," he added.

She rolled her eyes, but he could tell that she was pleased. "Flattery gets you nowhere,
Mister Potter."

"And yet, in some crazy way, you still manage to love me," he said, nuzzling her nose
in a momentary Eskimo kiss.

She smiled up at him. "You know I do, very much. I'm your doe, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," said Harry. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Of course you wouldn't," said Hermione, playfully poking him in the chest.
"I wouldn't *let* you."

"That's sounds like a binding magical contract, you know," said Harry. "The
last time I ended up stuck with one of those, I had to out-fly a dragon!"

"Not this time, love. I promise," Hermione said with a smile. "Although I might
chase after you with a broom every once in a while, just to make sure your reflexes are up to
speed," she added thoughtfully.

"Do-it-yourself Quidditch practice, eh?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes and
grinning.

"Nah, if I was making you practice your Quidditch skills, I'd be pitching the things
you love most across the room and forcing you to catch them. You're a Seeker, after
all."

"But, Hermione," said Harry, mock-surprised, "however would you pitch
*yourself* across a room?"

"And you say *I'm* turning into a girl," she said, rolling her eyes at him,
but Harry could tell that she was really quite pleased by what he had said.

"Yes, well…" he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm willing to drop the
macho-man, 'fearless saviour of the wizarding world' stuff every once in a while, if
it's for you."

"Oh, Harry…" was all she said before tenderly kissing him on the lips once more. Once
the two had broken apart, they settled back down, Hermione snuggling into her favourite spot in
Harry's arms once again.

"You still haven't finished your story about the Snitch," she murmured.

"I'll finish it tomorrow, love," he replied. "We're b- both too tired for
storytelling," he said, yawning.

"I guess you're r- right," she agreed. Harry's yawn was contagious.

Harry smiled at her. "I guess things are going to be quite a bit easier for us, after
tomorrow."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Then we won't have to be such a huge secret. No more
hiding behind trees whenever we feel like kissing each other."

"No more refraining from holding hands, thank Merlin," Harry added. "That's
been the hardest part for me. We both got so used to it, back in the tent, that now it's like
reminding myself not to breathe."

Hermione nodded. "Same here."

"It's going to be great, being able to be around our friends without having to pretend
that everything's the same," said Harry. "I hate keeping secrets from them.
They're the few people who've actually been honest to me, after all."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, it'll be great to be able to tell the truth to our friends, if
we even have any friends after we drop this bomb on them."

Harry gave her a reassuring squeeze. "If they were ever our friends, they'll be able to
accept that things have changed and that we're together now. If they can't accept that,
well, they don't deserve to be called our friends."

Hermione looked heartened. "Yeah. I guess that real friends would be happy if two of their
friends fell in love with each other."

"Now you've got the r- right idea," said Harry, yawning again. "Come on, we
both need some sleep," he said, removing his glasses and transferring them to the
nightstand.

"You're right," said Hermione, extinguishing the lamp and plunging the room into
darkness before settling down in Harry's arms again. "Goodnight, Harry."

"'Night, 'Mione."

"Love you," she added, with a light kiss on his cheek.

He smiled in the darkness and gave her another gentle squeeze. "Love you too."



5. Coming Clean - The Beginning
-------------------------------

A/N: So… less fluff here and more actual plot development, hehe. Must be a welcome change by
now.

Plenty of humour in this one, too!

Enjoy!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sunshine streaming in through the windows of Number Twelve was what finally woke Harry from
a deep, restful sleep the next morning, stubbornly refusing to be shut out by his eyelids. Rubbing
his offended eyes and locating his glasses on the nightstand next to him, Harry smiled as Hermione
came into focus, still sleeping quite peacefully in his arms, completely oblivious to the
persistent sunlight. Waking up next to Hermione, in Harry's opinion, must be the nicest way to
start the day. He would be quite happy, he was sure, to let her sleep as long as she liked and not
move until she woke up, but a glance at the watch that he had received from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on
his birthday that summer told him that it was ten-thirty, and he had invited everyone over for
noon.

Glancing from his watch to Hermione and back again, he bit his lip thoughtfully. He would hate
to wake her up when she was sleeping so peacefully, but with only an hour and a half left until a
large group of people showed up at Number Twelve, perhaps he ought to.

After a few moments, Harry decided on a compromise. Assuming that he could get up without waking
her, he could let Hermione sleep until eleven and take care of getting ready for the guests by
himself. He was a big boy, after all, he thought with a small grin. He could do things by himself.
And besides, he could probably just ask Kreacher to get everything ready, if the elf didn't
mind.

With the same level of delicacy that one might use when defusing a bomb, Harry carefully removed
his arm from around Hermione, making her roll over in her sleep and mutter something that sounded
suspiciously like "Prat".

*Hm, so that's what I get for letting her sleep,* Harry thought to himself, rolling his
eyes as he got up. Rummaging through the small beaded bag (tossed in a corner by Hermione), he
extracted a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt (the first two items of clothing that he could
find), located his toothbrush, and sauntered off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with
great care to avoid waking Hermione.

Once he was washed and dressed and had at least made an attempt at flattening his resolutely
messy hair, Harry wandered downstairs and got a shock as he met Kreacher in the dining room. The
elf croaked "Good morning, Master" as he went about dusting the table, but otherwise
didn't pay much attention to Harry, being focused on his cleaning. Usually, this would have
suited Harry just fine, but he needed Kreacher's help at the moment.

"Er… Kreacher?" he said, unaccustomed to speaking to the house-elf. Kreacher stopped
dusting immediately and stood at attention so quickly and smoothly that Harry half expected the elf
to salute as well.

"Yes, Master?" he croaked.

"Erm… I've invited some friends over today, and they'll be here at noon, so I need
your help to get everything ready," said Harry, trying not to give Kreacher any direct orders.
Hermione always reminded him that he could just ask Kreacher to do things, just like he would ask
anybody else, and the elf would most likely do as Harry requested. Harry had to admit that this
probably worked better than just ordering Kreacher around, as it kept him from feeling like a slave
driver and kept Kreacher from reverting to his earlier ways of muttering insults under his
breath.

"Of course, Master," Kreacher replied with a bow. "What does Master need Kreacher
to do?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, trying to think of anything that needed to be done before
everyone showed up, "I don't think there's very much to do, other than making sure
that the sitting room is tidied up… Oh, and it would help if you made something for lunch. I
suppose inviting people for noon means that you're inviting them for lunch as well."

"Of course, Master," Kreacher repeated. "Kreacher just needs to know how many
guests are coming."

"Well, let's see," said Harry. "There's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred
and George, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and I suppose they'll bring Percy too; I just told Mr. and
Mrs. Weasley to bring the family," he said, counting off nine people on his fingers. "And
then there's Remus and Tonks, and I don't know whether or not they'll bring Teddy; I
didn't say anything about him when I asked them to come over," he said, dropping his hands
back to his sides as he ran out of fingers to count on. "So that makes eleven, maybe twelve,
and then there's Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. I invited Luna and Neville, but they said
they couldn't come, so that makes thirteen or fourteen," he finished. "Jeez, do we
even have room for all of them?" he added, looking at the table. It was big, but maybe not big
enough for fourteen people, plus himself and Hermione.

"The table can seat eighteen, Master," Kreacher assured him. "Kreacher will just
have to bring more chairs to the table, Master." Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief.
Maybe he should remember to think before he invited all nine Weasleys at once!

"And can we accommodate a baby, if Remus and Tonks bring Teddy?" asked Harry. "I
mean, is there a highchair buried in the attic somewhere or something?"

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher.

"All right, then," said Harry. "Anything I can do to help?"

Kreacher shook his head. "Oh, no, Master. Kreacher will take care of everything,
Master."

"Well, OK, if that's what you want," said Harry. "And you can stop calling me
'Master', Kreacher," he added.

Kreacher looked surprised. "But how can Kreacher address his master, if Kreacher cannot
call him 'Master'?"

"Well, you could always just call me Harry," said Harry.

Kreacher shook his head. "Kreacher could never address his master in such a way. Kreacher
would not dream of disrespecting his master!"

"OK, if you don't want to call me 'Harry', then… Why don't you just call me
'sir'?" Harry suggested, remembering that Dobby called him that without any
problems.

"If that is how Ma- how sir wishes to be addressed," said Kreacher, bowing again.
"Kreacher will start preparing for the guests now, sir, if he may."

"All right, go on," said Harry, checking his watch and seeing that it was ten
fifty-five.

*Well, no harm in waking Hermione five minutes early*, he thought, turning and heading back
upstairs. The door was still closed when he reached it, just as he had left it when he had gotten
up earlier, but as he made to ease it open, he received quite a surprise as he heard a squeal and
the door was slammed shut with a bang.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, jumping back a step. "Good morning to you too,
Hermione," he said as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

"Learn to knock!" Hermione's scandalized voice replied from the other side of the
door. "It's a very simple process!"

"Well, seeing as I thought you were still asleep, I would have been a bit of an idiot if
I'd knocked, wouldn't I?" asked Harry, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms and
leaned against the wall outside the door. "Now, could you please inform me of the reason why
I'm getting a door slammed in my face?"

Even from outside the door, he could feel Hermione switch from being scandalized to being
embarrassed. "Because I'd prefer it if you didn't walk in when I'm not
dressed," she replied.

"Ah," said Harry. "Well, I was just coming to wake you up, but I suppose I
don't have to, if you're already wide awake and starkers," he said with a smirk.

"I'm not star- Wait, why am I telling you that?" Hermione's flustered voice
asked from the other side of the door.

"I dunno, but I would love it if you told me what you *are* wearing," Harry said
saucily, still smirking outside the door. "In great detail, of course."

"*Harry!*"

"OK, I'll be good," Harry said innocently. "Which obviously means that I
absolutely *won't* open the door…" he said, noticing that the door hadn't closed
properly when Hermione tried to slam it shut (it had merely bounced against the frame, leaving the
bolt loose) and grinning as he nudged it with his foot, causing it to drift open a little before it
was slammed shut yet again.

"*HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU OPEN THAT DOOR AND I SWEAR TO MERLIN I'LL-"*

"Just teasing, love," Harry said sweetly, cutting Hermione off before she got carried
away. "Now, hurry up and get dressed before I open the door for re-eal…" he said in a
singsong voice.

"Don't you dare!" she said threateningly. "Unless you want multiple parts of
your anatomy hexed off!"

"Which parts are we talking about, exactly?" he asked her, almost conversationally.
"'Cause there are a few that I'd be willing to lose if it meant I got to see you
starkers…"

"I'm not- Aargh!" Hermione exclaimed exasperatedly, while Harry sniggered outside
the door.

"There's a new invention for Fred and George to think about," Harry mused.
"If Extendable Ears can go under doors, what about Extendable Eyes?"

"Great, now I'll have to remember to Imperturb the door every time I get dressed,"
Hermione grumbled from the other side of the door.

"Or you could just let me in now and get it over with," Harry suggested
innocently.

"In your dreams, Harry!"

"Oh, you have no idea," he quipped.

"Ugh! And to think I sleep in the same bed as you!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I'm only kidding, 'Mione."

"You'd better be!"

"Are you almost done yet?" he asked, tapping his foot.

"None of your business," Hermione grumbled.

Harry sighed. "*Somebody's* tetchy today."

"I wouldn't be so tetchy if you weren't a pervert," she retorted as she
finally emerged from behind the door, toothbrush and hairbrush in hand.

Harry rolled his eyes as he followed her down the hallway. "Making a couple of jokes about
my girlfriend makes me a pervert?"

"Yes!"

"Oh. Well, excuse me while I fetch my top hat and monocle and then you can join me whilst I
sip tea with my pinkie in the air, if you want me to be all proper and stuff every second of the
day," he grumbled.

She couldn't help but giggle. "Harry, I don't really think you're a
pervert."

"Then what are you all grumpy about?"

"I just woke up a few minutes ago, and then I nearly got walked in on by you when I was
only in my underwear. I have the right to be grumpy," she said as she shut yet another door in
Harry's face, the bathroom door this time.

He smirked. "Ah, so *that's* what you were wearing."

There was a moment of shocked silence before Hermione's voice came from behind the bathroom
door.

"Damn!"

Harry just snickered.

~*~

When Hermione emerged from the bathroom, she found Harry leaning against the wall next to the
door and smirking at her.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked, charming her toothbrush and hairbrush to put
themselves back in the beaded bag and watching them soar down the hall.

"You're so cute when you're flustered," said Harry.

"Am I?"

"Yes, very," he told her, slipping his hand into hers as they started the long descent
down the stairs. "No that you're not cute the rest of the time, of course," he
added.

She smiled, turning a little pink. "Flatterer."

"You know it," he said with a grin, checking his watch again. "Eleven
twenty-five," he said to himself.

"Pardon?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "Just checking the time."

"Oh. And what time is it?"

"Eleven twenty-five. Six," he corrected himself as the minute hand moved over a
bit.

"So specific," she said, rolling her eyes. He shrugged in response as they reached the
bottom of the stairs and found Kreacher hauling chairs that were twice his size over to the
table.

"Hey, Kreacher, let me do that," Harry said hastily. The elf was in danger of turning
himself into a Kreacher pancake if he kept lifting chairs twice his size and weight. Hermione gave
him an approving look.

"As you wish, sir," said Kreacher, setting the chair he was carrying down at the
table. "Kreacher will make lunch now, sir, if he may."

"All right."

"What should Kreacher prepare for sir's friends, sir?" the elf enquired.

Harry shrugged, picking up a chair. "Anything you feel like cooking, Kreacher."

Kreacher looked surprised at the chance to make a choice of his own, but merely bowed to Harry
and headed to the kitchen.

"You're treating him so well lately, Harry," Hermione said approvingly, picking up
one of the chairs. "And I see that you've gotten him to stop calling you 'Master'
all the time."

Harry shrugged again as he set the chair he was carrying down beside the one that Kreacher had
just placed at the table. "He still does everything I ask him to do if I don't give him
direct orders or make him call me 'Master', so I don't see the point in ordering him
around like a slave. I mean, I know that that's what he is, technically," he pointed out,
"but it doesn't mean that I have to treat him like one, right? I mean, I would pay him and
everything if I weren't afraid of giving him a heart attack. You know, 'honest work
deserves honest pay' and all that."

Hermione set down the chair she was carrying and pulled Harry into a hug, surprising him.

"Oof!" he said as the breath was crushed from his lungs without warning. "And
what's this for, exactly?" he asked, hugging her back.

"For being sweet," she replied, kissing him on the cheek. "And also to make up
for the fact that I haven't hugged you today."

"Well, that's good," he said with a grin. "I was going to go into withdrawal
if you didn't hug me soon."

She rolled her eyes as she gently broke their embrace. "Come on, we've still got a
bunch of chairs to move," she said, but the little grin on her face told Harry that she was
pleased by what he had said.

The two got the chairs squeezed in around the table, after a little bit of arranging and
rearranging, and found that Kreacher had been right about the amount of people that could fit in.
Seven chairs on the left side, six chairs and room for a high chair on the right, just in case
Remus and Tonks brought little Teddy along, and one chair on each end actually gave each person a
considerable amount of room.

"How many people did you invite?" Hermione asked in disbelief, silently counting the
chairs.

"Thirteen, but I added a spot for Teddy, just in case Remus and Tonks bring him
along," said Harry, gesturing to the empty spot on the right side of the table. "And then
there's you and me, so fifteen or sixteen people need to be able to fit."

Hermione's lower lip hung slightly slack after that. "Thirteen people? How did you
manage to invite thirteen people?"

"Well, nine Weasleys, two or three Lupins, and then Hagrid and Professor McGonagall,"
Harry explained.

"You invited Hagrid?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Then I guess we need to fix up one of these seats for him, huh?" Hermione pointed
out. "Unless you want him to be sitting on a pile of sawdust."

Harry hadn't thought of that before.

"I guess so," he agreed. "What about one of the ones on the end, so he'll
have more room and no one will have to squish up next to each other in order to fit him?" he
suggested. Hermione nodded, and a few moments later, one of the end chairs had been magically
widened and strengthened to accommodate their half-giant friend.

"There," said Hermione, satisfied with their work, "that's better."

"Much," Harry agreed.

"Hey," Hermione said suddenly, "how's Percy going to get here? And Hagrid?
Percy wasn't talking to the family when they were here before, and I don't remember anyone
telling Hagrid about this place, so they probably don't have any idea where we are!"

"They do," Harry told her. "The Weasleys will have told Percy about this place by
now, and I told Hagrid where we were going, so he knows where it is," he explained. "I
just told him that it was Sirius' house and that I'd inherited it from him."

Hermione nodded. "There's not really much of a reason to keep this place secret now,
anyway," she said. "It's not like it's being used as the Order's headquarters
anymore or anything."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe not, but I think that we should still keep it secret, even if it
hasn't got anything to do with the Order anymore. At least you and I can be safe from the
swarms of bloodthirsty reporters while we're here, right?"

"That's always a plus," Hermione agreed. "But, Harry, you're going to
have to talk to someone, sometime, aren't you?"

"Why?"

"Well, once you get the story out, people will stop bothering you for it," she pointed
out. "And it's not only the Boy-Who-Lived story they're going to be after,
either," she added as an afterthought.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, don't you think that people might notice the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived and
his best friend are a bit more than that nowadays? Or were you planning to stay holed up here
forever and never venture into the public eye again?" she asked.

"No, I wasn't, but…" said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "Well,
let's try to get through breaking the news to our friends first, and then we'll talk about
breaking it to the entire wizarding population."

"Fair enough," said Hermione, just as the doorbell rang.

"They're he-ere," Harry said ominously, as though a flying saucer had just touched
down on the front step and a horde of Martians was now marching into the front hall of Number
Twelve, all toting ray guns and ominous-looking probes.

"Oh, hush, they're not going to attack us," Hermione chided him as they went to
the door.

"I dunno, maybe we should confiscate their wands, just in case," said Harry. "We
*are* dealing with our ex-Defence teacher and his Auror wife, not to mention multiple members
of the Order of the Phoenix, here," he pointed out. Hermione just rolled her eyes in response
as Harry pulled the door open, revealing a smiling Molly and Arthur Weasley.

"Hello, dears," Molly said cheerfully.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry and Hermione, moving to the side to let their guests in
and finding themselves being engulfed in a bear hug by Molly.

"The others are on the way," Arthur told them as they got the oxygen squeezed from
their lungs.

"We thought we'd come a few at a time," Molly explained as she let the two
teenagers go. "You know, to make things a little easier, and a lot more inconspicuous. We
can't all fit on the top step without anybody accidentally getting into a Muggle's field of
vision, can we?" she chuckled.

Harry and Hermione smiled and chuckled as well, both of them imagining the large Weasley family
all trying to fit on the front step at once as they led the way to the living room. Molly and
Arthur had just sat down when there was a crack from outside.

"That'll be Fred and George," said Molly, frowning. "I *told* those two
to be quiet when they Apparated; Merlin knows what the Muggles will think, pops and bangs in the
middle of the day…"

"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley, the Muggles always think that it's just someone's car
backfiring," Harry assured her as the doorbell rang again. He left Hermione with the two
eldest Weasleys and went to open the door, finding Fred and George grinning at him.

"Hey, Harry," they chorused, forever in unison.

"Hi, guys," said Harry, letting them in. "Any progress with Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes lately?"

"Not much," said Fred.

"But we were a tad busy this year, weren't we?" George pointed out as the three
started off towards the living room.

"Fighting old Boulder Wart and all," said Fred.

"But business was still great at Hogwarts," George informed Harry.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," said Fred. "People were so keen on getting back at the Carrows that our
Skiving Snackboxes sold like mad!"

"People were puking their guts out the minute the Carrows or Snape got within ten feet of
them!" George chuckled. "It was really a horrible mess, and Bubble-Head Charms even came
into fashion again because of the smell. Filch was going mad!"

"Some students even started combining the Snackboxes!" Fred laughed. "They'd
puke and then faint, or they'd get a nosebleed and pretend to be so disgusted that they threw
up, or maybe they'd faint and then bleed everywhere for no apparent reason. We never advised
mixing up the Snackboxes, of course, seeing as we never tested them together," he told Harry,
"but it was hysterical nonetheless. And nobody got hurt, thank Merlin. We had enough trouble
on our hands without getting sued, didn't we, George?"

"Yeah, but it really wouldn't have mattered if we'd gotten sued, would it? We
probably would have been able to pay whoever sued us and then take them out to dinner afterwards.
Made us a load of gold, those Snackboxes did," George said with a smile.

Harry grinned back. "Lucky you."

"You should really let us pay you back, Harry," said Fred. "I mean, you're
the one who got us started, after the Tournament-"

"No," Harry said firmly, cutting Fred off. This conversation must have started at
least a couple thousand times before, and Harry's answer had never changed. "I told you, I
was either giving you the gold or throwing it down the drain. I didn't want it and I still
don't."

Fred and George both sighed.

"Well, we hope that free Wheezes for life is enough to pay you back," said George.

"It's more than enough," Harry assured them as they reached the living room.

"I told you two to keep it down when you Apparated!" Molly scolded the twins the
minute she saw them. "Are you *trying* to break the Statute of Secrecy? That's the
last thing we need, a horde of Ministry people banging on the door and brandishing loads of letters
from… Oh, what's her name? Mafalda whoever…"

Harry hid a small smile as his memory threw him a momentary glimpse of a gray-haired Hermione
impersonating Mafalda Hopkirk.

"Sorry, Mum," Fred and George chorused, just as the doorbell rang again.

"That'll be Bill and Charlie. Oh, and I think Bill's bringing Fleur along as
well," Molly called to Harry as he disappeared from the living room to answer the door. Harry
wished that he could just Apparate, but the Weasleys didn't know about him popping about
without a license, and he didn't want to get a scolding from Mrs. Weasley, or worse, a warning
from Mr. Weasley about the trouble he could get in if the Ministry found out about him Apparating
illegally. So, he was forced to walk to the door before he could open it and welcome a smiling
Charlie, Bill and Fleur.

"'Arry!" Fleur exclaimed, pulling a very surprised Harry into a hug the moment he
had closed the door and kissing him once on each cheek. "Eet is so good to see you again! Eet
'as been too long!"

"Good to see you again too, Fleur," Harry replied when she let him go, surprised by
his reaction (or lack thereof) to Fleur's impromptu hug and kisses. Usually, he'd be
blushing the colour of a fire engine and unable to form a coherent sentence, not to mention
probably drooling a little, but he found himself completely unperturbed this time around. Perhaps
it was because Fleur was married to Bill nowadays, and therefore off the market. Or perhaps it was
because of Hermione, who did almost the same thing every morning, greeting him with a hug and kiss.
Either way, it was a relief to be able to be around Fleur without turning into a stammering puddle
of goo, he thought to himself as he led the next three guests to the living room.

*And speaking of Fleur, we're going to need another chair,* he thought. *I really
should have thought of that*, he scolded himself. *After all, I invited the Weasleys, and
Fleur's a Weasley nowadays. How on Earth could I have forgotten about the wedding?* Harry
sincerely hoped that there were no more surprise guests on the way. The space around the table was
reaching its limit.

The doorbell rang yet again as Bill, Fleur and Charlie got settled in the living room, and Harry
was forced to endure a few minutes of intense awkwardness as his ex-best mate and ex-girlfriend
entered the house (it seemed that Ron had obtained his Apparation license sometime after he had
deserted Harry and Hermione) and were shown to the living room, after a few polite greetings and a
momentary hug from Ginny, before the last Weasley appeared on the doorstep, shook hands with Harry
in a less pompous manner than usual (thank Merlin), and let himself be led to the living room,
where he joined the rest of his family. The Weasleys had all accepted Percy after the Battle at
Hogwarts, but Harry could still sense a little tension between the Humongous Bighead and the rest
of the Weasley clan. Well, that was to be expected, Harry supposed, after Percy had left in a
whirlwind of insults to his mother and father, having picked the wrong place to lay his loyalties,
and then shunned his family for nearly three years.

Professor McGonagall arrived a few minutes later and joined the Weasleys in the living room. The
doorbell rang again, and Harry received an enthusiastic greeting from Remus and Tonks
('enthusiastic greeting' meaning 'huge group hug'), who, it turned out, hadn't
brought Teddy along. Just as Harry led Remus and Tonks into the living room, Hagrid rang the
doorbell, having walked to Number Twelve from an alley a few blocks away, where Professor
McGonagall had been kind enough to set up a Portkey for him. He, like Molly, crushed the oxygen
from Harry before allowing himself to be led to the living room, where the large group of people
chatted for a minute, before a realization seemed to blindside Hermione.

"Hey," she said to the group, "I've just realized, but the doorbell rang at
least six times in the past few minutes, and that awful portrait of Mrs. Black never started
screaming. We could barely drop a pin without setting her off the last time we were here!"

There was a general noise of realization and bewilderment from the group.

"Wonder what's happened to the old hag?" Fred piped up, before being promptly
answered by a "*Fred*!" from Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, there's a very easy way to find out," said Harry. "Kreacher!"

The house-elf appeared in the living room with a small pop. "Yes, sir?" he asked with
a bow.

"We've all just noticed, but that portrait of Mrs. Black's been quiet all
day," Harry told the elf. "Has anything happened to her?"

"Yes, sir," said Kreacher. "Kreacher removed the portrait, sir, as it was
displeasing his master and his master's friends, sir." He looked a little worried.
"Kreacher can replace the portrait, if sir wishes. Kreacher has only put it in the attic,
sir."

"No," Harry said hastily, never wanting to see the late Mrs. Black again and almost
ready to kiss Kreacher for getting rid of her. "No, Kreacher, that won't be necessary,
but… How on Earth did you get that portrait off the wall?" he asked, bewildered. "I
thought it had a Permanent Sticking Charm on it! None of us were able to get it off the wall the
last time we tried."

"Kreacher's master was displeased, sir," Kreacher said simply. "Kreacher
removed the portrait."

"But-" Harry started, before he was cut off by Hermione.

"It's just like when Kreacher escaped from that *place* back when Regulus was
alive, Harry," she explained, skirting around the topic of what the 'place' was and
putting emphasis on the word so that Harry knew that he wasn't supposed to elaborate on it
either, as it would just provoke loads of unnecessary questions and probably many hours of
explanation as well. Neither Harry nor Hermione felt that the Weasleys needed to be exposed to the
horror of Voldemort's Horcruxes and the Inferi-ridden cave just then. "Regulus told him to
go back, so he did."

"Unwavering obedience is the mark of a good house-elf, miss," Kreacher croaked.

"Exactly, Kreacher," said Hermione.

"Huh," said Harry, struck once again by the complete black-and-white bluntness of
house-elf magic. "Well, thank you, Kreacher."

Kreacher bowed again. "Kreacher has finished preparing lunch, if sir and his friends wish
to eat."

"Sure, I suppose," said Harry, looking around at the group, "if everyone's
hungry."

There was, once again, a general noise of agreement.

"Good," said Harry. "Then let's eat."

He and Hermione then shared the task of shepherding everyone out of the living room. Once the
room was empty except for Harry, Hermione and Kreacher, Harry informed Kreacher of the fact that
they needed another chair for Fleur, and the elf bowed and disappeared faster than you could say
'Quaffle'.

"So," said Hermione, "when are we breaking the 'Big News'?" she
asked, tracing quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"I dunno," said Harry. "Maybe we ought to do it soon, just to get it out there,
but… Well, it's a little nerve-wracking," he said nervously.

"I know," Hermione said sympathetically, "but remember what you told me
yesterday: if they were ever our friends, they'll accept the fact that we're a couple
now."

"Right," said Harry, nodding and trying to get his bearings about the whole thing.
"Right, well, let's go drop the bomb, then," he said resolutely, heading towards the
dining room, closely followed by Hermione. It was time to come clean.



6. Coming Clean - Part Two: Never Invite Weasels to Lunch
---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Dramarama in this one! Plenty of screaming, fighting, and one surprising request…


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry's resolute attitude was put to the test as he and Hermione entered the dining room.
Seeing all of his friends sitting around the table and glancing up at him as he and Hermione walked
in made his insides squirm uncomfortably. How many of these people, he wondered, would be accepting
of the development between himself and Hermione? How many would be angry? At least two redheaded
Weasleys would be displeased, he was sure. Not that he really cared what Ron thought anymore, he
couldn't even imagine caring after his ex-friend's treachery back in the tent, but he still
liked Ginny and couldn't help but feel bad, knowing that she was going to be hurt by what he
and Hermione were about to announce.

*Well, we* did *break up,* he reminded himself for the millionth time. *It's not
my fault if she's been expecting us to get back together. I told* *her that we
couldn't keep seeing each other, and I meant it. Maybe I let her think that I was only breaking
up with her to keep her safe – that* was *the only reason at one point, after all – but she
has to look at the big picture: we broke up, and when it all comes down to it, it doesn't
matter why. I didn't cheat on her or anything like that, because we weren't a couple
anymore when I got together with Hermione, so I haven't done anything wrong,* he reassured
himself as he took a seat near the end of the table, Tonks on his right and Hermione in the last
seat on his left. Kreacher had prepared French onion soup for lunch, and Harry busied himself with
that, only vaguely listening to the various conversations going on around him. Remus and Tonks were
talking with Molly and Arthur about how Teddy, while being only a few months old, was already
starting to show signs of magic (besides being a Metamorphmagus), and were being treated, in turn,
to tales of how the seven Weasley children had first shown their magic. Harry grinned as he caught
a snatch of Ginny's story, involving a dress that she was being forced to wear suddenly
disappearing into thin air in the middle of Diagon Alley.

On his left, Hermione was patiently listening to Ginny recount what sounded like stories about
every single thing that the reformed DA had done during to revolt against the oppression that the
students had faced at Hogwarts that year. Harry had to admit, Ginny and the DA had definitely done
a very good job upholding the Light Side's honour and supporting him during the Dark reign at
Hogwarts, even though it had meant injuries and torture for most of them.

After listening to a few of Ginny's stories while pretending to be very interested in his
soup, Harry was pulled out of the dining room by Fred and George, under the pretence of
'discussing business matters'. Now that it was known that Harry had given the twins the
gold to get their business started, this was a passable excuse, but Harry had the feeling that Fred
and George weren't pulling him away to discuss Skiving Snackboxes or Patented Daydream Charms.
When they were out of earshot of the people in the dining room, Harry found himself being
interrogated by the twins.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Fred asked, before Harry could even open his mouth
to ask what they wanted.

"No," he answered, pretending to be puzzled when he was really having a silent and
unnoticeable panic attack, realizing that he had been found out.

"You've been staring into your soup as though it's going to tell you the meaning of
life ever since you sat down," said George. "I agree that it's good soup, Harry, but
I really don't think that it's smart enough to tell you that. You seem awfully preoccupied
for somebody who doesn't have any problems."

"Oh," said Harry, trying to think of something, anything that he could say that
wouldn't lead to the twins finding out his news before it was time.

"There's nothing that we don't know, is there, Harry?" asked Fred.

"Er…"

"Old Snake Eyes isn't floating around again, is he?" George asked, lowering his
voice. "Because you can tell us if he is; we won't tell anybody."

"Wha-? No! No, of course not," Harry answered, flustered by George's question.
"You were both at the Battle; you know I killed him!" Harry's ability to say such a
thing without the slightest hesitation was a testament to just how much he had loathed the man (if
a creature as vile as Tom Riddle could really be called a man) who had robbed him of his mother and
father before he had even gotten a chance to learn their names.

"OK, OK, just checking," said George, holding up his hands in surrender. "I just
thought that you might've found something out about Voldemort, but didn't want to tell
anyone."

"Why wouldn't I want to tell anyone?" asked Harry. "Of course I would tell
you if Voldemort was back!"

George shrugged. "Maybe you didn't want to rain on everyone's parade.
Everybody's so happy now that he's gone, and if I were the one who found out that he was
back, I sure wouldn't want to be the bringer of bad news. I saw what happened to you when you
tried to say that Voldemort was back," he reminded Harry. "I'd hate to have my name
smeared like that."

Harry frowned a little, remembering his fifth year at Hogwarts. "I see what you mean,"
he agreed. "But I swear, Voldemort isn't back, and I promise that you'd be the first
to know if he was."

George looked reassured.

"Well, if Mouldy Fart's not flying around anymore, what's bothering you,
Harry?" asked Fred.

"It's- it's nothing," Harry said, still feeling completely blindsided by this
sudden interrogation. "I mean, er, it's something, but-"

"You haven't knocked Hermione up, have you?" George piped up.

Harry gawped at him, completely stunned by the question. This was turning out to be a very
strange conversation with the twins, that was for sure. "What?"

"Well, picture this, Harry," said Fred. "Two *completely*
*hypothetical* hormonal teenagers, burdened with the daunting task of saving the world from
the most fearsome wizard to ever walk the Earth-"

"-hiding out in the middle of Merlin-knows-where, with nobody around but each other-"
George continued.

"-cold and lonely-"

"-just deserted by our idiot bro- I mean, a *hypothetical* idiot brother-" said
George.

"-probably feeling pretty depressed and looking for a little comfort," said Fred.
"Perfectly understandable, after being cold and hungry for weeks and then being deserted by
said *hypothetical* idiot brother."

"Maybe things go a little bit too far," said George, shrugging.

"Completely accidentally, of course," said Fred. "I know that you two- I mean,
those two *completely hypothetical* teenagers aren't stupid."

"And then-" George started, before Harry cut him off.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, holding up a hand in the universal 'STOP' gesture.
"Look, guys, Hermione and I… we never… you know, did *that*."

"Mm, but by your tone, dear Harry, one would think that you did *something*,"
said Fred, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who immediately realized that he'd been set up by
George's last question.

"Perhaps the something that's making you search your soup for the answer to life, the
universe, and everything," George mused. "Which, by the way, is the number
forty-two."

Harry blushed. He'd completely given himself away by trying to deny something else. He
assumed that that had been the twins' master plan. They had never honestly thought that Harry
and Hermione had spent a little too much quality time together while hiding out in the tent, they
had just wanted to fluster Harry so that he would give away the real secret. The boy who had spent
seven years steering clear of Voldemort's tricks had just fallen straight into a trap set up
for him by two of his favourite Weasleys.

"OK, look," he said resignedly. "We were going to tell everyone at once,
that's why I invited all of you over today, but… Well, Hermione and I are a couple now,"
he said, finding himself speaking a bit faster than he usually did.

"Ohhhhh," chorused Fred and George.

"Is that all?" asked Fred.

"Why so secretive, Harry?" asked George. "The world's not going to implode
because you and Hermione got together. Congratulations, by the way."

Harry sighed. "Thanks, but maybe you should ask two of your siblings why I'm being so
secretive," he said. "The younger ones in particular."

"Ah," said Fred. "Right."

"Ginny and our idiot brother," George said understandingly.

"Exactly," said Harry. "And probably your parents, too. It seems like your mum
was pretty excited about having me and Hermione as her in-laws, someday."

"But you broke up with Ginny before you left, didn't you?" asked Fred. "How
can Mum expect you two to get hitched when you broke up?"

Harry sighed again. "We did break up, but I know that Ginny thinks that I only did it to be
noble and keep her safe, and that we're going to get back together now that Voldemort's
dead. And Ron…" he said, running a hand through his messy hair. "Ron probably still
thinks that he and Hermione have something going on, because they were still kind of together when
he left us," he explained to the twins. "They were never exactly a couple and they never
exactly broke up, so I really don't know what he's expecting from her now. I mean,
there's probably not much he can do about it now, because she's told me that she's not
in love with him anymore," he added. "He's lost his chance with Hermione, and I have
a feeling that she's not going to hesitate to tell him so, but that's probably not going to
keep him from being really angry with me for stealing his girl the moment he was gone."

Fred shrugged. "As much as I feel that I should sympathize with my brother, because
he's my brother, I have to say that I'm on your side on this one, Harry. I mean, I was
around for almost all of your years at Hogwarts, and from what I saw, Ron never really treated
Hermione all that well in the first place, so why should he think that he deserves to be with her
more than you do now?"

"He shouldn't," Harry agreed, "but you weren't around for our sixth year,
and that's when they kind of started showing 'feelings' for each other," he told
Fred, tracing quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "And then, this year, before he
left us in the tent, Ron was actually pretty decent towards Hermione, always wanting to protect her
and stuff, so he probably thinks that he's made up for how he's treated her in the past,
and that now he's her knight in shining armour or something like that," he said, rolling
his eyes to show how he felt about that.

"But he can't be, because that's you now, right?" asked George, smiling slyly
and making Harry blush again.

"I never said that…" he replied lamely. Fred and George just smirked at each
other.

"He's a hopeless case, isn't he, Fred?" asked George.

"Yup," Fred agreed. "How sweet, our little Harry's completely head over heels
in love with Hermione!"

"Aww…" said George.

"I'm not *head over heels*," Harry protested, but he couldn't keep the
goofy grin off his face, completely contradicting his protest.

"You are!" said Fred.

"I'm not!"

"You a-are," George said in a singsong voice.

"We're not talking about me in the first place!" said Harry, trying to get the
focus of the conversation off of himself.

"Actually, Harry, we are," Fred pointed out. "This whole conversation started
because you were trying to bore holes in the bottom of your soup bowl with your laser
gaze."

"Laser gaze?" asked Harry, bewildered.

"It's an expression, now stop changing the subject," said George. "So…"
he said, "how long have you and Hermione been madly in love with each other? Officially, I
mean."

"Since a few days after Ron left," said Harry, blushing furiously as he realized, a
moment later, that he had just verified that he was madly in love with Hermione.

"So you *didn't* steal his girl the moment he was gone," said Fred.
"That could be helpful," he told Harry, obviously trying to make him feel better.

"Excuse me for not being optimistic," said Harry, "but I'm pretty sure that
he's not going to care if I waited a day or two. All he's going to care about is that I
stole his girl, as far as he's concerned."

"True," Fred reluctantly agreed. "Well, if it's any consolation, we're on
your side, Harry."

"We'll put Ron and Ginny in Body-Binds if we have to," said George, eliciting a
small grin from Harry. "If they try to attack you and Hermione or something after you tell
them that you two are a couple."

"Thanks, guys," Harry said gratefully.

"Anytime, lover boy," the twins chorused, prior to leading Harry back into the dining
room before he could protest against being called 'lover boy'. Once again, Harry received a
collective glance from everyone present, making his insides squirm nervously once more. He had
gotten through telling the twins about what had happened between him and Hermione, and he
hadn't even had a chance to think about what he was going to say to them, but they weren't
the ones who he was worried about breaking the news to.

Hermione gave him a curious look as he sat down again, but he responded with a small shake of
his head, telling her that it wasn't anything that they could discuss right then. Her curious
look didn't fade, but she seemed to accept that he didn't want to tell her about his
discussion with the twins right now and returned to her rather one-sided conversation with Ginny,
who was still talking about the DA revolution at Hogwarts, while Harry busied himself by finishing
off his soup, which was a little unappetizing now, having cooled down considerably during his talk
with the twins. Harry tried to get his bearings about telling their secret to the rest of the
group, which he wanted to do soon, now that the twins knew about him and Hermione being a couple.
He stared into his now-empty soup bowl for a few minutes more, trying to prepare himself for
whatever reactions he would get from his friends, before giving Hermione's foot a gentle kick
under the table, making her give him another curious look.

"I think it's about time to tell them," he murmured to her, his voice masked by
the buzz of the various conversations going on around him. Her eyes widened a bit after that; he
had obviously surprised her.

"Are you sure?" she murmured back. He nodded.

"All right," she said, "let's get it over with, then."

He nodded determinedly and used the classic technique of tapping his glass to attract the
attention of everyone around the table. The conversations died out and everyone turned to look at
him, making his insides squirm again. He stood up and cleared his throat nervously.

"First off," he said nervously, "I'd like to say thanks to all of you, for
being able to come on such short notice." He winced inwardly. He sounded like he was holding a
business meeting. All he needed was a starchy suit, some sort of projector and a couple of graphs
and spreadsheets. "I can't find words to tell you how great it is to be able to have you
all here, safe and sound," he said, smiling. There, that sounded more like something he should
say.

There was a general noise of agreement and many nods from around the table.

"Now, I know that I invited all of you here to 'catch up' today," said Harry,
"but I suppose that most of you have noticed that I haven't been doing much catching
up."

Again, there was a general noise of agreement from around the table, though there was a note of
puzzlement present this time around. The guests were obviously wondering why Harry had invited them
over if he wasn't going to want to talk.

"I want to assure you all that it's not because I don't want to talk to all of you,
because I most certainly do," Harry assured his friends. "I've just been a little
preoccupied today, considering that I have a bit of an announcement to make. Or, rather, Hermione
and I have an announcement to make," he corrected, and Hermione stood up beside him, looking
as nervous as he felt.

"Don't worry, he hasn't knocked her up!" Fred called, completely surprising
Harry and Hermione. Harry chuckled nervously while Hermione (who had been absent for Harry's
discussion with the twins) looked dumbstruck, her expression screaming "*Where in
Merlin's name did THAT come from?*" The rest of the people around the table just looked
confused. Harry's insides wiggled uncomfortably yet again as his gaze fell on Ron for a moment.
Back when they were friends, he would have trusted Ron to take this well, but today… Well, he was
glad that he was an accomplished caster of the Shield Charm. To Harry's dismay, Ron looked like
he was cottoning on to what was happening, and by the way his brow was furrowed, he most certainly
wasn't liking it. A glance at Ginny proved to be less worrying; she just looked confused by the
odd sequence of events that was playing out in front of her.

"Yes, thank you, Fred," Harry said, forcing a small smile. "It's true, I
haven't gotten Hermione pregnant, so no worries there, but we do still have an
announcement." He paused, trying to say the words, but he couldn't force them out, his
mind still focused on Ron's upset look and running through all of the particularly painful
curses that his friend knew. He compromised by taking Hermione's hand in his and awkwardly
saying "Well…", hoping that the gesture would be enough to explain.

It was as though he had run an electric shock through everyone's chairs. Everybody looked
surprised, some more than others, and many lower lips hung slightly slack as everyone's gaze
flicked to his and Hermione's joined hands. Time seemed to slow, the world grinding to a silent
halt for a moment or two, in which Harry and Hermione stood unmoving, momentarily frozen by the
collective gaze of everyone in the room, before-

"**WHAT?**"

The two youngest Weasleys were on their feet, their eyes blazing with that Weasley fire, looking
at Harry and Hermione as though the pair had just told them that they had been randomly selected
for execution and would have their freckled, carrot-coloured heads cut off tomorrow at noon. Harry
managed to reduce his reaction to a mere surprised blink, while Hermione quite literally flinched
as though she'd been struck, seeing as she was much closer to Ginny than Harry and therefore
far more startled by the girl's outburst, but she regained her composure after Harry squeezed
her hand reassuringly, silently reminding her that they had been expecting this.

"Hermione and I are a couple now," Harry finally managed to say, quite calmly. Now
that he had seen his friends' reactions, his nervousness was far less intense, his mind focused
instead on how to deal with the two fiery-tempered Weasleys. It seemed that his calm reaction was
the right one, as the two now looked as though they'd been doused with cold water, looking at
Hermione with gaping mouths and saucer-sized eyes, mouthing wordlessly like fish out of water.
Harry took the relatively calm moment to glance around the table, his gaze falling on Fred and
George, who had their wands out and were pretending to hex Ron and Ginny while looking at Harry
with their eyebrows raised, silently asking him if he wanted them to carry out their promise of
Body-Binding their siblings. Harry gave them a small shake of his head and they obediently lowered
their wands.

But Harry probably shouldn't have shown Ron and Ginny any mercy, as it was only a
millisecond before both of them had their wands out and turned on Harry and Hermione. It was Peter
Pettigrew and his silver hand all over again. Harry's free hand went back to pull his own wand
out of his back pocket, but he found that he didn't have to, as Remus and Tonks had both gotten
to their feet and had their own wands turned on the two youngest Weasleys, who faltered and lowered
their wands by a fraction of an inch, obviously torn between getting their revenge on Harry and
Hermione and keeping themselves from ending up at the mercy of their ex-Defence teacher, not to
mention the man who was also the last of the Marauders, and a highly trained Auror.

"Now, now," Remus said calmly, "is that any way to congratulate your
friends?"

That seemed to be too much for Ron to bear. "*Congratulate*?" he repeated
angrily. "Are you a madman?"

"*Ron*!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Don't you talk to Remus
like-"

"It's fine, Molly," Remus assured her, cutting her off. "Why don't we
hear Ron and Ginny out? Now, Ron," he said calmly, "why don't you put that wand away
and tell us all why I'm such a madman?"

Ron hesitated, but he slowly lowered his wand and returned it to his back pocket.

"Good," said Remus, lowering his own wand. "Now, why don't we all sit down
and talk like mature adults?" he suggested, taking his own seat. Beside him, Tonks still stood
and held Ginny at wandpoint, as the redhead had not put her wand away, still biting her bottom lip
and trying to decide whether to listen to Remus or curse Harry and Hermione.

"Aren't you going to join us, Ginny?" Remus asked serenely. When Ginny didn't
move or respond, Tonks seemed to lose her patience and gave her wand a sharp downward flick while
giving Ginny a very pointed look. The message was crystal clear: "Sit or I force you
to."

Ginny gave up, shoved her wand back into her pocket and sat, her arms crossed tightly. Now that
the two youngest Weasleys had been subdued, Harry and Hermione considered it safe to relax and sat
down as well, letting go of each other's hands for the sake of keeping the peace.

"Good," said Remus. "Now, Ron, please explain why you find it necessary to
question my sanity," he said, pressing the tips of his fingers together in a very
Dumbledore-like way and looking at Ron expectantly. The redhead looked a little unsure of himself
for a moment, not used to being prompted to explain himself, but his indignation took over again a
moment later and he scowled as he spoke.

"Why the *hell*-" he started, receiving another "*Ron!*" from his
mother, "-would I congratulate Harry for stealing my girlfriend, and Hermione for letting
him?"

Harry and Hermione both bit back angry retorts and forced themselves to breathe deeply, calming
themselves. They would not mimic Ron and Ginny by making a scene.

"Harry, Hermione, would either of you care to respond to that?" Remus asked calmly,
nodding to the two.

"I think both of us would like to respond to that, Remus," Hermione replied equally
calmly, while Harry nodded, "but if Harry doesn't mind, I'd like to go
first."

"Be my guest," said Harry.

"Thank you, Harry," said Hermione. "Now, Ron," she started, "I'd
like to point out that it's unfair for you to accuse Harry of 'stealing' me,
considering that I can't seem to remember you ever asking me to be your girlfriend."

She had struck a blow to Ron's argument, and he knew it. Everyone could tell, as it was
obvious in the way his gaze flicked down to the table for a fraction of a second before returning
to lock with Hermione's.

"Also," Hermione continued, "I'd like you to know that I can't help but
be a little hurt by the way you phrased your argument, considering that in order for me to be
'stolen', I would have to be, in some way, your property, which I can assure you that I
don't consider and have never considered myself to be."

*And that's one point to Hermione and zero to ickle Ronniekins*, thought Harry,
watching as the fire in Ron's eyes faded a little. He seemed to be wondering if he had gotten
himself in over his head. Everybody knew that you had to be pretty stupid to let yourself get into
a full-blown debate with Hermione, and that was exactly what he had done.

"Well said, Hermione," said Remus. "Harry, would you like to add anything to
Hermione's argument?"

"I would," said Harry. "Ron, I agree with Hermione. I did *not*
'steal' her from you, because, as she has pointed out, you never did ask her to be your
girlfriend, and, as she said, it would be impossible to 'steal' her in the first place, as
she does not 'belong' and has never 'belonged' to you. Also, I'd like to point
out that Hermione didn't just 'let' me do anything. We had a completely fair
discussion, in which we both agreed that we wanted to be a couple. We both had complete control
over the situation and either of us could have decided that we didn't want to be with the
other. Hermione didn't just give up and let me do what I wanted, if that's what you're
trying to imply."

Ron was looking more and more beaten by the second. Harry and Hermione's arguments were
stronger than his, not to mention that Hermione had practically torn apart his argument from the
start and made it worthless by pointing out all the things that were wrong with it.

"Good, very good," said Remus. "Ron, do you have a response?"

Ron shook his head, looking at the table. To the unknowing eye, he seemed beaten, but Harry knew
better and was quite convinced that Ron wasn't done arguing yet. He was just plotting his next
move. Ron wasn't Hogwarts' best wizard chess player for nothing, after all.

"All right, if Ron has nothing else to add right now, would you like to make a statement,
Ginny?" asked Remus.

Ginny had uncrossed her arms by then and was looking quite a bit calmer, having gotten her
initial angry outburst out of the way. "If I could," she said quietly.

"Go ahead," said Remus, settling back into his chair.

"Well," said Ginny, a guilty sigh present in her voice, "first, I want to say
I'm sorry for my behaviour a few minutes ago. It was uncalled for, and I want you to know that
I wouldn't really have cursed either of you," she said to Harry and Hermione, whose
expressions softened from determinedly blank, straight-lipped masks of stone to more forgiving
looks.

"But," said Ginny, "I still want to say that I can't help but feel hurt, and
that I think that I deserve to feel that way. Harry," she said, turning a little in her chair
so that she could face him, "I realize that we broke up, during Dumbledore's funeral last
year, but I have to point out that from the things you said back then, it sounded like you were
only breaking up with me to keep me safe from You-Know-… Voldemort, I mean," she corrected
herself, and Harry had to admit that he was proud to hear her say the name. "You never told me
that you didn't have feelings for me anymore, and when you and I kissed last summer, I thought
that it meant that you still wanted to be with me, when everything was over," she said
quietly, the hurt visible in her eyes. "And now, everything *is* over, but it turns out
that you and Hermione got together while you were off fighting Voldemort, and… Well, you can
probably guess how that's making me feel right now," she said, looking at the table.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted from surprise at the sudden outbursts of the two youngest
Weasleys to sympathy for Ginny, but, luckily, Harry couldn't detect any harsh feelings towards
him, minus the ones from Ron. A glance at Molly and Arthur reassured him, for neither of them
looked angry with him, just a little sorry for their daughter.

"And I'm not accusing you of leading me on, because you did break up with me 'fair
and square', as they say," Ginny assured him. "But… Well, couldn't you have given
me a more definite sign to tell me that you didn't want to be with me anymore, if you had
feelings for another girl?" she asked.

Harry folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head slightly. "Ginny," he said,
"I want to say that I accept your apology, and that I completely agree with everything
you've said. However, I want to point out that when I broke up with you, it *was* only to
keep you safe from Voldemort, at the time. I didn't have- I mean, I didn't *know* that
I had feelings for Hermione back when we broke up, and I promise you that if I had, I would have
told you so and broken up with you with far more finality than I did, and I would never,
*ever* have gone through with that kiss last summer. While I'm not sorry for getting
together with Hermione, I *am* sorry that it means that I've disappointed you and let you
down. I'm sorry that I led you to wait for me, and I promise you that I never meant
to."

Ginny's only response was a nod, but Harry could tell that she had at least started to
forgive him. He also felt reassured when, looking around, he found the same sort of forgiving look
adorning the Weasleys' faces. They might be disappointed that he wasn't going to end up
being their relative, but what mattered to Harry was that they weren't angry with him.

Ron, on the other hand, look thoroughly scandalized. It seemed that he had expected Ginny to put
up a fight, to take his side in this.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. "How can you just give up like that? Aren't you angry?
Harry toyed with you, led you on, *messed you around* last summer, for Merlin's sake, and
you're just going to sit back and let him get away with it?"

Remus opened his mouth to tell Ron to calm down, but Ginny beat him to the punch, still speaking
calmly to her brother. She was used to his fiery temper, after all, having lived with him for
sixteen years.

"Ron, I'm not 'giving up'. I'm accepting the fact that things aren't
going to go my way. And I just said that I don't feel that Harry led me on, because he broke up
with me before he and Hermione got together, not to mention that he didn't 'mess me
around', thank you very much, because *I* was the one who kissed *him*. And I love
how you say that I'm 'letting him get away with it', as though he's committed some
kind of crime," she added, her tone turning from calm to a little bit sarcastic. "Why
can't you just accept the fact that Harry and Hermione want to be together?"

"Accept it? *Accept* it?" Ron repeated, looking a little demented in his anger.
"How in holy hell do you expect me to accept this?" he asked, gesturing to Harry and
Hermione with a sweep of his arm that looked like it could probably dislocate his shoulder if he
wasn't careful. "My best mate stole my girlfriend the minute I was out of the
picture!"

That was too much for Harry and Hermione. Ron had crossed some sort of invisible line, making it
impossible for them to keep calm any longer. They both found themselves on their feet before
anybody could realize that they had stood up, both holding balled fists by their sides and glaring
at Ron, making him shrink back into his seat a little.

"I'm not. Your. *Girlfriend*," Hermione reminded the redhead, in a voice that
was as icy as anything that Voldemort himself had ever been able to muster. Harry, however, had no
intention of dowsing his indignation with ice water.

"Your *best mate*?" he repeated angrily. "Your *BEST MATE*? How
*dare* you call me your best mate? How can you think that I want to be your best mate after
what you did to Hermione and me? You *deserted* us, Ron, when we needed you the most, just
because you couldn't take it when things didn't go your way! For all you knew, you left us
to *die*, and you didn't give a bloody *damn*! All you cared about was getting three
square meals a day!"

To Harry's surprise, his outburst had left all of the Weasleys except for Fred, George and
Ron looking very surprised. Bill was the first to turn on Ron, fire in his eyes.

"You told us that they told you to leave," he said, his icy tone a sharp contrast to
the inferno in his eyes. "You told us that they wanted you to go, that they sent you to be
with your family."

Harry was dumbstruck. "He told you that? He told you that we let him go? That we
*wanted* him to leave?"

Bill’s expression darkened. "That’s exactly what he told us. But why don't you tell us
what really happened, Harry? I'm sure that everyone here is very interested to know what
Ron's been lying to us about all along."

Everyone around the table heard Ron gulp. Harry was positively furious. How could Ron lie to
everyone about what he had done? Harry knew that Ron was a coward, he had proven that back in the
tent, but he hadn't thought that Ron would sink low enough to lie to his own family.

"What really happened," Harry began coolly, "was that Ron here couldn't take
it when he realized that we weren't exactly going to be able to live comfortably while we were
on this mission for Dumbledore, so he upped and left. Hermione and I didn't know where he had
gone and we didn't know if he was ever going to come back. We never had any say in the matter,
and if Ron has been telling you that we did, then he's been telling you flat-out
lies."

A general aura of hurt radiated off of the Weasley clan after that. They, apparently, had still
been under the impression that their ickle Ronniekins was a good boy, loyal to his friends and
family, who could never lie to his parents without his ears looking like they had suddenly
transformed into beets. Bill and Fleur seemed especially hurt, though Harry didn't know why
right away. A moment later, however, he learned.

"We let you stay with us!" Fleur exclaimed indignantly. "We thought you 'ad
not wanted to leave, we thought zat you 'ad fought tooth and nail to stay with your friends,
and now we learn zat you 'ad really just left zem to fight Voldemort by zemselves because you
were hungry!"

Ron looked at the table, his ears turning a brilliant shade of red, while Ginny looked like she
wanted to pummel him to a bloody pulp.

"You just *left*?" she said angrily. "You just left them all alone, out in
Merlin-knows-where, not even caring what happened to them, just so you could get something to
eat?"

"Nobody said that I didn't care," Ron mumbled under his breath, enraging Ginny
even more.

"You obviously didn't give much of a damn, Ron, if you valued a sandwich over the two
people who were supposed to be your best friends!" she retorted furiously.

That definitely shut Ron up. The rest of his family, minus the twins (to whom Harry supposed Ron
must have disclosed the real reason for his departure from the tent), looked at him with
expressions of mixed shock, hurt and anger, seeming to be rendered speechless by this sudden
development.

"Well," said Remus, clearing his throat as he took charge of the situation once again,
"now that we've cleared that up, I believe it's time for us to figure out a way to
settle this little dispute."

Harry was surprised. He had just thought that he would break the news to his friends, get their
reactions and apologize if necessary, and then all would be well. He hadn't expected to be
asked to decide on some sort of compromise. What was he expected to do? Share Hermione with Ron?
Switch her relationship status from 'Harry's girlfriend' to 'Ron's
girlfriend' every other week? Spend Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with Ginny, Tuesdays,
Thursdays and Saturdays with Hermione, and then spend Sundays living the single life?

Even as crazier and more unlikely thoughts started to run through Harry's head, he got an
even bigger shock as a voice spoke up in the silence.

"I want a duel."



7. Fire and Ice - A Duel of Two Brothers
----------------------------------------

A/N: So, here we are: a duel! YAY! As much as I love my usual cavity-inducing fluff, I like to
make the occasional foray into action scenes, and so this chapter was born. The origin of the title
will become evident once you've read the whole thing! ;)


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*"Well," said Remus, clearing his throat as he took charge of the situation once
again, "now that we've cleared that up, I believe it's time for us to figure out a way
to settle this little dispute."*

*Harry was surprised. He had just thought that he would break the news to his friends, get
their reactions and apologize if necessary, and then all would be well. He hadn't expected to
be asked to come to some sort of compromise. What was he expected to do? Share Hermione with Ron?
Switch her relationship status from 'Harry's girlfriend' to 'Ron's
girlfriend' every other week? Spend Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with Ginny, Tuesdays,
Thursdays and Saturdays with Hermione, and then spend Sundays living the single life?*

*Even as crazier and more unlikely thoughts started to run through Harry's head, he got an
even bigger shock as a voice spoke up in the silence.*

*"I want a duel."*

~*~

The temperature in the dining room seemed to drop ten degrees and the total shock became almost
tangible as Ron stated his request, his tone crisp and clear and his expression set.

"A duel?" Remus repeated.

"Yes," said Ron. "A duel. A proper wizard's duel. Me against Harry. Any curse
allowed except Unforgivables." He paused for a moment, thinking, before he added, "Or any
curse that would be more than likely to be fatal, like *Sectumsempra* or the Reductor. Causing
bodily harm would be allowed, as long as it wasn't intended to be fatal."

"Done," said Harry, before Remus could even try to intervene. This was between Ron and
Harry, and nobody was going to get in their way, not even the last of the Marauders. "What do
you want if you win, if you're not after my life?"

Hermione seemed to cotton on to the possible outcome of this battle between Ron and Harry.
"I will *not* be won in a duel!" she exclaimed angrily, her cheeks flushed in
indignation. "I'm not a trophy, for Merlin's sake!"

"I don't intend to wager you, love," said Harry, taking Hermione's hand in his
and purposely using the word 'love' to aggravate Ron. If Ron wanted a fight, he'd give
him a fight, and all the trash-talk and taunting that came with it.

If Ron was angered by Harry's use of the word 'love' in reference to Hermione, or
the fact that the two were holding hands in front of him yet again, he didn't show it. "I
have no intention of 'winning' Hermione," he said coolly. "After all, she
isn't anyone's property."

"About time you caught on," Harry retorted. "All right, what do you want, then,
if you're not after Hermione?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "Your wand," he said after a few moments. "For a month.
Thirty-one days, to be exact."

Harry looked at Arthur. "Is that legal, Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur looked a little shaken by what was going on between his youngest son and the boy who he
had always cared for like a son. "As far as I know."

"It's perfectly legal as long as he doesn't intentionally destroy your wand or do
anything to it that will damage it irreparably," Tonks piped up. "Only the Ministry has
the right to do that. If he just has it in his possession for a month, that's perfectly
fine."

"All right, deal," Harry told Ron.

"Deal," said the redhead. "Now, what do you want from me, if you win?"

Harry was determined to go for the kill. "Your wand and your broomstick," he said
calmly. "For two months."

Ron, like Harry, turned to his father. "Is *that* legal, Dad?"

"It should be," said Arthur.

"Again, as long as Ron consents to wagering those possessions and Harry doesn't
intentionally destroy or damage either of them, it'll be perfectly legal," said Remus.

"All right, deal," said Ron. Harry could tell that he was speaking through clenched
teeth. He didn't really want to make that deal, which put his use of both magic and his beloved
broomstick on the line, but he didn't want to look like a coward, either. This was a battle for
alpha male status, and therefore definitely not the time to chicken out.

"Deal," said Harry.

"So," said Ron, "where are we holding this thing? We can't duel here,
obviously."

"Yes, I'd prefer to avoid blowing up my house," said Harry.

"Well, I was talking about there not being enough room, but now that you mention it, I
suppose that it *would* be a bit of a shame," said Ron, a maddening smirk tugging at the
corners of his lips.

Harry slipped his hand out of Hermione's as he was suddenly seized by a mad urge to just
skip the duel altogether and knock Ron's teeth out with his bare fists (how *dare* that
redheaded jerk talk about the house that had once been owned by Sirius like that, like he
didn't even *care* about what it meant to Harry?), but he restrained himself, ordering
himself to calm down (then again, Ron probably *didn't* care, and Harry didn't care
what Ron cared about anyway).

*He's trying to wind you up; it's what he wants*, he reminded himself. *He wants
to get you angry so you won't think during the duel, and then you'll be easy to beat.
It's just like chess,* he reminded himself. *You need to fluster your opponent so
they'll make stupid moves.*

"What about Hogwarts?" he suggested. If Ron wanted room, he'd get plenty of it on
the sprawling grounds of Harry's cherished second home.

Ron shook his head. "Closed, and no one's really supposed to be on the grounds in the
summer."

"Well, what's your brilliant idea, then?" Harry retorted. *That's what you
get for trying to be considerate to your opponent,* he thought, with a mental roll of his
eyes.

Ron paused for a moment, thinking. "My place," he suggested. "We've got a
sort of forest with a good-sized clearing a little way away from the house that would be
fine."

"Fine," said Harry. "When is this going to happen?"

Ron smirked again. "How about now?"

Harry smirked back. "No time like the present. Assuming that you're all willing to put
this visit on hold so that Ron and I can settle this little fight once and for all," he added
to the people around the table. No one said anything.

"Well, that's settled, then," said Ron. "To The Burrow?"

"To The Burrow," Harry agreed. Not waiting for any other sort of confirmation, Ron
disappeared with a pop. Once he was gone, Harry let his expression soften.

"I'm really sorry about this," he said apologetically to the room at large.
"But Ron and I need to settle this, and if he wants to resort to a duel in order to do that,
then I'm willing to consent to one."

"Ah, it's no problem, Harry," said Hagrid, shrugging. "Bu' I won' be
able ter come, though. Can't Apparate, yeh know…"

"Right," said Harry, feeling quite guilty. He should have considered his guests before
agreeing to Apparate to The Burrow without hesitation. "Sorry, Hagrid, I didn't-"

"I'll stay here with Hagrid," said Professor McGonagall, stemming the impending
flow of apologies before it could get out of hand. "I think I'd prefer to stay out of
range of a duel, after what happened the last time I put myself in the middle of one."

Everyone nodded, remembering when Umbridge and her cronies had tried to get rid of Hagrid and
had ended up putting Professor McGonagall in St. Mungo's for a while.

"Cheers, Minerva," said Hagrid.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said gratefully. "Now, shall we catch up with Ron,
then?" he asked, taking Hermione hand (both because he wanted to and because they still needed
to pretend that Harry needed her to Apparate him). The rest of the people who were going to
accompany them to the duel at The Burrow all nodded and the number of people in the room dwindled
as the Weasleys started to Disapparate (Ginny hitching a ride with Fred, since Ron had forgotten
about her), followed by the Lupins. Harry turned to Professor McGonagall and Hagrid.

"You can make yourselves comfortable in the living room," he told them, "though
you'll have to bring that chair with you, Hagrid," he added, gesturing to the magically
reinforced chair that Hagrid was seated on. "You can ask Kreacher for anything you
need."

He received nods from the two, and with that, he and Hermione Disapparated off towards The
Burrow and a duel.

~*~

Harry and Hermione were the last people to appear in The Burrow's back yard, finding
everyone else standing around and shuffling their feet awkwardly as they waited. Except for Ron, of
course, who stood perfectly calmly, as though he couldn't care less about the fact that he was
about to duel the boy who had been his best friend for over six years.

"All right," he said. "Come on, let's get this show on the road."

He started off toward the trees behind The Burrow, and the small group of people followed him,
forming a sort of procession. Nobody spoke; it seemed that everyone was too shocked by the
impending duel to say anything. Not even Remus, who had done such a good job of taking control of
the situation before, could seem to find some way to lighten the group up a bit.

Ron led the group to a clearing not far from The Burrow, and then turned to Harry, who let go of
Hermione's hand, letting her back off into the group that surrounded him and Ron.

"Well, shall we get this over with, then?" Ron asked coolly.

"Whenever you're ready," Harry replied.

"Hang on," said Tonks, hurrying over to the two. "You have to take a sort of vow
first, if you two really want to do this properly."

"A vow?" the two boys repeated, both so surprised that they forgot to speak in icy
tones.

"Yes," said Tonks. "If you two are really looking for a proper wizard's duel,
you have to perform a sort of ritual before you can start. It's very simple, though, it
won't take much time, so you won't have to wait long before you can duel."

"Fine," said Harry, remembering to do his best Voldemort imitation. "I'll
take part, if Ron wants to do this so very *properly*."

"Harry, no!" Hermione suddenly cried, making Harry jump a little. "You don't
know what you're getting yourself into!"

"Hermione, I know how to duel, I'm not eleven-" he started to protest. He loved
Hermione to bits, but she still seemed to forget, occasionally, that he knew a bit more than he
seemed to.

"No, you don't understand!" she said, cutting him off. "The ritual that Tonks
is talking about can get you sent to Azkaban!"

Harry blinked in surprise and turned to face Tonks. "It's not against the law, is
it?"

"Of course not," Tonks replied, in an '*obviously*!' sort of tone.
"Do you really think that I would suggest that you do something illegal, when I *work*
for the Ministry?"

"Well, no, not really…" Harry admitted, looking at his feet for a moment, a little
embarrassed by his stupid question. Tonks *upheld* the law; why on Earth would she suggest
that he break it?

"Exactly," said Tonks. "Now, Hermione's right when she says that the ritual
can get you sent to Azkaban, but you won't get locked up just for performing it, as it's a
perfectly legal agreement between two wizards. I'll tell you how people sometimes wind up
getting sent to prison in just a moment. Now, the way the ritual is performed is simple: the
wizards who are duelling link hands, their seconds do the same, and someone who isn't going to
take part in the duel recites the terms of the fight and asks the two wizards if they both
understand and agree on those terms."

"Kind of like making an Unbreakable Vow," said Ron.

"Exactly," said Tonks. "Except if you break the terms of a wizard's duel, you
won't die, but your opponent is legally permitted to press charges and you can be fined or
thrown in Azkaban, depending on how serious the offence was. As soon as you agree to the terms of
the duel, you are immediately locked in a magical contract with your opponent, and breaking that
contract constitutes punishment from the Ministry."

Harry, who had already had experience with magical contracts, realized exactly how serious this
ritual really was. If he broke any of the rules during this duel against Ron, he could end up in
jail! He really had to start listening to Hermione when she told him that he didn't know what
he was getting himself into, he thought. But… Well, this was really no time to chicken out. If he
backed out now, he would forever have to live with the fact that he had given Ron the satisfaction
of making the Boy-Who-Lived weasel out (pun intended) of a duel. He swallowed, thought hard for a
moment, and decided that he was in this until the end.

"I'll do it," he said, forcing himself not to notice when Hermione sighed her
trademark 'boys-are-a-bunch-of-overly-proud-idiots' sigh. "If Ron will, of
course," he added.

By the looks of it, Ron was having the same sort of thoughts that Harry had been having just
moments before, wondering exactly what he would be getting himself into if he said yes to this
ritual. But he had been the one who had emphasized that he wanted a 'proper' wizard's
duel, and if this was a part of making it official…

"I'll do it," he said. "Just tell us what to do, Tonks."

"All right, well, you have to pick your seconds before we can get started," said
Tonks, looking a little surprised by the two boys' agreement to the procedure. Maybe she had
thought that proposing something so serious would discourage the boys from going through with the
duel.

"Hang on," said Harry, "why do we need seconds, if we can't die in this duel?
Doesn't a second only take over if the person who chose them is killed?"

Tonks shrugged. "You're allowed to cause as much bodily harm as you want, so maybe one
of you will be too badly injured to continue the duel, and your second will have to take over and
finish the duel for you. And, of course – and this isn't to encourage either of you to go
against the terms of the duel and get locked up in Azkaban for a good long time – one of you could
always break the rules and kill the other, at which time your second would, obviously, take over
for you."

Harry nodded. That made sense, after all. If Ron found a way to break both of his legs, or maybe
his wand arm (and Harry wouldn't put it past him), he would need his second to finish the
redhead off for him.

"All right, now that that's cleared up, who do you pick as your seconds? Ron?"
Tonks prompted.

Ron looked thoughtful, and a little nervous. He seemed to have just come to the realization that
none of his family members, nor Remus or Tonks, were going to be very willing to fight for him,
after learning that he had been lying to them ever since he had abandoned his friends. He had only
told Fred and George the real reason for his departure after they had wheedled it out of him, and
that had probably just made them even angrier, so he was left to make a very desperate
decision.

"Percy," he said. Percy was the only Weasley who hadn't been around to endure his
lies, having only gotten back in the good books with the family the previous day.

"Do you agree, Percy?" asked Tonks.

"I suppose," said Percy, even though he didn't really look like he wanted to do
anything for his two-faced brother at the moment. "Reluctantly, of course," he added
frostily, giving Ron a pointed look that made the younger redhead gulp (his family must really hate
him, if even *Percy*, who had abandoned the family for years, could look down his nose at him
and not get told off for it), "but we have to follow the rules, if my brother wants this done
right."

Tonks nodded. "Harry?"

Harry smirked at Ron. "Hermione," he said, going for the throat. "If she
consents, of course." After all, he had plenty of other people who would be happy to duel Ron
for him right now, considering the entire Weasley family's current indignation.

"Hermione?" asked Tonks. "Do you agree?"

The look that Hermione gave Harry told him that he could probably expect to get a talking-to for
volunteering her for this just so he could taunt Ron, but it seemed that she wanted to fight for
him, as she always had, and she nodded. "I'll do it."

"All right, so, Ron and Harry need to join hands, and Hermione and Percy need to do the
same," said Tonks. "Hermione, Percy, if you could come and stand next to these two, just
to make things easier…"

Hermione and Percy obeyed, standing beside the two boys who had chosen them as their seconds and
grasping hands as though performing a handshake. Harry and Ron did the same.

"So, the sole term of the duel is as follows," Tonks began. "No one participating
in the duel may perform an Unforgivable curse or any curse intended to be or more than likely to be
fatal to their opponent. Opponents may cause each other bodily harm, on condition that they are not
intending to – or more than likely to – kill their adversary. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Harry, Ron, Hermione and Percy all said in unison. Tonks pulled out her wand
and tapped each pair of joined hands, making both the duellers and their seconds jump a little as
translucent blue flames enveloped their hands, then relax as they realized that the flames
didn't burn them.

"As no one may lose their life during this duel – well, they shouldn't, at least, if
everybody keeps this thing legal – we will now agree upon the wagers," Tonks continued.
"Harry, in the event that Ron is the victor, do you agree to give him the right to keep your
wand in his possession for thirty-one days, on condition that he does not intentionally destroy or
irreparably damage said wand?"

"Yes, I agree," said Harry.

"Ron, do you agree to those terms as well?" asked Tonks.

"I agree," said Ron.

Tonks tapped both sets of hands again and the blue flames flared for a moment before she
continued.

"Now, Ron, in the event that Harry is the victor, do you agree to give him the rights to
both your wand and your broomstick for-… By 'two months', you meant sixty-two days, right,
Harry?" she asked abruptly.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," said Harry.

"All right. So, Ron, do you agree to revoke the rights to your wand and broomstick for
sixty-two days, on condition that Harry does not intentionally destroy or irreparably damage those
objects while they are in his possession?"

"I agree," said Ron.

"Harry, do you agree as well?"

"I ag-" Harry started, before he suddenly thought of a loophole that he had left in
his terms. "Hang on," he said, surprising everyone. "Before I agree, I want to
specify that when I said that I wanted the rights to 'Ron's broomstick', I meant the
Cleansweep that he received in fifth year for being made prefect," he said, realizing that Ron
could technically hand over his old broom and still be following the terms of their agreement, if
he didn't specify which broomstick he expected Ron to wager. By the small frown that stretched
across Ron's lips and the way his grip on Harry's hand tightened a little after Harry had
finished speaking, it seemed that Harry had realized his mistake just in time. Ron had thought of
that loophole as well, intending to give up his useless bunch of twigs instead of his
Cleansweep.

Tonks turned to Ron. "Ron, do you agree to that change in the terms?"

Ron scowled a little, but replied, "I agree." His tone was expressionless, perhaps
bordering on a growl. Harry both smirked and cringed inwardly. He could tell that Ron had been
counting on using that loophole if Harry won, and he was glad to have thwarted him before he could
try to give up his old, useless broomstick instead of his Cleansweep, but he also realized that
forcing Ron to relinquish his beloved new(er) broom was going to make this duel twice as
brutal.

"Harry, do you agree to those terms?" asked Tonks.

"Yes, I agree," said Harry.

"Hermione, Percy, do you both agree to the wagers?" asked Tonks.

"I agree," the two replied in unison.

Tonks tapped both sets of hands once more, and the blue flames flared one final time before
Tonks stepped back, shepherding the rest of the group to a spot a good five metres away from the
middle of the clearing, while the two opponents and their seconds dropped their hands back to their
sides and Ron and Harry both held their wands at the ready.

"Hermione, Percy, you can step back with the rest of us now," said Tonks, and the two
gladly obeyed, hurrying to stand with the rest of the group. They, too, seemed to know that this
duel was going to get pretty heated.

"All right," said Tonks, with a single clap of her hands, "I assume that you two
know how to start a duel, so… Off you go, then."

Harry and Ron didn't respond, too engaged in having a momentary stare-down. Harry watched as
Ron's lips moved soundlessly, mouthing the word "*Scared*?"

Harry smirked, fond memories of cursing a certain blond ferret senseless returning to him all of
a sudden, and mouthed back. "*You wish*."

Ron mirrored Harry's smirked and bowed, followed by Harry a second later. They both
straightened up and turned around, walking forwards three steps. For the first time since they had
begun the pre-duel proceedings, Harry's stomach flipped over nervously. He focused his gaze on
a tree a few metres away, concentrating on it as though he had been asked to memorize the exact
pattern on the bark, and fighting down his mad urge to cast a Shield Charm behind himself. He would
rather get cursed than look like a coward in front of all the people he cared about. This, to
Harry, was a matter of pride. Deep down, he wanted to expose Ron for what he felt his ex-friend
was: a pathetic, disloyal coward. The Peter Pettigrew of his time. He didn't just want to beat
Ron, he wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp and kick his arse to Kansas. And if he let his
nervousness get the best of him and cast a Shield Charm before Ron even cast a spell, it would
definitely put a bit of a damper on his glory if he won. So he focused on the tree in front of him
and forced himself to wait, listening hard for any sound of movement behind him.

A few moments later, it finally came, and Harry decided, during the millisecond in which the
sound reached his ears, that he would be forever grateful for twigs. One had cracked under
Ron's heel as he turned, giving Harry a fraction of a second in which to react. But that
fraction was all the time he needed to whirl around and shout "*Protego*!", watching
as the unmistakable red light of a Stunning Spell bounced off of the magical shield. This made him
angry. This was supposed to be a matter of pride, and yet Ron had (predictably) tried to take the
coward's way out by Stunning Harry right off.

Well, Harry could play dirty too. He wasn't going to win by Stunning Ron, oh no, that would
be too easy. And too quick to sufficiently humiliate the cowardly redhead. He would much rather
just trap Ron, make it impossible for him to fight back, so he could watch his ex-best mate suffer
as he realized that Harry had won.

"*Incarcerous*!" Harry shouted, and Ron found his arms bound to his sides by
thick ropes. The redhead growled, flipped his wand in his fingers so that it pointed at the ropes
and said "*Finite!*", but Harry wasn't about to wait his turn to continue his
side of the duel, and Ron found himself blasted backwards by a fire hose-grade blast of ice-cold
water – a powerfully cast *Aguamenti* from Harry, who was inwardly cursing himself for being
stupid enough to try an *Incarcerous* when Ron still had his wand and was perfectly capable of
freeing himself. Ron was back on his feet in seconds, shivering a little, sopping wet and scarlet
in the face, shouting "*Levicorpus*!"

Harry instantly found himself hanging upside-down about eight or nine feet off the ground,
dangling by his ankle.

*Damn it, I taught him that*!

"*Liberacorpus*!" he cried, knowing the consequences of his actions before he
even said the word, but left with no alternative. He wouldn't even have enough time to cast a
Cushioning Charm on the ground before he hit it. As a result, he fell like a stone and landed flat
on his back, effectively winded. Gasping for breath and desperate to give himself time to pick
himself up off the ground, he took aim at Ron's pant leg and gasped, "*Lacarnum
Inflamarae*!", effectively distracting Ron by setting his jeans on fire. Ron, startled as
he suddenly switched from being freezing cold to being aflame, didn't think to use an
*Aguamenti* right away and left Harry with enough time to draw a few more shuddering breaths
and struggle to his feet before his opponent put out the blaze on his pant leg. Harry, still
feeling a little bit dizzy from lack of oxygen, fell back on his trademark spell.

"*Expelliarmus*!" he cried, and was surprised to see that Ron didn't react
with a Shield Charm before the spell hit him, effectively tearing his wand from his hand and
projecting it to a spot a few metres away. Ron, Disarmed and very vulnerable to attack, immediately
bolted for his wand, but not before Harry had caught both his breath and, for a fraction of an
instant, Hermione's eye, which gave him an idea.

"*Avis*!" he shouted, causing a flock of sparrows (the first type of bird he
could think of) to appear in front of him. Ron, still sprinting for his wand, glanced back at the
sound of the incantation, which turned out to be a bad idea, as it caused him to trip and fall
spectacularly, skidding a few feet before he came to a halt. Harry was tempted to show his fallen
ex-friend a shred of mercy, but he remembered Ron's plans to cheat on their deal and pressed on
with what he had meant to do.

"*Oppugno*!" he cried, and the flock of sparrows, like Hermione's canaries
back in sixth year, flew at Ron like small, feathery comets, making him cry out and try to shield
his face, obviously remembering the effects of this particular spell. The small birds attacked,
biting and scratching at any exposed flesh that they could reach, which was quite a bit, as
Ron's pant legs had been pulled up a few inches during his fall, not to mention that he had the
misfortune of wearing a T-shirt at the time.

Harry, relentless, tried something new, giving his wand a flick towards the flock of avian
assailants and focusing hard on what he hoped would happen. His idea worked perfectly; one of the
sparrows stopped attacking Ron's face and flew the few feet that separated Ron from his only
weapon, before grasping the wand in its little claws and obediently flying back to Harry, dropping
the wand as it performed a wide, graceful turn high over Harry's head, heading back towards Ron
so that it could continue its assault. Harry reached out and caught the wand before turning his
attention back to Ron, who was rolling around on the ground and trying to beat his attackers
away.

With a flick of his wand, Harry cast a *Finite* on the birds, making them disappear and
leaving the sopping wet Ron laying on the ground, his face and legs scratched and a little bloody.
Determined to have the last laugh, the redhead picked himself up and walked the few metres back to
his original spot in the clearing; his gaze locked with Harry's, his look challenging and his
message clear. He was a sorry sight, with his sopping wet hair plastered to his head, his scratched
and bitten face, arms and legs, and, to top it all off, a thoroughly singed pant leg, and yet, in
some weird way, he still managed to look somewhat intimidating. He had nothing on Voldemort, that
was for certain, but he managed to look a bit scary in his own way just the same.

*All right, you've got my wand. But do you* really *just want to win by default, or
are we going to finish this duel properly?*

Harry paused, thinking. His heart's desire was to beat Ron so badly that the redhead would
slink away like a dog with its tail between its legs, too ashamed to show his face for weeks
afterwards, but if he stopped now, he guaranteed his victory. Then again, Ron's challenging
look and the small smirk adorning his lips were driving him crazy. Harry knew that if he ended this
now, Ron would never let him live it down, always reminding everyone of the fact that Harry had
only won by Disarming him.

Harry took a breath and let it out slowly, before plastering a smirk identical to Ron's on
his lips, giving the redhead a small bow, and tossing Ron's wand back to him. There was a
millisecond's pause as Ron caught the wand round the middle and, in one smooth motion, flipped
it right side up in his hand and fired a Reductor at the ground at Harry's feet. Harry, caught
off-guard, was catapulted upwards and backwards with enough force to drive him back a good
distance, far enough to smash him into the tree that he had been so focused on earlier, effectively
winding him once again before dropping him flat on his face from at least five feet in the air.
Harry couldn't stifle the groan that escaped him as he mustered enough energy to roll over onto
his back, feeling as though he had broken a few ribs.

*He broke the rules!* he thought, as gleefully as he could while trying to keep himself
from writhing in agony. *He said no Reductors!*

*But wait,* he thought, his glee fading, *he said that we were allowed to cause each
other bodily harm, as long as the curse wasn't likely to be* fatal*. He cast that Reductor
at my feet, so it wasn't likely to kill me. Damn it! I really have to learn to stop and think
about the loopholes…*

"Harry!" cried Hermione, shocking him from his thoughts. He instinctively turned
towards the sound and saw his horrified-looking girlfriend break away from the group at the edge of
the clearing, Remus and Tonks trying to catch her by the arms to keep her from getting any closer
to the duel but failing by inches. As much as most of Harry wanted to just lay there and let her
help him up, the part of his mind that was still focused on the duel knew that if his second got
too close, she would, technically, replace him in the fight. Desperate to keep her back, he felt
around on the ground to his right, trying to find his wand, which had been knocked from his grip as
he hit the ground, so that he could do something, anything, to make her stay back. Mere seconds
before Hermione would have replaced him in the duel, Harry's fingers made contact with the
handle of his wand and he watched in great surprise as a nearly-transparent barrier expanded in
front of Hermione, knocking her backwards a few steps before she was caught by Remus and Tonks.
Harry watched in amazement as the barrier expanded to cover the whole group of people at the edge
of the clearing, keeping everyone where they were, just in case someone else got the urge to save
him. Shocked, Harry barely heard Ron when the redhead spoke again.

"Had enough, Harry?" he asked coolly.

Harry forced his aching body to move, pushing himself into a sitting position and gritting his
teeth to bite back the groan of pain that jumped to the tip of his tongue as he faced his opponent
once more. Ron was smirking expectantly at him, waiting for his answer.

Well, Harry had no intention of answering. He remembered how Dumbledore had never limited
himself to firing spells directly at his opponent, and with that thought, a plan of action formed
in his head. There was a small boulder and a tree behind Ron, and Harry's mind quickly
formulated a plan that would finish Ron off once and for all.

"*Bombarda*!" he gasped, wincing and clenching his left fist hard as a spasm of
pain exploded in his chest. The boulder blew up, effectively distracting Ron. Harry, just wanting
this duel to be over, forced himself to speak again, even through the pain in his chest.

"*Expelliarmus!*" he panted, Disarming Ron yet again while the exploding boulder
distracted the redhead. Ron's wand was torn from his grip once more, making him let out a shout
of surprise. Harry knew that he had to act fast, before Ron took off and retrieved his wand.

"*Incarcerous*!" he said for the second time, and he let out a small sigh of
relief as thick, heavy ropes flew from his wand with enough force to push Ron back against the tree
as they wrapped themselves around him, binding his arms and legs to the trunk. Ron struggled hard
for a moment or two, glaring at Harry, before the fight finally seemed to leave him and his head
slumped to his chest in a gesture of defeat. Harry, in turn, slumped back to the ground and watched
the mysterious barrier disappear from over the group of onlookers, finally allowing Hermione to
rush over and kneel at his side. There were tears on her cheeks when her face appeared above him,
and she looked torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to beat him up for giving her such a
scare.

"Oh, Harry, you arse!" she said tearfully. "Were you *trying* to give me a
heart attack?"

Harry shook his head weakly, not wanting to move at all.

"Oh, Harry…" she said again, wiping her eyes and leaning down to give him a very quick
kiss on the lips. "Where does it hurt?" she asked.

"Think I broke some ribs," Harry replied through clenched teeth, feeling another
white-hot stab of pain in his chest as he spoke.

"Let me see," she said, pulling her wand from her pocket and gently resting it on his
chest.

"*Deprinuria*," she murmured, and Harry felt a chill in his ribs, which was very
soothing, as multiple dim blue lights glowed from his chest.

"No breaks," Hermione told him, her voice calm and reassuring, as Fred, George and
Ginny also appeared above him. "Just a couple of cracks. Stay still for a sec and I'll fix
you up, OK?"

Harry, who had absolutely no intention of moving anytime in the next decade or so, nodded.

Hermione slipped her hand into his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "This is going to hurt
a little bit, love," she said apologetically as she rested the tip of her wand on his chest,
right in the center of one of the blue glows, and murmured "*Episkey*."

Harry jumped a little as that particular spot on his chest suddenly felt like it was on fire,
making him grit his teeth and squeeze Hermione's hand, and then felt like someone had dunked
his bones in ice water, which relaxed him. Hermione repeated the spell on each of the spots on his
chest that glowed blue, and Harry was eventually left with nothing more than a nagging ache in his
chest and back.

"There," Hermione said when she had finished, "how does that feel?"

Harry smiled up at her. "Loads better," he said gratefully. "Merlin, I love you,
Hermione."

Hermione turned pink as the twins chorused "Awww…" and Ginny told them both to shut
up, lest she demonstrate her prowess at casting the Bat-Bogey Hex once more. Just then, Tonks
appeared above Harry as well, Ron's wand in her hand. Harry pushed himself into a sitting
position again and she held it out to him.

"There you go," she said, trying and failing to hide the small smile that was trying
to creep onto her lips. "Won fair and square. That trick with the birds was pretty awesome, by
the way," she added approvingly, giving up and letting the smile spread across her lips.

Harry reached up and took the wand from her, also smiling. "Thanks, Tonks."

Tonks grinned at him while Hermione stood up and held out a hand to help Harry do the same. He
took it gratefully and got to his feet, ignoring the protests from his aching back, brushing the
loose dirt and bits of grass from the front of his T-shirt.

"Hey, Harry?" Percy called from a little way away. "Can you come and get these
ropes off of Ron? None of us can get rid of them and they're too thick to cut."

Harry and his small entourage joined Percy, Remus, Arthur and Molly at Ron's side, all of
them being careful to manoeuvre around the jagged pieces of rock from the shattered boulder, Harry
wincing a little as he walked. He could see multiple small cuts in the ropes at Ron's side,
probably failed Severing Charms. He couldn't help but wonder why somebody hadn't tried just
used *Finite Incantatem* to get rid of them, which was what he did a moment later. The instant
the ropes had disappeared, he took a quick step back, afraid that Ron might attack him with his
bare hands. The redhead, however, did no such thing, and he joined the rest of his family, slinking
away like a very wet, red-haired dog with its tail between its legs (Harry was highly satisfied).
He noticed the Weasleys looking at him strangely and looked at them questioningly, prompting them
to explain.

"That was definitely strange," said Percy. "We all tried *Finite Incantatem*
and it didn't work, but that's what you used…"

Harry blinked. "Definitely strange," he agreed.

"Not as strange as that weird barrier thing that Harry cast before," Ginny piped up.
"What spell was that, Harry?"

Harry was just as bewildered as everyone else. "I don't know. I didn't even try to
cast anything!"

"Wandless magic?" Percy suggested.

"Not really," said Harry. "It only happened when I managed to get my wand back. I
dropped it when I fell," he explained. "But I didn't even think of casting
anything."

"OK…" said Hermione. "Accidental magic, then?"

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't quite accidental, because I *did* want to keep you away
from the duel, but I have no clue how I cast that barrier or what on Earth it was. So I guess it
*was* accidental magic, sort of."

"Yes, well, next time you end up performing accidental magic, try not to knock me
over," said Hermione.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "I wasn't trying to knock you over, but you
had to stay away from the duel or you would replace me," he reminded her. "And you were
awfully close to doing just that."

It was Hermione's turn to look sheepish. "Sorry," she said. "Wasn't
thinking."

Harry gave her an understanding look. If *he* had seen *her* thrown through the air,
smashed into a tree and then dropped flat on her face, he probably would have forgotten about the
distance rules as well.

"But what about the ropes?" asked Fred. "How come we couldn't *Finite*
them? Ron did it before…"

"I think I can explain that," said Remus, causing everyone to look at him expectantly.
"When two wizards have a duel that is this official, with the pre-duel agreement ceremony and
everything, others don't usually tend to intervene, because no one but extremely powerful and
experienced wizards tend to agree to such serious proceedings, but it seems that there's a sort
of magical rule that says that if someone *does* try to intervene, they can't do it. No
one but the two opponents can cancel spells and enchantments that were cast during the duel, hit
either opponent with a spell, or protect either opponent from attacks," he explained.
"That way, if one party is favoured by the spectators, no one can try to help that person out,
and the duel is fair for both opponents."

Harry nodded. That made sense. With that magical rule in play, no one would have been able to
help him from the sidelines by protecting him from Ron's attacks or cushioning his multiple
impacts with the ground.

"Huh," he said. "Interesting."

"Now," said Remus, "Harry, you've already got Ron's wand, so you just
need his broomstick."

Ron scowled at that. Apparently, he didn't mind giving up magic for two months as much as he
minded giving up Quidditch. Quidditch on a relatively decent broomstick, that is.

"I'll go get it," said Molly, who hadn't spoken since the boys had decided to
have a duel. Harry noticed that she didn't seem to feel much sympathy for her son, which was
surprising, but understandable as well. Apparently, she hadn’t taken the news of Ron's lies
very well, almost as badly as Bill and Fleur had.

Molly hurried off to fetch Ron's Cleansweep, leaving the others standing around in the small
clearing, shuffling their feet amidst the pieces of shattered stone from Harry's
*Bombarda* and the clumps of dirt that had scattered throughout the clearing when Ron had
blown up the ground at Harry's feet. Everyone felt a little awkward, wanting to congratulate
Harry for winning but not wanting to incur Ron's wrath, not after the fiery-tempered redhead
had just been stripped of his wand and was now having his broomstick taken as well. As a result, a
few minutes of awkward silence followed Molly's departure, and everyone was thoroughly relieved
when she returned, Ron's beloved Cleansweep in her hands.

"Well, there you go, then, dear," she said to Harry as she handed the broom to him.
"You'll take good care of that, now, won't you?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. He had no intention of destroying Ron's
broom; he just wanted the satisfaction of knowing that the redhead couldn't have it for the
next two months. He was perfectly aware of the Weasleys' financial situation and knew that they
couldn't afford to buy Ron another broom. And besides, if he purposely destroyed the
Cleansweep, Ron had the legal right to press charges. He didn't want to go to Azkaban over
nothing but a broomstick. Ron might think that brooms were the most important things in the world,
but Harry liked to think that he wasn't that shallow.

"All right, well…" said Molly, looking like she didn't quite know what to do.
"We'd better get Ron inside. He'll need to have those scratches healed up – we
wouldn't want them getting infected – and I want to take a look at his leg, just in case
he's gotten a burn…"

"We'll take him, Mum," said the twins, who went over and took their brother by the
arms before frog-marching him away.

"Well done, Harry," they murmured to Harry, winking at him as they passed and making
Ron squirm a little in their grip, scowling at Harry, who couldn't help but smile, both at the
twins' compliment and Ron's indignation. When Ron was safely out of earshot, he turned to
his friends once more.

"Look, I never meant to have to duel Ron today, and I'm sorry for making all of you
stand around and wait while we took all of our pent-up resentment out on each other, but if a duel
was the only way to make Ron accept the fact that Hermione and I are together now," and here
he took Hermione's hand in his again, "then I had to go through with it."

"Oh, it's no problem, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "I have to admit that it was
pretty satisfying to watch this duel," she admitted, with a small, guilty grin on her face,
"considering the things that we've all found out today. That exploding boulder was an
interesting idea," she added approvingly. "I would never have thought of that."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

"That Shield Charm was amazing, Harry," said Remus. "Ron had barely finished
casting that Stunner before you blocked it! Your reflexes could rival your father's, I'm
sure."

Harry blushed a little at the praise and decided not to mention that he had gotten a bit of help
from one of Mother Nature's little gifts: a seemingly unimportant twig. "Thanks,
Remus."

"The attacking birds were my idea," Hermione protested jokingly, poking Harry's
arm. "You stole it."

"I didn't steal it, I learned it from you and then applied it," Harry corrected
her. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you learn something new,
'Mione?"

"I suppose," she admitted, mock-resignedly.

Harry grinned before turning back to the rest of the group. "So," he said, "is
anybody interested in coming back to Number Twelve? I'm sure most of the Weasleys want to get
the full story out of Ron, now that they know that he's been lying to them all this time,"
(Bill and Fleur nodded, frowning), "but you're all welcome to come back, if you
like."

The Weasleys and Lupins all shook their heads.

"You should rest up, Harry," said Tonks. "After all, you cracked a few ribs with
that tumble you took."

Harry nodded. "Lucky I've got Hermione to patch me up, eh?" he asked, giving his
girlfriend an appreciative look. The rest of the group chuckled softly.

"It was nice of you to have us over, Harry, but Tonks is right," said Remus. "You
should rest for a bit."

"And we have to go and beat our dear Ronniekins senseless, anyway," said Ginny,
looking fierce.

Harry nodded again, hiding the grin that threatened to creep onto his lips when he saw
Ginny's determination to turn her brother into pulp. "Well, all right," he said,
"I suppose we'll be going back to Grimmauld Place, then. It's been nice seeing all of
you. Thanks for being so understanding about the duel," he said gratefully.

A chorus of "No problem"-s and "Nice seeing you too"-s rang out through the
clearing, before Harry and Hermione both waved to their friends and Disapparated back to Grimmauld
Place, Harry smirking to himself as he tightened his grip on his two prizes and the girl who he had
just fought for.



8. Peace at Grimmauld Place
---------------------------

A/N: Hey again! Sorry for missing the update yesterday; hopefully this one makes up for it! Last
real chapter – two more Epilogues after this!

Enjoy!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment Harry and Hermione opened the door to Number Twelve, there was a cacophony of loud
thumps from the living room as Hagrid hurried into the front hall, almost shaking the house as he
went. When he saw the broomstick in Harry's hand, his face split into a huge grin and, without
warning, he seized Harry and pulled him into another bone-crushing hug, making Harry grit his teeth
and making Hermione cringe sympathetically. Thankfully, Hagrid set Harry down a moment later,
leaving the boy to plaster a smile on his face and try not to show that he thought Hagrid might
have cracked his ribs all over again, judging by the ache in his chest. He reminded himself that
the half-giant really meant well, and besides, Hagrid couldn't have known about his ribs, not
having been able to witness the duel.

"So, yeh won, then, Harry?" Hagrid asked cheerfully, beaming.

"Yup," Harry replied, trying to sound cheerful as well.

"Ah, I knew yeh would, Harry," said Hagrid. "Yeh're James all over again, yeh
are, and he was a right master when it came ter duellin'."

Harry's smile became genuine. He always liked it when people compared him to his father,
even if the man had been a bit arrogant in his youth. "Thanks, Hagrid," he replied, just
as Professor McGonagall appeared in the front hall.

"You've won, I presume?" she asked, eyeing the broomstick in Harry's hand.

Harry nodded, and was surprised when Professor McGonagall's lips stretched into one of her
rare small smiles, which was friendly, albeit a little tight. Minerva McGonagall had never really
been big on smiles.

"Might I ask if this victory resulted from an exceptional knowledge of
Transfiguration?" she asked, her eyebrows raised and a chuckle in her voice. Transfiguration
had never been Harry's forte.

Harry grinned sheepishly and shook his head.

"But he did conjure a flock of sparrows out of thin air," Hermione said helpfully.

"Did he, now?" asked Professor McGonagall, looking proud. "From what I remember,
Hermione, you were the only one who ever managed to do anything like that," she said,
surprising the two teenagers, who had always been referred to as 'Mr. Potter' and 'Miss
Granger' by their Transfiguration professor.

"He went one better, too," Hermione added. "He actually managed to get one of
those sparrows to steal Ron's wand for him!"

Professor McGonagall actually chuckled at that. "Nice work, Harry," she said
approvingly.

Harry blushed a little at the praise.

"Now," said Professor McGonagall, "we'd best be going. I assume you'd
like a bit of a rest, Harry, and your Portkey leaves in just a little while, Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded. "Well, I'll be seein' yeh soon, Harry," he said, clapping the
poor boy on the back as he headed for the door and nearly making Harry double over as his ribs
screamed in protest. "Yeh too, Hermione," Hagrid added, nodding to her.

"Bye, Hagrid," said Hermione, while Harry managed a wave, not wanting to speak.

Professor McGonagall followed Hagrid out the door with a wave to the two teenagers, and Harry
managed to keep the smile plastered on his face until the door was closed again, at which point he
let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding and let himself slump a little, easing
the ache in his ribs.

"Poor thing," Hermione said sympathetically, kissing his cheek. "Here," she
said, pulling her wand from her pocket once more and touching it to his chest.
"*Peomorsus*," she murmured, and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief as the pain
in his chest numbed. Where or when she had learned that spell, he did not know, but he was very
glad that she had.

"You're amazing, you know," he told her.

She turned a little pink. "Thanks. Come on," she said, taking his hand again,
"let's get you upstairs so you can lie down for a little while."

Harry didn't protest, as lying down sounded very good at the moment, and he let her lead him
through the house until they reached the room that they had slept in the night before. Hermione
took the broomstick from Harry and leaned it against the wall as he laid both his and Ron's
wands on the nightstand and, after removing his shoes, flopped down on the bed, suddenly rather
tired. Hermione settled herself on the bed beside him, sitting cross-legged and looking down at him
thoughtfully.

"Sickle for your thoughts, 'Mione?" he asked, noticing the way she was looking at
him.

"I'm trying to decide whether I should be mad at you or not," she informed
him.

"I vote 'not'," he said, raising his hand as though voting. She rolled her
eyes.

"I think I *should* be mad at you, for being an overly proud prat and agreeing to duel
Ron before you even took half a second to think about the consequences," she said.

He pouted. "I'm not overly proud."

"OK, maybe you're not proud, but you sure put on an Oscar-worthy macho-man act
before," she pointed out. "What was with the Voldemort imitation?"

Harry shrugged. "I was just doing what Ron was doing," he said. "I wasn't
going to look like a coward in front of him."

"And there's that pride again," Hermione said, in an
'I-*told*-you-so' kind of way.

Harry shrugged again. "OK, so maybe I acted a little proud before, but you have to admit
that I kind of had to act that way."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I was defending us, wasn't I?" asked Harry.

"Defending us?" she repeated.

"Yeah. You know, *us*," he said, reaching out and taking her hand. "Ron had
the mad idea that he deserved to be with you more than I do, so I had to prove that he didn't,
didn't I?"

"I suppose you did," Hermione agreed. "Not that I really care if Ron thinks that
he deserves to be with me more than you do," she added. "You know that I don't want
to be with him, Harry," she said, idly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. "You
do, right?"

"Yes, I do," Harry assured her, "but I had to make sure that he knew it too,
didn't I?"

"I suppose," she agreed. "But did you *have* to duel him?" she asked.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack after you hit that tree! I thought you'd punctured a
lung or something."

"It's the whole 'proving that I deserve you' thing again, love," said
Harry. "If I refused to duel Ron, I would have looked like a total coward."

Hermione sighed. "I guess… But you still scared the living daylights out of me, lying there
and looking half-dead."

"Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "But, hey, I won, right? No magic or
Quidditch for Ron for two months!" he said happily.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Is winning all that matters to you boys or what?"

"Well, sometimes it is, but this time what matters is that Ron should stop bothering us
about being together now," Harry replied. "And he can't do much about it for two
whole months, anyway, 'cause I've got his wand!" he said with a smile.

"That's a relief," said Hermione. "Ron and Ginny were awfully quick to turn
their wands on us before."

"But Ginny did end up taking the news quite well, after she got her angry outburst out of
the way," said Harry, trying to be fair.

"Yeah, she did," Hermione agreed. "I suppose it helped that you two had already
broken up properly, though. As for me and Ron," she said with a sigh, "neither of us ever
really knew what we wanted, did we? We were never together and we never broke up. All we ever had
was that weird sort of half-relationship, consisting of one quarter snogging and three quarters
fighting."

Harry made a face. "Yuck. I don't want to hear about you and Ron snogging," he
protested.

Hermione rolled her eyes yet again. "Well, if you don't like snogging, I suppose we
ought to stop doing that, hm?"

Harry pretended to be horrified. "No! Not that! Anything but that!"

Hermione chuckled and lay down beside him, kissing his cheek. "I don't think either of
us could cope if we gave up snogging."

Harry shook his head. "Nope. That would be nothing short of agonizing."

"Speaking of which, how are you feeling?" asked Hermione. "Still sore?"

Harry shook his head again. "Not really, though whatever spell you used on me before made
my chest feel weird," he said. Having the majority of your upper body suddenly become
completely numb *was* a rather strange sensation, after all. "What *was* that,
anyway?"

"Just a Pain-Numbing Charm," said Hermione. "Pretty simple, in comparison to some
of the other Healing charms out there."

Harry nodded. "What about that other spell you used on me back in the clearing? What was
that?" he asked.

"Injury Detection Spell," she replied. "Slightly more complicated."

Harry looked at her curiously. "If it just detects injuries, how did you know that I only
cracked my ribs instead of breaking them?"

"Those blue lights would have been quite a bit brighter if the bones had actually been
broken," Hermione replied at once. "Those dim ones just indicate small cracks or hairline
fractures."

"Where'd you learn all of that?" asked Harry, surprised. "We never learned
that sort of magic at school. Kind of stupid, really," he mused, "considering that it
would save a lot of people from having to take trips to the hospital wing for minor
injuries."

"True, but it isn't really a good idea for young witches and wizards to try Healing
spells on themselves or others, considering that they can go badly wrong if you don't do them
properly. The earliest anyone could learn them is probably sixth or seventh year, once
everyone's already mastered the simple things," said Hermione. "I've been
teaching myself a little bit from some spellbooks that I bought at Flourish and Blotts a little
while ago, so that's where I learned the spells that I used today. I'm thinking of being a
Healer," she told him.

That was definitely news to Harry. "Oh?"

She nodded. "I have all of the qualifications and everything, except for my
N.E.W.Ts."

"What happened to taking S.P.E.W further?" asked Harry. "I thought that you
wanted to protect elfish welfare all over the world."

"I can always keep trying to take S.P.E.W further," said Hermione, "but I
don't think that I could really make a living doing that. Especially considering the
*unbelievable* amount of interest that the Society has gotten so far," she said
sardonically.

Harry gave her a sympathetic look and squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Come on,
'Mione, don't forget that you were dealing with a bunch of teenagers when you first thought
of S.P.E.W. I'm sure that there are plenty of adults who would be interested in helping the
elves. You and I can't be the only people who care," he reminded her. "After all,
Dumbledore paid Dobby, didn't he? And he gave Winky proper clothes and everything."

A sad sort of look crossed Hermione's face. "I miss Dobby," she said quietly. The
little elf had been killed while trying to protect Harry and Hermione from a particularly vicious
gang of Snatchers, who had been lurking in a forest that the pair had Apparated to, planning on
making it their next 'campsite'. Apparently, Voldemort had had groups of his followers
stationed in just about every forest in Britain and England, trying to find the Boy-Who-Lived and
his companions (well, compani*on*, after Ron left, but Voldemort didn't know that).
Desperate for relief from the seemingly endless battle that had ensued, Harry had ducked behind a
tree and used the fraction of an instant during which he was safe from attack to use the mirror
shard in which he had often seen the mysterious blue eye, asking whoever the eye belonged to for
help, and Dobby had appeared alongside him moments later. The elf had fought bravely and had driven
the Snatchers away, but just when it had seemed the fight was over, a determined Snatcher had shot
a Killing Curse at Harry through the trees. Dobby, being the devoted elf that he was, had dived in
front of Harry and taken the curse for him, his way of ultimately repaying Harry for freeing him
all those years ago.

"I miss him too," said Harry. "I can't believe he took a Killing Curse for
me."

"I can," said Hermione. "You were his hero, Harry. He probably thought that the
sun itself revolved around you."

Harry blushed a little. "Well, not to be 'overly proud' or anything, but it seems
that most people think like that, and they wouldn't all take a Killing Curse for me."

"No, I'm pretty sure that most of them wouldn't," Hermione agreed, "but
it was different with Dobby, wasn't it? I mean, you saved him from a place where he was beaten,
insulted, and treated like a slave on a daily basis, not to mention that you treated him like an
equal right from the start, instead of looking down on him because of who he was. Dobby loved you,
I'm sure of it, and he would have done anything to protect you."

Harry sighed softly. "I know, but I can't help but feel… responsible, in a way, because
he died protecting me."

"I understand," Hermione said sympathetically, "but it's not your fault. You
didn't force Dobby to take the curse for you; he did it of his own free will. It was what he
wanted, Harry, and I'm sure that wherever he is, he's more proud of himself than he's
ever been." She chuckled a little. "He's probably strutting around in the nicest pair
of socks he could have ever dreamed of, telling everyone he meets about how *he* saved
*Harry Potter*."

That made Harry smile a little. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, 'Mione."

"For what?"

"For making me feel better," Harry replied.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Well, you're welcome. Anytime."

The two of them lapsed into comfortable silence for a few moments, before Harry finally asked a
question that had been nagging at the back of his mind ever since the moments before his duel
against Ron.

"'Mione?"

"Mm?"

"Are you mad at me for picking you to be my second?" asked Harry, feeling both curious
and a little afraid of her answer.

Hermione sighed almost inaudibly. "I don't know. A little bit, I guess. I mean, you
know that I would never refuse to fight for you-"

Harry nodded.

"-but it did kind of irk me that you picked me just so you could annoy Ron. I know
that's why you chose me as your second, Harry," she informed him. "There were eleven
other people in that clearing that would have been completely willing to be your second – including
Remus and Tonks, both of whom are a lot more skilled with magic than I am – but you chose me right
away because you knew that it would bother Ron. I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings, but I
think that you were being a little bit selfish, volunteering me like that. I wonder if you ever
even considered the possibility of me getting hurt, if I ended up taking your place?" she
asked, making Harry's insides squirm guiltily. No, it had never crossed his mind that Hermione
was probably the person who was most likely to be injured, considering the fact that she was one of
the two people that Ron was furious with. He hadn't considered her safety, not even for a
moment. He had been too busy trying to get on Ron's nerves.

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "You're right, I never even thought that you
could get hurt if you ended up having to replace me. I was so focused on trying to make Ron mad
that I didn't even think about the consequences of picking you as my second. I'm
sorry," he said apologetically. "I shouldn't have been so selfish. Forgive me?"
he asked.

Hermione's expression softened. "Of course," she said. "As long as you can
admit that you probably should have thought a little more beforehand."

"I admit it," said Harry.

"Then you're forgiven," said Hermione, kissing his cheek. "Like I said, you
know I'm always ready to fight for you."

"I know," said Harry, squeezing her hand again. "And I'm grateful for
that."

Hermione smiled warmly in response while Harry shifted around uncomfortably, a nagging ache
developing in his chest again.

"And I'd also be very grateful if you'd cast that Pain-Numbing Charm of yours
again," he added.

She frowned slightly. "Your chest's hurting again already?"

"Just a little bit," he replied, not wanting to worry her.

Hermione sighed. "I must not have cast the charm very well, then. It's supposed to last
a few hours, at least."

"Well, nobody said you have to be a full-blown Healer just yet, love," Harry reminded
her. "You just need a little bit of practice, and then I'm sure you'll be the best
Healer St. Mungo's has ever seen."

That elicited a small grin from Hermione. "And I'm sure I'll get loads of practice,
hanging around you all the time," she chuckled, before sitting up and casting the charm on him
again. "You're notoriously accident-prone, you know."

Harry pouted a little. "I'm not accident-prone," he protested, "I've just
had to deal with Quirrel, a cursed Bludger, a narcissistic Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,
Dementors, Voldemort and his cronies, and now Ron."

"True," Hermione agreed, settling down beside him again. After a moment, she sighed
softly. Hermione was doing a lot of sighing lately.

"What's up?" asked Harry.

"It's just… I never thought that I'd have to patch you up after you duelled
Ron," she explained. "I mean, I know that you two have always had your differences, and
that's normal. I know that nobody's perfect, and everybody gets on someone's bad side
every once in a while, but you and Ron have never ended up resorting to violence before. You almost
did, back in the tent, but I got between you two back then and kept you from fighting each other.
Maybe I should've just let you hex each other silly," she said, a slight frown on her
lips. "Maybe then you wouldn't have had to have such a fierce duel today. Maybe you two
could still be friends, if I'd let you vent your feelings back in the tent," she said
sadly. "Maybe it's all my fault that Ron's so mad at you."

Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault, 'Mione, and don't let yourself
think that. Ron and I have been on pretty shaky ground ever since he gave me the silent treatment
after my name came out of the Goblet, back in fourth year, and he finally just pushed things too
far back in the tent, deserting us the way he did. I thought that maybe, if I tried hard to forgive
him, we could be friends again, but seeing the way he acted today, like I was some sort of…
monster, just because I finally found a way to be happy, it just… Well, Ron and I aren't going
to be best mates again. I could have tried to forgive him, I was ready to do that if he was, but
seeing him turn his wand on me without a moment's hesitation, just because I love you, broke
our friendship apart for good," he finished.

"Oh, Harry…" said Hermione, snuggling a little bit closer to him. "I guess this
just shows who the bigger person is, huh?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed. "But maybe Ron will come around, in time. Maybe he
just needs a little time to adjust. I mean, he acted like a real jerk today, and he was a bit of a
coward during our duel, trying to Stun me right off and all, but there might be some hope left for
him. I don't think that I'll ever be able to call him my best mate again, not after all the
things he's done, but I think that we might be able to be friendly with each other if we both
calm down a little and stop fighting over who gets to be the alpha male. I hope we can be civil
around each other, at the very least."

"I hope so too," said Hermione. "I don't think I could stand it if you two
had to duel each other every time one of you came within twenty feet of the other."

Harry chuckled for a moment before his chuckle was interrupted by a yawn. He had a hunch that
Hermione's Pain-Numbing Charms were making him sleepy.

"Tired?" she asked with a small grin.

"Mm, a bit," he replied, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

"You should take a nap," said Hermione, sitting up. "The whole point of coming
back here was to let you rest, after all." She let go of his hand and got to her feet.
"Here, get up for a second."

Harry obeyed, swinging his legs off of the bed and getting to his feet. The minute he was
standing, Hermione pulled the sheets back a bit and gestured to the bed.

"In you get," she said, and Harry obeyed with a grin.

"Planning on tucking me in, 'Mione?" he asked.

"That's exactly what I plan on doing," she replied. "Come on, then, take off
your glasses and lie down. You need your rest."

Harry obeyed, grinning all the while. Hermione pulled the sheets up to his neck and planted a
light kiss on his lips.

"Sleep well, Harry. Call me if you need anything," she said as she walked to the
door.

Harry smiled. "Will do, 'Mione," he said. "Love you."

Hermione returned the smile as she stepped out of the room.

"Love you too, Harry," she replied, and quietly pulled the door closed. A few moments
later, Harry fell asleep with a small smile on his lips, feeling highly satisfied and, in a way,
quite peaceful. Somehow, all felt right in the world. He had, in the space of less than a year,
fulfilled the prophecy that had been haunting him for years, finally saving the wizarding world by
defeating Voldemort with a single rebounding curse, and he had found true love in his best friend
of almost seven years. Then, today, he had finally made that love public, and had further proven
that he was serious about his relationship with Hermione by agreeing to duel his ex-best mate,
winning not only the redhead's wand and broomstick, but the freedom to love Hermione without
ever having to feel guilty again. He was, at long last, free; free to live without fear and love
without any vague hint of remorse. He was finally happy.

All was well.



9. Epilogue 1 - Together Forever
--------------------------------

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! I had been trying to upload one chapter every day, but between
homework and other assorted duties, my schedule pretty much got much more school-oriented than
usual, and my poor fan fiction got all left alone and lonely for a little while. In hopes that no
one will throw too many tomatoes at me for missing a few days, here's another heaping helping
of fluff, in which we find out exactly where our two lovers have gone in their lives.

Enjoy!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*~One Year Later~*

Gentle rays of sunlight finally coaxed Harry's eyes open, waking him from a restful sleep.
He lifted his right hand to momentarily rub his eyes, becoming aware of the fact that his entire
left arm was occupied with the task of holding Hermione – who was still sleeping – close to him.
After a moment of half-blind searching, Harry located his glasses on the nightstand to his right
and manoeuvred them onto his face (a difficult task when done with a single hand), finally bringing
the master bedroom of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place into focus. He and Hermione had moved into the
room a few months earlier, finally vacating the bedroom that they had been sharing since the end of
the Battle at Hogwarts, whose first anniversary had recently been celebrated.

Harry smiled. He remembered thinking, long ago, that waking up next to Hermione must be the
nicest way to start the day. He still believed it to be true, with all his heart. He looked forward
to starting every remaining day of his life exactly like this – waking up to find that he was still
alive and well, despite the constant threat of Death Eater rebels, with Hermione still snuggled
next to him, warm, safe and content.

Hermione stirred next to him, roused by the sunlight as well. He turned towards her and was met
by a pair of brown eyes – oh, how he loved them – and a small smile.

"Hey," she greeted him, the blissful calm of sleep still present in her voice.

"Hey," he replied, returning her smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Mmm… Wonderfully," she replied contentedly, moving a little closer to him. They had
drifted a few centimetres apart while they slept, and that was, apparently, a few centimetres too
far for her. Harry responded with a light kiss on her lips.

"So," he started, gently brushing a few stray curls away from her face, "what do
you want to do on your first day as Mrs. Hermione Jane Potter?"

Hermione's smile widened a little. "Mrs. Hermione Jane Potter," she repeated,
lifting a hand to examine, just for a moment, the golden wedding band that adorned her third
finger, before facing Harry again. "I like that."

Harry chuckled softly, entwining his left hand with hers in such a way that their two rings
became adjacent. "I like it too," he replied. "Wouldn't you think that that was
why I asked you to marry me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes while Harry's mind toyed with the subject.

*Mrs. Hermione Jane Potter,* he mused, smiling slightly. He loved that name, and everything
it meant to him. It meant that he and Hermione had finally decided to settle down, after more than
a year of 'dating'. They hadn't called it dating, because they weren't, not really,
but they had still technically been boyfriend and girlfriend. Neither of them had really felt the
urge to get into anything more serious or permanent, because they had been quite comfortable with
the way things were, not to mention that they had been (and still were) a little young for marriage
by the Muggle standards with which they had been raised. After a while, however, Harry had finally
decided that it was high time to finally pop the question and just confirm what everybody already
seemed to know: he wanted to be with Hermione for the rest of his life.

He hadn't worried about Ron's reaction like he had when he had been preparing to tell
the Weasleys that he and Hermione were a couple, now more than a year ago, because Ron had settled
for a relationship consisting mainly of respectful indifference when it came to Harry and Hermione
(Harry felt that their dramatic duel on the day that his and Hermione's relationship had ceased
to be a secret had definitely helped to keep Ron at a respectful, polite sort of distance, for fear
of getting his dignity smashed to pieces yet again). He had decided that he was quite comfortable
pretty much pretending that they didn't exist and forcing a smile when he absolutely had to be
in their vicinity, which wasn't often, considering the increasing amount of time he was
spending with Luna Lovegood. That suited Harry and Hermione just fine. Besides, they still had the
rest of the Weasleys, who were still the warm, loving people that Harry and Hermione had stayed
with during the summer holidays, when they had still been attending Hogwarts.

Harry smiled. He had always thought that he would be either dead or fighting Voldemort for the
rest of his life, not enjoying wonderful day after wonderful day with Hermione and never having to
worry about what Ron might do to them.

She had noticed his smile. "What are you smiling about?" she asked.

Harry shook himself from his thoughts. "I'm just thinking about you, my love," he
said, kissing the back of her hand and grinning.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the fact that she, too, was grinning. "OK, so
what are you *really* smiling about?"

Harry shrugged. "You'll probably die of insane amounts of cheesiness if I tell
you," he replied.

"I highly doubt that I will," she replied. "Come on, tell me," she insisted,
detaching her hand from his and poking him in the chest.

He reclaimed her hand in order to avoid any more poking. "All right," he said, as
though she was positively *dragging* it out of him. "I'm just thinking about how I
always thought that I'd be dead before I was eighteen, and if, by some miracle, I didn't
die, I'd still be fighting Voldemort for the rest of my life. I never thought that instead of
risking my life every single day, I'd get to spend those days with the woman who was crazy
enough to agree to become my wife," he told her.

Hermione smiled, planting a light kiss on his lips.

"It does *sound* a little bit cheesy," she agreed, "but it's not,
because I know that it's perfectly true. And I'm glad that thinking about it makes you
smile," she added.

"'Course it does," he replied, lightly stroking the back of her hand with his
thumb. "It really is great to not be dead, you know," he said with a grin.

"Prat," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "You had to go and ruin the big
emotional moment, didn't you?"

"What?" he asked, pouting jokingly. "I'm not allowed to like being
alive?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Of course you're allowed to like being alive. I much prefer
you not being dead," she said with a grin.

"It might be a little boring to be married to a corpse," said Harry. "Not to
mention a tad smelly."

Hermione's expression became one that seemed to be a mixture of disgust and her trademark
'Harry-don't-be-so-immature' Look. "Harry, that's gross…"

It was Harry's turn to stick his tongue out. "Don't be a baby."

She stuck her tongue out right back at him. "Don't be a prat and I won't have
to."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, we're already quarrelling like an old married
couple."

Hermione wriggled her hand from his grip and poked him again. "We haven't even been
married for a whole day yet!"

"Which raises my question once again: what were you hoping to do on your first day as Harry
Potter's wife?" asked Harry.

Hermione pretended to be offended. "It's true that I married you, but I'd prefer to
not be addressed as 'Harry Potter's wife' for the rest of my days, thank you very
much."

"Sorry," said Harry. "I meant 'Harry Potter's *loving*
wife'," he corrected himself, grinning at her.

Hermione sighed. "All right, that'll do. Though I did like 'Mrs. Hermione Jane
Potter' better," she added.

"Well, *Mrs. Potter*," said Harry, his grin widening (it was a wonderful feeling,
after all, being able to call her that), "you still haven't answered my
question."

"About what I want to do today?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "What if I said that I don't want to do a single thing today?"

Harry blinked, surprised. "Sorry?" he asked, wondering if he had heard her properly.
Since when did Hermione Granger-now-Potter, the queen of immaculate organization and talking
homework planners, decide that she wanted to waste an entire day? The world was surely ending right
then and there!

"What if I said that instead of doing anything, I just wanted to lie here for the rest of
the day and not move a single inch?" she asked him.

Harry shrugged. "I'd say that I'd be quite happy to lie here with you, if that was
really what you wanted to do, but I'd point out that the two of us might be a little hungry in
a few hours, and eating would, if I'm not mistaken, require our departure from bed, thus
ruining your plans."

"Well, I'm sure that my loving husband would be nice enough to fetch his beloved wife
something to eat, wouldn't he?" asked Hermione, making the biggest puppy-dog eyes she
could up at him.

"He would," said Harry, "if said loving husband didn't have the opportunity
to just ask a certain house-elf to bring said beloved wife whatever she wanted, therefore ridding
said loving husband of the daunting task of actually moving more than an few millimetres."

Hermione rolled her eyes and jabbed him in the chest again, which seemed to be her favourite way
of venting her annoyance.

"Said loving husband is also going to develop a bruise if said beloved wife doesn't
stop poking him," Harry said with a pout, rubbing the spot on his chest that Hermione was
constantly poking.

"Said beloved wife politely reminds said loving husband that *he* was the one who told
*her* not to be a baby," said Hermione, a triumphant smirk on her face.

Harry pouted again and sighed. "Said loving husband concedes defeat, on condition that said
beloved wife stops poking him."

Hermione's smirk widened. "Said beloved wife appreciates said loving husband's
decision to concede defeat, but advises him to not get his hopes up when it comes to her not poking
him," she replied.

Harry continued to pout. "Said loving husband pleads shamelessly for said beloved wife to
cease her incessant poking."

Hermione poked him again. "Said beloved wife points out that said poking is not
*incessant*, but that it could be if said loving husband doesn't quit whining."

Harry held up his hands. "Said loving husband surrenders, if only to evade further
poking."

Hermione laughed. "Merlin, we're weird."

Harry kissed her cheek. "Yup. Love does that to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "If I didn't die of cheesiness before, that just
might do it."

Harry turned the tables and poked her shoulder. "You know it's true. You're weird
'cause you love me."

She snuggled against him. "Maybe."

They lapsed into silence for a little while after that, Hermione carrying out her plans for the
day and Harry merely dozing a little and enjoying their time together. He loved it when they wasted
time together like this, whether they were lying in bed and pretending that time didn't exist,
that they could lie there forever and never have to drag themselves out of bed at noon because
somebody somewhere wanted them to do something, or sitting together on the couch on a rainy day,
wrapped in each other's arms as they looked out the window at the rain coming down, not
speaking, just enjoying the lasting moments of peace. Comfortable silences were fairly new to
Harry, and he found that he enjoyed them quite a bit. Before he and Hermione had gotten together,
Harry had always found silences to be awkward periods of time in which he could never keep himself
from wondering if the person he was with was hiding something from him by not speaking (and who
could blame him, given the number of lies that he had been told and the number of times that people
had conveniently neglected to tell him things?). Once they had become a couple, however, Harry had
discovered the miracle of the comfortable silence, no doubt brought on by those pleasant cuddly
moments that he and Hermione both loved (though he would never admit that to anyone but her). He
had discovered that it was a nice feeling, being so comfortable around someone that you could just
sit for hours and never say a word, yet never feel the tiniest bit awkward.

A good few minutes of that blessed comfortable silence later, Harry spoke up, his eyes closed as
he relaxed beside Hermione, not minding her desire to stay in bed all day one bit.

"'Mione?"

"Mmm?" she prompted, performing a world-class balancing act as she steadied herself on
the tempting edges of sleep, feeling rather drowsy once more, despite the rays of sunlight that had
woken her earlier that morning.

"Sing to me," he said.

"What?" she asked, a little confused.

He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "Sing to me," he repeated.

"All right," she said, still a tad confused as to why he would suddenly ask her to
sing to him. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing that Harry usually asked. "What would you
like me to sing?"

He smiled. "I think you know."

She blinked, trying to comprehend the weird way her husband's mind worked, before something
clicked in her head and an understanding look came over her face.

"Ohhh," she said, nodding. She smiled. "You want me to sing *that*
song."

Harry nodded. "Yup. The one that brought us together. Highly appropriate, I think,
considering…" He took her hand in his again and ran his thumb over the smooth surface of her
wedding ring to illustrate what he meant.

"Harry, that's very sweet, and I'd love to sing that song for you, but I don't
think I remember all of the words anymore," she said, a slight frown crossing her features for
a moment.

Harry was not to be deterred. "Could you try?" he asked. "Please?"

Hermione was about to apologize and tell him that she couldn't possibly remember all of the
words, not after more than a year had gone by since she'd sung the song that had started their
love story, but seeing how much Harry wanted to hear her sing it again made her think twice. She
smiled warmly at him and let out a soft sigh, forced to accept the fact that she was a sucker for
those puppy-dog eyes of his.

"All right," she said. "I guess there's no harm in trying."

Harry smiled and settled himself beside her again, closing his eyes as he waited for her to
start. She cleared her throat softly and started to sing, invoking memories of that one morning,
that seemingly unimportant morning, when Harry had stumbled upon Hermione as she sang to herself at
the table, wallowing in the sorrows of unreturned love.

Well, she had *thought* that it was unreturned, anyway. Luckily for her, Fate had had
something quite different in mind for her and the boy for whom she had been harbouring secret
affections at the time.

The two of them couldn't help but take a walk down memory lane as Hermione sang, her soft
voice seeming a tad louder than it was in the silence of Number Twelve, though just as pleasant as
it had been when Harry had first heard her singing, now more than a year ago. After a moment of
reminiscing, she came to the chorus of that blessed song. She smiled and turned to Harry, wanting
to watch his reaction.

*"I'm sure you see me*

*And I know you need me*

*'Cause I'm sure you love me*

*The way I wished you would*

*I always knew you could"*

Her grin widened as Harry turned to her, a questioning expression on his face.

"Those aren't the words," he said, though he didn't sound all that sure.
"Are they?"

Hermione snuggled against him, that same smile on her face. "They weren't the words
when you heard the song for the first time, no," she told him. "But they are now."
She planted a light kiss on his lips. "They're our words, Harry."

Harry smiled as well, pulling her close to him to show his appreciation for her new lyrics.
"Did you just make that up on the spot?" he enquired.

She shook her head. "Nope. I've had plenty of time to figure it out, haven't
I?"

Harry nodded, hesitated for a second, then asked, "Did it bother you that it took so long
for us to finally settle down?" he asked, a little hesitantly. He couldn't help but be
afraid of ruining the pleasant mood that Hermione had brought to the room with her sweet song
lyrics.

Hermione shook her head again. "Nope," she said simply, effectively ridding Harry of
his worries. "We were – and still are, I suppose – a little young for 'settling down',
after all. But I'm glad that we finally did, of course," she added. She smiled.
"It's nice, you know, knowing that we're going to have a life together."

Harry smiled back. "A good, long life," he added. Merlin, it felt good to say that. He
never would have thought, even for a second, that he would get to have a life with anyone, much
less with Hermione. The Boy-Who-Lived (now the Man-Who-Conquered) had gotten the one thing that he
had never, ever dreamed he could possess: a future.

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "A nice, long, happy life. Just the two of
us."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Just the two of us?" he repeated. "You
don't want to have any Mini-Potters?" he asked, a mock-pout on his lips. Despite his
joking attitude, he was actually rather curious to know what Hermione's feelings were when it
came to the subject of having a family. The topic had never come up in conversation before, at
least not seriously, but now that he and Hermione were married, it seemed like he ought to know
what she thought about it.

She chuckled. "All right, maybe not *just* the two of us. I mean, I know we
haven't exactly discussed the future – well, not seriously, anyway – but… I dunno, I think it
would be nice, you know, having a family together," she told him.

"Yeah, it sounds pretty nice," he agreed. He smiled. "I really never thought that
I'd ever even have the opportunity to *think* about this sort of thing, 'Mione,"
he said in disbelief. "But look at us now, seriously talking about things like having
kids." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "It feels pretty good, doesn't it?" he
asked her.

She nodded. "Very good," she agreed. "For now, though, your beloved wife would
definitely prefer to be able to lounge around in bed with her loving husband for the rest of the
day, *without* being tackled by several small children," she said with a grin.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her again. "*Several*?" he asked in mock-shock.
"My *word*, Hermione, what sorts of plans have you got for us?"

She grinned mysteriously. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough, Harry. You'll find
out."

He smiled. "Can't wait," he said. Whether or not she thought he was joking, he
knew that he meant it. There was no doubt in his mind that Hermione – his ever-so-organized
Hermione – had plenty of plans for their future, no to mention that he had a few of his own. The
most important thing on his mind now was not, for once, how on Earth he was going to defeat the
most vile wizard to ever walk the planet, but how he and Hermione could make all of their plans
real.

She smiled back. "Believe me, I can't wait either," she said softly, snuggling a
little closer to him.

Harry lightly brushed his lips against hers, a small gesture of affection that he hoped could
thank her for everything that she had given him: a bright future, a soul mate, a best friend… even
his very life, if you thought about all of the times she had saved him through the years.

She seemed to understand, for she returned his gesture a moment later. "Love you,
Harry," she said softly, not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking too loudly.

He smiled. "Love you too."



10. Epilogue 2 - The Eternal Song
---------------------------------

A/N: So, here we are – the final stanza of the Song. I hope you've enjoyed my little
composition so far, and I was flattered by the number of reads and reviews I received here. Thanks
so much to everyone for following this story so closely, and I hope to see you all again in the
future!

A note: I had a few of my previous readers tell me that one does not need to be in their sixth
year at Hogwarts in order to qualify for the position of Quidditch Captain, so I am now completely
aware of that fact, but I thought that it helped to create a bit of a rivalry between two of my
characters, which is why I left that little bit in here anyway.

And now, without further ado, Chapter 10 – The Eternal Song.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Potter!"

James Potter pulled a sharp U-turn on his broomstick at the captain's call, in what looked
remarkably like an airborne imitation of a soldier standing at attention.

"Yeah?" James called back, immaculately balanced on his broomstick, always graceful as
a phoenix while in the air. Besides being an almost perfect copy of his father, minus his brown
hair, James had definitely inherited the Potter family Quidditch skills.

"Go let the Snitch out, would you? You're about as useful as a Flobberworm out there!
What d'you think you're doing, chasing the Golden Fly or something? Honestly, do I have to
do *everything* myself around here?" the captain, Lennie Weasley (whose real name was
Leonard – Ron and Luna's idea of a male version of Lennie's mother's name) scolded the
oldest of the Potter children.

Harry Potter, watching from the stands with his wife, the two of them thoroughly invisible under
his trusty Cloak (to avoid listening to James' complaints about them 'crowding' him),
rolled his eyes. Lennie was only one year older than James, but the boy tended to get a bit
arrogant out on the pitch, being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and all. Lennie seemed to forget
that it was common knowledge that the entire Hogwarts population, minus Lennie himself and his
group of friends, agreed that James would be replacing the young Weasley as soon as the eldest
Potter became a sixth-year student and qualified for the position.

James, quite educated on the subject of the Weasley traits (power-hungriness and a
near-obsession with the game of Quidditch), both by experience and by his father's occasional
warnings about how angry and impulsive the male Weasleys could get when they felt provoked, obeyed
the captain's order and returned his feet to the ground, subtly defying Lennie by taking a
leisurely stroll in the direction of the old chest that held the Quidditch equipment (still the one
from his father's day). Lennie, wrapped up in his favourite activity of bossing the team
around, took no notice of James' procrastination, but Harry, whose presence James was unaware
of, smiled as he watched his son stroll across the pitch as though he was just talking a walk.

Hermione, seated on Harry's left, rolled her eyes but couldn't keep a small smile off of
her face. "How on Earth did we end up having such a passive-aggressive son? You were usually
the yell-right-back-at-them type. Or the agree-to-duel-them-even-though-you-don't-know-how
type."

"And you were the insult-them-then-threaten-to-curse-them-and-then-punch-them-in-the-face
type," Harry replied, smirking as he watched Hermione blush slightly. She was still a little
embarrassed by her explosive reaction to Malfoy's teasing back in their third year.

"Yes, well, the ferret had it coming," she said defensively, but Harry could tell that
she was still embarrassed. He opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he had been about to say was
quickly drowned out by a loud crack – almost like the sound of a shotgun being fired – and a
piercing scream from high above the stands. Harry and Hermione looked up to see a brown-haired girl
topple from her broomstick, having taken a hard hit from a particularly nasty Bludger, which was
now hurtling in the opposite direction, in some weird form of magical hit-and-run.

At the same moment, Lily Potter, who sat a little ways to her parents' left in the row of
seats in front of them, snapped her focus away from the book in her lap and looked up as well, her
fingers finding their way into her mouth and causing her expression to become a perfect replica of
the one her mother had worn as she watched a thirteen-year-old Harry tumble from the clouds all
those years ago.

Saving-people thing always intact, Harry's hand moved back to grab his wand from his back
pocket, but was promptly stopped by Hermione's hand closing around his wrist. He gave her a
thoroughly confused look (what was she playing at, making him sit and watch while a teenager
plummeted from the sky, heading for the very solid surface that was the Quidditch pitch? Was this
supposed to be some weird sort of revenge, payback for nearly giving her a heart attack back in
third year?), but understood when she pointed down at the grassy ground, indicating a streak of red
and gold that was flying across the pitch. Harry smiled slightly. Only a Seeker—particularly a
member of the naturally light and speedy Potter line— could move that fast.

Both Harry and Hermione had to force themselves to stay seated, fighting down their instincts as
they watched the scene unfolding below them. Both of them were so used to saving others (and each
other, occasionally) that they couldn't bear to sit and watch as someone, especially a
teenager, took such a perilous tumble from her broomstick.

James, however, was definitely not forcing himself to stay still, having chosen to abandon his
stroll to the Snitch, jump back on his broomstick and try to race against gravity as the
troublesome force pulled the girl back to Earth at an alarming speed.

The other three Potters watched – one of them frozen to her seat and the other two forcing
themselves to stay seated – as James employed every last bit of the Potter flying skills in order
to stay balanced on his broomstick as he shot across the pitch, streaking straight towards his
endangered fellow Gryffindor, his toes practically shaving off the tops of the blades of grass
beneath him. Everyone present was forced to watch and wait, hoping that James would make it on
time. Nobody dared get in his way, lest they botch his rescue mission.

Mere seconds before the girl hit the ground, James leapt from his broomstick, which fell
harmlessly to the ground with a soft thump, and quickly reached out, effectively snatching his
team-mate out of the air and saving her from a painful impact with the solid surface of the pitch.
All present breathed a collective sigh of relief, before breaking out into thunderous applause (or
as thunderous as possible, considering the fact that there were only a handful of spectators
present, not to mention the fact that the Quidditch pitch was not only very large, but also
outdoors).

Hermione chuckled softly on Harry's left. "There's something about you Potter males
and that saving-people thing…" she murmured to him as the two watched James steady the girl,
who was cradling her right arm and crying (seemingly against her will), and then lead her to the
first row of stands so that she could sit (conveniently in front of the invisible Harry and
Hermione). They watched as James carefully slipped the wrist guard from the girl's arm, having
watched this procedure innumerable times before as he observed his mother patching up the victims
of at-home Quidditch practices gone wrong, set it down on the seat nearest him and pulled his wand
out from where he had stashed it in his own wrist guard, before gently taking the girl's hand
in his.

"Can you move it at all?" he asked calmly, nodding down at her hand.

She sniffled, wiped her eyes with her uninjured hand and shook her head.

"OK," James said with a small nod. "Then your wrist's probably broken,"
he explained to her in a soothing tone, having learned from watching his mother at work that the
last thing you wanted to do was make an injured person panic, "but that's no big deal.
Just stay still for a minute and I'll fix it for you, OK?"

The girl nodded, though she looked a little apprehensive. James, who was not as daft when it
came to emotions as his father had been at that age, caught on.

"My mum's a Healer, by the way," he said with a lopsided smile, apparently
understanding why she was worried. "I've watched her fix broken wrists a million times.
I'm not going to make all of your bones disappear or something," he assured her, eliciting
a watery sort of chuckle from her.

Harry grinned as well. He had told James the story of the bumbling, limelight-crazy Defence
teacher more times than either one of them could count.

"All right, stay still, now…" James reminded the girl, before murmuring
"*Episkey*" under his breath, repairing the girl's wrist as though Healing
spells were no big deal for a fifth-year. His recently rescued damsel in distress tensed a little
(Harry could sympathize – he remembered the discomfort of that particular spell), then breathed a
soft sigh of relief, her tears slowing.

"Does that feel all right?" asked James, carefully moving the girl's hand around
as he spoke, testing his repairs.

She smiled. "Yeah, that feels fine," she said, wiping away the last of her tears.
"Still a bit sore, though," she commented.

That lopsided grin reappeared on James' face. "Well, I don't know a charm to fix
that, but how 'bout a kiss to make it better?" he asked, quoting the line that Hermione
had often used to soothe him and his siblings, though Harry and Hermione were both beginning to
realize that this wasn't quite the same thing.

His team-mate let out a soft giggle. "All right," she replied.

Still grinning, James smoothly planted a light kiss on the back of the girl's hand, looking
a little like Viktor Krum when the Bulgarian kissed Hermione's hand at the Yule Ball, though
this particular scene unfolded in the absence of dress robes, which had been replaced by the kind
of robes of which Harry was far fonder: the red and gold ones emblazoned with the Gryffindor
crest.

*Ah,* Harry thought to himself as he watched his son 'kiss it better' for his
fellow Gryffindor. *Didn't see* that *one coming.*

He watched as the two teenagers sat in front of each other, silent and unmoving, as though lost
in their own little world. Smiling, he nudged Hermione with his elbow, causing her to whisper
"I see it too" in his ear, a smile present in her voice.

A moment later, Lily, her book tucked under in her in a most Hermione-like way, appeared at
James' side and tapped him on the shoulder, but received no response. She frowned.

"James," she said, tapping him on the shoulder again. He didn't budge.

"*James*," she said more forcefully, poking him in the shoulder this time, but
James didn't acknowledge her presence in the least. She huffed, once again in an almost perfect
imitation of her mother, put her hands on her hips and shouted, "JAMES SIRIUS
POTTER!"

James Sirius Potter just about leapt out of his Quidditch robes and right out of the stands,
whirling to face his thoroughly annoyed sister, who still had her hands on her hips and who was
looking at him as though he were a Flobberworm. She was only a third-year, but had definitely taken
after her mother in how menacing she could be when she was irritated.

"Merlin, Lily!" he exclaimed, obviously not appreciating his sudden removal from the
little world in which he and his fellow Gryffindor had been lost. "What do you want?"

She huffed again and rolled her eyes. "I was *trying* to tell you that Lennie says to
quit snogging girls and get back in your position before he tells the team to use you as the
Quaffle."

James, who had recovered from the shock of being yelled at by his sister, rolled his eyes in
return. "Fine, Lily. Now go read your book," he said, waving a hand in the general
direction of where Lily had been sitting earlier. She gave him an indignant sort of look and
stalked back to her seat, wounded by how blatantly he had ignored her.

"My kid sister," James explained, turning back to the brunette, who had been observing
the exchange with a puzzled expression on her face. "Well, one of them," he clarified.
"Holly's only ten; she hasn't gotten her letter yet."

The girl nodded. There was a pause before she carefully extracted her hand from James' and
said, "I… um… guess we should get back to practice, shouldn't we?"

James nodded and stood up, but reached out and stopped his team-mate from doing the same.

"You shouldn't play right after I fixed your wrist," he explained when she gave
him another puzzled look. "The bones are still fragile. It's not safe."

She nodded. "OK," she said, obviously trusting the Healer's son when it came to
her recently mended wrist.

James nodded, not seeming to know what to do with himself – a definite departure from the smooth
way he had been handling the situation so far.

"Well…" he said awkwardly. "Right, then…"

He turned, took all of half a step back towards the pitch, and then turned around again.

"Yes?" the girl asked, looking half-puzzled and half-amused.

"Ah…" said James, running a hand through his hair in a very Harry-like way.
"D'you want to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" he asked a bit hurriedly, that
lopsided grin reappearing on his face.

She blushed, smiled and said, quite simply, "All right."

James' grin widened as he blushed a little as well.

"Cool," he said. There was a pause, in which the two merely blushed and grinned at
each other, before James spoke up again.

"Well… Right, then," he repeated. "Back to practice."

She chuckled. "Yes, James, back to practice. Go on," she said, "before our dear
captain turns the Bludgers on you. I'd prefer it if we could go to Hogsmeade without you
looking like one giant bruise."

James chuckled and nodded before heading back down towards the pitch. Without a word, Harry took
Hermione's hand and pulled her a good ten or fifteen feet away from the brunette, who was
watching James with a telltale dreamy expression on her face. The moment they sat down again, both
of them spoke at the same time.

"He fancies her," said Harry.

"She fancies him," said Hermione.

The two chuckled.

"OK, so they fancy each other," Hermione clarified. She smiled fondly at their son,
who was now back to his favourite activity of zooming around the Quidditch pitch at speeds that
made his mother a little nervous every once in a while (despite her extensive experience with
Quidditch-crazy Potter males), actually chasing the Snitch now.

"Isn't it sweet, Harry? Our son's first crush," she said, adopting that
motherly sort of voice that she had perfected after fifteen years of raising James, Lily and
Holly.

"It's very sweet, though we probably shouldn't let James hear us saying that,"
Harry agreed, though he used his normal tone. He chuckled softly. "It's funny, though,
isn't it?"

"What's funny?" asked Hermione.

"Well, look at her!" said Harry, nodding towards the girl. "She looks exactly
like you did in fifth year!"

Hermione studied the girl for a moment before she replied. "She doesn't look
*exactly* like me, but yes, I suppose there are quite a few similarities," she agreed.
"Why's that funny?"

Harry grinned. "Because it means that the Potter men both have excellent taste in women, of
course."

Hermione couldn't help but turn a little pink. "Flatterer," she accused.

"You know it," said Harry. "And no matter what you say, I know you like it when I
flatter you, so don't deny it," he said with a knowing look.

Hermione merely shrugged, but Harry knew that he was right. She did like it when he flattered
her, and he was proud of the fact that he could still find new ways to do so, even after seventeen
wonderful years of marriage.

Turning his attention back to the girl who he now knew was the object of his only son's
affections, Harry smiled as he watched her watch James with that same dreamy expression on her
face, obviously making a return trip to that little world to which she and James had travelled a
little while earlier.

"She's completely smitten with him, isn't she?" he murmured to Hermione, who
smiled as well.

"Looks like it," she replied. There was a moment's pause before she leaned her
head on Harry's shoulder and spoke again. "Do you think that she'll ever end up
singing to James, Harry?" she enquired.

Harry shrugged slightly, being considerate of the fact that Hermione's head rested on his
shoulder. "I don't know," he said. "She might, someday, if things go well. It
looks like the two of them are pretty fond of each other, in any case." He chuckled softly.
"But I'm sure that she'll never be able to sing as well as you, of course," he
added, smiling at his wife of seventeen years, who gave him a tender kiss on the lips in
return.

"I love you, you know," she said with a smile.

He chuckled again. "I know. And I love you too," he said, returning her kiss before
slipping his hand into hers and turning his attention back to the Quidditch pitch and his son. The
two watched and smiled to themselves as James stopped in front of the stands for just a moment,
gave the girl a quick wave and received one in return before darting off again, avoiding another
scolding from Lennie.

As he watched his son practice, Harry found himself reflecting, for a moment, on the years that
had passed since that fateful morning, the morning that had brought him and Hermione together for
life, with nothing more than the few lines of a song. The originally sad lyrics had, thankfully,
had a happy ending, resulting in a loving marriage and three wonderful children. All that was left
to do now was watch, wait, and listen for the song to begin again.

THE END