Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

A.N.

Welcome to Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait and thank you for taking the time to read it. It is a rather involved days after the final confrontation story that popped into my head one day. As this is simply a tune-up story for practice prior to beginning some original work, I'm having a bit of fun with this concept. While the plot line lives in my head, getting in down in words is a bit more difficult so please bear with me.

Part one of this story might be a bit confusing to some but you must realize that the first several chapters are happening at the same time. It is a re-introduction of the three main characters of the Potter Series and necessary for the development of this story. It was the only way I could make things fit within a specific time line.

I am trying to follow canon as closely as possible in the beginning but lives and relationships change as the story progresses. While I do try to proof and edit as I write, this story knows no beta at this time so keep that in mind as you read. Please leave comments about this story because they do help and are appreciated greatly (positive and negative) but suggestions on possible plot line changes will be ignored. Sorry, the story is already finished in my head.

As always, Harry Potter and all things connected to his world are the sole intellectual property of J.K. Rowling/Scholastic Books/Warner Bro. and whomever else may legally have their hands in the cookie jar! Therefore, this story may not be published or reproduced in a for-profit environment in any way, shape or form. All original characters and the basic plot line are completely my own and were created for entertainment use only within the realm of this story. Thank you! I truly hope you enjoy!

---------@>----------

Chapter One - The Day After

As they made their way out of the Headmaster's office, the halls seemed eerily quit after what had taken place throughout the castle a few scant hours before.

They each stepped over the broken form of the gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office.

It shot them a doleful look as it lay there in pieces.

“Oh, don't mind me. Certainly wouldn't want to get in the way! Hope you didn't get any of me on your shoe!”

Ron stopped and glared down at the gargoyle's head.

“Now see here you…”

“Ronald!” Hermione cut across Ron's retort in an exasperated sigh. She waved her wand and recited a spell as if from memory, “Statueus Reparo!”

The many pieces of the gargoyle flew through the still air, jump back together and set itself in its place in front of the Headmaster's office entrance once again. It blinked its huge eyes for a moment.

“Thanks for that missy,” it growled, “Haven't seen me tail have you?”

They could see over its haunches to a spot on its hind end that was still jagged. It looked down at Ron's feet.

“Hey ginger, do you mind?”

Ron looked down to find that he was, indeed standing on what appeared to be a chunk of stone. It was wiggling, trying to extricate itself from Ron's right trainer. He lifted his foot and the small piece flew back into place.

The gargoyle looked at Ron blandly.

“Hoping for a bit of a souvenir were you?”

“Oy,” Ron's eyebrows shot up.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm. In a huff she spun him round and began pushing him away from the Headmaster's hallway.

Ron kept glaring at the gargoyle.

It stuck its tongue out at him as he was being ushered away.

He pointed at the gargoyle, mumbling nasty epithets under his breath.

Harry could do nothing but roll his eyes as he watched it all unfold. His head began to pound with lack of sleep and nourishment. He was beginning to feel slightly ill.

They passed no-one as they made their way through the corridors, mostly in silence - each lost in their own thoughts but they could hear the sounds of people in the distance already hard at work making repairs to the damaged school.

Ron's ire at the gargoyle slowly faded and his thoughts turned to his family. He knew he needed to be with them as they mourned the loss of Fred. He was sure they would be taking his body somewhere, most likely to St. Mungo's.

He thought about George. His injury aside, how would the loss of his twin affect him? Fred and George had never been apart that he could remember. He was going to be plenty angry when he found out that he lost his ear accidentally by an errant severing curse from Snape.

He also thought about the Burrow. It lay in ruins as a result of the fire that destroyed everything his family owned. He had no idea what was to become of them now.

Hermione's thoughts were on so many different things. They all seemed to be crowding her mind at once.

She thought about her parents, whom she had left to the mercy of the Fates in a bungalow in Perth, Australia with a completely fictitious identity. She wanted them back as soon as she could get them. She was going to have to recruit Professor McGonagall's assistance for that.

She thought about the seemingly countless number of people she knew who were dead or severely injured.

She thought about poor Teddy Lupin who would never know his mother or father. That thought hit a bit close to home for her as she glanced clandestinely at Harry.

She thought about little Colin Creevey. He had snuck back into the castle to fight and died in the battle.

She thought about Hagrid and concern filled her for all of them, but the thought that plagued her conscious mind the most was Harry.

She couldn't help but think that, with the death of Remus Lupin, there was no-one left to connect him to his past or his family. The last of the Marauders was gone.

He was truly all alone.

She knew that he and Ginny had started something before the end of last term. She wondered if Harry was going to try and get back together with her.

All Hermione knew was she hoped Harry could at last find some peace and happiness. She silently vowed to do everything she could to help.

Harry's thoughts could seem to go no further than his old four-poster in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory.

He was physically and mentally exhausted.

The adrenaline that coursed through his veins during his confrontation with Tom Riddle had long since waned and he was finding it difficult to remain standing.

It felt so good to have his old wand back in one piece that he still held it in his hand, unable to part with it even long enough to place it in his pocket.

He had unceremoniously shoved the Elder Wand in the right front pocket of his old hand-me-down cargo trousers and had not given it another thought.

As they walked silently along, Hermione noticed the wand sticking out of the pocket. She froze mid-stride.

Harry and Ron noticed and glanced back to see a look of horror on her face as she stared at the wand. Ron was the first to break the silence.

“What is it Hermione,” he asked with one eyebrow raised. He noticed that she was breathing a bit heavier than she should be.

Hermione pointed at the wand then looked at Harry with wide eyes.

“The Elder Wand Harry…you told Dumbledore's portrait that you were going to put it back where it came from?”

Harry gave her a quizzical look then glanced at his pocket. He nodded.

“Yah, I did…and I will.”

Hermione still looked frightened. Ron was looking back and forth between them in confusion. He then looked at Harry and shrugged.

“I still think you're barmy mate,” Ron said matter-of-factly, “You won the wand's allegiance fair and square and you did it without killing anyone. I'll bet you're just about the first bloke in history to do that and I'd be willing to bet my whole Chocolate Frog card collection that you could do just about anything with that wand.”

The implications of Ron's words hit Harry like a physical blow to the chest. He pulled the Elder Wand from his pocket and held it out in front of him.

Hermione looked as if she was about to be sick.

“That's not the point Ronald. That thing is dangerous and I for one think it should be destroyed!”

She was starting to squeak. When Hermione Granger started squeaking…that was bad.

Part of Harry wanted to argue the point that it wasn't the wand itself that was dangerous but the one who wielded it, but he was much too exhausted to even try. However, as he stood there, Mr. Ollivander's words echoed in his head once again…

The wand chooses the Wizard, Mr. Potter…

If Harry was going to be honest with himself, he thought she had a point.

All three stood staring at the wand for a moment.

Harry glanced at Hermione and could see a storm of rage and indignation brewing in her eyes. She was winding up to argue her point if it came to that.

He then looked at Ron and saw unmistakable desperate longing in his eyes. It sent cold shivers down his spine.

That was enough to convince him Hermione's words rang true enough.

“No!” Harry said flatly and tucked the wand back in his pocket, “It goes back where it came from.”

He turned and continued walking, not caring if they followed.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye before he turned away, the tension leaving Hermione's shoulders. He was glad. He cared very deeply for her but he didn't think he was in any condition to endure one of her lectures.

She shot Ron a glowering look of disdain before she continued down the hall in Harry's wake.

Ron simply shrugged his shoulders again as he fell in step behind his two best friends.

Hermione caught up to Harry and she placed a hand gently on his arm as they walked along.

“Harry I…I think we should put that wand back now.”

Harry stopped walking again and turned to face her. Irritation flashed white-hot across his beleaguered mind until he looked into her eyes.

He saw real fear there.

He closed his eyes for a moment to stamp down his growing frustration. He knew it was fueled by his daunting fatigue. A voice in his head calmed him.

Trust her Harry…

He did. Completely, and she was the only one he did trust in that way.

If he had learned anything over the past year it was when Hermione Granger spoke, you should listen. Trusting her had saved his life more than once.

He just wished he had learned that lesson several years earlier. He wouldn't have rushed to the Department of Mysteries to save a Godfather who wasn't even there. She wouldn't have been hit with Dolohov's curse.

The guilt from that night still hung heavy in his mind. He could have gotten them all killed!

He smiled at her.

“I think you might be right. Maybe we should find Professor McGonagall. She can help us open Dumbledore's tomb. I'm not sure how I feel about doing something like that.”

Hermione seemed to deflate slightly as if she had been holding her breath. She returned Harry's smile as Ron sidled up next to her.

“I don't know Harry,” Hermione said sadly, “but I believe the less people who know about where this wand is, the better.”

They both looked pointedly at Ron. He bristled slightly under their gazes.

“Well I'm not going to tell anyone where it is,” he grumbled, “I can't believe you would even think such a thing!”

Harry and Hermione looked at one another for a moment and it was as if they had reached the same conclusion without the need for words.

Fidelius Charm!

They both thought the exact same thing at once. They continued on their way through the castle to find McGonagall.

As they got close to the Great Hall they heard talking ahead of them. When they rounded the corner of a bisecting hallway they ran into Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

As they neared their fellow D.A. members, Harry could see that Neville still looked battered and bruised as ever, which made his big toothy grin appear quite out of place. Luna looked a bit disheveled but otherwise unharmed.

“There you three are,” Luna said in her ever-present dreamy voice.

“Looking for us, were you?” Ron asked.

Neville looked at them with such reverence it made Harry a bit uncomfortable.

“Yah, we were sent to find you,” Neville looked at Ron, “Your mother asked us to tell you the rest of your family is about to leave. They're taking Fred to St. Mungo's. I think they want you to go with them.”

A look of deep sadness washed over Ron's features. Hermione touched Ron's arm affectionately. He reached up and patted her hand.

“Right,” Ron said, “thanks Neville,” he looked down at Hermione, “You coming?”

Hermione was suddenly torn. She wanted to be with Ron. She felt she should be but she also wanted to be with Harry to make curtain the Elder Wand was returned to Dumbledore's tomb and the Fidelius charm was administered properly.

Harry could see her struggling.

“Go on Hermione. I'm sure Professor McGonagall and I can handle,” he glanced at Neville and Luna, “you know.” He patted his pocket.

Neville's eyes grew wide as he looked at the wand sticking out of Harry's pocket.

“Is that the Death Stick Harry? Think I could take a look at it?”

Hermione blanched and Harry stiffened. Ron just rolled his eyes.

“Don't be daft Neville, that's not the Death Stick,” Ron said with as much conviction as he could muster, “It got destroyed when Harry put old Voldy's lights out. Do you really think Harry would be walking about the castle with a thing like that stuck in his pocket? That's Malfoy's wand and we were taking it to Kingsley. I'm hoping it will get the little ferret faced git chucked into Azkaban for a good long holiday!”

It was just as Hermione had warned. Everyone had seen the final fight between Harry and Voldemort. Everyone had heard. She was right. The wand was nothing but trouble and he wanted to be shed of it.

Neville looked at the three of them for a moment as if deciding what Ron was telling him was the truth or not, but then he smiled at Harry.

“Good call that. I hope you're right Ron. Malfoy is a git. Kingsley's in the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall at the moment.”

Harry let out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding and the color returned to Hermione's cheeks.

Luna, however, stared at Harry for a bit longer, her brows furrowing in consternation. Harry got the uneasy feeling she could somehow sense their deception and it made him feel a bit ashamed. She reached up and lovingly stroked Neville's arm.

“Neville pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat and killed that great serpent all by himself.” Luna beamed up at him.

Neville blushed so red he looked like a bruised tomato.

Ron coughed to stifle a chuckle.

Hermione shot Ron a withering glance, then gave Neville one of her most dazzling smiles.

“Well done Neville. You're a hero!” She stepped forward and gave Neville a hug.

“Yah, he did Luna.” Harry smiled and looked at Neville, “and you're absolutely right Hermione but not just for killing the snake. The way you stood up to the Carrows here at Hogwarts and again to Voldemort last night makes me proud to call you my friend. Dumbledore once told me only a true Gryffindor could pull the sword from the Sorting Hat.”

Harry held out his hand. Neville took it in his and shook it slowly. He looked as if he were on the verge of tears.

“Th…thanks Harry. That means a lot coming from you,” Neville whispered.

Ron sobered immediately, turned quite red then patted his shoulder.

“Right mate! You know…like they said.”

“We'd better be getting back to the Great Hall Neville,” Luna said as she gave him a gentle push, “or we won't get to help.”

“Help?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Luna said, “We're helping repair the damage to the school. Everyone is.”

She gave Ron a look that told him that was a silly question to ask as they turned to go.

“Well, I better get going as well,” Ron said looking at them both, “Mum will be plenty angry if I don't go with them. Besides, I'm not sure were we're going to be staying now, what with the Burrow a mess.”

Harry and Hermione looked at one-another. Neither had given Ron's predicament much thought as they were immersed in their own troubled musings.

Harry made an instant decision.

“You're all more than welcome at #12 if you need a place to stay until the Burrow is mended.”

Ron smiled.

“Thanks mate! That's right kind of you. I'll tell mum and dad that…but honestly Harry, I'm not sure I could handle being yelled at every day by that barmy old hag's portrait.”

He changed his voice to a rather passable imitation of Sirius' mother…

“Blood traitors, filth, scourge of the Wizarding world!”

They laughed.

“I'm sure Ginny would love the idea though.”

Ginny!

Harry felt a sudden stab of anxiety as he thought about her.

The thought of how she had seemed to sense his presence when he passed her on the Hogwarts grounds as he made his way to what he was certain would be his demise filled him with a sense of wonder.

His tired brain couldn't seem to grasp the concept that, with the threat of impending doom that loomed over his life every moment now gone, it would be safe to resume his budding relationship with his best mate's sister.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him along down the hall in her usual bossy fashion.

“Come on then,” she looked back at Harry, “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Harry nodded as he watched them go. They turned the corner and Harry found himself standing in a silent, deserted hallway.

He suddenly felt very much alone.

He could hear Hermione and Ron's presence had caused quite an uproar as they entered the Great Hall.

He decided to slip his invisibility cloak over his head as he made his way in. He chose to be less conspicuous. He didn't need or want the attention.

The sights and sounds of people milling about, working to repair the damage appeared to fill the entire castle. Windows knitted back into place. The house hour glasses had been mended, large chunks of stone stacked themselves neatly back into holes that were blasted into walls by flying curses.

He watched as two older wizards replaced a large section of the handrail that ran along the outer edge of the floor above the grand staircase.

He saw Hermione and Ron. They were gathered at the entrance with the rest of the Weasley clan. Bill and Arthur were levitating a large wooden box out onto the castle grounds ahead of the small group.

Fred…

He strained his eyes against the sunlit entrance to see if he could get a glimpse of Ginny.

He spotted her and could see she was engaged in what appeared to be a rather private conversation with Dean Thomas.

Part of him thought he should be concerned about that but in his present state, he knew he had about just enough energy left to dispose of the wand. He would worry about those things later.

He also noticed Hermione was constantly looking over her shoulder back into the Great Hall as if she were looking for someone. He had a good idea who that was.

He spied Professor McGonagall in a small group huddled by the head table. It consisted of the Deputy Headmistress, the temporary Minister Elect Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Slughorn, Professor Sprout and little Professor Flitwick.

As he neared the group, he picked up on their conversation. Professor McGonagall was speaking.

“…think it would be wise to position as many Aurors as possible around the grounds just to be safe. While I am confident the greatest threat has past there is always the possibility of retaliation from those who avoided capture. Besides, there are still many Dementors on the loose and until they are brought back under Ministry control I'm not willing to take any risks. Would you agree with that assessment Minister?”

Kingsley frowned deeply.

“Yes, I readily agree Minerva but please don't call me Minister. It is a title I truly feel I have no claim to and one I'm not certain I even want yet. You and I have been friends far too long for us to be so formal anyway.” He smiled at her.

“Yes, well,” McGonagall replied a bit rosier in the cheeks, “I'm merely attempting to follow decorum, you understand.”

Kingsley gave her a reverent bow.

She looked at Professor Sprout.

“Pomona. Could you be a dear and round up as many volunteers as you can. There is much repair needed in the west wing on the second, third and fourth floors.”

“Of course Headmistress,” Professor Sprout nodded, spun on her heel and was off.

“I'll gather as many of my Ravenclaws as I can muck up and assist Pomona,” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

“Thank you Filius,” McGonagall replied wearily, “Has anyone seen Hagrid?”

“I think he went to look for that insufferable brother of his,” someone said.

Kingsley gave McGonagall a significant look.

“I'll see to it my people help put his hut to rights while we're patrolling.”

“Thank you, Kingsley,” she smiled as he turned to leave. She turned to Professor Slughorn.

“Horace. Do you feel up to checking the lower levels?”

“Certainly Headmistress,” Slughorn bowed slightly, turned and was off.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from out of the small room behind the Head table.

Harry remembered that room from his fourth year when the Goblet of Fire unceremoniously spit his name out for the Tri-Wizard tournament.

“All of the injured and…deceased have been transported to St. Mungo's as per your instructions Minerva.”

“Bless you Poppy. What in the world would I do without you?” McGonagall smiled at her old friend. She leaned against the edge of the Head table gripping it with both hands. The aged Headmistress suddenly looked very much like Harry felt.

“Think nothing of it Minerva,” the nurse smiled warmly, “Looks like you could do with a spot of Pepper Up yourself dear.”

McGonagall waved her off smiling.

“There's much to attend to Poppy. I believe Mr. Potter has been waiting for me patiently so if you'll excuse me.”

Harry almost swallowed his tongue.

How in the name of Marlin's beard…

“Of course,” Madam Pomfrey placed a small hand on McGonagall's shoulder then turned to leave, “I'll be in the infirmary if anyone needs me.”

Professor McGonagall looked pointedly at the exact location Harry was standing completely hidden under the invisibility cloak, or so he thought.

“Follow me Mr. Potter,” the Headmistress said as she made her way to the room Madam Pomfrey had just exited.

She opened the door, stood aside to allow Harry to enter then closed them both in. She plucked her wand from the folds of her robe and gave it a flick.

“I believe it is safe to come out now. No one will disturb us.”

Harry slid the cloak off and looked at the old professor sheepishly.

“How did you know?”

McGonagall's eyes twinkled in the candle light.

“Even though one's eyes cannot see does not mean one's other senses cease to function properly, Mr. Potter? I take it you have a reason for your surreptitiousness?”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Harry was about to pull the Elder Wand from his pocket when there came a loud bang on the door.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up as she stared at the door for a moment.

“Perhaps I was a bit premature about not being disturbed,” the old witch looked perturbed, “If you'll excuse me.”

McGonagall moved to the door. She waved her wand again and the door flew open.

Hermione Granger tumbled into the room, her wild mane covering her eyes as she fought to regain her balance. McGonagall regarded her with lips pursed, arms folded, peering at the intruder over the top of her tiny spectacles.

Harry wasn't surprised in the slightest. He couldn't help but chuckle. Hermione was nothing if not resourceful.

Hermione looked as if she had been caught doing something very naughty.

“I…I'm very s…sorry Headmistress but I really thought I should be here,” Hermione cringed.

“Of course, Miss Granger,” McGonagall flicked her wand and the door closed.

This time, however, the door glowed brightly and then quite unexpectedly disappeared all together.

“Where one goeth, so shall the others follow, much like the three blind mice, I believe,” She muttered under her breath smiling slightly as she said it.

She turned back toward the two.

“Now can you please enlighten me as to what this is all about Mr. Potter and why all this clandestine behavior or should we wait for Mr. Weasley?”

He and Hermione shared a quick look as he pulled the Elder Wand from his pocket. He placed it on the table he was standing next to.

The Headmistress looked at the wand and her eyes grew large with fear and trepidation. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to stifle a scream.

“Why that's…”

“Yes,” Harry said, He was about to say the Elder Wand when McGonagall's face turned red with sudden rage.

“HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU ACQUIRE ALBUS DUBLEDORE'S WAND YOUNG MAN? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

Harry was suddenly struck dumb by the Headmistresses unexpected distress.

“Wha…NO!” Harry cried.

Luckily, Hermione was much quicker on the uptake. She stepped between Harry and the Professor quickly and raised her hands.

“No, Professor,” she said speaking rapidly, “you don't understand. Harry didn't remove the wand from Dumbledore's tomb. Voldemort did. This is the Elder Wand. It's often referred to in history as the Death Stick or the Wand of Destiny. Professor Dumbledore won this wand from Grindelwald all those years ago. It's one of the Deathly Hallows…”

That seemed to get the Headmistress' attention.

“One of the Deathly…? You mean …”

“Yes,” Hermione cut across McGonagall, “as in the story from the Tales of Beedle the Bard. I didn't believe it at first either but the story, as it turns out is a true adaptation, although greatly embellished I'm sure, about the Peverell brothers.”

“They were real wizards. Harry is a direct descendant of Ignotus Peverell. His grave is in the church yard in Godric's Hollow, the same one where the Potter's and the Dumbledore's are buried.”

“His invisibility cloak has been handed down for generations. It's one of the Hallows as well. Professor Dumbledore didn't want the Hallows falling into the wrong hands so he gave Harry clues to find them.”

“He knew Harry was the only one who could possess all three Hallows and not use them for evil. It was said the one who possessed all three Hallows would be the Master of Death!”

Hermione took a breath and gave McGonagall a moment to absorb what she had said so far. The old Headmistress looked aghast from Harry to Hermione.

Harry knew all of what Hermione said may not have been the exact line of thinking but it was bloody close enough. He also couldn't believe McGonagall did not realize this during the confrontation with Voldemort. Tom Riddle had admitted to taking the wand. He was wondering how she had missed it but that detail mattered little now.

“I think I need to sit down,” she put her hand to her head.

Harry whipped out his own wand and conjured a chair from thin air. He placed it under the old Professor as she practically collapsed onto it.

Hermione looked at him impressed with his spell work.

“I'm really sorry Professor,” Harry stammered, “I thought you knew…” It was about all he could say.

Harry had never been so glad Hermione Granger was his friend and had figured out a way to be there with him at that moment. He looked at her as if she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. She smiled and squeezed his arm. Hermione then turned back to McGonagall who seemed to be struggling to regain her usual poise and composure.

“Headmistress,” Hermione asked, “how much did Professor Dumbledore tell you of what he was doing with Harry before he died?”

McGonagall was beginning to look a bit green in the candlelight. Harry and Hermione shot each other worried glances. Hermione pulled her wand and conjured a cool glass of water.

“Here, Professor.”

She handed the glass to McGonagall who accepted it willingly. She nodded.

“Thank you, child.”

The old Headmistress took a long drink then placed the glass on the floor beside her. She looked wearier than ever. She removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose. Looking off into the shadows of the room, she began to speak.

“I must confess I knew little of what the Headmaster was planning. I have always trusted his judgments when it came to what was best for our school or our students or the wizard world at large for that matter. I knew he was spending an inordinate amount of time with Professor Snape. Whether my exclusion from such things was intentional or that I was simply more concerned for the welfare of Hogwarts I cannot say.”

She looked pointedly at Harry for a moment then continued.

“I do know he cared for you very deeply Harry. He carried an enormous amount of guilt for putting so much on someone so young…but he had faith you would prevail. He asked only that we trust you when the time came to do so. He said I would know when and, of course, he was right.”

“So you're saying Albus set you on this path to keep the Dark Lord from procuring these…Deathly Hallows?”

“Professor,” Harry said tiredly, “That's not even the half of it.”

Harry looked at Hermione trying to get an indication from her how far he should go in this revelation.

“We might as well start from the beginning Harry. There's no reason to keep this a secret any longer, at least not from her.” She waved her wand and produced two more chairs.

Harry nodded. That four-poster bed seemed even farther away now but he knew this was necessary if they were going to get her to help them replace the Elder Wand. So they told McGonagall everything.

From the first time Harry had realized he had a connection with Voldemort's mind to the moment he had finally understood why the Elder Wand hadn't worked for the Dark Lord the way it was supposed to, Harry and Hermione recounted all of it.

McGonagall took it much better than they had expected. She only fainted twice. Once when they told her Voldemort had split his soul into seven pieces and again when Harry told her he had an unexpected Horcrux inside of him that could only be destroyed if Voldemort killed Harry himself.

After all was said, Professor McGonagall could manage only one comment.

“What a horrible, evil creature!”

“Sums it up quite nicely I think,” Harry said as he tried to rise to his feet. He was beyond exhausted now. He was becoming giddy. Hermione had to catch and steady him so he wouldn't fall on his face.

“Really Professor,” she implored, “We need to replace that wand and perform the Fidelius charm. I don't think Harry can last much longer. He's been up for over twenty four hours and has been through so much.”

Harry looked at Hermione and smiled.

“You've been through as much as I have.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione muttered, “I managed to dodge that whole getting murdered thing.”

“Right,” McGonagall said as she stood rather abruptly. She seemed to be invigorated by her indignation, “You're correct, of course, the fewer people who know the whereabouts of this wand, the better.”

“Once we exit from this room I will place a disillusionment charm upon us so we can move freely out to the monument and take care of this once and for all.”

“I also agree Ms. Granger that we should create the elusion this wand has been destroyed. I will meet with Kingsley and see to it personally the proper people are notified and covered under the Fidelius umbrella.”

“I believe I still carry a small amount of weight at the Ministry.” She smiled as she made her way to open the exit.

And so it was done. With the Elder Wand replaced back in the hands of Albus Dumbledore and the Fidelius charm performed to make sure it stayed there, Hermione took Harry by the hand and they made their way back toward the castle.

I can finally get some sleep!

As he looked up, he noticed they were headed out away from Hogwarts toward the gate guarded by the two winged boars.

“Where are we going Hermione? I thought you were taking me to lie down?' Harry asked quizzically through his sleepy haze.

“I am,” she said smiling, patting him on the back, “not to worry.”

As they passed beyond the Hogwarts boundaries, Hermione turned and gathered Harry in a tight embrace.

Oh my, Ron wouldn't like this at all!

His brain was slowly taking on the consistency of porridge.

She gave him her sweet crooked little smirk, turned on the spot and they both vanished with a loud `POP.'

The next thing Harry knew, he was being gently laid down into his Godfather's old bed at his house at #12 Grimmuald Place. As he found himself burrowing into the comfortable mattress, he heard Hermione's soft voice.

“Hang on mister,” she scolded, “not quite yet.”

He felt her tugging his shirt off over his head. Next went his trainers and then his socks. He could then feel her tugging on his…

HELLO!!

…Harry sat bolt upright just in time to see Hermione unbuttoning his trousers.

“May I ask what you're doing witch?”

“What does it look like I'm doing you dolt?” Hermione looked at him strangely, “I'm taking off your trousers.”

“I can see that,” Harry said in a slur, “I think I can handle that part of it,” his face flushed a bright red.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin Harry,” She put her hands on her hips, “you're acting like you're eleven years old.”

“By the way,” he asked as he gave up. He fell back on the bed and let her do as she pleased, “how did you get away from the Weasley clan?”

Harry looked down, watching as she unzipped him and begin to tug him out of his trousers. Her hair covered most of her face so he couldn't see her reaction, if she even had one.

“Lift,” she said.

Harry lifted his rump off the bed as she pulled the trousers down to his knees. His body felt like it weighed a thousand tons.

It's all very clinical, being undressed by a bossy little know-it-all nightmare. I always thought being disrobed by a girl would be…erm…different.

Harry chuckled. Hermione looked up at him.

“What's so funny?” She asked.

She always looks so serious…

“Nothing really,” he paused to reflect for a moment, “It's just that you're always the one stuck taking care of me when I can't seem to take care of myself.”

He tried to read her face as she finally extracted his legs from his worn out Dudley hand-me-downs. He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a smile but his vision had gone blurry, even with his glasses on so he couldn't be sure. It could have been a grimace.

“Someone has to Harry,” he heard her whisper, or had she said it at all. Maybe he was imagining it. He was so tired.

He was then suddenly struck with a terrible thought.

“What am I going to do when you're not around any more?”

That was what he wanted to say but he wasn't sure it had come out right. He had lost control of his mouth as well.

Harry could no longer keep his eyes open as he felt blankets being pulled up to his chin. The warmth and softness of the bed took him.

Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard Hermione say something.

“I told them I had more important things to do and I will always be around to take care of you, you git, now go to sleep,” she reached up and slid his glasses from his face and placed them on the small, spindly legged table beside the bed, “Besides, you'll have Ginny.”

Ginny!

He felt soft, warm lips being pressed on his forehead right over the lighting bolt shaped scar just before total blackness claimed him.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A.N. The first several chapters were so large I thought it better to break them up into smaller ones. Please review…even if you hate it! Thanks.

Standard disclaimers apply

Chapter Two - Setting Things to Right

After Hermione had taken Harry to #12, she decided to return to Hogwarts instead of going home to her parent's house. They weren't there yet, after all and she had asked permission to leave Crookshanks with Andromeda Tonks. It was the only one she could think of who might look after her little beastie.

Her old cat-kneazle immediately took to little Teddy from the start. Crooks loved the little Morph-magus. He wouldn't let anyone he didn't know anywhere near the child. Hermione thought it quite un-natural but Andromeda thought it very sweet.

Crookshanks would sit at the edge of Teddy's crib and swish his furry tale. Teddy would laugh and gurgle happily trying to catch it in his chubby little hands. It would keep him occupied for hours. Her pet seemed quite content at the Tonks house.

Her plan was to try and get a good night's sleep and meet with Professor McGonagall in the morning. She was going to need assistance getting her parents back and since the Headmistress had been the one to oversee the administration of the memory modification to her parents, McGonagall was the one she needed to help her.

What bothered Hermione was how they were going to integrate her mother and father back into their dental practice. The wizards and Oblivators swooped in and generally shut the office down. She just hoped her parents hadn't lost all their patients to other clinics. She would have to discuss that with the Professor as well.

The hallways of Hogwarts were silent now in the late evening. The repair efforts had been halted until the fallowing day. She could still see places that had yet to be fixed.

The old castle took quite a beating yet still stood as strong as ever.

There was one more thing she wanted to take care of before she turned in. She worried about Harry being alone at #12 so she was going to try and convince someone to stay with him.

As she made her way down into the lower hallway, she found the painting of the large bowl of fruit. She tickled the pear and the doorway to the kitchen opened.

She ducked inside to find a multitude of house elves scurrying this way and that, all busy preparing for what promised to be a large breakfast with all the volunteers present to help with the repairs.

The smells of food was almost overwhelming her senses as she scanned the space for one old, wrinkled house elf in particular.

She spied Kreacher in the midst of the organized chaos croaking out orders in every direction. It seemed he had become a leader of sorts.

The fake Horcrux locket still hung about his skinny neck although his appearance was much improved.

When the house elves spied her, they rushed toward her bearing trays laden with all manner of food, bread and cheeses, bowing low to allow her to take what she pleased.

“Thank you…b…but no,” Hermione was taken aback slightly by the fuss, “I'm just here to see Kreacher. Kreacher may I have a word please.”

Kreacher ambled toward her and bowed low. The locket rapped heavy on the stone floor.

“Kreacher is at your service Mistress,” he croaked.

That statement made Hermione's heart twinge slightly. Though she had mostly abandoned her S.P.E.W. endeavors, it still didn't set well with her most wizards still considered house elves to be beneath them.

There would be time for that someday…

She hoped, but today was not the day. Other things…other people were more important then even her own self interests.

“Kreacher, I was wondering if I could ask a very important favor of you?”

“Of course, Mistress,” the wrinkled old house elf bowed low once again.

“Harry Potter has returned to Grimmuald Place. I believe he will be staying there for a while. He's sleeping at the moment but he's there quite alone, none the less. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to pop in on him from time to time just to make sure he is alright. I'll try to look in on him myself but I'm not sure it will be as often as I would like. I do think he would appreciate your company.”

“It would be my honor to see to Harry Potter's well being Mistress,” he croaked excitedly.

“Excellent! Thank you Kreacher.”

A rather small house elf came up and pressed a cup of tea into her hands. She noticed something oddly familiar about this particular little elf. Then suddenly it hit her.

“Winky!”

The little elf's eyes grew wide. She seemed suddenly frightened.

“Don't you remember…,” Hermione then recalled Winky had spent most of her time under the inebriating effects of butterbeer. She probably couldn't remember her own name those years ago.

“Well anyway,” Hermione added hastily, “I was a friend of Dobby's…”

As soon as the name left her lips the little house elf crumpled in to a sobbing heap on the floor, dropping her tea tray with a loud crash.

Several agitated house elves rushed to clean up the mess as others hauled Winky's blubbering form off to a secluded corner.

Hermione felt horrible.

“She'll be alright in a day or so Mistress. Not to worry,” Kreacher croaked but he looked a bit embarrassed by the whole spectacle.

Some things never change.

“I'm really sorry Kreacher. I best be going,” she downed the last of her tea and handed the cup and saucer back to Kreacher. He bowed as Hermione made her way out of the kitchen.

As she made her way toward the Gryffindor tower Hermione found herself instead standing outside the Prefect's bathroom.

“Pine fresh,” she muttered and the door swung open silently.

The next thing she knew, Hermione was up to her neck in a hot, soothing bath. It felt wonderful on the many bumps and bruises she had acquired during the fight.

She soaked there for what seemed like hours trying to let the events of the past several months float away along with the severe layer of grime and dirt that had accumulated over the past 24 hours.

She blearily gazed up at the portrait of the beautiful half-naked mermaid lounging on her divan, watching Hermione with barely veiled interest.

Hermione had never paid the portrait much attention in her previous trips to the bath.

She could see the woman was beyond natural human beauty.

She had an angelic face with long tresses of spun gold. She was un-naturally well endowed for a woman with such a slender frame.

She seemed unashamed to display them for anyone who cared to gaze upon her portrait, completely unconcerned about her immodesty.

Even the shimmering blue-green scales that covered her fish-like lower body did nothing to detract from her femininity.

She now understood why the boys spent such an inordinate amount of time in this place. Ron was at the top of that list. He'd single-handedly logged more hours in the Prefect's bath then all the other Prefects combined.

Hermione couldn't help but look down over her own body and feel a wave of inadequacy wash over her tired mind.

How could she ever compete with women who were so much more desirable than she felt she was?

She thought of girls like Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, Angelina Johnson, and even Ginny. Mother Nature had been most kind to the little redhead over the past year. She was gorgeous.

It was easy to see why Harry was smitten with her.

Hermione's mood seemed to darken as she allowed herself to sink into self loathing and pity.

It was very unusual for her to be so self-conscious but the events of the past few months had taken a toll on her. It made her re-evaluate many things.

As she washed herself in the hot fragrant water an ethereal voice cut through the silence of the bathroom.

“Why do you human women insist on comparing yourselves to one-another to gauge your own self-worth?”

Hermione jumped, her knee-jerk reaction was to duck under the bubbly water and covered herself with her arms looking around the bath for the source of the voice. It was obviously feminine.

“No need to hide my dear. I've seen you bathing here for years you know. I could tell you that you have nothing to be ashamed of but I fear it would do little good to assuage your feelings of inferiority.”

She glanced up at the mermaid and found the woman smiling at her and swishing her tail slightly. Her large lavender eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight of the bathroom.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to her first comment. Her initial reaction was one of annoyance but as she floated there in the fragrant water the mermaid's second comment sunk into her beleaguered mind.

“What? Can you read my thoughts or something?”

The mermaid laughed quietly. It was like the sound of small silver bells tinkling in the vast open space of the Prefect's bath. The sound was more than pleasant, Hermione had to admit.

“I'm afraid it's nothing so dramatic love. I have spent over one hundred years observing students who bath here and have become quite adept at reading their emotions. So tell me then, my dear Ms. Granger. Why do you torment yourself so?”

“How do you know my name?” Hermione looked at the painting with her eyebrows raised.

The mermaid rolled her beautiful eyes and lay back down on her divan, wearying from the silly questions.

“You must be joking…every painting in this castle knows your name. I can see you are in no mood for conversation so I shall leave you to your bath.”

That revelation stunned Hermione. She knew she had spent a lot of time at Hogwarts but she didn't realize the paintings even cared that much. As she floated there her mind drifted back to the mermaid's initial question.

Why did she compare herself to those other girls? Wasn't everyone special in their own way? Why did she care that Cho Chang had bigger boobs than she did? The girl had an empty head!

Because that's what boys want Granger and you know it…You could have brains oozing out of your ears - which would be rather gross - but boys would never even notice. They haven't yet, have they?

She glanced up at the mermaid who was now fanning herself slowly with a large palm leaf.

“I suppose it's only natural for us to compare ourselves to others who have…things we wish we did.”

The mermaid stopped fanning herself and her eyes fell upon Hermione bobbing in the soapy water like a cork.

“And what…things... would those be?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't sure she liked having her questions thrown back at her.

“When boys look at me they don't see the same things when they look at other girls. They don't see me in the same way for the same reasons. I guess it's just a bit…discouraging sometimes.”

“So you feel as if you're not as desirable as other young ladies?”

If the mermaid was trying to help Hermione feel better, she was failing miserably.

“I suppose,” She found herself becoming annoyed again, “Look, it really doesn't matter all that much and to be honest, in the grand scheme of things, it's just not that important…”

Hermione made her way to the edge of the pool sized tub. She figured if the dirt hadn't come off by now then it was stuck to her for good.

“Would it help to tell you there is one who holds you in higher regard than any other?”

That gave her pause for a moment but then she figured maybe Ron told the mermaid things when he was bathing. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or mortified.

“Yes…well some boys don't know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“Oh I assure you, he didn't speak freely. He was much like you. He seemed to be deeply troubled. He never came very often…”

That surprised Hermione greatly. She realized the mermaid wasn't talking about Ron.

“Once he came with a rather strange golden egg. I often wondered why he didn't take my advice and pursue you but I suppose it was because you were both so very young.”

Hermione glared at the mermaid for a moment.

“We had more important things to do and I'm sure he fancies another girl anyway.”

The mermaid gave Hermione a sultry smile.

“I'm sure you're right my dear but you may be surprised at what boys tell me…”

With that cryptic statement, Hermione had had enough. She decided she didn't want or care to know.

She dragged herself from the warmth of the tub, dried off, dressed in her freshly scourgified clothes and headed for the Gryffindor tower.

She pushed what the mermaid had said to her to the back of her mind. She knew the truth and there was no sense thinking about things that didn't matter.

As she made her way through the silent castle hallways, she thought about Ron. She thought about the way she had ditched him and his family. Guilt spiked in her mind and it made her stomach clench uncomfortably. It only served to make her feel worse.

Ron was angry with her when she tried to explain why she thought she had to help Harry replace the wand. She hoped it wasn't as lame as it sounded to her then but she was right in her assumption. She hoped he would understand. If she and Harry explained McGonagall's reaction then surely he would see. He had to.

Upon her arrival, she suddenly realized she didn't know the password to get beyond the Fat Lady's portrait. The portrait eyed her wearily.

“Something wrong young lady?” The Fat Lady asked her.

She was about to ask to enter anyway for what good she knew it would do when two burley Aurors came around the corner and spotted her.

“You there!” one of the men said, “Whaddaya mean by bein' ou' this time o' nigh'?”

Hermione stiffened and her hand instinctively reached for her wand.

As they came closer, recognition seemed to dawn on their faces. They both pulled up short as they looked down at her.

The other Auror thumped the one that had spoken on the arm.

“Blimey Luther, tha' there is Herminownee Granger. You know, th' one what was wiff `erry Potter. The young lady what's picture's in the Prophet I showed ya'.

Hermione had to stifle a roll of her eyes.

Thanks for murdering my name!

Luther squinted down at her.

“Bugger, I believe you're righ' lad,” he mumble. He glanced at his mate, then with a growl, swatted Henry's head, “Take off ye' hat ya' tosspot. Show some respect why don' ya'”

Henry whipped his hat off looking slightly ashamed.

The whole display took Hermione completely by surprise but then his words sunk into her exhausted mind.

“Hang on. Did you say my picture was in the Prophet?”

Luther brightened.

“Oh ya' Miss. Big story `bout what happen' las' nigh'. Whole wizard world's talkin' `bout it. See for yourself.”

The large man slipped a folded paper from beneath the crook of his arm, unfolded it and handed it to her.

A glaring headline read…

VOLDEMORT DEFEATED!!

Hermione quickly scanned over the story and saw, below the fold, a picture of her, Harry and Ron that was taken several years earlier by Colin Creevey. The caption under the photo read, `Golden Trio Ends Dark Lord's Reign of Terror!'

She suddenly felt terribly weary. Less than 24 hours after the final battle the news had spread throughout the entire world like a wind-driven forest fire.

Good news travels fast…bad news travels even faster…gossip travels at the speed of light!

She looked up at the two men and could do nothing but grimace.

The man named Henry looked at her awkwardly strangling his cap.

“Um…'scuse me Miss…Do ya' think…um…well, could ya sign the Daily Prophet for us?”

Luther gave Henry a scathing look.

“Don' be `n idiot `enry. She prolly gits that sort a rubbish from loads a' folk. Pardon me mate Miss Granger. He's a bit daft sometimes.”

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh, cry or be incensed by the request.

Autograph indeed!

“Er…you're the first actually.” Reaching out, she took the quill and paper and scratched her name as neatly as possible across the bottom of the front page. She handed them back to a very pleased Henry.

“Blimey! Thanks miss. If `ere's anythin' I can ever do…”

Hermione smiled at them sweetly.

“Actually there is something.”

“Name it!” Luther growled.

“Headmistress McGonagall forgot to give me the new password to the Gryffindor dormitory and I'm really tired…”

She was about to explain further when Henry held up a large hand.

“No' ta worry young lady,” he turned to the Fat lady and said, “Maroon and Gold!”

The portrait swung wide as Luther gave her a slight bow and a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“Thank you.” Hermione said as she stepped through the portal.

“Thin' nofin' of it miss,” Henry said, then he stopped abruptly, “Oh, Hang on, jus' one more question if I may?” He fumbled with his copy of the Daily Prophet for a moment.

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

Henry's eyebrows pinched together in concentration on the paper.

“D' ya' happen to know a six letter word for…a cry of anguish or sorrow?”

Hermione chuckled.

“I believe the word you're looking for is L-A-M-E-N-T.”

He scribbled on the paper then smiled brightly.

“Tha's it! Thank you Miss Granger!”

Luther rolled his eyes as he guided his partner away.

“G'night Miss.”

“Goodnight gentlemen and thank you again.”

She could here them talking as the portrait swung closed.

“Toll' ya' she's brilliant.”

“Come on ya' bloody toe rag, we go' corridors ta' check.”

The Gryffindor common room was silent and deserted as she made her way to the stairs to the girl's dorm rooms. The light from a waning moon streamed through the windows, bathing the space in an ethereal glow.

Memories swam through her mind of happier days spent there. A deep sense of melancholy swept over her.

The events of the past several weeks seemed to come crashing down on her all at once.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she leaned against the ancient stone wall next to the stairway.

She couldn't seem to hold back the tears as a single thought pushed itself to the front of her exhausted mind.

What does the future hold for me now?

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A.N. This was a tough chapter to write. I hope you like!

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Three - The Death of Innocence

There were simply too many of them to apparate at the same time and with Fred's coffin it would have been very dangerous to try so Charlie and Percy had gone ahead to make sure the lane in front of the main entrance to St. Mungo's was secure and Muggle free.

Mr. Weasley retrieved an old watering can from the ruins of Hagrid's hut and created a portkey. As they stood waiting, Hermione kept looking back over her shoulder into the Great Hall.

“Ron, I don't see Harry. Something's gone wrong! He was right behind us!”

“Relax Hermione,” Ron whispered, “He's the bloody Savior of the Wizard World. Not to mention, he's got the…you-know-what!

“No, Ron! You don't understand.” Hermione was beginning to panic, “He's exhausted. Someone could have knocked him out and taken it! I need to find him.”

She recalled Neville had asked Harry to see the wand. It wasn't that she thought Neville would try to take it but Neville wasn't the only one who knew about the Elder Wand.

She steeled herself.

“I'm sorry Ron. I'll try to catch you up if I can.”

Hermione kissed him on the cheek then streaked back toward the Great Hall.

“Hermione!” Ron watched her go, his irritation spiked.

Ginny and Dean came up beside him.

“Everything alright, Ron,” Ginny asked, watching Hermione's retreating figure.

Ron just shook his head. His anger at Hermione was palpable. Part of him understood her concern for replacing the Elder Wand but he felt there were plenty of others who could have helped Harry accomplish the task.

“I don't know. She said she was worried Harry didn't follow us into the Great Hall. He was right behind us in the hallway.”

Now Ginny looked a little worried.

“Do you think we need to go help her find him?”

Ron looked at his baby sister and then at Dean. He was trying to figure out why Dean was even with them but he remembered what it was like to poke his nose into Ginny's affairs so he just sighed and kept any comments to himself.

“No. I think everything's alright. She's just over-reacting as always. He's probably using his cloak. You know Harry. Probably doesn't want the attention.”

Arthur called everyone to the portkey.

“Very well, on three then,” Arthur counted, “One…Two…Three!”

There was a brilliant flash of blue and the group disappeared.

Everyone made it to the landing point in front of the Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Department Store window standing up. Bill and Arthur still suspended the long, narrow pine box that contained Fred's body as Charlie and Percy joined them. Lee Jordon joined the group as well. He gave George a pat on the shoulder.

All the Weasleys were present along with Fleur and Dean.

“Lee if you would be so kind,” Mr. Weasley asked.

Lee made his way to the mannequin and announced their presence.

“Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Percy Weasley, George Weasley, Fred Weasley…deceased, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Fleur Weasley, Dean Thomas and Lee Jordon requesting entrance.”

They waited silently for a moment then a voice crackled out of the mannequin.

“Very well, you may proceed.”

Bill and Arthur went first with the casket then the rest followed. Charlie touched his mother's shoulder.

“Mum, Percy and I are going to wait a bit, make sure we're not followed.”

Molly looked at Charlie slightly alarmed.

“Followed by whom dear? Are you expecting trouble?”

“No mum,” Percy chimed in, “But the confrontation at Hogwarts is all over the Prophet so it wouldn't surprise me if they're monitoring the flue and portkey networks to try to get a scoop. Believe me, it's what I would do.”

Molly cringed, her sad eyes resting on each of her boys faces.

“Very well, but you two be careful!” She scolded.

Charlie rolled his eyes as the rest went through.

As the group gained the main corridor of the hospital, it was a virtual riot of activity. Healers and nurses rushed by in every direction. Wizards and witches of every shape and size lay on gurneys, sat in chairs or simply slumped against the walls.

They tried to make their way through the crowd as carefully as they could. Bill and Arthur had the casket suspended at shoulder height.

There was a loud thump and they turned to see an older healer sitting on his backside dazedly rubbing his head.

Ginny and Dean rushed to help him to his feet. Dean brushed off the back of his robe.

“My apologies Adler,” Arthur said as he and Bill lifted the casket above their heads out of harms way, “I shouldn't have been so careless.”

The healer wobbled slightly but waved a hand.

“Think nothing of it Arthur. I should have been paying more attention. Is that…” he pointed at the casket.

Arthur nodded.

The healer came up to Molly and took her hands in his.

“I'm so sorry for your loss, Molly dear.” He looked sadly around at all of them.

“Thank you Milben,” Molly gave him a fervent hug, “Thank you so much.”

Healer Adler waved his hand again; an angry-looking bump was forming on the right side of his forehead. He tottered away only to be swallowed by the throng.

“Dad, we best get Fred to the lift as quickly as possible,” Bill said, giving his father a significant look.

Charlie and Percy came up behind them.

“Right you are Bill,” Arthur looked around, “Alright, no sense in all of us going to the morgue. Ginny, Dean, Fleur, Lee why don't you four accompany George to the Healers while the rest of us see to Fred. Well join you as soon as he's in the proper hands.”

Fleur moved next to Bill and kissed him deeply.

“Do be careful, mon amour, s'il vous plait.”

Ron was amazed his brother Bill could get kissed like that and not drop the casket.

George laid his hand then leaned his head reverently on the side of Fred's casket.

“See ya' in a few days bro',” he whispered, “Don't you be making a racket down there and wake the dead.”

Everyone nodded and the group split up. Ron watched the others go. He didn't like the fact they were splitting up. He wasn't sure why, exactly.

He suddenly wished however, he would have been sent to the Healers with George but said nothing as he fell in step with the others moving toward the lifts.

Hermione's absence was like a glaring spotlight shining down on the floor next to him. He wanted to understand why she felt she had to help Harry but it still irritated him that Ron seemed, once again to be playing second-fiddle to the Savior of the Wizard World.

Maybe my leaving them during the hunt for the Horcruxes had a worse effect than I first thought…

He wanted to believe the way she had kissed him in the Room of Requirement the night before had settled things but now he wasn't so sure.

As they waited for the lift to arrive, Arthur gave his wife a significant look.

“Molly, perhaps you should go with George as well…”

Molly looked at Arthur mortified.

“Arthur Weasley, I will not! We'll see George straight away,” her eyes began to well; “The idea!”

“Sorry dear,” Arthur cringed, “Not to worry.”

The lift rattled to a stop and the gate slid noisily back. More than a dozen people clamored off and much to the group's relief it was quite empty when they carefully guided the casket inside then piled in after it.

As the gate slid closed, Arthur said, “Morgue, please.”

A pleasant female voice chimed, “Wizard morgue…Level Seven.

The lift groaned as it began to descend down through the floors below.

When it reached Level Seven, they all crowded out and stepped aside so the casket could be guided out without hitting anything.

As soon as Ron stepped off the lift, the cold air hit him like an Arctic blast. He couldn't help but shiver. Little puffs of mist hung in the air as each of them breathed.

The Wizard Morgue was much more modern then Ron had expected. The lift opened into what was a rather long, wide hallway. The floors were a highly polished white marble.

On either side of the hall were many narrow white doors. Each door had a window set in the wall next to it.

The walls and frames around the doors and windows seemed to be made of shiny silver metal. A small red plaque hung on each door. Ron could see the plaques had names on them printed in white letters.

At the end of the long hall were two large metal double doors. Each had a small window set at about head height in the center.

Ron could see a face peering out at them through one of the small windows.

“This way everyone,” Arthur said as they began moving to the large double doors at the end of the hall.

As they passed each door Ron could see some of the smaller side rooms had names on the doors. He saw a plaque that had Colin Creevey's name on it.

Ron crossed the hall and saw the name Tonks; Nymphadora. Next to her was Lupin; Remus and some additional words were below his name; Lycanthropic DNA.

He peered into the window. He could see that inside the room was a shiny metal table against the wall just below the window. There was nothing on it.

There was a waist-high table in the center of the room. On it laid the outline of a body covered in a white sheet.

He could tell the feet from the outline of the sheet but the rest of the image was lost in the darkness of the little room. There didn't seem to be anything else inside.

Suddenly, the reality of the battle from the previous night landed heavily upon him. People he knew had died! His brother Fred died! He felt heavy, as if the forces of the earth were pressing down harder on his body.

Just as he was about to go back to the others, the hall was filled with an ear-splitting, howling shriek.

Ron turned, his wand in his hand, just in time to see his mother flying across the hall in a blur with her wand out.

Confusion clouded his mind as he watched the scene unfold.

“CHARLIE…P…PERCY,” his father yelled, “YOUR MOTHER!” He and Bill were struggling to lower Fred's casket to the floor.

Ron was finally able to make his feet move as he dashed to try and intercept her as well but they were too slow to react.

Molly raised her wand and literally blew one of the small white doors off its hinges to one of the rooms ahead of Ron.

She screamed again as she made her way into the room, Charlie and Percy were right on her heels.

Ron got there just in time to see Percy reach out and grab his mother's outstretched arm and redirect it as she screamed a curse.

“INCINERATE!”

The red streak just missed the figure on the table, barely nicking the sheet as it hit the white wall beyond. The wall erupted in flames.

Percy yelled as he struggled with his mother.

“Mum Please!”

Charlie was on them in an instant. He waved his wand and the flames were extinguished before they could do much damage. The only thing that remained was a little smoke.

His mother's face was a purple mask of raw rage. It shocked Ron. He'd never seen her like that before. He piled inside the room to help restrain her.

“Mum what are you…” It was all he could get out.

“YOU FOUL, DISGUSTING ANIMAL!” Molly was screaming and struggling to free her wand arm. Tears coursed down her cheeks as her eyes bore holes in the figure lying still as death on the metal table.

Behind them out in the hall, Ron could hear shouts of others. Several Morgue employees had burst through the large double doors at the end of the hall. They were trying to figure out what was going on.

“Now see here,” someone shouted, “what is the meaning of all this?”

Ron heard Bill.

“Not to worry gentlemen, we've got this.”

They had managed to move her back toward the door when Arthur seemed to materialize out of thin air.

“Molly,” he cried. When she didn't respond, her wild eyes still locked on the body, Arthur yelled, “MOLLY!”

His father's booming voice seemed to cut through the noise and confusion. Everything seemed to come to a grinding halt and all went silent, except for his mother's desperate sobs.

It was the first time in his life Ron had ever heard his father raise his voice like that.

Arthur took Molly in a tight embrace and turned her to face him.

“Molly…Molly! Look at me!”

She turned and looked up at Arthur, her eyes still wild with anger, her cheeks soaked with tears.

His father's voice returned as calm and controlled as ever.

“Listen to me dear…”

Molly struggled again.

“I WILL NOT HAVE MY SON IN THE SAME PLACE AS THAT…THAT…”

“Molly please!” Arthur implored, “There is nothing good that can come of this. This won't bring our Freddy back. That…that THING…is gone…He's gone Molly and he will never hurt our family again. Harry saw to that!”

Molly didn't appear to be convinced. She seemed to wrestle with a monumental internal struggle. Arthur took her face gently in both his hands.

“Molly love! You can not give in to despair. Do you understand? If you do then you allow him victory. Don't you see…don't you remember? This is precisely what he wanted, to tear us apart from the inside. If you give in then he wins…he wins Molly, even from the grave! I know you don't want that. I need you Molly. We need you here with us…now!”

Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting.

Those final words seemed to snap her out of her blind rage. Molly looked up into Arthur's worried eyes and nodded.

“I'm sorry Arthur,” she whispered as she fell forward into her husband's arms, burying her face in his chest. Her whole body racked with deep sobs of unendurable pain.

“There, there, Molly. You have nothing to apologize for.” Arthur held her tightly, gently rocking her where they stood. They all seemed to take a huge sigh of relief.

Arthur looked over his shoulder and motioned to Bill and Ron to guide their mother out of the room.

For the first time, Ron saw real fear in his father's eyes. It was raw and deep. He tried to give his father a smile as he took hold of his mother and, along with Bill, swept her from the room. He glanced down and saw the name on the red plaque. It made his blood boil.

Tom Marvolo Riddle (AKA)

Lord Voldemort

Ophidian DNA

Ron stomped the plaque hard and it shattered into a dozed pieces, obscuring the words.

That felt bloody good!

Arthur leaned against the metal table next to the doorway. He raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brows despite the bitter cold of the room. It was shaking. He then realized he was shaking all over.

Charlie stepped in front of him.

“You ok dad?”

Arthur took a few deep, steadying breaths before he trusted himself to say anything.

“I thought we'd lost her there for a moment son,” his attempt at a smile failed.

“Dad,” Charlie said, “I've met some brave people in my life. I've watched men stand their ground against some of the fiercest creatures in the world. I watched a seventeen year old boy face down the worst nightmare in wizard history…but what you just did took more guts and courage than I have ever seen.”

Charlie placed both his hands gently on his father's shoulders.

“Arthur Weasley you are one of the greatest, most noble wizards I have ever known. Have I ever told you how very proud I am to be your son?”

Arthur reached out and pulled Charlie in a tight embrace, patting his son on the back of the head.

“Thank you son,” Arthur sniffed, “That means more to me than you could possibly imagine.”

Arthur released Charlie and stood up.

A rather tall, thin wizard in periwinkle robes, beady dark eyes and an oversized white handle-bar moustache came up to them and peered around the room. Percy was right behind him.

“Arthur, what in Merlin's name?”

“Sorry Whellingsby,” Arthur shot the man a thin smile, “Just a misunderstanding I'm afraid. Not to worry. We'll put everything to right at once.”

Ron stood out in the hall holding his mother. It amazed him that his father seemed to know everyone in the Ministry.

Whellingsby nodded.

“Very well,” Whellingsby waved the other officials off, “Bringing in Fred I see.”

“Yes,” was all Arthur could say. He glanced at Molly who was now surrounded by Ron and Bill.

“Bad business this was,” Whellingsby said, “but at least there wasn't as many as last time.”

That was small consolation to Arthur. He remembered how it had been the last time Voldemort tried to rise to power.

So many died…and for what?

Percy came up to his father.

“You go on dad, Charlie and I will see to this.”

Arthur nodded, patting Percy on the shoulder then made his way over to where the others were waiting. He and Bill levitated Fred and Whellingsby led them toward the double doors.

Charlie set to mending the door as Percy scourgified the room. When everything looked as it had, they turned to leave.

As Percy pulled the door closed he stopped and gazed down at the lifeless figure lying on the table with unveiled contempt.

“We should have let mum send your arse to hell in ashes…Would have been a fitting end, I'd say. Your quest for ultimate power…failed,” he said threw clenched teeth, “Beaten by a child! Now that's justice!”

Percy slammed the door and turned to join the rest of his family as they made there way into the morgue.

Charlie smiled and clapped his brother on the shoulder, “I think there's hope for you yet Perce.”

It took about an hour to process Fred's body in the morgue but once they were done they wasted no time getting out of the place.

As they made their way to the surgical ward, Ron noticed Dean and Ginny sitting very close together on a bench in a hallway. He called to the others as he headed toward them.

Ron gave Ginny a questioning look as he came up to them. Ginny just glared at him. He let it go. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation with his sister at the moment.

“George still in with the healer,” he asked.

“No,” Ginny answered, not looking up at him, “I think he's just waiting for his ear to come back. Phlegm and Lee are in with him.”

“Right,” Ron said as the others arrived. They all went into the room to see George.

He was sitting up on a table smiling and laughing with a very pretty black-haired nurse. The hole where his ear used to be looked much cleaner and smoother then it had. Molly went to his side and hugged him tightly.

“Hello mum,” George beamed, “get Fred squared away alright?”

Molly was still sniffling so Arthur replied.

“Yes George, Fred's in good hands.”

Bill looked quizzically at George for a moment.

“What is this then, George? What are they going to do with that hole in the side of your head?”

George simply smiled.

“Glad you asked that question Bill. It seems there is a Healer that has been experimenting with certain types of prosthetics for magic folk.”

“Pros…what?” Ron asked scratching his head.

“Prosthetics…They are like replacement body parts. They're not real of course but Muggles have been using them for years. Let's say a bloke looses a leg in a horrible accident. A prosthetic leg allows that bloke to walk again quite normal from what I understand.”

“Wicked,” Ron said.

Everyone looked shocked.

“Mad Eye Moody could have done with one of those legs, I'll bet,” said Charlie.

“Nah,” said Bill, “he would have just gone and gotten it blown right off again.”

They all chuckled.

“Right in one Bill,” George continued, “So the Healer came in and made a cast of my good ear. Now he's making a mirror-image cast of the ear and he's going to make my replacement from the new cast.”

“What's it made out of?” Lee asked.

George shrugged.

“Not sure really, I suspect it will be something like our Extendable Ears. As a matter of fact, I gave the healer a set to look at. He was quite impressed with them.” George smiled widely.

“How is it attached to your head,” Ginny inquired?

“Probably a simple sticking charm Gin,” answered Percy.

“I suspect,” replied George, “but it will be removable if I want to take it off to clean it or whatever.”

Lee Jordan got a mischievous gleam in his eye and he looked at George.

“Too bad it doesn't spin round or flap or something like that.”

George got the same look as he stroked his chin in thought.

“Now boys,” admonished Arthur, “let's not be too hasty.”

As Ron stood there watching his family, he couldn't help but wonder why they weren't more sad at the thought of their son and brother stuffed in a refrigerator like so much sausage several floors below them at that moment. For a reason he couldn't quite understand he felt a growing sense of frustration as he watched them laughing and smiling and joking.

He couldn't seem to quell the anger swelling in his chest. He suddenly wanted to hit something. What he said next just seemed to come out on its own.

“I don't suppose any of you care that Fred's below us right now and he can't be here to have a go at George's new ear because he's quite DEAD at the moment.”

Everyone seemed to freeze in place. Ron stepped toward George with his hands clenched in fists.

“Want to know how you really lost your ear mate? It was a curse sent by Severus Snape! That's right! It was meant to hit the Death Eater who was trying to off Remus Lupin. Snape missed and hit your ear instead.”

No-one said anything. George sat on the examination table looking at Ron with an unreadable expression. He then looked around at all the others.

“Mind if I have a word in private with my gormless brother?”

It took a moment for everyone to file out of the room. Arthur hesitated for a moment looking at both his sons.

George held up a hand.

“It's alright dad. I just want to have a little chat. I swear he'll have both bullocks when I'm done.”

Arthur nodded and left the room. Ron stiffened with resentment. George took a deep breath.

“What seems to be your problem Ron?”

Ron had no idea why he was so angry but he couldn't seem to quell the fury running through him at the moment.

“Seems to me you should be a bit more broke up about our brother being dead, that's all.”

Still, George's face remained impassive.

“And what does that mean exactly?”

Ron just shrugged. He wasn't sure what it meant.

George looked down at his hands for a moment and then returned his neutral gaze to his brother.

“Listen to me carefully Ron. No-one in this family is more devastated by Fred's death then I am. It's as if I've lost a part of me and you can't possibly understand how that feels. I'm going to miss him every day for the rest of my life but what I will not do is dishonor his memory by moping about or hiding like a scared little rabbit under my bed.”

“Our brother died a hero Ron, don't you see. Feeling sad or depressed wouldn't make anything better. Besides, he'd probably come back to haunt me…looking like toad-faced Umbridge or something just to spite me if I went moping about.”

George chuckled and Ron couldn't help but crack a smile at that one. George reached out and put his hand on Ron's shoulder.

“Understand what I'm getting at?”

Ron nodded looking at his shoes.

Something occurred to George.

“Now…if Fred had gone and blown himself up creating one of our experiments then I'd be down right grief-stricken but thankfully, he didn't. He sacrificed his life for us just as so many others did so we could be free.”

“Blimey, imagine what mum would have done to me if that happened. I suspect there would be a twin funeral!”

That cracked Ron up proper. George finally smiled a sad smile.

“Better now?”

“Makes sense I suppose.” Ron answered but he still didn't feel quite right.

“Good…fetch Lee for me, won't you? I want to discuss with him the finer pointes of magically modifying a prosthetic appendage.” He looked pointedly at Ron, “and if you breathe a word of this to the old man I'll hex warts all over your Ickle Ronnykins, got it?”

Just then a young-looking Healer walked in with a silver tray covered with a white cloth.

“Ah, speaking of said appendage!” George quipped.

Ron went out into the hall to fetch Lee. He heard them all talking in hushed tones.

“Well, I suppose we could stay at Aunt Muriel's,” Molly said.

“Nonsense,” Fleur announced, “`You and Ginevra must come and stay wiz us! We inseest, do we not, Bill?”

“Of course darling,” Bill smiled at his bride, “I only wish I had enough room to accommodate everyone.”

Molly looked a bit hesitant. Ginny looked as if she had stepped in stink sap.

“Thank you, dear,” Molly said with a smile.

“What about dad and Ron,” Ginny piped up a bit huffily, “Where are they going to stay?”

Arthur gave his youngest a significant look. Ginny shrank back behind Dean.

“I'm sure George wouldn't mind Ron staying with him in the flat over the shop,” Lee added.

“That will do for now,” Arthur said, “I can stay with Muriel for a few weeks. I'm sure she'll appreciate the company.”

“Harry said we could all stay at Grimmuald Place if we wanted,” Ron added.

Molly looked thoughtful for a moment. Ginny blanched three shades whiter.

“That's an idea,” she said, then added, “But poor Harry's been through so much. I don't think he needs us all blustering about the only place he feels safe. Lad needs some peace and quiet.”

Ginny's color seemed to return and she looked very much relieved. Ron's irritation returned. He wanted to know what was going on with his sister but that could wait. He wanted to stay at #12 but wasn't sure that anyone was even there. He figured Harry was still at Hogwarts.

He was about to tap Lee's shoulder to tell him George wanted him when they all heard a commotion at the end of the hall.

An elderly wizard in magenta robes was talking quite loudly to several harried-looking Healers.

“Arthur Weasley, have you seen him. They told me he could be found…” The old wizard looked toward them, “Ahh, Arthur there you are!”

He was stooped over, hobbling toward them with the aid of what appeared to be a very crooked cane. His breath came in wheezing gasps as he moved stiffly up the hall.

As he made his way closer, Ron could see the old man looked like he was a hundred years old. His face was folded in deep wrinkles and his eyes were drooped half closed.

Arthur moved forward to meet him.

“Penrose, what on earth are you doing here?”

The old man stopped and looked up at Arthur. When he tried to straighten up, his spine gave a nasty crack! It made everyone jump.

“Oh,” Penrose groaned, “this lumbago's going to be the death of me! Had to come Arthur. Just in from the Ministry…heard Kingsley Shacklebolt's bypassed the Minister's job...”

The old man paused. When the pause stretched on for what seemed like several minutes, they realized the old man had fallen asleep standing there. He started snoring lightly.

Arthur looked at the others over his shoulder. Everyone was staring at the old man open-mouthed.

“Sherwood Penrose, oldest member of the Wizengamot.” He said, as if that would explain everything.

Arthur reached out and gently gave Penrose a shake. The old man startled awake with a snort.

“I vote to allow Transylvania into the League of Wizards!” Sherwood yelled but then looked around confused, “Who are you?” He said as if stunned, “How in the name of Morgan le Fay did I get here?”

“Erm…you wanted to see me, Sherwood. I'm Arthur Weasley.”

“What...On yes…of course, of course,” Penrose blustered, “Shacklebolt told me he has put your name in the running for the Minister's seat, thought you'd like a leg up before the Prophet gets hold of it…MY WORD LADDY!”

The old man reared back, looking wide-eyed at Percy.

“Did anyone ever tell you you're the spitting image of Boreguard Fentwistle?”

“Beg pardon, sir?” Percy looked dazed.

Arthur looked at Percy shaking his head slightly as he took the old man by the arm and led him down the hall.

“I think it would be wise for you to head back to the Ministry Sherwood…”

Sherwood Penrose's announcement left everyone standing in stunned silence.

Charlie was the first to speak.

“Did I just hear that old codger right? Did he say dad was in the running for the Minister's job?”

“I believe so Charlie,” Bill said dazedly.

They all looked at one-another. Smiles started breaking out on all their faces, all except Ron.

Ron couldn't help but think of all the times the ministry had treated his family like scourge because of their position in the conflict with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He remembered how they conspired with the Daily Prophet to make Harry look like a complete nutter and portrayed Hermione as a scarlet women.

It annoyed him his family seemed to be getting sucked into the very thing that had kept them in abject poverty for most his young life.

Percy looked as if he was about to burst into tears. His bottom lip was quivering slightly.

“Arthur Weasley…Minster for Magic. Why that's…that's…”

“Ridiculous,” Ron said loudly. He was standing back a bit from everyone else with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“Why in the world would you say such a thing Ronald?” His mother asked with a surprised look. They were all looking at him now.

“I'll tell you why, but first,” Ron looked pointedly at Lee, “George wanted to see you in the room mate…”

Lee ducked, gladly, in the door that led to George's room. When it swung closed Ron continued.

“I suppose you've forgotten how the ministry has treated us all these years. How they put dad in the worst possible positions and tried to convince everyone that Voldemort wasn't back and that Harry was a bleeding nutter…” Ron's anger was increasing with each word.

“That was before,” Bill said.

“Yes,” added Percy, “the Ministry was filled with spies from the Dark Lord's camp. Members were Imperiused right under our noses. Things will be much different now.”

“That's provided dad even wants the job,” Charlie said.

Fleur stepped from Bills arms into the middle of the group and looked around at them all with a red face.

“Listen to you! I can not believe what I am `ering. Arser Weasley would make a wonderful Meenister. `E `ees kind and generous. He `as more integrate zan any man I have ever known. He treats others weeth repsectamon. Your fazar ees a great weezard. I am surprised at you all!”

She tossed her silvery-blond main to the side as she stomped back toward Bill. She certainly got their attention.

“Oh Fleur,” Molly sniffed, “You're absolutely right, of course.”

“And just think,” Ginny said with a bright smile, “If dad gets chosen Minister we would get to live in the Minister's mansion!”

“That's right,” said Percy, “I almost forgot about that. Oh mum, you'd love it! It's got eight bedrooms!

“Eight bedrooms,” Molly asked, incredulously.

“Yes,” Ginny said, “that means we wouldn't have to rebuild the Burrow.”

Molly looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I suppose you're right Ginny dear,” she sighed, “beside, after next year you'll most all be out on your own. It will be just Arthur and I.”

Her face wrinkled into sadness again.

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing.

NOT REBUILD THE BURROW! How could they possible think such a thing?

“What do you mean, not rebuild the Burrow?” He asked, but his question was lost in a throng of excited confusion.

Just then George came out from the room with Lee looking very much normal with two ears. Everyone gathered around him to have a look.

His father then returned from ushering Penrose to the lifts and they all congratulated him on his nomination.

Ron stood there watching as his family was gathered in what could only be described as a happy celebration of these new events. He couldn't help but feel as if his whole life was being turned upside-down.

Everything was changing right before his eyes and for the first time in his life, he had no where to go. The only home he had ever known lay in ruins, destroyed by evil.

What little he did possess was gone. What remained was packed in his Hogwarts trunk. He couldn't even remember where he had left it.

He thought about Hermione. For what seemed like a brief moment he felt as if she wanted to be together but now, even that wasn't so clear.

He watched as Ginny and Dean came toward him. Ginny looked excited.

“Dad's going to accept the nomination!” She clapped and jumped as she spoke. Dean was grinning widely as he watched her.

Ron had been so absorbed in his thoughts he had barely heard a word she had said but his anger suddenly flared. He looked at Ginny darkly.

“Mind telling me what the bloody hell you're playing at?” He looked back and forth between the two of them.

Ginny's excitement evaporated instantly. A brief look of guilt flashed across her face for just an instant. She shifted her visage to one of indignation but it was too late. Ron had seen.

“What are you on about,” she asked tersely.

“You know damn well what this is about!” He again looked pointedly at Dean.

Dean shifted uncomfortably and started to retreat but Ginny grabbed his arm and held him fast. She gave Ron one of her deadliest blazing looks.

“I've told you more than once Ronald, what I do is none of your business,” Ginny said angrily through gritted teeth. With a flip of her long red hair, much like Fleur had done a moment before and spun around to go back to the others with Dean in tow.

Ron recoiled a moment, not sure he wanted to get involved in all of it but then Harry's face flashed across his mind.

The thought of telling him that Ginny had tossed him over for Dean was more than he was willing to take. He stepped forward, grabbed her arm and spun her round to face him. His face filled with rage.

“You made it my business when you started snogging my best mate,” he yelled, “or are you pretending that little tryst last year at school didn't happen. What am I supposed to tell Harry, Ginny? He's going to ask me about you, ya' know, where you're staying and all. He's going to want to see you. What am I supposed to say?”

He was breathing heavy now. His anger and frustration was growing beyond his ability to control. He glanced up and noticed everyone else had stopped talking and was staring at them with fixed expressions on their faces. Ron suddenly didn't care any longer.

His whole life was coming unraveled right before his eyes but he was not going to let Ginny hide behind them to keep from facing the truth.

Dean looked as if he was about to throw up. He was turning a bit green around the edges. Ron just wanted to punch his lights out.

Ginny gave Ron the most stubborn look she could manage. She couldn't believe what was happening but she wasn't all that surprised. She should have been a bit more open with Ron about this, she knew but it didn't occur to her to include him. She didn't know he would go off the deep end in the middle of St. Mungo's.

She had kept her relationship with Harry a secret from the rest of the family for a reason. If the war had gone badly it would have spared her all the unwanted condolences and attention. They treated her like a child enough already.

Now she would have to explain. It wasn't something she was looking forward to. It was complicated and she felt the only one she needed to explain anything to was Harry, which she planned on doing after Fred's funeral.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she glared at her brother, who didn't seem to understand anything.

“I plan to explain everything to Harry, Ronald but I haven't exactly had the opportunity now have I?” Her voice was dangerously calm, “You can tell him whatever you like for all I care.”

With that she turned and pulled Dean back toward the others who were now looking at her with surprised expressions on their faces.

As Ron stood there watching her go the weight of everything that was happening came crashing down on him. He felt dizzy and disoriented.

The walls of the Wizard hospital seemed to close in around him. He was struck with the urge to get out. He needed to leave that place before he was sick.

No one seemed to notice as he slipped silently passed them and made his way back to the first floor lobby.

The main corridors were still bustling with activity when he made is way to the front entrance lost in a fog of jumbled thoughts and emotions.

The pressing darkness encompassed him as he stepped through the plate glass store front of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. A cold, light mist was falling. It wasn't like rain. It was just enough to stick to everything.

He turned and walked absent-mindedly toward busy, crowded Muggle London. He was lost in the thought of what he was going to do. He had no money, he had no clothes or anything.

As he made his way forward with is hands shoved in his pockets, he suddenly heard girls giggling not far away. It brought him out of his reverie and he looked around for the source of the laughter.

Not far from him, standing in the shadows of some small trees that lined the busy Muggle street, he saw two women leaning against a high stone wall. They were looking pointedly at where Ron was standing.

Ron looked around him to see what they were staring at but he was quite alone on the deserted lane that ran in front of St. Mungo's entrance.

The girls shifted and started making their way toward him. He noticed they were dressed rather skimpily as they sauntered his way.

He could tell one was a bit younger than the other. The younger of the two wore some very tight jeans with a red halter top made of what looked like leather. She had blond hair that hung to the middle of her back. She was slender and very pretty but Ron thought the thick black eye makeup and bright red lipstick made her look a bit cheap.

The other woman was noticeably older the closer they approached. He could see wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth. She also had blond hair but it was shoulder length and Ron could tell it used to be a different color. The roots at her head were almost black. She was smoking a cigarette and smiling at Ron rather suggestively.

This one was slender also and a bit taller than the younger woman. She wore a tight black mini skirt and a very tight white long sleeve blouse. It was unbuttoned so low that the top of her lacy black bra showed. She was very well…equipped.

They made their way over to Ron who just stood there gawking at the two women.

“Hello there,” the older woman said, “I'm Megan and this is Cassandra. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Ron smiled.

“Hi, I'm…”

Cassandra looked at Ron with wide eyes.

“You're Ron Weasley!” She said enthusiastically.

Ron leaned back a bit.

“You know who I am?”

Megan looked at him grinning then rolled her eyes.

“Love, everyone in the bloody Wizarding World knows who you are. You're one of the Trio that dispatched old moldy shorts.”

“You're witches then,” Ron inquired. He realized what a stupid question that was about a second too late, “Well of course you are. How daft of me, yes?”

“Well, Cassandra here is a pure blood but I'm afraid I'm just a pathetic little squib,” Megan pouted.

“Oh stop teasin' Megan,” Cassandra smiled a bit dreamily at Ron, “She's Muggle born an' just as much a witch as most everyone else. Where ya' headed to sweaty?”

Ron's thoughts drifted back down the lane to St. Mungo's. He thought of how happy his family seemed in the face of the death of his brother. He thought of Hermione and how she decided being somewhere else was more important than being with him. He looked at the two women smiling at him as if he was a very rare steak.

“No where at the moment.” He answered Cassandra honestly.

“Ya' know Cassie,” Megan swatted her younger friend on the arm with the back of her hand, “I'll bet we could get into all the great parties with this bloke. I'll bet there wouldn't be a door closed to us if we were to show up with one of the Golden Trio on are arms.”

Cassandra slipped her arm into Ron's and looked up in his face with a look of wonder. She snuggled close, pressing her body into his side.

“Whaddaya say love,” Cassandra cooed, “Wanna go to some parties with us?” She pressed her lips to Ron's ear, “I promise you won't be sorry,” she whispered.

Ron shuddered at Cassandra's warm breath on his ear. He looked down at her and his eyes were instantly drawn to the top of her halter. It was a lovely view.

Oh bugger!

“Yah, sure,” Ron said with a Cheshire grin, “I'd love to have fun with you ladies tonight.”

Megan sidled up to his other side and hooked his other arm.

“Let's go,” Megan said with a devious smirk, “I know a great place to start. We'll go to Darby Danforth's for starters. I know he's got a crowd tonight. Then we can crash the shindig at The Dancing Leprechaun.”

They turned toward the Muggle street and made their way off into the night.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A.N. As you can see things jump around for the first several chapters. Please be patient…there's a method to my madness…I promise! As always, thanks for reading and please review.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Four - Chasing Answers

When Harry next opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was there was no sunlight streaming in the windows. His old battered alarm clock he used at the Dursley's was still packed in his trunk.

The second thing he noticed was for the first time since he could remember, he had a restful, dreamless sleep.

Bless you Hermione!

Apparently she had known sleeping at Grimmuald Place would be much better for him than Hogwarts. He lay there marveling that the house seemed quiet as death and he would have continued to lay there but much to his dismay, Mother Nature was dictating otherwise.

He slipped on his glasses and made his way to the loo. He didn't bother to put on his trousers. He was the only one in the house…or so he thought.

As he stepped out into the hall, he turned and saw Kreacher coming up the stairs.

“Harry Potter sir,” the old elf croaked as he bowed low, “good to see you are finally awake. Kreacher was getting a bit worried.”

Harry stopped a bit self conscious about being caught in his boxers.

“Worried?”

“Yes! You have been sleeping for almost two days.”

Two days! Merlin's ghost! No wonder why my eyeballs feel like their floating!

“I guess I was more tired then I thought. If you'll excuse me Kreacher…”

Harry moved hastily toward the lavatory just as his stomach gave such a loud rumble it echoed around in the hallway.

Kreacher straightened up at once.

“Kreacher will make Harry Potter a good, hearty meal!”

“Thanks Kreacher. That's very kind of you.”

Kreacher turned to go to the kitchen. He waved a tiny hand.

“Kreacher is glad to do it. Harry Potter's mistress asked Kreacher to look after his Master.”

“Hang on, did you say Mistress?”

Kreacher turned and looked at Harry.

“Yes. It was Harry Potter's mud…I mean his Muggle Mistress, the one with the bushy hair. She asked Kreacher to look in on his Master. Kreacher is honored to do it.”

Figures…Doesn't miss a trick that one.

He couldn't help but smile.

“Very well, thanks Kreacher. I'll be down shortly.”

Kreacher bowed again as Harry finally went to relieve himself. After a much needed shower and a fresh set of hand-me-downs Harry appeared in the dungeon kitchen assaulted by the smells of fresh tea, bacon and maple syrup.

He found the morning edition of the Daily Prophet folded neatly next to his plate. He picked it up and perused the headlines as he annihilated three whole plates of food.

He read that Kingsley Shacklebolt had declined the Minister of Magic position and had decided instead to head up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That didn't surprise Harry all that much after what he heard Kingsley say to Professor McGonagall. Besides, Kingsley was one of the best Aurors in the business.

He also discovered, much to his shock, Kingsley had nominated Arthur Weasley to the post of Minister and there was to be a special session of the Wizengamot to confirm the nominations. There were a few others in the running but Harry didn't recognize their names.

On the inside of the front page he saw the smiling face of Ron Weasley staring up at him with glassy eyes and what appeared to be a small metal pale on his head. The caption under the picture read;

Golden Boy - Life of the Party!

He had his arms draped around two very attractive witches as he waved sappily up at Harry from the page.

Harry was trying to figure what that was all about. He wondered where Ron had been.

Hoo boy! You better hope Hermione doesn't see this!

But as Harry sat there looking at the photo, he realized it was a stupid thing to think. Of course Hermione's going to see this. She always reads the Prophet.

“Yah, well…the golden boy is going to be more like the crispy sot once Hermione gets a hold of him!”

He couldn't help but chuckle but it also left him feeling a bit disturbed.

Harry wondered why Ron wasn't either with his family or helping Hermione get her parents back. Why was he cavorting about with strangers and getting his picture in the Prophet. That wasn't like Ron…

Then a memory struck him quite out of the blue.

…Yes, actually. It's exactly like Ron!

The chant Weasley is our King echoed from the depths of his memories. He recalled how Ron had acted after the Quidditch match when he thought he was under the influence of the Felix Felicis potion. It had all gone to his head rather quickly.

Ron was now a part of something much larger and more important. He was one third the Golden Trio. Part of the one's who'd dispatched the darkest sorcerer of all time. Just the thought of that made Harry ill but for Ron, he assumed, it was a chance for him to be in the spotlight…to shine very much on his own.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how this would affect Hermione. He knew she had feelings for Ronald Bilius Weasley but he also knew those feelings had been sorely tested in the past. He was almost afraid to find out the answer.

Ron had to know Hermione would find out. How could he do something like that to someone as wonderful as her? It made his blood boil a bit as he thought of it.

But as he laid the Prophet back on the table, he realized he had other things to attend to.

He wanted to see Ginny.

After breakfast, which turned out to be more like dinner because it was now 7:00 o' clock in the evening, Harry decided he was going to try to find Ron, attempt to knock some sense into him and find out where Ginny was staying.

He had no idea where that would be since they obviously had opted not to stay at #12. He figured the best place to start would be the shop in Diagon Alley.

Harry knew Fred and George had added a flat or two above the shop. That was where they stayed now or at least it was while the Death Eaters were running about the place.

Harry let Kreacher know he was leaving and Kreacher said he would return to Hogwarts and if Harry needed him to call. Harry thanked the wrinkled old elf profusely and he went to his room to gather his things.

As he made his way to the bedroom door, he noticed his invisibility cloak hanging out the corner of his trunk. He paused.

Voldemort is gone. The Death Eaters who survived are on the run. You don't need to hide any longer…do you?

The cloak had been like a security blanket for him for almost half his life. There was a time he had spent more hours under the cloak then not.

In three long strides across the room he snatched the cloak out of the trunk, folded it and tucked it in his shirt.

Old habits die hard I suppose.

He could hear Mad Eye Moody's voice in his mind.

Constant vigilance!

He made his way to the front entrance and let himself out on the front stoop. Harry knew the wards the Order of the Phoenix put on the place still held because of Kingsley, Mr. Weasley and McGonagall.

As he was about to step off the porch he noticed a rather large contingent of strangely dressed people milling about in the shadows of the park across the street. He knew them to be magic folk right away. Some held strange looking cameras while others held parchment and quills. Other small groups of younger people seemed to be lounging near by.

Are they waiting here for me? How could they even know about this place? Surely not!

As he stepped off the porch, he instantly heard a sound he recognized at once. It made his blood freeze as the unmistakable shriek of a Caterwauling Charm filled his head.

In the blink of an eye, he could hear the sounds of apparition all around him as the small front lawn was instantly covered with people. Those who were waiting across the street surged forward in a mad rush to get a spot.

“THERE HE IS!” Someone hollered.

“It's the Savior of the Wizard World,” someone else said.

“Blimey, I thought he'd be bigger,” a man shouted.

Before Harry could react to the crush of admirers, photo flashes were going off everywhere as people pushed all manner of Potter memorabilia in his face for him to sign. They were all pushing and shoving each other to get closer to him.

As he tried to step back onto the porch, he noticed a young woman standing a bit apart from the rest of the crushing throng. She was slender and pretty with long black hair. She was wearing a rather tight black tee shirt and jeans that rode low on her hips. She smiled at Harry when she saw he was looking at her.

She then reached down, grabbed the hem of her tee shirt and pulled the front of it up over her head. He blanched as he could see she was not wearing any under things. On her chest was painted a pair of glasses just like Harry's. They surrounded her ample breasts that were painted to look like two green eyes. Below the artwork were the words I love you Harry Potter painted in the same green color on her flat belly.

As Harry began to panic, he heard the sounds of more apparition as he tried to fish his invisibility cloak out from under his shirt.

Suddenly, people started to vanish. They scurried away as quickly as they had come. Harry looked out over the front lawn and began to see Aurors tunics everywhere. They were quietly herding the mass of people away back into the shadows of the park across the street.

Harry could then see the white robes of Oblivators as they moved among some of the neighbor's flats that surrounded #12.

He glanced over to see the girl had thankfully pulled her shirt back down and with a sad face, allowed the Auror to escort her back across the street. Harry couldn't help but give the girl a little wave. It was rather clever artwork after all.

She beamed and waved at him in return just before she disappeared.

A younger Auror who looked to be in his mid- twenties stepped up to Harry with a stern look on his face.

“I'm sorry about all this Mr. Potter,” he said, “things got a bit out of hand, didn't they?”

He stuck his hand in Harry's face and smiled.

“Twycross, Benjamin Twycross, at your service.”

Harry looked at the Auror a bit surprised.

“Twycross, I know that name…”

“I'm certain you do. Most witches and wizards do who've taken their apparition tests. That's my Grandfather.”

Harry smiled and took the young man's hand.

“Brilliant, but it's Harry…just Harry.”

“Very well just Harry. I suspect this isn't the end of it, I'm afraid,” Benjamin swept his arm around; “Folks have gone completely nutters since you dispatched You Know Who. Poor Oblivators are logging some serious overtime as a result. You'll want to watch yourself when you're out and about.”

“I suspect things will calm down in a few weeks or so but until then you're going to be a prime target for anyone with a camera or quill if you get what I'm saying.”

Harry did. It made his stomach grind his recently eaten breakfast/dinner into chutney.

“Thanks,” Harry said, “Can I go now?”

“Certainly,” Benjamin replied with a smile. He turned back toward the park.

Harry slipped his invisibility cloak over himself, turned and apparated to a spot just across the street from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in Charring Cross.

Being a bit later in the evening, Harry hoped the street wouldn't be as crowded as it would mid-day but was surprised to find quite a few oddly dressed people milling about in front of the wizard pub.

He also noticed several Aurors standing near by as well. As he crossed the street he was hoping to be able to slip into the pub when someone came out.

He didn't have to wait long. A rather portly witch and her companion came teetering out the door just as he reached it. As Harry slipped through next to the staggering wizard, he looked back and noticed the Aurors were all over them, telling them to apparate immediately.

The Leakey Cauldron was busier then he had ever seen it. All manner of magical beings were celebrating the end of Lord Voldemort. A look toward the bar told Harry that Tom the barman had hired a couple of very attractive witches to assist him behind the bar and business was brisk.

The fire whisky, scathing scotch and volcanic vodka was flowing like water. He watched as a tiny witch tossed back a shot of the vodka. As soon as the drink went down she started vibrating like someone had picked her up and was shaking her. Everyone she was with started laughing uproariously.

It was almost impossible for Harry to make his way through the bar to the rear entrance to Diagon Alley without bumping into the revelers but he had managed to make his way to the far side of the room.

It took some time but he finally made the small alley behind the Leakey Cauldron that led to Diagon Alley. When he stepped out the door he noticed the passage way to the hidden wizard street was left open.

People came and went as he stood there waiting for a chance to slip through. When he was finally able to gain the entrance he noticed Aurors stationed here and there among the milling crowds.

Diagon Alley was alive again; the way Harry had remembered when he had first seen it. Many of the old shops had been re-opened and were doing a brisk business. Even though it was getting late, most every establishment was jammed with customers.

It amazed Harry how quickly those places had put themselves back together.

As he made his way towards Fred and George's shop he noticed the Ministry had opened an extension office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Auror's Division in a vacant store next to Ollivander's.

That explained the heavy Auror presence throughout the alley and in the pub but people seemed to pay them little mind as they went about their business. Aurors were trained to be inconspicuous.

He was thrilled to see the old wand maker was setting up shop once again. He could see workers milling about inside putting everything back in place. He told himself he would definitely have to stop in and say hello one day soon and show Ollivander his repaired wand.

Harry found himself standing in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as the crowd milled around him. The storefront was as garish as ever and it appeared to be the busiest place in Diagon Alley.

Harry saw his own face plastered on the large front window. His likeness had an un-naturally toothy grin as his visage gazed down at the crowd and waved stupidly at them. Under his picture was an announcement in blazing bright orange, blinking words;

Harry Potter's Hero Happy Packs!

Limited Supply

Get them while they last!

Harry groaned but then he couldn't help but laugh.

Leave it to George to capitalize on silly heroic notoriety…

Harry saw Lee Jordan standing at the side of the entrance trying to direct the surging shoppers as best he could.

“Sorry for the inconvenience folks but we'll try to serve each and every one. Please be patient…”

Harry worked his way next to Lee and leaned close. Harry didn't think anyone else could hear due to all the noise surrounding them.

“Lee, it's me Harry!”

Lee jumped a little when Harry spoke.

“Blimey Harry,” Lee tried to look nonchalant, “Didn't expect to see you here,” even though Lee couldn't see him.

He kept smiling at the customers filing into the shop.

“I don't think it would be wise to try and get in at the moment. If these folks knew you were here we'd have a stampeding riot on our hands!”

“Right,” Harry replied a bit darkly. He knew this kind of thing was going to get old very quickly.

“Hey, I've got it!” Lee said quickly, “Why don't you wait up in George's flat above the shop. He and Fred added a few flats after Diagon Alley got hit by Death Eaters. George's is number one. You can wait up there until we close the shop. The password to get in is Fizzing Wizbees. Take the stairs up the side of the building behind us.”

Lee pointed toward the stairs with a slight jerk of his head. Harry could see the set of steps going up the side of the building to a small covered landing.

“Alright then,” Harry replied, “You sure George won't mind?”

“'Course not mate,” Lee whispered, “I know George would love to see you. Oh, and Harry? ”

“Yah,” Harry looked back over his shoulder.

“I hope you don't mind us using…well…you know,” Lee pointed to Harry's picture on the front of the building.

“No, I don't mind,” Harry laughed, “As long as you haven't got me selling You No Poo.”

Lee smiled broadly but looked quite relieved.

With that Harry made his way up to flat number one. Once inside the hallway that led to the flats he pulled off his cloak. He recited the passwords Lee had given him and the door swung open.

The flat seemed large and spacious. There seemed to be boxes, bags and brightly wrapped packages on every level surface. He peered into one box that was labeled Tingling Truffles.

Harry had learned long ago not to touch anything that had to do with the joke shop. He recalled the time Hermione was holding what appeared to be an innocent looking telescope when, in a blast of bright light and a bang, it punched her in the face. Upon recalling that moment, he couldn't help but laugh. Hermione hadn't thought it was all that funny though. She had been rather annoyed.

He thought about where Hermione might be but was sure she would be with her parents. Surly they would be back from Australia by now.

As he milled about the flat, he could hear the crowds down below. It amazed Harry how quickly things had changed. It also amazed him how one evil person could affect so many other lives.

He passed the time waiting by trying to recount the events that had brought him to where he was and how he was going to deal with his unwanted notoriety. It made his stomach churn when he thought of being the center of all the madness.

How am I expected to live a normal life if I'm pursued by everyone in the bloody wizard world?

The thought of spending the next few months hiding under his invisibility cloak left him feeling depressed.

What was the point of dispatching Voldemort if nothing has changed?

Just as that thought occurred to him he listened to the crowd below. They were laughing and yelling happily, patting one-another on the back and wishing each other well going about their evening without fear…

Things have changed you moron! People aren't running for their lives and hiding…

He thought of what young Auror Twycross had told him at Grimmuald Place about things dieing down in a few weeks. Harry hoped he was right.

His thoughts slowly drifted to Ginny. His memory replayed that brief stolen moment at the Burrow on his last birthday. He recalled how he wanted that moment to last forever but then reality intruded to bring him crashing back into his life.

He thought about their time together at Hogwarts his sixth year. It seemed even then their entire short-lived relationship consisted of nothing more than stolen moments in time, each one more intense then the one before it. It was as if they were trying to fit a lifetime of experiences into those all too brief encounters.

It was as if Ginny had known. She had realized even before Harry did he would set her aside for her own protection. How could he not? He remembered how disappointed she seemed after Dumbledore's funeral.

He couldn't help but think of her quiet conversation with Dean Thomas at Hogwarts. He wondered what it meant.

Now that his life stretched out before him with a big question mark atop it, he didn't seem to feel the relief he expected. There were so many unanswered questions in his mind.

As he sat in the dark flat lost in reflection, he could hear the crowds thinning and the noise receding. He heard George and Lee thanking their customers and letting them know the shop would re-open promptly at nine a.m. in the morning.

Below him he could hear the sounds of happiness. It seemed to only bring him a small measure of comfort.

A bit later he heard them making their way up the stairs to the flats. The next thing Harry knew a small group of people was spilling through the door engrossed in a jumble of excited conversation.

With a flick of his wand, George set a multitude of candles around the flat ablaze while the others removed their Wizard Wheezes uniform cloaks.

Harry saw George and instantly noticed he looked quite normal with two ears! It was a complete shock. He also saw Lee Jordan as well as another brown-haired bloke and a rather pretty witch with short, spiky blond hair. They saw Harry and froze for a moment.

George was the only one other than Lee who seemed to know he was there. George smiled broadly.

“Greetings mate,” George said with enthusiasm as he crossed the room and took Harry in a bone-crushing hug.

Harry pointed at the side of his head with a look of shock on his face.

“Your ear?”

George grinned.

“You like it? Something new they've conjured up at St. Mungo's…” and he proceeded to fill Harry in on the process, “Lee and I did a little experiment on the ear and, well have a go at this,” George leaned down a bit, “tweak the earlobe.”

Harry looked puzzled for a moment, the others laughed.

“Excuse me?”

“Go on, give the earlobe a pinch!”

Harry reached up and gently pinched George's new ear on the lobe and the room was filled with the head-splitting sound of a ship's fog horn as a thick cloudy mist sprayed out everywhere. It was so loud it rattled everything in the flat and blew out two windows.

They all reached up to cover their ears as the sound died away and the smoke quickly dissipated.

George and Lee were laughing so hard they were red-faced. The others seemed as shocked as Harry was.

Lee quickly repaired the windows while George introduced Harry to the two newcomers.

He told Harry the brown haired young man was Benton Hornsby. George had brought him on to fill the empty space Fred had left and the young lady was Gretchen Huffnagle, she worked the register and restock.

Harry looked at Gretchen and noticed that, from the side view, she looked quite normal. She had a very slender figure and was quite attractively proportional but looking at her from the front or the rear she seemed quite a bit wider than a normal person. Harry thought while it did nothing to detract from her appearance; it was just a bit disconcerting and unexpected.

Gretchen, in return, regarded Harry with unveiled fascination and maybe even a bit of wanton desire. Her gaze seemed to ratchet the heat in the room up a degree or two. She moved to where Harry was sitting on the couch and plopped down unabashedly right next to him and held out a rather wide hand.

“'ello, I'm Gretchen,” she said with a pleasant smile and a rather breathless voice, “It's an honor to meet you.”

“Erm…thanks,” Harry stammered, “Likewise.”

Gretchen glanced at Lee and George then looked at Harry with a wink.

“Don't let these two nutters rattle you. They may come across as wankers but their both mostly harmless.”

Harry looked at her grinning broadly. He liked Gretchen at once. Besides, she smelled wonderful. He wondered if she had spilt love potion on herself or something because he was rather enjoying her sitting quite close to him and he had no idea why.

George leaned over to Harry and whispered in his ear that Gretchen thought there might be a bit of Troll in her family tree somewhere hence her unusual girth.

Harry had no idea if he was being serious or not. It was impossible to tell with George sometimes.

“You tosspot,” Gretchen punched George affectionately on the shoulder.

Benton Hornsby came up and shook Harry's hand as well. He and Gretchen seemed fascinated by Harry's presents and he politely answered their questions for a bit as they sat and made quiet conversation.

Harry looked around at all the boxes and packages and laughed.

“What is all this stuff?”

“New inventions mostly,” Lee replied proudly.

George moved over to a table and started rifling through a box.

“Come take a look Harry. We've got some really good ones just out of testing.”

Harry rather reluctantly got up and joined George and Lee at the table. He discovered Gretchen had laid her arm over the back of the couch and Harry had found himself almost sitting on her lap, with their bodies pressed together. He found the contact with her warm and pleasant. That surprised him. She gave him a smoldering smile as he looked back at her. Her effect on him was most Veela-like.

As Harry approached the table, George held up a box of what looked like mints they hand out at Muggle restaurants.

“Mutating Mints,” George said proudly, “We've fashioned them to be a bit like Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. Pop one in your mouth and it's anyone's guess what you'll turn into. We've used mostly small animal transfiguration effects though. Don't want anyone getting injured. The effects only last about five minutes, just long enough to get a laugh.”

“Great at parties,” Lee added.

Gretchen literally jumped off the couch.

“Can I do one?” She asked enthusiastically.

Benton laughed loudly.

“Last time she did one she turned into a mouse. Alley cat got sight of her and chased her all the way to Knockturn Alley before she changed back!”

Gretchen gave Benton a scathing look.

“Ha bloody ha, Benton,” she said, “Glad you enjoyed it! Didn't do a thing to help did ya? What if that cat woulda' caught me. I'd a been kitty kibble for certain!”

“That cat jumped ten meters straight up in the air when you turned back,” Lee laughed, “Probably scarred the poor thing for life.”

“Used up at least four of its nine lives,” George added, “You had nothing to worry about Gretchen. There's a fail-safe built into the effect. Any threat and you'll instantly turn back. That was Lee's brilliant idea by the way.”

“Thank you George,” Lee bowed extravagantly.

Harry couldn't help but laugh along with them. This was exactly what he needed. He was very glad he decided to come to Diagon Alley.

Gretchen glided up to the table next to Harry and held out her hand. George dropped the small mint into her palm and she popped it into her mouth without hesitation. She looked at Harry and grinned.

“Here we go!” She juggled her eyebrows.

Suddenly she started to shrink and change, morphing into a small spider monkey. The monkey jumped up onto the table and began tearing around the room, squealing and shrieking. It jumped onto Benton's back and began pulling his hair.

“Gerroff!' Benton tried to reach behind him to grab the little primate but she leaped across and landed on Lee's shoulder. Lee reached for her but she was too fast. The monkey deposited some poo on his shoulder before it leaped to George's head.

When it landed, the monkey proceeded to hose the top of his head with monkey pee and then leaped into Harry's arms.

It looked up at Harry as if it were smiling at him then tore up his chest. It pulled his ear painfully hard, and then leaped from his shoulder to the back of the couch.

The monkey shrieked on final time looking at them before it started to mutate once again. As it grew in size it slipped off the back of the couch and landed with a thud out of sight.

Lee and George were busy scourgifieing themselves as Benton stood grumbling rubbing the back of his head.

Harry was laughing so hard he was crying. He saw Gretchen's hand appear on the back of the couch. She was laughing so hard she couldn't seem to stand up.

“That was more fun then a barrel of monkeys!” She quipped.

That made the rest of them crack up as well. George looked at Harry laughing.

“Want to have a go Harry?”

Harry held up his hands.

“Erm…not at the moment, thanks,” he said, “I think I get the picture though.”

He looked at another box and asked what was in that one.

“Oh ho,” George yelled, “You picked one of my very favorites. Flatulating Fudge.”

George looked at Benton and beckoned him closer with a finger.

“Oh, not again George,” Benton groaned, “I'm still feeling a bit peaky from the last time. What about Lee?”

Lee held up his hand.

“Oy, mate,” Lee exclaimed, “These are brand new trousers thank you very much!”

George beckoned again and Benton reluctantly moved forward and took the rather tasty looking piece of fudge in his had.

“There's a good lad,” George smiled, patting him on the shoulder, “this'll be the last time for a while, I promise.”

Gretchen had regained her equilibrium and came up behind Harry. She quite unexpectedly slipped an arm around his waist and nuzzled the back of his neck with her cute little nose.

“That was fun but it leaves you a bit disoriented for a moment. You should try it Harry.”

Harry smiled at her a bit dreamily but his attention was fixed on Benton as he took a bite of the fudge.

They all waited for a few moments as Benton stood there cringing with his eyes shut tightly in anticipation of something horrible.

George shot Lee a glance.

“You might want to move mate…”

Lee realized he was standing almost directly behind Benton. He realized it about one second too late.

“Bloody…,” was all Harry heard before there was a muffled explosion.

What happened next had Harry and Gretchen holding one-another upright because they were laughing so hard neither one could stand up on their own.

A bright blue flame shot three meters from Benton's back side. With it came a blob of sticky brown goo that splattered Lee from head to toe. The flame scorched the seat of Benton's trousers leaving a huge smoking hole.

Benton doubled over holding his stomach and Lee could only stand there wide-eyed and trembling.

“GREAT CSESAR'S GHOST,” Lee screamed, “Would one of you get this mess off me?”

George moved forward and cleaned Lee with a wave of his wand. The he turned and helped Benton put himself back together. When all was back to normal, Harry and Gretchen were still crumpled in a fit of laughter at the whole thing.

After they had managed to get control of themselves, they all moved into the sitting area and reclined. George passed cold Butterbeer all around and they fell into conversation.

Harry however was still chuckling.

“That was absolutely the funniest thing I've seen in ages.”

Benton looked perturbed. He sat stiffly with his arms tightly folded in front of him

“Humiliating is more appropriate.”

“Oh come off it Ben,” Gretchen laughed, “You know we've all done it. Besides, George would never ask you to do something he wouldn't have already tried himself.”

Benton didn't look mollified in the least.

“Fred perfected the Flatulating Fudge the day before we left for Hogwarts.” George said.

“I'm really sorry about Fred, George. You must miss him a great deal.”

George looked solemn for a moment as the others fell quite. He gave Harry a significant look.

“Yes, Harry I do,” he replied, “and I'll not have you blaming yourself for what happened either.”

Harry couldn't help but look down at his hands.

“Sorry mate,” he whispered, “bit late for that I'm afraid.”

“That's what I figured,” George said with a slight frown, “Listen. I'll tell you just like I told that gormless younger brother of mine. I'm not going to morn or mope about or feel sorry for myself. Fred died a hero and to do anything less then go on with our lives would be a complete disservice to his, and everyone else's, sacrifice. Get what I'm saying Harry?”

Harry nodded. George continued,

“And for you to sit there and blame yourself for any of what happened is utterly ridiculous.”

Everyone else nodded in agreement. Gretchen took Harry's hand in hers.

“Fact is we all owe you a debt of gratitude for having the courage to stand up to You Know Who,” she added.

Harry suddenly felt unsettled and more than a bit uncomfortable but he sat and tried to accept what they were saying with as much grace as he could.

These people were the closest thing to real friends he had and to become surly and argumentative over frivolous insecurities was pointless. Trying to make them understand he's had a prophecy wedged up his rectum since he was a carpet crawler was redundant and useless.

George was right. The best way to stick it to the Dark Lord was to move on and forget him all together. Let the memory of him fade into the dusty shelves of libraries. Harry knew it was something easier said than done but now was as good a time as any to start trying.

“So when is Fred's funeral?” He asked.

“Well,” George replied, “we thought it best to lay him to rest in a place we were happiest so the family decided the garden at the Burrow would be that place. It's not as if we'll use it for a garden any longer.”

“How sweet,” Gretchen said.

“Yah, I thought so too. The ceremony is set for tomorrow night at midnight if all goes as planned. Dad had to get the necessary permitting from the Ministry but with all of Percy's connections I'm sure that's done by now. Bill and Charlie are at the Burrow now getting everything ready I believe.”

“Why midnight,” Harry asked puzzled.

“It's the Witching Hour Harry,” Lee said with a gleam in his eye.

George smirked.

“While that's an appropriate reason enough, it's not precisely true. It's because Dora and Remus' service is going to be held tomorrow at six p.m. and we all want to attend theirs as well.”

Harry nodded. He knew tomorrow was going to be a difficult day. He remembered reading in the Daily Prophet that Colin Creevey's funeral service was going to be tomorrow as well at nine a.m.

He wondered if it had all been planed that way. It made sense to him. He had every intention of attending as many services as he could without causing unnecessary distractions. He tried to think how he was going to pull it off but he knew his Invisibility Cloak would once again play a major roll in his life.

Anonymity and Invisibility…

With all the Cloak and Dagger shite, minus the dagger of course, he was beginning to feel like a non-person again.

“So when does your father find out if he's been selected to the Ministry?” Gretchen asked.

“That's right,” Harry piped up, “I read in the Prophet Kingsley rejected the Minister's post and nominated your dad. I thought it might have been something they were making up. So it's true then?”

“Yah,” George sighed, “I'm afraid it is.”

“You don't seem all that thrilled about it George,” Benton remarked.

“To be honest, I'm not sure how I really feel about it. Maybe it's good the Weasley family is finally getting the recognition it deserves after all these years.”

“But you don't feel that way?” Benton was a bit confused. He was a pure blood wizard like George. Harry guessed he expected George to have the same allegiance to the Ministry as many others.

“Look at the last three Ministers,” Lee added, “They weren't exactly up to scratch now were they. Fudge totally abused his power in office, Scrimgeour was completely ineffective and Thicknesse was under the Imperius curse. Not a stellar track record to say the least. George's father is going to be inheriting an office that doesn't carry a lot of respect with it.”

“If anyone can bring integrity back to the Ministry, that's Mr. Weasley,” Harry said tersely, “He's the best.”

“Harry's spot on George,” Gretchen grinned at Harry.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” George smiled, “He'll be pleased he's got your endorsement. I'm sure he's considering it anyway. I know Mum is behind him and Ginny is absolutely barmy about the possibility of living in the Minister's Mansion.”

“What does Ron thinks about it all?” Harry was wondering where he was.

“Haven't seen him,” George said with a shrug, “Lee, didn't you say you saw him here yesterday?”

Lee had gotten up to fetch another round of Butterbeer.

“Yah, he was leaving when I was coming up to get some supplies. Said he was just in to get a quick shower and a change then he was off again...had two rather striking-looking witches with him. They were hanging all over the bloke. One looked to be quite a bit older then him anyway.”

“Where's he staying?” Harry queried.

George frowned.

“He's supposed to be staying here but that's the first anyone of us had seen of him. If half the stories in the Prophet are true then he better stay on the lamb. If mum gets her hands on him, ooh boy!”

He didn't have to finish that statement for them to understand what he meant.

“With your dad being up for the Minister's post and all…” Gretchen chuckled, “yah, I'd say he's neck-deep in stink sap!”

They laughed. Harry wasn't sure how to ask the next question. He wasn't sure how much George or Lee knew about his time spent with Ginny. They had already left Hogwarts before he and Ginny started seeing one another.

“Erm…George, where is Ginny staying?”

“Oh, she's staying at Shell Cottage with mum. Dad's in and out at Aunt Muriel's for the time being. I think Percy still has his flat in London but it's so small you can bump your head if you turn about too quickly.”

“I suspect Charlie will go back to Romania after the service. Personally I wish he would stick around a bit longer but, oh well.”

“If dad gets the top spot, I don't think they're going to rebuild the Burrow. Ron really didn't like that idea but you can see their point I suppose.”

“The only one left at home now will be Ginny, but even she will be flying to coup after next year. The way she was carrying on with Dean Thomas the other night at St. Mungo's, it might be sooner rather than later…”

That revelation made Harry stop dead in his tracks. His mind immediately flashed to the memory of Ginny and Dean in conversation at Hogwarts. His first reaction to George's statement was to ask for more details but something inside prevented him. He wasn't sure if it was insecurity or simply the fact he was afraid of the response.

The obvious questions swirled around in his head. He sat frozen in place next to Gretchen on the sofa. Luckily she was absorbed in the conversation with the others and didn't seem to notice how Harry had stiffened with fear and dread. He suddenly felt uncomfortably disconnected from the others around him.

Has Ginny changed her mind about us? Is Dean putting pressure on her to get back together?

He sat for a moment as reasons and possible explanations swirled in his head but he decided to push it all to the back of his mind.

Face it Potter. You won't know the truth until you talk to Ginny face to face. She's the only one who can tell you. Don't jump to conclusions…

He physically relaxed as he came to those conclusions but his insides still squirmed uncomfortably. He glanced up at a strange-looking Cuckoo clock hanging over the fire place and saw that it was ten thirty. He stood abruptly.

“Well, I think I should be heading home…” Harry made his way toward the door amid protest and requests for him to stay but he barely heard them. It was Gretchen who followed him to the door and placed a hand gently on his shoulder as he grabbed the doorknob.

“You don't have to leave so soon, do you?”

Harry looked at her eyes. She appeared genuinely sad that he was leaving. The strange effect she had on him all evening almost made him change his mind as he stood there in close proximity to her but the thought of Ginny seemed to drown everything else out. He searched his jumbled thoughts for an excuse.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I've got to get up early. I'm expected at quite a few funeral services tomorrow so I really should be getting home.”

Gretchen looked at him with affected sadness, pouting with her bottom lip out.

“All right then,” she sighed, as she turned away. She suddenly stopped, turned back toward Harry, grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him round and planted a heart-stopping French kiss on his unsuspecting mouth. It lasted for well over a minute and she pressed her body firmly against his while she kissed him senseless.

When Gretchen finally released him, Harry looked as if he had been hit with several bludgers to the head. His body instantly reacted to the smoldering kiss in ways he had never known before. Parts of him became very aroused but the rest of him was mortified.

“Erm…wow!” Harry said with a stupid looking smile on his face.

Gretchen gave him a steamy look as she retreated back into the flat.

“You can come see me anytime Harry. I'm in flat number three if you're so inclined.”

“Fla…three…yah,” Harry mumbled as he stumbled his way out the door. He could hear Gretchen giggling as the door closed.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway his self control returned. He stood in wonder at the power she had over him when she was close. It made him a bit nervous but it wasn't uncomfortable or threatening in any way. He thought it was kind of…well, nice! He couldn't help but think of how her body felt pressed firmly against his. He shuddered.

Merlin's ghost...focus Harry! You're acting like a swotty little teenager…

The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like a bossy witch he knew very well. That thought was enough to snap him back to complete sobriety. He made his way out of the flats and down the stairs. When he reached the ground he spun and disappeared into the night.

He decided to apparate into the space behind the building where #12 was located It was the first time he had seen it. It was a single lane alley and was surprised to find it quite a bit cleaner than he had anticipated. He was expecting the worst.

As soon as he appeared he donned his invisibility cloak just to be safe. No crazy alarms or stripping fan-girls or crushing mobs met him which helped him relax a bit but he noticed there were several Aurors placed in strategic locations the length of the narrow lane.

At that point he had no idea how he was going to get into the house. He figured the best way was to go around to the front and go in the usual way. No sense in making a fuss trying to get in a rear entrance he didn't even know existed.

He passed a few of the unsuspecting Aurors as he made his way to the front. He spotted Benjamin Twycross and almost went over to say hello but thought better of it when he turned the corner of the building.

He spotted two Muggle police foot patrolman standing under a streetlamp across from his front entrance. He knew they couldn't see #12 but it made him leery all the same. Some of his Muggle neighbors must have called the authorities and complained before the Oblivators could get to them.

How can anyone blame them! All those nutters running about the place…

As he made his way inside of the house, he instantly saw a tall man at the end of the hall bent over a small table. Harry saw the feather of a quill twitching as he wrote quickly on a small piece of parchment.

Harry's first reaction was to go for his wand but he instantly recognized the shiny bald brown head of Kingsley Shacklebolt and knew he was quite safe.

When Kingsley heard the front door he turned at once and saw Harry step into the foyer. Kingsley greeted Harry with a wide, friendly smile.

“Ah, you caught me,” Kingsley said in his deep, rumbling voice, “I was just leaving you a note.”

Kingsley laid the quill on the table and met Harry half way down the hall. Instead of taking Harry's hand in a manly handshake Kingsley pulled Harry into what could only be described as a rather fatherly embrace. That took Harry a bit by surprise. Kingsley stepped back and looked at Harry in the eyes.

“Good to see you again my boy,” he smiled, “Sorry for such a late intrusion but my days, of late, have been filled with meetings and interviews and all manner of Ministry business.”

“That's fine sir,” Harry smiled in return, “I understand…”

“I'm glad you do,” Kingsley laughed, “Mrs. Shacklebolt is quite annoyed with me right now. Tells me she's beginning to think she married one of the Hogwarts ghosts.”

Harry laughed, “Not good that. I'm just a bit surprised to see you, sir.”

“Actually, I'm here for two reasons Harry,” Kingsley's face went serious; “Do you feel up to having a chat at this ridiculously late hour?”

“Sure, sir,” Harry responded curiously. Harry had slept for two whole days so he wasn't tired in the least. He gestured into the sitting room. As they moved inside Harry sat on the sofa and Kingsley took one of the over-stuffed arm chairs next to the fireplace. The older man turned the chair so they were facing one-another. Kingsley began…

“I'm glad you agreed. Quite frankly, with my schedule it could be weeks before I have a chance to meet with you again so I shall get right to the point.”

“The first reason I came is to update the Fidelius Charm on this house. Once I received the reports of the incident here earlier today I thought it wise to help strengthen the wards and protection on this place. I believe it would be only a matter of time until someone figured out how to get past them.”

“Unfortunately, Harry you are a much sought-after commodity at present…but I'm sure you are more than aware of that fact.”

Harry nodded with a sigh.

“I'm sure you'll agree extra protection would be advantageous.”

“Yes sir,” Harry answered, “I appreciate that.”

“Very well,” Kingsley continued, “Once we have concluded discussing the other reason for my visit we shall do just that.” Kingsley shifted in his seat.

“I'm wondering Harry if you have given your future any thought since that night at Hogwarts?”

Before Harry could respond, the older man seemed to answer the question for him.

“I realize there hasn't been much time for you to think of such things but I would like to offer you…” Kingsley paused thoughtfully, “an option.”

“As you may know, I have decided not to accept the Ministers post and have opted instead to head up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry smiled. It didn't surprise him after what he had heard Kingsley tell McGonagall in the Great Hall the other day. Kingsley went on.

“Just between you and I Harry, to me the Minister for Magic is nothing more than a glorified figure-head in many cases. Don't misunderstand, the position carries with it a great responsibility but it is also constricted and controlled by the limits of executive power, or at least it should be. I think Cornelius Fudge forgot those limitations often during his tenure. He seemed to believe he was exempt from Wizengamot oversight.”

“I simply believe with my background and experience my expertise lies in a different direction.”

“However, I have found that as a result of past administrations and the Death Eater occupation of the Ministry, the Auror's Department as well as some of the others that fall under the jurisdiction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Kingsley's face darkened slightly, “things are in complete and utter chaos at the moment.”

Harry sat and though about what kind of havoc the Death Eaters wrought on Hogwarts. He could imagine the mess they made of the Ministry.

“I'm not surprised sir,” Harry responded solemnly, “So do you think Mr. Weasley will get the Minister's job?”

Kingsley gave Harry a significant look.

“I'd be willing to bet my wand arm on it Harry.” He grinned, “While I realize Arthur is going to be inheriting an absolute mess of an administration I am confident he will surround himself with competent people and bring back to the Ministry what it is lacking most.”

“What's that sir,” Harry asked. He thought he knew the answer but he didn't want to appear presumptuous.

“Honesty and integrity Harry,” the old Auror replied.

“So what does this have to do with me, sir if you don't mind my asking?”

“Yes,” Kinsley responded, “I suppose I got a bit sidetracked there, sorry.”

Harry held up his hand as if to tell him it was no problem.

“I have decided to restructure the entire Auror department Harry and use some ideas that I witnessed while protecting the Muggle Prime Minister.”

Harry remembered seeing Kingsley in the background on the Muggle television guarding the Prime Minister.

“I had the opportunity to see how the Muggle Law Enforcement departments were structured and operated. They were quite efficient and superior to our system in both response and tactical maneuvers in the field. I think it would benefit us to implement some of those operations in our departments.”

“Their chain of command was top notch and information flowed smoothly and effortlessly across the entire system. The entire department could be brought up to speed within moments of a response to a disaster or an attack.”

Kingsley leaned forward in his chair toward Harry.

“That's what I want for the Auror's Department and I think you could be a significant part of that operation Harry.”

Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared. His first reaction was shock at the fact that Kingsley thought he could be a viable part of his plans. He couldn't see how but he figured he was going to find out shortly so he kept his reservations to himself.

“Instead of having individual Aurors running about with little or no for warning of an attack or disaster, as it was with this last nightmare with Voldemort, my idea is to create teams of highly trained and skilled Aurors and Hit Wizards to respond in an organized and synchronized fashion.”

“These teams would be so well trained they will know instinctively how to take down a threat using official tactical maneuvers that are practiced and perfected. Each teams members would be permanently placed so they will know each-others moves and personalities. I would like you, Harry to seriously consider being on one of these teams.”

Harry sat contemplating this for a moment. Part of him instantly reacted negatively to the suggestion. He had had what seemed like a lifetime full of dealing with the darker elements of the wizard world.

He wasn't certain he wanted to make it a career choice but another side of him couldn't help but get caught up in the enthusiasm in Kingsley's voice. The thought of taking down the remaining Death Eaters that were still at large and being at the for front of a crack operation sounded quite exciting.

Even though, he could hear Hermione's voice echoing in his head…

Oh Harry, I can't believe you're even considering such a ridiculous idea. You know you're just mollifying that `saving people' thing I said you suffered from…

He groaned internally. Kingsley saw that Harry was struggling with the decision so he tried to alleviate his concern.

“If it's all the same Harry, I would rather you not respond at this time. I would really appreciate it if you would give it some thought and serious consideration.”

“I think you are a powerful wizard and I believe you would fit perfectly into this system and flourish, however having said that I want only those who are committed to this idea one hundred percent. I don't want anyone to go into this program half-heartedly. Not only will it put you at risk but it could compromise the entire team.”

“A chain is only as strong as its weakest link but I truly believe with your talent and skill you would be more than up to the challenge.”

“At present, it's going to take a few weeks to get the mess cleaned up at the Ministry and a bit more time to sell the idea to the Minister and the Wizengamot. After all, they may not go for it at all so this conversation might be pointless but I'm going to push hard for these changes. I think they are important and needed to bring some organization to our Enforcement Division. What do you think, Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath and decided to answer Kingsley honestly.

“Sir, I really appreciate your confidence in me. It means a great deal but I'm going to be perfectly honest and tell you my first reaction was to say no thanks…”

Harry looked at Kingsley to gauge his reaction. The old Auror only looked at him thoughtfully.

Harry couldn't help but recall how Rufus Scrimgeour had wanted him to be nothing more than the Ministry's Poster Child of Righteous Superiority but then did nothing to assist them in the fight until it was too late. He felt the Ministry's lack of concern was partially responsible for his Godfather Sirius' death. That had left a very bad taste in his mouth and he wasn't sure he had shaken off that stigmatism yet. Some of his wounds left scars under the surface no-one could see.

“You must understand I've been walking around with a bloody target on my back since I was eleven years old. There is a part of me that says, “You've done what everyone expected you to do and you managed to survive in the process. Enough is enough…”

Kingsley started to respond to what Harry had said but Harry cut across him.

“Mr. Shacklebolt, sir. I mean no disrespect but please let me finish.”

Kingsley nodded. Harry looked down at his hands a bit ashamed for the way he was talking to this man who was so much older and wiser than him but he felt compelled by his own self-righteous sacrifices. Being the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World should afford him a little authority even though it made him very uncomfortable to think that way.

“I have spent the last seven years just trying to survive and keep the people I care about alive so I didn't have to watch them be destroyed because of me, having said that I've found I've become pretty good at not getting killed. I'm not convinced it's because I'm some great wizard or anything like that. I think it had more to do with luck and my friends.”

“Without the sacrifices Hermione Granger made to stand by my side and my friendship with Ron Weasley as well as so many others I would have never succeeded in any of this. I would have been dead five years ago.”

Harry sat looking off into the void of his memories as many of the things he had gone through flashed across the back of his eyes. It all just made him feel weary.

“But as I sit here and think about what my future might hold for me I can't think of anything else I might be suited for except maybe Quidditch but I'm not sure I'm good enough to make a professional team.”

“My whole life since I boarded the Hogwarts Express that first time has been in preparation to take Voldemort down. I didn't know it then but that's exactly what Professor Dumbledore was doing in his own, strange way.”

“His brother Aberforth told me once that he thought Dumbledore was tossing me right into the mouth of the dragon. You know, in a way, he was right. I didn't see it that way, of course. I was Dumbledore's man through and through, still am I suppose.”

“I guess what I'm trying to tell you is…if I have the ability to prevent people from getting killed by those who choose to practice dark magic then I guess it's my responsibility to try. I've had a lot of practice recently.” Harry smiled.

“But I'm not going to make any promises just yet. I would like to talk it over with some of my friends first to see what they think.”

He knew what Hermione and possibly Ron would say but he felt compelled to ask them anyway. They were the only ones left he had to confide in and Hermione's opinion mattered to him more than any other.

Even though he knew her initial reaction would be one of frustration and anger, she would eventually offer him sound advice in the end. It was simply the way Hermione worked. You sometimes had to endure a lecture in order to benefit from her wisdom. That was just the price you paid but to Harry, most times it was worth it.

“I understand completely Harry,” Kingsley nodded, “I would expect nothing less and even though I might be loosing a highly qualified candidate for my team, you need to seriously take into consideration what your friends tell you. That's all I'll say about that. All I ask is that you give this some fair consideration.”

Harry nodded his agreement as Kingsley rose to his feet.

“Very well then, I think we can set to strengthening the wards on this house.”

Harry and Kingsley revamped most of the wards as well as updated the Fidelius Charm and made it possible for only three people to apparate into and out of the house. Harry himself, Hermione and Ron. They restricted the flue to let only those three in and everyone else would have to seek permission prior to entry.

They also modified the anti-appartion ward to include a rebounding spell. If anyone unauthorized tried to apparate inside #12 they would be bounced to a random location kilometers away from Grimmuald Place. Harry loved the idea and thought that quite funny. Kingsley said it was even funnier to see.

Once their work was concluded Kinsley gave Harry another warm embrace, bid Harry a goodnight and was about to let himself out when something occurred to Harry.

“Mr. Shacklebolt, sir?”

Shacklebolt looked up, “Yes Harry?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

“Certainly Harry,” Kingsley smiled, “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to attend the funeral services of Colin Creevey, Dora and Remus as well as Fred's at midnight but I'm fairly certain my presence would be a major distraction for the families. Would it be possible for you to provide a bit of security so there won't be any interruptions because of me? I know it's a lot to ask but I would really like to pay my last respects and say goodbye. I owe them that sir.”

Kingsley didn't flinch or hesitate in his response.

“Absolutely Harry,” Kingsley said with a sad smile, “We had planned on providing security at the Tonks service as well as the Weasley's simply due to the fact that Arthur is now a candidate so it's Ministry regulations to provide him protection, however I will be more than glad to do the same for the Creevey family. When and where is their service to be held?”

“The Prophet said the service starts at 9:30 a.m. and is to be held at the family plot in Crossbones*.”

“Ah,” Kingsley said, “Crossbones, down off Borough High Street. Know the place well. Many a wizard family has been laid to rest there over the years. It used to be a Muggle pauper's burial place but has since been abandoned. We still use it though. Some Muggles think it's haunted which makes it perfect for us. Not to worry Harry, we'll be there in force.”

“Thanks sir,” he watched as Kingsley stepped out onto the front porch, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight Harry.” Kingsley closed the door.

As Harry stood in the silent foyer thinking about all he had said to Kingsley. He decided to turn in.

Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.

*Crossbones Cemetery is a real place in London!

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Five - Down Under

After a rather restless night filled with odd dreams and images Hermione had no compunction to analyze or think about, she made her way through the lavatory, dressed and headed to the Great Hall hoping to pick up a spot of breakfast before she went to see the Headmistress.

The castle was already a flurry of activity. As she made her way from the Gryffindor tower, she found herself accosted by almost everyone she encountered. They wanted to congratulate her or have a photograph taken with them or just simply be able to say they had met one of the Golden Trio, as the Prophet had penned them.

By the time she made the Great Hall, her mood had decidedly taken a turn for the worse.

The two burly Aurors she had met the night before waved at her wildly. She managed a rather weak smile and wave as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat with a huff in the most deserted spot she could find.

She had just enough time for a small stack of blueberry flapjacks and a few gulps of pumpkin juice before the house tables were expediently swept from the room.

As she looked around searching the crowd for someone she recognized, she spotted Professor Grubbly-Plank coming in from a hallway. Hermione made her way over.

“Excuse me, Professor.”

The old part time Care of Magical Creatures instructor smiled at Hermione warmly.

“Yes, my dear,” she asked, “What may I do for you this bright and wonderful morning?”

“I was wondering if you've seen Headmistress McGonagall.”

“Why yes dear. I believe I spotted her coming from the Slytherin dungeon just a moment ago.”

“Do you know where she might have been heading?”

“I'm quite certain she mentioned something about returning to her office…”

Hermione smiled.

“Thank you professor,” she said as she dashed up the stairs to find her way to the Headmistresses hallway on the seventh floor.

She was able to bypass many of the volunteers by taking a few of the shortcuts she knew about. Being friends with Harry, who had made it a habit of exploring the castle at night and what she had learned from Fred and George gave her access to secret passages most didn't know about.

As she made her way along, she wondered about Ron and where he was. She wondered where he would be staying. Perhaps he would go to #12.

That would be good. Harry would like that…

Part of her wanted to find him and explain her hasty departure of the night before but she was painfully aware, much to her consternation, that she had much more pressing matters to attend to.

Her mind drifted to Harry for a moment. She wanted to check on him as well but it seemed time would not allow it. She had to be confident Kreacher would keep his word or the Weasley's would decide to stay with him.

You need to focus on the task at hand…Get your parents back!

Hermione knew she had a long day ahead of her.

As she turned the corner from the stairs, she spotted the now-mended gargoyle sitting quite stoically on its haunches.

She approached it realizing she once again had no idea what the password was.

Bugger!

She stood for a moment trying to think of a way she could get a word to the Headmistress.

She looked beseechingly at the stone figure.

“Um…hi, do you remember me?”

The gargoyle eyed her wearily,

“Of course I remember you! You fink I'm an empty-headed suit of armor?”

“Erm…right,” Hermione grimaced, “Then you'll also remember it was me who mended you last night…”

“Remember that too,” the gargoyle growled then his intimidating features split in a wide mischievous grin, “Don't `ave the password, do ya?”

“No,” Hermione pleaded, “but I really need to speak with the Headmistress on a matter of the utmost importance…please!”

The gargoyle seemed to snap to attention.

“No password…no entrance!”

Hermione's ire was returning with renewed vigor.

“But…”

The gargoyle didn't budge an inch.

“You of all people should know the rules!”

“Oh parrot poo!” Hermione stomped her foot in frustration.

Just then she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She flinched.

“I would consider it a personal favor if you would not take your frustrations out on the security staff, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said with lips pursed, “He is merely performing his duty.”

The Headmistress stepped around Hermione and faced the gargoyle.

“Knowledge First,” she said clearly. The gargoyle leapt aside and the wall split to reveal the rotating stairs. McGonagall turned back to look at Hermione over her tiny spectacles.

“And do tell me…what does parrot poo have to do with anything?”

Hermione blushed to her roots. McGonagall held her arm out to direct Hermione forward. As she made her way to the stairs, the gargoyle chuckled at her quietly.

Hermione glanced at it, giving the statue her most haughty glare.

“Should have left you in pieces,” she mumbled.

The gargoyle waggled its tongue at her and sneered.

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as her hand twitched toward her wand.

Just one well placed reducto…

McGonagall rolled her eyes and followed Hermione up to the office.

As they entered, McGonagall made her way around to sit behind her desk. She motioned to Hermione to sit in one of the chairs in front.

Hermione noticed that most all the portraits of the past Headmasters were snoozing…or pretending to be. Dumbledore's was empty.

“Now,” McGonagall inquired, folding her hands on the desk, “what can I do for you Miss Granger?”

“I realize you're terribly busy with the repair to the school and everything but I was wondering if you could find a moment to help me retrieve my parents…” Hermione asked beseechingly.

The Headmistresses eyes grew wide with sudden understanding.

“Oh, for Marlin's sake Ms. Granger,” McGonagall apologized, “that arrangement has completely slipped my mind. Do forgive me!”

Before Hermione could respond, McGonagall was on her feet. She walked over to one of the portraits.

“Everard!” She snapped her fingers and the grizzled old man's head popped up and his eyes sprang open.

“Yes…yes,” he stammered, “Everard at your service m' lady!”

“I need you to visit your frame at the Ministry. Please ask acting Minister Shacklebolt I need to see him at once. It is a matter of the utmost importance.”

Everard nodded fervently and exited his painting to the left.

McGonagall cast an apologetic glance at Hermione as she made her way back to her desk and sat down.

“I'm afraid I've been so busy with reparations to the school I have had little time to consider anything else.”

“I completely understand Headmistress,” Hermione assured her, “I wouldn't bother you with this at the moment if I wasn't so desperate to have them back home safely.”

McGonagall gave Hermione a grimace.

“While I appreciate you're conciliation, Ms. Granger forgetfulness is no excuse for the dereliction of one's duty.”

The Headmistress folded her hands beneath her pointed chin and peered at Hermione for a moment.

“While we are waiting for Mr. Shacklebolt, I wonder if I might enquire as to what your plans are for the near future. I realize the past few months have been a whirlwind of events for you however…”

McGonagall paused for a breath. Her naturally stern visage softened somewhat as she appraised her most promising pupil.

“I must admit I have taken a rather…personal interest in your endeavors since you've come to Hogwarts.”

“I have seen many students come and go through these halls in the past fifty years and I can tell you without reservation, young lady that you are one of the most brilliant young minds I have ever had the privilege to teach.”

Hermione looked as if she was about to cry. McGonagall continued before she could say anything in response.

“Having said that, I would very much like you to consider returning in the fall to complete your studies. I realize you may feel Hogwarts has nothing further to teach you in the realm of magic and, truth be told there is little in the way of magical theory and application you do not already know.”

McGonagall smiled. Hermione wanted to melt right through the bottom of the chair she was sitting on.

“The fact is, Ms. Granger there is much more to life than books, spells and Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration. I cannot impress upon you enough the importance in completing your N.E.W.T. level finals. I only wish for you to have the best possible start toward what I am sure will be a bright future.”

The truth was Hermione had not had much of a chance to think about her future. It seemed the task of keeping her boys alive as well as herself had been all-consuming.

Now that she found herself sitting in front of the one person she strove to impress more than any other, the thought of returning to Hogwarts felt…redundant.

She certainly didn't want to convey that message to her mentor so she decided to come down firmly on the side of waffling but she was spared the indignation when Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped though the fireplace of the Headmistresses office.

He shook soot and ash from his cloak.

“I'm sorry for the delay Minerva. I came as quickly as I could.”

“Nonsense Kingsley,” McGonagall said as she rose from her chair, “I realize you're busy but I'm afraid this matter is most important and cannot wait.”

The Headmistress quickly explained to him about Hermione's parents. Since Kingsley was not Minister when they sent her parents into hiding, he knew little of the details on how it was accomplished. He had been assigned to guard the Muggle Prime Minister during that time. She then recommended Kingsley be allowed within the restrictions of the Fidelius charm because he would be integral to the success of their mission. Hermione agreed without question.

It had taken some very extensive spell work to completely remove any recollection of their previous lives and only four people knew their whereabouts, Hermione, McGonagall and two Aurors who had been assigned to them for security. They were protected by a very powerful Fidelius charm.

It was an ingenious bit of spellwork to create the modified Fidelius. If any attempt was made by anyone under the Fidelius umbrella to reveal the whereabouts of the Grangers, not only would that person suffer complete loss of motor functions but their wand would automatically send a patronus to all the other members of the Fidelius immediately. The spell was Hermione's own invention and everyone involved was quite impressed.

As it was, it took a whole host of Oblivatiors and Order of the Phoenix members to suspend her parent's dental practice for the duration. Hermione knew a detailed list of her mother and father's clients and patients was created and placed in secret in the Minister's office under lock and key. Since it was written in the runic language, Hermione and McGonagall were the only two who could decipher it. They would be required to retrieve the list and try to restore the memories of all those people once the Grangers were back in place.

It was going to be a daunting task but Hermione was eager to proceed. She was relieved to see that McGonagall seemed to understand.

“…so once we have returned with the Grangers from where they are hidden it will be imperative we act as quickly as possible.”

McGonagall made her way over to a tall, glass fronted cabinet, opened one of the curved doors and reached deep in the back to retrieve two tall, thin glass vials. They were both filled with a bright blue swirling gaseous mist.

Hermione stared at them for a moment.

My parent's whole lives are in there.

It was as if McGonagall could read her thoughts. She pulled her wand out and with a flourish; the two delicate looking vials were encased in a thickly padded metal box. She gave Hermione a knowing smile.

“We certainly don't want any accidents with your parent's memories.”

She handed the case to Kingsley.

“I think it would be prudent to have two of the best Oblivators ready and I don't think it would hurt to have a few Aurors in attendance for security as well. I'll call when I require them.”

Kingsley nodded.

“Very well then, I'll have everything ready upon your return,” he looked at the case and then at Hermione. He could see the look of concern in her eye, “Not to worry Miss Granger, we'll take every precaution to make sure your parents are retuned to their lives with as little interruption as possible but you must understand this is going to be an extremely difficult task.”

“Returning someone's memories seamlessly is a very tricky business even after a few days. We're attempting to restore your mother and father's memories after almost a year.”

Hermione could tell that even McGonagall looked worried.

They had told her when she decided to do this back then this was not something they would have recommended. Too many variables and too many things could go wrong over such a long period of time but since Hermione had no idea how long it would take them to find the Horcruxes or how long it would take them to dispatch Voldemort, if they even could, she had decided it was worth the risk.

Her reasoning was that if the war turned out badly, at least her parents would be very far removed from it all, relatively safe and blissfully unaware.

McGonagall reminded Kingsley before he left to send word to the Auror guarding the Grangers they were coming.

Kingsley returned to the Ministry to put the operation in motion. They would be waiting for Hermione and McGonagall at St. Mungo's.

So with their plans in place and Hermione's parents memories safely in the hands of one of the best Aurors in the Ministry, she and McGonagall set off for Perth, Australia.

They were instructed to meet the assigned Auror at the Australian Ministry of Magic office. They were told they would find the entrance at the corners of Howard St. and The Esplanade.

They discovered the entrance was what appeared to be a boarded up restaurant that was once named The Laughing Kookaburra.

McGonagall picked up the receiver of an old pay phone outside the front entrance. At once a voice crackled over the handset.

“State ya' business please?”

“Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger to see the Ministry Auror from the London office…I believe our Minister contacted you of our arrival?”

“Yes, miss,” the voice answered, “If you'll kindly step through the front entrance door to your right…”

“Thank you,” McGonagall returned the handset and they stepped right through the boarded up door.

When they entered, they found themselves standing in a reception area not much larger than a closet. The receptionist sat behind a small desk toward the back of the cramped space.

He was about four feet tall with dark skin. He was naked except for a loin cloth. He was covered head to foot in white painted stripes. He had a wild mane of black hair that was tied up in tufts about his head and, to Hermione's shock, what appeared to be a bone sticking through his nose.

He stood and greeted them with a pleasant smile.

“G'day ladies,” he squeaked, “Your ministry bloke'l be along shortly. Can I get either of you something to eat or drink while you wait? Just made a batch of grilled goanna and fresh baked damper*.”

Hermione looked at McGonagall with wide eyes.

“Erm, no thank you,” Hermione said hastily, “I'm fine.”

The little man shrugged. Just then a section of wall behind the reception desk opened and a rather young-looking Auror stepped through.

“Miss McGonagall, Miss Granger,” the Auror tipped his head as he came up, “The Minister let me know you were on your way.”

Hermione moved forward urgently wringing her hands.

“Where are my parents,” she asked, “Are they safe?”

The young Auror looked at Hermione anxiously.

“Of course, Miss Granger, your parents are quite safe but…” the young man paused for a moment, “their not in Perth any longer.”

Hermione blanched.

McGonagall spoke up.

“What do you mean not in Perth?”

The young Auror held his hands out as if to try and calm them down.

“Now…now, don't panic. Let me explain.”

Hermione's patience, already stretched thin as a thread, felt dread welling up in the pit of her stomach. She stepped right in front of the young man, who took a tentative step backwards until he was pressed against the false wall into the Ministry. He eyed Hermione wearily.

“Tell me where my parents are,” Hermione whispered dangerously through clenched teeth.

“About three months ago, your parents were talking to some of the locals. They were told about a free health clinic needing volunteers down in a place called Mandurah. It's a town south of here at Madora Bay. They decided to move down there to work in the clinic. They're staying in a one-bedroom bungalow in Silver Sands.”

“They work in the clinic most days and they spend the rest of their time in their bungalow or walking on the beach. Believe me, Miss Granger, they are quite fine. You must understand we were left with strict instructions not to interfere with your folk's lives in any way.”

“Take us there at once!” McGonagall said, “When we arrive I would appreciate it if you would contact our Ministry. Tell them I will require additional Aurors as well as two of their most capable Oblivators. Is that clear?”

The young Auror nodded wide-eyed.

“Very well,” McGonagall added, “please proceed.”

Hermione and McGonagall placed their hands on the Aurors arm and after the uncomfortable compression of apparition they found themselves standing in an alley behind a row of similar looking, single-level bungalows.

The lawns were little sections of neat Palmetto Buffalo grass with tufts of Chilean needle here and there.

Hermione turned to the Auror.

“Which one is my parent's?”

The Auror pointed to the bungalow on the right. Hermione made a b-line to the back door. McGonagall caught her just as she was about to knock.

“Please exercise caution and restraint, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall whispered, “Keep in mind at present your parents don't know who you are. I would think it ill-advised to go barging in at the moment.”

“Oh, there not here,” the Auror spoke up, “They would be down at the Clinic just now,” he glanced down at a normal-looking watch on his wrist, “in fact they would be just about to go to lunch. They go to a small café a block down from the Clinic.”

“Is the Clinic far?” Hermione asked.

“Not at all, it's just a few blocks over on Mandurah Terrace,” the Auror pointed behind them, “but I don't think it would be wise to walk about dressed like this.”

“Right,” McGonagall nodded, “Very well, you will lead us to the clinic and after we arrive please contact the Ministry.”

With a swish and flick of her wand, McGonagall changed her appearance. She was now dressed in a stylish sun dress and matching wide-brimmed hat. Hermione thought she looked nice dressed in Muggle attire.

Hermione was already dressed in her usual form-fitting tee shirt and blue jeans. The only evidence she was not a normal teenaged girl was the front of her light pink shirt said Restricted Section written in silver glitter script across her chest.

When they reached the clinic, the Auror went off to contact the Ministry. Hermione and McGonagall waited on a bench set in the shadow of a building across the street.

They watched people come and go from the clinic entrance for about a half hour when a man and woman emerged and turned to their right, walking slowly down the sidewalk.

Hermione recognized them at once but they seemed much different then when she had left them those many months ago.

They were dressed much more casual than usual and were tanned. Her father Edward had on a comfortable white button-up shirt over kaki trousers. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. She had never known her father to wear facial hair before. His hair was quite a bit longer as well. She had never seen it below his collar. She thought he looked ruggedly dashing.

But it was the changes in her mother's appearance that struck Hermione the most. Daphne Granger had always been the picture of prim appearance and posture as long as Hermione could remember. Her mother had always displayed a professional image even when she was at home.

Now, as Hermione watched them walk arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, her mother looked

at ease in a loose fitting white short-sleeved blouse over kaki shorts. Her hair, much like Hermione's, was unfettered and hung long down her back.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins looked ten years younger than their real identities. Hermione could see the look on their faces as they smiled at one another and kissed. They looked happy and content. She could see no traces of Edward and Daphne Granger in either of them.

Hermione continued to watch as they disappeared into the small café. Then, a sudden horrible thought overcame her consciousness.

Could this be my parents if I had never been born? Would this have been the life they chose for themselves without me?

Hermione suddenly felt ill. She could not mistake they way her parents looked. It was as if they were completely at ease in this place she had exiled them to for their own safely.

This was not what Hermione had expected at all. She was sure she would find her parents disoriented and confused, not settled and so…so…happy!

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. McGonagall looked at her young charge with worried eyes.

For the first time, the full impact of Hermione's decision to protect her parent's hit her with all the intensity of a blunt force trauma to the head. She had been so insistent on moving them to safety she gave little thought to the possible long-term effects it could have on their lives.

This was, as she could see now, the unknown factor that McGonagall and the Oblivator tried telling her about.

A single thought kept repeating itself over and over in her mind…

My parents would have been happier without me!

Nothing at that moment could have stopped the tears that seemed to burst from deep inside her. She covered her face with her hands as she leaned forward to try and control the body-racking sobs that overcame her.

“What is it child?” McGonagall asked deeply concerned. She placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione couldn't have responded if she wanted to. She had always been a creature of self control and poise but at that moment she couldn't seem to get a handle on her rampaging emotions.

It all seemed to be coming up to the surface. The years of worry about the threat of dark wizards and Death Eaters, her constant feelings of inadequacy in personal relationships and her private fear of the chasm that had been growing between her and her parents since she found out she was a Muggle-born witch.

She could see it clearly now. It was displayed before her like a nightmare that had become reality.

“Perhaps it would be best if we were to wait for your parents at their bungalow,” she heard McGonagall whisper. Several passersby were beginning to stare at the sobbing form sitting hunched over on the bench.

They weren't helping themselves by making a scene.

Hermione nodded. She used every ounce of fortitude and self control she could muster to reign in her emotions. She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she stood up to follow the Headmistress back to her parent's temporary residence.

Once there, they went again to the rear of the bungalow and making sure there was no-one to see they let themselves into the flat.

Again, Hermione was surprised by what she found. In their normal lives, her parents were organized and her mother was a stickler for cleanliness. Everything had its place in the Granger house.

But here, in the world of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, things were much more casual. The flat was neat but she could tell they were much less concerned about organization.

The tiny bungalow consisted of a sitting room, a small kitchen, a rather large bedroom and a tiny bath.

In the corner of the sitting room near a large front window Hermione saw a painter's easel. On it sat what appeared to be a half-finished water color of a sunset out over the ocean. It was very good. On the floor behind the easel were a few finished paintings of similar scenes.

She never knew either of her parents to have an interest in painting.

They heard the Auror step into the bungalow. He saw Hermione pick up one of the finished works.

“You know she's quite talented with a brush, your mother. She's sold several paintings to a business man from Melbourne and donated the proceeds to the clinic. Your parents are quite well liked here.”

He then turned and spoke to McGonagall.

“I contacted the Ministry as you requested Ms. McGonagall. They informed me they would be dispatching the additional Aurors and Oblivators in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” the headmistress replied as she too watched Hermione, “What time do the Grangers usually return from the clinic?”

“They usually get here between three-thirty and four but sometimes they stay a bit later depending on the number of patients they have,” he glanced at his watch again, “being a Thursday I would say they should be here at the usual time today. That leaves about an hour to wait.”

“Very well,” McGonagall said, “I should think it would be wisest to take them here. You do know what to do once the Granger's are returned safely to London?”

“Oh, yes ma'am,” the Auror replied, “My partner and I were briefed on the procedures back when we were first assigned to the Grangers.”

“Excellent,” McGonagall smiled at the young man, “then perhaps you should take up your station outside the clinic…”

The young Auror jumped slightly then smacked the heel of his hand on his forehead. He turned and bolted for the door.

Hermione had moved to the front window. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, lots in the depths of her thoughts, peering through the sheers at the ocean between two flats across the street.

McGonagall came up silently behind her.

“What is bothering you so, my dear?”

Hermione tried to organize her thoughts. She wanted to reason out everything that was happening to try and make some sense of it all but rationality seemed to elude her for the first time since she could remember.

“Am I doing the right thing Headmistress?” She asked without turning away from the window.

“What do you mean Ms. Granger?”

“Maybe I'm making a mistake by bringing them home,” tears were threatening to constrict her throat again but she fought them back.

“Why on earth would you consider such a thing?”

Hermione told her mentor what had occurred to her while sitting out in front of the clinic.

The old witch looked in horror at Hermione.

“Why, that's ridiculous Ms. Granger! Your parents love you! How could you think such a thing?”

Hermione finally turned around and looked into McGonagall's eyes.

“I know they love me but you don't understand Professor. For the past several years I've found myself becoming more deeply entrenched in the world of magic and less connected to the Muggle world. I know my parents have felt this as well. Maybe they knew it was coming even before I did. I think that's why they've been distancing themselves from me to make the eventual detachment easier.”

“It seems there's a gulf that's been forming between us, one I find harder and harder to bridge with each passing year. I don't even know if it's conscious on their part but it's happening none the less. Upon each return after the school session I find we've less and less to talk about.”

“They tried desperately to involve themselves in our world at first but lately it seems it's become less important. They throw themselves into their work. Even holidays are different now. I find myself wanting to spend as much time as I can with those…of my own kind.”

The words my own kind felt foreign to her but she could not deny the truth in them. That concept smacked of the very same mentality used by Voldemort and the Death Eaters to justify their reign of terror over those different from themselves. The truth was, she was different from her mother and father and she resided most of her life in a world wholly apart from them. Although, the estrangement from her parents was unintentional it was real and it was happening whether she wanted it to or not and she felt powerless to change it.

McGonagall looked at Hermione sadly for a moment then turned away to sit on the nearby couch. She suddenly looked very tired.

“While I would like nothing more than to tell you this is something constructed by an over-active imagination, Ms. Granger, I cannot. For, you see, I have first-hand experience with what you are going through.”

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond so she said nothing.

“Does this revelation surprise you?”

Hermione was slightly taken aback but she couldn't really be surprised by much of anything. She was feeling rather numb. She sat on the couch next to the Headmistress, folded her hands in her lap and listened.

“Both my parents were Muggles. Neither one showed the slightest magical ability nor did they care much for our society. There was a World War going on during my youth so mine was spent in much the same way yours has been. Staying alive was the main priority then as well although the threat came from the Muggle world.”

This did surprise Hermione. She knew about the Second World War. She had learned about it in Muggle grade school. When she thought about it for a moment, she realized the parallels between Voldemort and Adolph Hitler were a bit unsettling. Still she said nothing but let the old witch continue.

“I wanted nothing more than to protect my family from the utter destruction that followed in the wake of the Third Reich but my parents would have none of it. They chose to stay and fight. They did allow me to save some of my younger cousins but in the end, the decision to remain behind cost them their lives.”

Hermione was about to ask why the Wizard world did nothing to help during the war but McGonagall answered the question before she could ask it.

“Due to our law of secrecy, magic folk were forbidden to take part in the Muggle conflict. It was unfortunate. We could have saved thousands of lives. Although I missed them terribly, my parents did not die in vein. They managed to save hundreds through a covert underground network that smuggled people across the borders to neutral countries. It was small consolation to a terrified teenaged girl but it was the only thing I had to hold on to.”

“So when I tell you I understand what you are feeling Ms. Granger, I truly do, but I must tell you if you choose to leave your parents behind, it will be a decision you will come to regret. However, having said that, the decision is of course yours and yours alone to make.”

McGonagall paused to collect herself.

“I will honor your decision whatever it may be.”

They heard the unmistakable popping sound of apparition out in the alley. McGonagall rose to see to the newcomers as Hermione weighed the Professor's words.

They're your parents Granger. You put them in this mess so you need to buck up and see this thing through to the end! Maybe once you've got them home you can find a way to reconnect with them somehow. The Headmistress is right. You'll regret it if you don't.

Her mind made up, Hermione went out to meet the others. She told McGonagall she would go through with the retrieval process as planned.

About thirty minutes later the Auror watching over her parents came up and told them the Grangers were coming.

Everyone took their places and after her parents had gone into their bungalow, they all swooped in and took them down. They were put in a state of unconsciousness, then transported by portkey to St. Mungo's

The Oblivators and Aurors stayed behind to tidy up and remove all traces of Wendell and Monica Wilkins from Australia. It was going to be an arduous task but the Oblivators were very good at what they did.

The reversal of the memory modification process went as smoothly as anyone could have hoped for but when all was complete there seemed to be a rather unusual complication.

As Hermione sat in the waiting area of the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor, Professor McGonagall had come out to give Hermione an update on the progress. Just as she was about to sit down next to Hermione a Healer popped his head around the edge of the door.

“Excuse me Miss McGonagall may I have a word?”

She moved over to the Healer and they talked in hushed tones. When McGonagall suddenly stood ramrod straight, Hermione knew something was wrong.

She jumped to her feet and made her way to the ward entrance just as an Auror caught her by the shoulders.

“What is it Professor,” Hermione asked trying to free herself from the Auror's grip, “What's wrong? Is there something wrong with my parents? LET-ME-GO!”

The Auror released Hermione as if he had been shocked by electricity but she had not drawn her wand or cast any kind of spell. The Auror looked at his hands. They were smoking slightly. He looked back at Hermione as if she had just sprouted two additional heads.

“Please remain calm Ms. Granger,” McGonagall pleaded but Hermione had had about enough of remaining calm. If someone did not tell her what was going on in the next few seconds she was liable to pull her wand and start hexing everyone. McGonagall was wise enough to recognize this fact. “It seems there has been an unexpected…complication with the reintroduction of your parent's memories.”

Hermione couldn't seem to draw air into her lungs.

“What complications?” she asked breathlessly.

“While they seem to be quite normal and alert, it appears there are some…for the lack of a better description…gaps in your mother's and father's memories. We are, at present, at a loss for a reason for this. Their memories have remained in the Headmaster's office since they were removed. The vials were sealed with warded spell-o-tape and the seals were unbroken when we removed them to replace them into your parent's minds.”

Hermione stood frozen in place, unable to move or think or react to anything around her. She suddenly realized she had single-handedly destroyed her parent's lives. Voldemort didn't have to because she had done it herself. She looked at McGonagall who was watching Hermione closely.

They warned me this could happen. They tried to tell me. I can't lose control. It won't do anyone any good for me to fly to pieces. I should have left them in Australia. I should have let them have their happiness. I was selfish and this is my punishment! Broken parents!

The thought was almost enough to crush her. The guilt felt like a planet sitting on her shoulders.

“I want to see them.” It wasn't a request. She moved toward the door to the ward.

McGonagall held up her hand to stop the Auror as he began to reach for Hermione again. He looked relieved.

Hermione made her way to her parent's room with her entourage in tow. When she got to the door, she took a deep, steadying breath and went inside.

Both her parents were awake and sitting up in their beds. Hermione went to her mother's side first and sat in a chair beside the bed. She had to fight to keep her emotions from showing on her face but she managed a weak smile.

An Oblivator was talking quietly with her father. She looked up at her mom.

Her mother stared back at her for a moment with an odd look on her face.

“You're Hermione, aren't you?” Her mother asked.

“Yes,” Hermione answered in a shaky voice, “and you're my mother.”

“That's right,” her mother said but she didn't look right, “I have a daughter,” she looked away as if she was trying to see something far off in the distance, “and I'm a Dentist you know.” Her mother looked back at Hermione and smiled. “Do we have a cat?”

Hermione nodded. The fine thread of control she had been holding on to for the past two days seemed to snap. She could feel herself loosing it. If she didn't remove herself from the room in the next minute things were going to get even more difficult. Her parents were going to witness their daughter come completely unhinged and think they were raising a nutter.

Hermione forced herself to smile and take her mother's hand in hers. She kissed it and held it to her cheek for a moment. Her mother smiled warmly at her but her eyes were still strangely blank.

“Will you excuse me for a moment mum?”

Not waiting for her mother's reply, Hermione got up and made her way quickly to the door of the room. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out as she barely made the hallway.

Hermione Granger collapsed in a heap on the floor of the hallway and let the anguish and guilt take her. She could do nothing more than curl up in a tight ball and sob uncontrollably.

She could hear people talking and moving above her but she didn't care. She just wanted to be left alone.

The next thing she remembered was being lifted by several pairs of hands. They carried her to a different room and gently laid her on a soft bed. She heard them leave and the room became deathly quiet.

Somewhere between the body-racking sobs and the uncontrollable weeping she managed to slip into blissful unconsciousness.

*Damper is a kind of Australian bread.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard disclaimers apply

Chapter Six - Celebrations

As Ron stood talking quietly to the two women at the end of the alley that passed in front of Purge and Dowse Megan produced a wand and held it out.

The next moment they were bathed in the wash of headlights from a large vehicle as it materialized out of nowhere. It was headed straight for them.

Ron reflexively grabbed Cassandra by the arm and pulled her out of the way as the Knight Bus sounded its strange horn and lurched to a stop right next to them in the middle of the intersection.

As Ron watched the door of the bus fold open a young blond haired bloke with a terrible overbite and a serious acne problem peered at them from the bottom step of the doorway.

They could hear the shriveled old driver Ernie cackling in the background.

The pimply-faced young man stepped off the bus, pulled a well worn laminated note card from his pocket and cleared his throat. The young lad's voice was comically stuck in between adolescence and adulthood. His pitch changed constantly as if he were trying to yodel. The effect was quite amusing.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is…your name here,” he muttered squinting at the card. He paused, shook his head with a frown, rolled his eyes then continued, “Sorry, still new at this. My name is Hubert Higbey and I'll be your conductor for this…”

Megan stopped his speech with an irritated wave of a hand as she stepped toward the door of the bus.

“Yes, yes Hubert,” Megan sighed impatiently as she pushed the young conductor aside, “we know all about the Knight Bus love.”

Before Ron knew it he was being swept up into the bus by a very excited and overly enthusiastic Cassandra.

Megan paused to tell Hubert their destination and dropped some galleons into his fingerless gloved hand. In return he produced three tickets.

Cassie towed a bewildered looking Ron toward the back but before they could get settled the old faded purple double-decker bus lurched forward instantly with a loud bang.

Cassie landed on top of Ron on one of the many beds positioned on either side of the isle. Cassie smiled down at him with a mischievous little grin and started snogging him senseless.

Megan, on the other hand, was thrown right on top of the young conductor. She landed on the startled lad with a shriek knocking them both to the floor.

They heard Ernie cackling again as they sped their way at break-neck speed through the dark and mostly deserted London streets.

Megan was struggling to get off the boy when she heard the muffled voice of Hubert below her.

“Beg pardon miss!”

Cassandra and Ron rushed to help Megan to her feet when they realized Hubert's head was tightly wedged between Megan's ample breasts. Cassandra exploded into a fit of squealing laughter as they finally got Megan upright.

The young conductor only laid there, a dazed and bewildered look on his crimson face.

Megan adjusted herself with a scowl at her best friend.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

Cassandra could only nod as she tried to stifle her gleeful laughter.

Ron reached down and pulled the conductor stiffly to his feet. Hubert held out their tickets in a shaking hand. Megan snatched them with a glower as the young lad turned and fled to the front of the bus.

“I'll get that old tosspot if it's the last thing I do,” Megan growled staring icy daggers at the back of Ernie's head.

“Oh stop Megan,” Cassie chuckled, “I'm sure it wasn't intentional.”

Megan's perfectly plucked and shaped eyebrows seemed to disappear into her hairline.

“Not intentional! That bloody old gas bag does that sort of thing every time we get on this stupid bus and you know it.”

Cassie looked at Ron and shrugged. Ron worked hard to keep his face as neutral as possible. It was difficult with the picture of the young conductor's head wedged between Megan's big boobs. He tried to change the subject.

“So where's this, what's his name live?” his eyes shifting between Cassie and the older woman.

“You mean Darby?” Megan said, “He lives over in east London. It's not far.”

He was beginning to wonder what he was getting himself into.

Cassie seemed to sense Ron's concern and patted his arm gently.

“Don't worry love. He's a really nice bloke. Loves a good party, he does and he's loads of fun to hang out with. You'll see.”

She playfully towed Ron toward one of the beds once again as Megan followed close behind.

When the bus took another sharp turn Megan lurched to grab one of the many shiny silver metal poles put there for hand holds for standing passengers. She turned to glare at Ernie again. She could see his toothless grin in the rear view mirror.

Cassie had fallen on top of Ron again as they were tossed about and began snogging him even more intently.

Suddenly Ron found himself lost in this sexy and very pretty girl. He knew Cassandra must be a bit older than he was but she seemed to really like him. It was quite shocking since they had not known one-another for more than an hour. He was still quite dazed from the events earlier that evening at St. Mungo's but he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than her soft, warm lips and her slender, curvaceous body pressing him into the mattress of the bed they had fallen on.

He let himself become lost in the flowery scent of her perfume as his hands roamed over her body. Cassie writhed gently at Ron's touch. He could feel her intense need for…something as they lay there locked in a heated exchange of intense kisses.

He felt like a randy little bastard for letting himself enjoy the attention of this strange, affectionate girl.

His mind was suddenly filled with the memory of his snogging sessions with Lavender Brown. He recalled what it had been like to kiss his fellow Gryffindor classmate but as he lay there yielding to this strange girl's attention he realized it had been completely different. Kissing Lavender had been fun and thrilling and new…but that was all it was…just kissing. There was never a promise, unspoken or otherwise, of the possibility of something more.

Now, there with Cassandra, he was hit with the sudden notion her kissing seemed to hint that something more was not only possible, it was almost a certainty!

At that moment he realized he was with two real life scarlet women! It wasn't just a description of their behavior…it was what they really were!

Before he could stop it his mind's eye was next filled with the seemingly innocent face of Hermione Granger. The memory of how she had flung herself into his arms and kissed him that night in the room of requirement flooded his consciousness.

A sudden stab of guilt flashed across his mind but as he felt Cassandra's tongue swirl over his it evaporated just as quickly. It was replaced by the realization she had decided to go with Harry. Hermione had made a conscious choice to abandon him and his family in one of their darkest hours to be with The Bloody Savior of the Wizard World!

It frustrated him to know that. He tried to be angry with Harry as well but he knew he couldn't. Harry didn't cause Hermione to change her mind. In fact Harry had told her to go with him. It just made it seem that much worse. It made it seem like a conscious betrayal.

He decided then he would give himself over to this strange girl with no guilt or remorse.

If they can do as they please…so can I!

He heard Megan clear her throat from the bed next to them.

“Would you two please control your hormones for Merlin's sake? I'm getting queasy,” she muttered.

She glanced toward the front of the bus where the young conductor was starring at Ron and Cassie with unveiled, slack-jawed fascination.

“I think our young Hubert there is about to swallow his bloody tongue.” She chuckled.

Cassie reluctantly untangled herself from Ron and sat on the edge of the bad facing her friend. It took Ron a moment to get his wits about him then he sat up next to Cassie.

They spent the rest of the ride talking quietly among themselves as the Knight Bus hurled them through the London darkness.

Ron learned Cassie and Megan worked together at a place called The Dancing Leprechaun. It was a newer wizard pub just over the border in Scotland. He discovered they also worked in London at night sometimes to make extra money but they seemed reluctant to discuss exactly what that entailed.

Ron decided not to push for more information and pushed the thought from his mind as the Knight Bus came to a lurching halt. Peering out the windows he noticed they had stopped in a rather decrepit and run-down section of London.

As they disembarked the conductor bid them a hasty farewell as the bus sped off, disappearing into the night.

Ron found himself standing at the entrance to what looked like another alley. There were overflowing and overturned trash bins everywhere. The pungent smell of rotting refuse and what he thought might be urine permeated the air. He was about to ask the girls where they were taking him when Megan moved off into the alley at a brisk pace completely unconcerned about their surroundings.

Cassandra tugged on Ron's sleeve and began pulling him after Megan.

As they made their way down the dark alley Ron could see figures here and there moving in the shadows of the buildings on both sides. He tried to keep his fear from showing as they moved deeper down into the narrow lane.

Cassie held Ron's arm. She looked up at him with a smile.

“You'll like Darby. He's a lot of fun. He can tend to get a bit tipsy sometimes but he's pleasant enough.” She paused as Ron looked down at her smiling face. He tried to smile back but it looked more like a grimace.

“Don't worry love!” Cassie laughed, “I promise you'll have a great time. You'll see!”

“Believe her Ron,” Megan said, walking slightly ahead of them, “These folks know how to celebrate!”

A moment later, Megan guided them to a battered heavy metal door partially covered in peeling blue paint. The rest of the door was covered in rust. There was a small square portal about eye level.

Megan winked at Ron as she pounded hard on the door. When no one answered she pounded again.

It seemed like they waited for a long time as Ron peered nervously about. When he heard the awful screeching and grinding of metal on metal his attention was snapped back to the door. He watched as a panel slid back in the portal to reveal two dark eyes overshadowed by bushy pale blond eyebrows pinched closely together. The eyes looked angry.

“Who goesh there?” The eyes blinked and asked in a voice slurred by inebriation, “What do you want?”

“For Merlin's sake Darby,” Megan's lips pursed as she put her hands on hips, “Are you so toasted that you don't recognize me?”

It took the eyes a moment to focus on Megan's face then they widened in surprise.

“Megan Youngblood! Ish that choo?”

“No, you barmy sot,” she quipped, “I'm Voldemort come to curse your socks off! Now let us in!”

The eyes laughed raucously but then paused mid-chortle as they spied the other two.

“Who you got with ya?” The voice demanded.

“You know Cassandra,” Megan said with a bit of irritation. She was about to introduce Ron when the eyes in the portal almost popped completely out of the opening when they focused on Ron's face.

“Great galloping ghosts!” The voice shouted, “I know that bloke. He'sh one o' them what off'ed the Dark Lord ishn't he?”

Ron could see the eyes roll up in thought and a long thin finger press against a blond go-tee below.

“Why, you're that Ronald Welby or Wiggly fellow or something like tha'. Am I right? Saw your picture in the Prophet I think? ”

Before Ron's ire could spike and any of them could respond they heard a rusty bolt being thrown on the other side of the door.

“Come in…come in!” The voice said as he threw the door wide open.

When Ron's eyes finally adjusted to the light flooding the alley from the doorway he could finally make out the figure standing there.

Darby Danforth was a tall, rail thin bloke dressed in bright lemon-yellow robes and sporting a tall, pointy wizard hat.

“Greetings one and all,” Darby shouted as he flung his arms wide, staggering a bit. The drink he was holding sloshed all over the place.

Megan stepped through the door and immediately danced to the right out of the way of the flying liquid. Cassandra towed Ron into the room as Darby staggered backward a bit. He seemed quite unsteady on his feet but he was smiling broadly at Ron with a fascinated gaze.

Another shorter man dressed in royal blue stepped forward and pulled the heavy steel door closed and slid the bolt home. He then turned to Ron and the others with a pleasant smile.

“Hello and welcome,” he said, “I'm Leonardo Talbot, pleasure to meet you. You're a real hero!”

Ron only smiled and nodded at the man. He looked around and could see the place was packed with people. Everyone seemed to be dressed in brightly colored robes.

The floor of the room they were in was wide open to the ceiling above. The ceiling was exposed metal latticework with skylights set into the roof panels here and there. The second level seemed to consist of a wide balcony that ran all the way around the main floor. He saw slender white columns that held up the second floor balconies spaced evenly around the room.

Directly across from them was what looked like another entrance and two sets of wrought-iron and wood steps that went up to the balconies above on either side of the far entrance. Several other witches and wizards were entering at the other end.

Everyone seemed to be watching Ron and the girls as they made their way into the main room.

Ron noticed a small crowd under the balcony to the left then realized it was a bar that ran from one end of the far left wall to the other.

Bright lights, music and lively conversation filled the place. The pleasant positive energy all around them seemed to be infectious. Ron could feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he took it all in.

As the man named Leonard hugged both Megan and Cassandra Ron realized he seemed to know them quite well.

Cassie beamed up at Ron.

“What say we go have some fun?”

He watched as Megan slid her arm around a teetering Darby and wandered off into the crowded room. Ron smiled down at Cassandra widely and draped an arm over her shoulder nodding.

“Lead the way!” He grinned.

Before they could take more than a few steps Ron found himself being mobbed by a rush of genuinely fond greetings, well-wishing faces and quick introductions to almost everyone in the room. What shocked him more than anything was that they all seemed to know his name...his real name. Thankfully not everyone was a drunk as Darby.

Cassandra held on to Ron's arm tightly as people swarmed around them trying to get close enough to Ron to shake his hand or simply to pat him on the back, thanking him for what he had done to rid the world of the Dark Lord.

It was all a bit overwhelming but he was really enjoying the attention. Cassandra seemed to be enjoying it as well.

A few moments later a staggering Darby Danforth supported by Megan elbowed his way through the crush of well wishers and pressed a drink into Ron's hand. Megan handed one to Cassandra as well.

With that Darby raised a hand and shouted loudly above the throng.

“Here…Here,” he hollered, “Attention everyone, SEE HERE…”

Everyone seemed to fall silent at Darby Danforth's request. He offered the room a crooked smile.

“That's lovely,” he chuckled, “I would like to offer a toast!” He looked all around as most everyone hoisted their drinks into the air. He looked pointedly at Ron.

Ron wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do at that point so he hoisted his glass over his head.

“To Ron Wallaby,” Darby shouted. Megan quickly put a hand to his ear and whispered something, “Wha…Oh, So Sorry.” Darby said unabashed, “To Ron Weasley…The young man who aided in sending old Voldemort to the great beyond and make our world safe once again! We salute you!”

The rest of the crowd exploded shouting “SALUTE!” Then they all broke into a deafening cheer, “HIP HIP…HORAY…HIP HIP…HORAY!”

Ron couldn't believe what was happening. He simply couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that all those people were cheering for him.

He lowered his drink and drained the glass into his mouth. He had no idea what he had just drunk but at the moment he didn't care. Whatever it was burned his throat all the way to his gullet but he hardly noticed as most everyone around him drained their own glasses.

Before he knew it someone had pressed another full glass into his hand and without another thought he drained that one as well.

Cassandra sidled in front of him and capturing him with her arms around his neck kissed him hard and open-mouthed. When she pulled back from her heart-stopping kiss she smiled up at him.

“I told you, you're a hero.”

The rest of the evening was spent mingling with anyone and everyone. Ron regaled them with descriptions of events over the past several months. Everyone listened with rapt attention and seemed to hang on his every word.

Ron told them of the time they were captured and taken to the Malfoy mansion where they managed to escape before Voldemort arrived. They were quite surprised to hear they had been sprung by a house elf.

He also told them of how they broke into Gringot's, how they had taken the battle to Hogwarts where they fought and eventually defeated the Dark Lord and his minions.

Everyone was enthralled and amazed at the details and Ron had no problem telling the tales over and over.

Before he realized how much time had past since they had arrived he found himself getting very tipsy. It seemed as soon as he would finish his drink another would be shoved into his hand.

What struck him as quite surprising is that Cassandra never left his side. She seemed to hang on his every word and marveled at his tales along with everyone else.

When they found themselves alone for a moment she pulled him into yet another heart-stopping snog then chuckled at the befuddled look on his face.

“You know Ron,” she said, “You should write a book about all those things that happened to you and your friends. They're so exciting! I'll bet just about everyone in London would buy it. It would make a bloody fortune.”

Ron considered her words for a moment. Even in his slightly pickled state the idea struck a cord inside him. He had never considered himself much of a story teller but he recalled how they all seemed mesmerized by his tales. He smiled down at his lovely companion.

“You know Cassie…that's a smashing idea. The wizard world needs to know what happened. They need to know the truth…(hic)…but how does one go about writing a book like that? Don't know if I'm much of a writer…”

Cassandra was about to respond when a short plump witch seemed to appear out of nowhere next to Cassie. She was wearing a shimmering silver dress and black glasses that were studded around the lenses with glittering rhinestones. She smiled widely at them.

“Forgive me” the woman said in a silky voice, “but I couldn't help overhear you say something about writing a book?”

Ron squinted at the woman then his eyes flew wide with recognition. Cassandra scowled at her.

“I know you! You're Rita Skeeter!”

“That I am, my dear and you're Ronald Weasley. One of the Golden Trio if I'm not mistaken,” she beamed and held her hand out to Ron lavishly, “I don't recall having ever been formally introduced?”

Ron absently reached out to take her hand but Cassandra swatted it glaring at the older woman.

“Buzz off you old tart. Ron's with me!” She growled.

Rita was unaffected by Cassandra's display of territorial jealousy.

“How lovely dear,” Rita gushed in her most silky manner, “but I'm afraid you misunderstand my intentions. I merely wish to inform Mr. Weasley that I am a published author specializing in the exact sort of book he wishes to write.” Rita turned her attention back to Ron.

“Perhaps you've read some of my work? Armando Dippet; Master or Moron, or perhaps, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore? That was an international best-seller with global sales of over fifteen million copies to date. Those have sold out and the book is now in its third re-print.”

Cassandra's surprised gaze snapped back to Rita's smiling face, “Fifteen million copies?”

“Indeed young lady,” Rita smirked as she inspected her fingernails, “At twelve Galleons each…well, I'm sure you can do the required calculation darling.”

“My next endeavor promises to be just as successful. It's going to be called Cornelius Fudge; The Unraveling of a Dictatorship. It's going to shed much needed light on the former Minister's attempts to use his influence and the power of his office to manipulate and suppress the truth while costing the Wizard world countless lives.

Ron looked at the woman with wide unfocused eyes.

“Yah, I remember The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore!” He snorted, “Hermione Granger wanted to curse you into oblivion over that one.”

At the mention of Hermione's name Rita physically winced, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“Really?” Rita asked a bit nervously offering them a shaky smile, “Is the…erm…lovely Ms. Granger in attendance tonight?”

“What?” Ron asked a bit confused, “No…no. Have no idea where she is. Last I knew she was still at Hogwarts with Harry.”

“You don't say!” Rita's eyes narrowed.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ron asked angrily.

“Beg pardon?” Rita looked pointedly at Ron, “Oh nothing. Nothing at all,” she said waving a hand, “Now, Mr. Weasley…about that book…”

Before Rita left she had a firm commitment from Ron for a formal interview to discuss the possibility of telling what Rita had cleverly described as his side of the story.

The whole time the older woman was there Cassandra regarded her with barely veiled contempt. When Rita walked off Cassandra continued to glare at the woman's back.

“I don't know that I care for that smarmy little witch,” she said, “but I must admit…fifteen million copies is nothing to sneeze at Ron.”

“That's a bloody trunk load of galleons isn't it?” Ron remarked grinning.

“It certainly is love!” Cassandra beamed up at him.

It was not long after Megan found them and suggested they go to The Dancing Leprechaun before the placed closed for the night. Ron was a bit apprehensive at first because he had no money. The girls assured him there would be no need for money. With his new-found fame and the fact the girls knew everyone in the place they assured him he would be well taken care of.

This time however they decided to apparate instead of taking the Knight Bus. Megan was still a bit miffed at Ernie and with them being a bit tipsy there was no telling how they would end up tossed around inside the thing.

Much to Ron's surprise The Dancing Leprechaun was a real authentic Muggle Scottish pub. Again the place was packed with all manner of witches and wizards celebrating the death of the Dark Lord.

Once again Ron was the toast of the night. Just as the girls had said all three of them were treated to all the food, drink and attention they wished. The celebration went on into the wee hours of the morning until Megan decided they had all had quite enough.

Ron was positively obliterated when Cassandra, not quite as pissed, side-along apparated Ron to their flat just outside of a town called West Tallyvale.

The last thing Ron remembered before blissful unconsciousness swept over him was Cassandra's sweet warm lips nibbling at his ear.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N; This chapter is a bit of a fill-in…As always, thanks for reading.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Seven - Moving Forward

Harry woke the next morning after another dreamless night of sleep He felt rested and more relaxed than he ever remembered.

I could really get used to this…

Even though the weight of the day's events sat heavily on his mind it was nothing like the stress of the last several years. It made him feel a bit guilty to be so…care free.

He thought about Hermione and how much better things would be for her once her parents were back. He figured she would want to spend some time with them and help get things back to normal.

As far a Ron was concerned, Harry had no idea what caused him to go completely off the grid but he figured Ron would surface sooner or later. He still couldn't understand why he wasn't with Hermione or at least with his family.

As he made his way to the kitchen after a nice hot bath, he was assaulted with the smells of breakfast. Hermione may have disapproved of what he was thinking at the moment but having a house elf was worth its weight in galleons!

“Morning Kreacher,” Harry said brightly as he sat down at the table.

“Master,” Kreacher replied and bowed low. The heavy silver locket rapped hard on the stone floor again.

Harry tensed for a moment, then slid off the bench and went to crouch down in front of the wrinkled old elf.

“Now see here Kreacher,” Harry said as kindly but sternly as he could, “Let's stop this whole master business shall we? I'm not your master and even if I were, I wouldn't want to be. I'm your friend, ok so as friends I would much prefer if you would just call me Harry.”

Kreacher stood there blinking at Harry for a moment then his bottom lip began to quiver. Harry guessed what would come next and he wasn't disappointed. The old house elf's eyes began to tear and he covered his face with his hands.

“No-one has ever considered Kreacher a f…friend!”

“Know what,” Harry replied matter-of-factly, “They do now. After what you did for us at Hogwarts the wizard world thinks of you as a hero, wouldn't surprise me if they don't award you a medal or something for your bravery.”

Harry made a mental note to pass that idea on to Kingsley and maybe even mention it to Mr. Weasley as well. Dispatching Voldemort should have earned him a few points with the Ministry so he may as well use them for a good cause.

Kreacher, as expected, burst out in a fit of wailing tears. All Harry could do was pat the elf lightly on his thin shoulder until he got a hold of himself. After a moment Kreacher looked back up at Harry.

“Mas…er…Harry Potter sir is indeed the greatest and most noble wizard who ever lived!”

Harry couldn't help but smile and chuckle, “Right erm, thanks Kreacher. We'll work on the whole formal addressing thing. Thank you for breakfast by the way.”

“It's Kreacher's honor to look after his ma…Harry Potter sir. If there is anything else you require…”

“No…no Kreacher,” Harry replied looking over the mouth-watering spread on the table, “I think this is plenty.”

Kreacher scurried off to attend to cleaning up the kitchen humming in his low scratchy voice while Harry settled himself to his scrumptious breakfast. As he dove into eggs, kippers, muffins, and fresh, ice cold pumpkin juice he perused the day's copy of The Daily Prophet. When he saw the photo and the headline below the fold he almost spit his juice across the room.

The photo showed Ron, who was obviously drunk out of his mind, with his arm around a very pretty, beaming blond witch. He was mugging for the camera.

The caption below the photo read,

Golden Boy- The Celebration Continues!

He then read the article that followed;

“Last night Ronald Weasley, one of the members of the now famous Golden Trio of young Hogwarts Students who were primarily responsible for the demise of Lord Voldemort, was spotted at the new wizard night spot The Dancing Leprechaun having what could only be described as lively evening of marry celebration.

Word spread around the local village and before long the pub was standing-room only as folks waited in line for hours just to get inside to get a glimpse of the red-haired hero.

We were fortunate enough to make our way in to try and get a word with Mr. Weasley. By the time we were able to reach him however, the celebration had been going on for quite some time.

When asked to share a snippet of the harrowing adventures that took place over the past several weeks, Mr. Weasley replied, “Hey…you, pull me finger!” When we respectfully declined he turned to another reveler and repeated the request. The man was then rewarded with a loud flatulent sound followed by raucous laughter. They then made their way to the bar.

Mr. Weasley was never very far from a lovely young witch by the name of Cassandra Crenshaw. It was later discovered Ms. Crenshaw is in the employ of the pub and was there having a good time on her night off. When asked about her relationship to Mr. Weasley she replied,

“Oh yah! Me and Ronny's real close. I'm just bonkers about `im! Isn't he the cutest thing and he's a bona-fide hero ya know? It was me what suggested Ronny write a book about all the things him and his friends went through. He's gotta meeting with this snobby author lady what's gonna help Ronny put it together.”

When asked who the snobby author lady was Ms. Crenshaw was unable to recall her name. Some speculation led us to someone who might have been the author in question. When asked if she had been approached about a possible book deal with Mr. Weasley she declined to be identified for this article but did offer a tantalizing non-statement, “Now sweetheart, let's not put the Wizard before the wand so to speak shall we. Like a fine mulled mead…all good things in time.”

Prestwick Pittman, the owner of The Dancing Leprechaun had this to say about the night's events and his special V.I.P. guest,

“Weer' mighty prood ta' haf sech a sportin' brier ta come callin' this nie'. As fine a lad `er there wuz one eya! B' mighty prood ta' `ave `erry Potter n' tha' wee bonnie lass come t' call as wail! Dars opn' `eny tym' n' `er gold is na' goot `er.”

When asked about the other two members of the Golden Trio Mr. Weasley had this to say, “No idea where they are but I'm `avin a jolly good time!(hic)” We're wondering when Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger will end their fastidious self-imposed exile and join the rest of the wizard world in celebrating their amazing accomplishments.

Further inquiry revealed the night of revelry for Mr. Weasley began earlier at the residence of one Darby Danforth, the rather notorious son of Digby Danforth, the member of the Wizengamot suspected in being a Death Eater sympathizer. No further information on that case has been released and no trial date has been set although one has to wonder if it is due to the chaos and disarray of the Ministry of Magic at present.

As more celebrations take place throughout the wizard world to signal the end of Lord Voldemort's dark reign of terror we'll be there to bring you the scoop.”

Harry could do nothing more than stare dumb-founded at the paper watching Ron's face contort into stupid silly muggings over and over.

The first thought that occurred to him was how Hermione was going to react to this. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. It would be the second time Ron had landed in the Daily Prophet completely pissed but not only that, with an attractive witch on his arm.

He could only hope Hermione was still in Australia although Harry thought it would serve Ron right if she saw what he was up to.

Hermione doesn't deserve this.

He also wondered what book the article had been referring to. Harry had no clue.

He laid the paper down with an exasperated sigh and glanced at the clock on the mantle. He was going to have to finish his breakfast quickly if he was going to make Colin's service on time. He cursed himself for loosing track.

After a hasty farewell to Kreacher Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and made his way to the front door of the house. Surveying the area as he stood on the concealed porch he noticed a few Aurors nearby. He recognized Benjamin Twycross but slipped his cloak over his head all the same. He stepped off the porch, turned quickly and disappeared with a pop!

---@>---

Hermione's eyes fluttered open to complete darkness. Disorientation made her head spin painfully for a moment until she recalled the events of the previous evening.

…Or maybe it's the same evening.

Stiffly she lifted her body from the bed and made herself move toward the sliver of light showing beneath the door of the room she was placed in when she had collapsed.

She cursed herself for her weakness and the memory of it irritated her greatly. She snatched at the doorknob and flung the door open. When the bright lights from the hall flooded the doorway she felt as if someone had stabbed her in both eyes, the pain piercing her brain.

Well that was really stupid Granger!

She stood there with her hand over her eyes waiting for the tears to stop flowing and the pain to ebb when she heard voices coming down the hall from her right.

When the two Healers came within sight of Hermione's open door they stopped.

“Ms. Granger,” The male Healer said, “You're awake.” They then noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks from beneath her hands covering her eyes, “My dear are you alright?” He exclaimed sounding suddenly concerned.

Hermione nodded, “Just opened the door too quickly. Should have lit my wand in the room first I suppose.”

Seemingly assured by her explanation both Healers seem to exhale.

“Do you know my parents Daphne and Edward Granger?” Hermione asked. “They're Muggles brought in for memory modification.”

“Yes, of course Ms. Granger,” the female Healer replied smiling, “I'm responsible for their care for this shift.”

Hermione removed her hands and began blinking rapidly to clear her vision. When she could see the Healers clearly she looked at the woman.

“Is there any change in their condition,” she asked hopefully.

“I'm sorry but only a little,” The woman suddenly looked sad, “The Oblivators and Ms. McGonagall have been working non-stop to try and find a solution. So far there seems to be no reasonable explanation for what is happening to them. I believe Ms. McGonagall is presently at the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry to find any information they my have on the subject.”

“I hear tell,” the male Healer added, “the next step if a solution can't be found here they will be transferred temporarily to a Muggle facility and there they'll undergo what I think I heard an Oblivator call a cat scan although I can't for the life of me figure out what the devil a cat would have to do with looking into ones head.”

If Hermione didn't feel so bad at the moment she would have thought that quite amusing. She knew, of course, the Healer was referring to what was known in the Muggle world as a Computed Tomography or C.T. scan that was used to take very detailed cross-section x-rays of just about any object including the human brain.

That knowledge only served to make her head pound even worse. She felt her stomach rumble with emptiness but she had no desire for food. Just the though of eating made the bile rise in her throat.

“Can I see them?” She asked.

“Of course Ms. Granger,” the female Healer replied, “In fact we encourage it. We feel the more familiar people spend time with them the better.”

With that Hermione made her way across the hall to the door she remembered from before. She realized she had no idea what time it was or if it were day or night or even what day it was for that matter but she also realized she didn't really care. The only thing that mattered to her was finding a solution to her parent's problem.

As she entered the room she could see they both looked much better then the last time she saw them. She recognized personal items they must have brought from their house to see if any of it would spark recognition. The female Healer told her they recognized a few of the items and it was a very good sign. Although Hermione was glad to hear, it did nothing to lessen the sheer weight of stress and guilt trying to squish her.

She spent time with both her mother and father, talking to them about things they had done together and places they had gone. Some they could remember some they couldn't.

The Healers had asked her to purposefully avoid mentioning anything connected to the magical world to try and stimulate as much of their Muggle memories as possible. They felt trying to assimilate too much wizard world information into their minds at this point would just be too confusing for them. She agreed.

At one point when fatigue got the better of her, without giving it another thought Hermione crawled into her mother's bed and enfolded her in a tight embrace laying her head on her mother's chest just as she had done when she was a little girl. Her mother seemed to respond rather stiffly at first but then slowly relaxed and even put a hand on top of Hermione's head after a while. It seemed to spark a deeply hidden maternal memory in her mother.

A bit later Hermione heard the voice of Professor McGonagall out in the hallway. She reluctantly excused herself from her mother's arms with a smile and made her way out to speak with her mentor.

She found her in deep conversation with a few Oblivators and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

McGonagall started slightly when she saw Hermione come out of her parent's room.

“Oh, I see you're awake, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said, “I'm glad to see you spending time with your parents young lady but you look as if your about to fall over from exhaustion. Did you not get any rest last night?”

“A bit,” Hermione replied but really didn't care to discuss her own condition at the moment, “Did you manage to find out anything at the Department of Mysteries Professor?” She didn't even realize she had addressed the now-official Hogwarts Headmistress that way.

“How did you kn…” McGonagall was about to ask then pursed her lips knowingly, “One should never underestimate your resourcefulness Ms. Granger however, unfortunately no. The Unspeakables were unable to find any useful information on correcting memory modification problems with Muggles. Most of the information that does exist pertains to wizard folk only and I will not risk any further…complications by applying untested theory.”

Hermione nodded. She wasn't surprised.

“The Healers told me you're going to try a Muggle C.T. scan next.”

“Yes,” McGonagall nodded, “That's one of the reasons Kingsley is here. He's going to personally oversee the transfer of your parents to the Muggle institution. All the necessary arrangements have been made so there is nothing for you to worry about.”

Kingsley stepped forward and laid a hand gently on Hermione's shoulder.

“I assure you Ms. Granger,” he said in his deep voice that resonated with surety and confidence, “They will be perfectly safe. The entire procedure should take about forty-eight hours. The Oblivators are already on route to make the necessary preparations on the other end.”

“What's the other reason?” Hermione asked.

Kingsley and McGonagall glanced at one-another.

“Beg pardon dear?” McGonagall asked.

“You said transporting my parents was one reason Mr. Shacklebolt was here. What's the other?”

“Yes…well. So I did,” McGonagall's face pinched slightly with concern. She looked at the Head Auror holding out her hand, “I think she needs to know Kingsley.”

Kingsley nodded glumly and Hermione could feel the blood turning to ice in her veins. She didn't know if she could physically handle any more devastating blows to her emotions at the moment but she steeled herself for the worst.

If you can survive the Crutiatus curse you can survive anything Granger so suck it up!

Hermione felt herself lifting her head and stiffening her jaw at the thought.

“Arthur and I were going through the Minister's office earlier today and we've discovered an egregious amount of papers, files and…other things have been removed and we have no idea at this time where it all might be or if any of it even still exists.”

What Kingsley was saying didn't surprise her all that much. After all Pius Thicknesse had been an imperiused Voldemort puppet and the Death Eaters would have had the run of the place after the ministry had fallen.

She should have seen it though. She should have been clever enough to realize what was coming next but she simply felt numb at the moment. Her mind was filled with so much sorrow and guilt she was completely unprepared.

“Hermione, the coded list of your parent's clients was one of the documents they took.”

She suddenly felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She wanted to vomit but she fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her and took a deep ragged breath.

McGonagall had voiced her concerns at placing her list within the Ministry but she knew if things went badly the Aurors and Oblivators would need access to the list and besides, she was relatively certain at the time all this was put together Hogwarts would eventually fall. She had refrained from making more than one copy because there was less chance it would be discovered. Once again she had outsmarted herself.

For a moment she couldn't figure out why the thought of her list being taken by the Death Eaters would cause such a reaction of dread. After all it had been written in an all but dead language and only two people on the planet had the key to decode its contents. One was herself and the other was standing right in front of her looking at her with compassionate concern.

It had taken her three days to compile the list but it wasn't as if she couldn't do it again.

“I'll make you another Mr. Shacklebolt,” she said but it didn't sound like her. It sounded as if the voice speaking was at the other end of the hallway.

Suddenly Hermione wanted to be somewhere else. She knew her parents would be in good hands and safe during the up-coming transfer and she thought she should be there but a C.T. scan was a relatively simple non-evasive procedure and she needed to get out of St. Mungo's. She wasn't sure why but then a face filled her mind quite out of the blue.

Harry…I need to see Harry.

She had no idea why but she was certain of it.

---@>---

He was riding on the back of Aragog rushing through the Forbidden Forrest and why he was on the back of that dirty great spider he had no clue.

`I HATE SPIDERS!'

But as he sat astride the creature's hairy back he could see its legs moving back and forth as they flew through the forest.

There was a constant pounding in his head.

It was then he realized Kreacher was riding his shoulders and the barmy old elf was constantly whacking him on top of his head with the handle of Harry's Nimbus 2000 broomstick chanting `Fight…fight…fight!'

The next thing Ron realized his eyes were opening to bright sunlight streaming in through the slit in some heavy curtains covering a window in a strange room.

A dull throbbing pain pulsed in his forehead just behind his eyes.

He then realized a body was lying next to him in a strange bed. A girl's body!

She was lying on her stomach in nothing but some very skimpy red satin and lace knickers. His eyes moved along the soft curve of her lower back and the gentle swell of a rather perfect looking bum.

Cassandra! I bloody slept with Cassandra last night!

At first shock and fear gripped him but then he slowly realized if something had happened she wouldn't be wearing her knickers…would she?

He looked down at himself and saw he was only in his boxers himself.

Oh Bugger!

He lay there trying to reason through the pain. He tried to search himself to see if anything was different. He could still feel the dull throbbing in his loins that had been a constant thing since he started snogging Lavender so that must mean nothing happened…didn't it?

I mean…wouldn't I feel different somehow?

Another dreadful thought occurred to him as he felt Cassandra stir beside him.

What if we tried and I couldn't…couldn't do it! What if I didn't know how? What if I made a bloody arse out of myself?

With those dreadful thoughts still swirling around in his throbbing head Cassie popped up and looked around for a moment until her hazy eyes fell on Ron.

Her face broke out in a wide, sleepy smile Ron thought just too cute for words.

“Mornin' love,” she whispered. She then leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips, “How you feeling this mornin'? You sure threw down a gob of whiskey and good cheer.” She chuckled as she rolled over and sat up, “You hit the bed and passed right out!”

Ron moaned to himself.

“I feel like I've got the bloody Hogwarts Express speeding through my brain. Erm…sorry for…you know…passing out and all. I didn't…erm…I didn't make an arse out of myself did I?”

“What?” Cassie looked at him still smiling, “No, love not at all. You were fine. You were so funny. That's the most fun I've had in ages.”

Ron exhaled in relief. He felt better except for the throbbing that had now shifted to his temples. He reached up and messaged them with his fingers. Cassandra watched him amused.

“I think you need a spot of Megan's after-party concoction. Amazin' stuff! Fix you right up, it will.”

She then proceeded to crawl over him to the other side of the bed. He couldn't help but take in the girl's amazing body. A different voice sounded in his head.

And you did absolutely nothing last night! Some lover boy you are…

Cassie slid off the bed and rooted around the room for a moment until she found a thin silk gown and slipped it on. She then went back to the bed and grabbed Ron's hand, giving him a yank.

“Come on,” Cassie laughed again, “Let's go see if Megan's up yet and I'll get her to fix her brew.”

As they made their way to the bedroom door they heard voices out in the hall. When Cassie pulled the door open Megan was standing there having a rather heated discussion with a strange bloke. He was shirtless and Megan was wearing a short black silky gown that showed all her shapely legs. Her arms were crossed tightly under her ample breasts.

“Look Gabriel,” Megan said, “We had a lot of fun last night but it's time for you to go love.”

“But,” the bloke stammered. Megan held up her hand.

“No really,” Megan said sternly, “The party's over, time for you to go home now.”

The bloke looked angrily at Megan for a moment. Ron bristled but when the bloke glanced at Cassie and Ron standing there but he just huffed and went on his way throwing his shirt on over his shoulders.

Megan turned to look at Ron and Cassie.

“Some blokes just don't seem to get the message.” She winked at them smirking.

“See you had some fun last night!” Cassie said brightly. Megan just lifted a slender shoulder then cast a glance at Ron.

“You as well,” Megan said grinning, “But our resident hero looks a bit peaky this morning.”

“Yah,” Cassie replied but grimaced slightly, “I believe he's in need of a spot of you magic potion dear.”

“Not a problem,” Megan nodded and headed down the hall, “We'll have you feeling right as rain in no time flat my boy.”

“Thanks,” Ron mumbled as he followed the girls.

They came out into what appeared to be the sitting room. The furnishings were old and a bit shabby but the place was clean and neat. Megan went into a small kitchen area and began fishing around in a cabinet for a few items. She produced what Ron recognized right away as a bottle of Pepper Up Potion. Turning to the icebox she produced a container filled with a thick red liquid.

After mixing a few things together in a glass she handed the concoction to Ron.

“Best not think about it love. Just open up and pour it in.” Megan said.

Ron gaped at her for a moment but it was Cassandra who piped up.

“Really Ron, it'll make you feel loads better, right Megan?”

“That it will, my love now in you go,” Megan said nodding.

Ron closed his eyes, threw the brew into his open mouth as he was instructed and swallowed. It tasted vile and he had to force himself not to wretch but once he had got the concoction down he smacked his lips and realized it really didn't taste half bad and he started feeling better almost at once.

As he stood there marveling at the effects the brew had on him he found himself grinning, “Not bad. What's in it?”

Megan beamed. “Told ya' so,” but then she looked at Ron a bit more seriously, “Oh a spot pf Pepper-Up, some Muggle tomato juice, and a little of this and that but be aware. I've found it can have some odd side-effects for…”

Before she could finish her declaration they heard a low rumble deep down in Ron's stomach. He looked down, placing a hand on his roiling gut. His face then wrinkled into a grimace and sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Loo?” He asked.

Megan pointed back down the hall, “Last door.”

Without another word Ron shot down the hall. The girls heard the door slam and the sounds of moaning relief coming from behind it.

Megan just shook her head then turned to give her younger companion a significant look.

“What's he still doing here Cassie?”

Whaddya mean,” Cassie asked innocently, “I like Ronny! I think he's really nice and a lot of fun,” she said but then a puzzled look crossed her pretty face as she bit her thumb, “but I don't think he's ever been with a bird before, know what I mean?”

“If he spends another night with you that'll change,” Megan retorted, “He's just a baby Cassie! What is he seventeen, eighteen tops?”

“So,” Cassie replied indignantly, “I'm only a few years older than he is besides, he really likes me and he's nice to me.”

Megan ran a hand over her face.

“Cassandra, far be it from me to tell you how to live your life but you're twenty-two years old and have shagged blokes old enough to be your grandfather! What's Golden boy gonna say when he finds out what we do in our spare time?”

“Well,” Cassie narrowed her eyes, “who says he has to find out?”

“Oh for the love of…” Megan was getting exasperated at her often-bubble headed best friend, “Of course he's gonna find out! Maybe not today or tomorrow but eventually he will, then what are you going to do? You plan on giving all that up?”

Cassandra simply shrugged her shoulder looking blankly off into the distance, “He does have that lucrative book deal in the works.”

“And who says he's gonna share any of that loot with you?” Megan asked. Cassie slapped the counter top.

“Well why not? T'was my idea after all, it was!”

“I see,” Megan said darkly, “Make an honest woman of you right?”

“Jealous, are we?” Cassie asked haughtily.

Megan mentally threw up her hands. She knew trying to talk common sense into her friend when she got like this was an exorcize in futility.

“No Cassie, I'm not jealous,” Megan sighed, “I hope things work out for you. I really do but just do me a favor and don't get your hopes up too high alright?”

With that Megan turned toward the stove and began pulling pans from the cabinets with her wand.

“You hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Cassie said with a slight growl but then smirked as they heard Ron come out of the loo, “but not just for breakfast!” She giggled.

As Ron turned the corner of the hall Megan tossed him a glance.

“Feel better?”

Ron took a quick inventory and stretched as Cassandra moved forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. He had pulled on his trousers on the way back from the loo.

“Yah, actually,” Ron smiled, “Never better. That's some amazing stuff you've got there!”

Just then an owl arrived at the kitchen window carrying the morning copy of the Prophet.

“Can you get that Cass?” Megan asked, “What do you like for breakfast Ron? I assume you feel up to eating, am I right?”

“Yah…erm…I'll just have a bit of whatever you're having, thanks.”

Cassandra took a few coins from a plate by the window and tucked them in the owl's pouch. Unrolling the paper she scanned the front page quickly. When she saw her own face next to Ron's on the front page she squealed so loudly it made Megan slosh porridge all over the stove.

“WE'RE ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE PROPHET!” She screamed and started bouncing up and down.

Ron couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Cassandra's amazing, almost unfettered bouncing boobs. When Cassie ran to him and showed him the paper he could see she wasn't exaggerating in the least. There he was, sloshed out of his mind making stupid faces out of the photograph for everyone in the wizard world to see.

That includes my family, Harry and…Oh Merlin…Hermione!

He had not thought about her at all in the last few days. He had not thought about anything but getting lost in the world that was Cassandra. He liked being with her but when he thought what would happen when his mother saw the paper. His stomach knotted all over again.

Cassandra, still excited, began reading the article that accompanied the picture. When she read where the reporter had quoted her she squealed again. Ron could only offer her a smile that looked more like a grimace.

Megan was watching him with keen-eyed attention. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

“And see,” Cassie pointed to the article excitedly with wide eyes, “they even mentioned your book Ronny! Oh Merlin! Why you're gonna be even more famous and the book is gonna sell like fish n' chips! WAIT!” Cassie looked back down at the photo, “I'm gonna be famous now too!”

With that revelation Cassie tossed the paper up in the air and leaped into Ron's arms and started kissing him all over his flushed face. With one final squeeze Cassie slid to the floor and rushed toward the loo.

“Hold on I gotta pee! All that jumping up and down I guess!” She laughed and began singing all the way down the hall.

Megan looked at a completely stunned Ron with a smirk on her lips.

“You got family don't you Ron?”

He could only nod and flush bright red.

“Ooh,” she said, hissing between her teeth, “How do you think they're gonna take it?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth then a spastic little owl landed on the kitchen window sill. It was carrying a thick red envelope. Ron knew at once what that was. Megan saw his face turn sheet white. She turned to look at the fidgeting little owl.

“Oh boy,” Megan winced, “I think I know what that is. Better get it or there's no telling what will happen. I'd rather not have my kitchen destroyed if you don't mind.”

Ron crossed to the window and snatched up a hooting Pigwidgeon. He snatched the letter from the strap that held it to the owl's leg and tossed Pig back out the open window like a tiny feathered dart.

He rushed to the front door as the envelope rumbled and fluttered madly in his grasp. Ron had just managed to clear the threshold when the scarlet letter burst open with a shower of angry red sparks and loud popping sounds and hung in the air a scant few inches from his sweating nose.

He cringed as the booming voice of his mother exploded all around him. It was so loud it blew his hair back and made his cheeks flap.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! HAVE YOU COMPLETELY TAKEN LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES? WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT FOLKS ARE SAYING ABOUT YOU? AND WHAT ABOUT THIS BOOK I'M BEING TOLD ABOUT? YOU MUST BE CONFUNDED! THAT'S THE ONLY PROPER EXPALINATION! YOU LISTEN TO ME YOUNG MAN…YOU WILL GET YOUSELF TO YOUR BROTHER'S FLAT IN DIAGON ALLEY THIS INSTANT AND YOU WILL REMAIN THERE UNTIL I SEND FOR YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? TO THINK THE TROUBLE YOU ARE CAUSING FOR YOU FATHER WHILE HE'S TRYING TO ASSUME THE ROLL OF MINISTER! HOW DARE YOU! GET TO DIAGON ALLEY…IMMEDIATELY OR I'LL TELL YOUR FATHER TO HAVE YOU ARRESTED AND HAULED INTO THE MINISTRY IN IRONS!”

As his mother's voice echoed off the walls around him the letter quickly burst into red-gold flames and disappeared in a puff of hideously smelling dark smoke. Ron stood there for a moment stunned and blinking as black soot from the mini-explosion covered his terrified face.

Back inside the flat Cassandra had returned from the loo as Megan began serving the breakfast she was making, putting the food out on plates and the porridge in bowls. They could here the booming voice of Mrs. Weasley clearly coming from the entrance at the front. Cassandra tossed Megan a quizzical look.

“Howler,” the older woman shrugged, chuckling, “and a good strong one too from the sound of it!”

“Who in blazes would be sending Ronny a howler, I wonder?” Cassie asked to no-one in particular as she watched the letter blow up on Ron's face. It made her jump slightly.

“Who do you think Cassie?” Megan stared at her dingy best friend, “Use your head. The bloke's been running around with us getting pissed and getting his picture in the Prophet to boot. Seems his old man is up for the Minister's post or something and finding his son running with the likes of us won't sit too well with those stodgy Ministry types.”

“What are you on about Megan,” Cassie looked suddenly aggravated, “Those stodgy Ministry types are some of our best customers!”

“Yes, well,” Megan actually blushed at that declaration, “This is a bit different Cassie.”

Ron came back into the flat looking glum and resentful but had seemed to take on the appearance of a scolded school boy all the same.

“Mum a bit miffed with you Ron?” Megan asked trying desperately to stifle the laughter trying to escape her throat. Cassie had retrieved a wash rag from the bathroom with her wand and was dabbing the soot from his face.

“You could say that,” he replied a bit dazedly.

“Come have some breakfast and you can sort it all out after,” Megan said as she sat down at her plate, “I don't think your mum will send the Hit Wizards after you this very moment.”

“Thanks,” Ron replied, “but I better go. You don't know my mum. Wouldn't surprise me if she put a tracing charm on the howler,” he looked down at Cassie, “I don't want to make any trouble for you two. You've both been really nice to me and well, I just better go that's all.”

Cassandra looked worried for a moment. She stepped away from Ron wringing her hands nervously.

“Your mum really wouldn't have you arrested…would she?”

Ron said nothing as he looked glumly at the floor.

“Why that's…” Cassie began to say but Megan quickly cut across her.

“Look Cassie, maybe it's for the best. Ron, you should go patch things up with your folks and after things settle down for a bit you can come back. We'll be here, won't we Cassie?”

Cassandra looked as if she wanted to argue her point, whatever point that was but Ron seemed to be resigned to his pending fate. He stepped toward Cassie and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I really like being with you. I've had more fun the last few days then I've ever in my life but Megan's right.”

“M…maybe I can go with you,” Cassandra asked. She looked as if she was about to start crying. Ron knew he wouldn't be able to handle that. Megan came to his rescue.

“I don't think that would be a good idea Cassie,” Megan said flatly, “There'll be time for that after, right Ron?”

“Of course,” Ron smiled at Cassie, “I'll be back as soon as I'm able. It might take a while to get things sorted out but I promise I will be back. I have to admit I kind of like being famous.”

With that Cassandra seemed mollified and Ron felt only slightly better about his chances for survival over the next few days. Cassandra folded him into a heart-stopping kiss then, after snatching a few pieces of bacon and stuffing them quickly in his mouth and retrieving the rest of his things he turned and apparated to Diagon Alley.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Eight - Alternatives

That was the thing about sleepy little Muggle villages. Once the witching hour was upon them one could always count on Muggles shuttering themselves up in their comfy little homes safe from the darkness outside their doors and the unknown things that prowled outside their windows…

If they only knew…

The dark figure stayed well into the shadows of some medium sized fir trees that grew between two quaint three-story stone walk-ups off the avenue that ran through the center of the town.

She watched as a Constable made his way up the sidewalk on the other side of the street, whistling softly, wholly unconcerned and oblivious to the deceptively quiet of the night.

A thin fog hung lightly in the air as a misty rain swirled in the chilly gentle breeze as it meandered down the lane.

She wasn't concerned about detection due to the industrial strength glamour she had placed on herself before aparating to this place but there was no sense in being careless.

One thing the mysterious figure was certain of…she didn't want to be here.

In fact, she had made it a point to stay very far away from any place associated with him.

The risks were simply too great and the possibility of being associated with him in any way was to jeopardize one of her most cherished assets…complete anonymity.

Anger roiled inside her at the thought she was now forced to do just that but she realized without hesitation what must be done could not be left to anyone else.

She caught herself muttering epithets under her breath. She chastised herself for letting her self control slip.

Oh for the love of…The idiots have me muttering to myself like a doddering old fool!

In the past these tasks were left to lackeys to perform, those who were weak of mind and easily controllable. Those like that pathetic boot-licking Peter Pettigrew.

But as she moved from the shadows and proceeded down the street in the opposite direction of the Constable she remembered how unreliable even those who professed unwavering allegiance could be. In the end Peter Pettigrew betrayed them. Peter had kept secrets of his own.

She had been the one to recruit Peter for the cause all those years before and had convinced him to use the man. She had been the one to convince the sniveling rat to betray the Potters by planting fantasies of glory in his mind. It was simple to bend him to her will but as those memories filled her mind she realized she had been careless. She had counted on his weakness as an asset and completely neglected to realize weakness could work both ways, a terrible miscalculation on her part and one which she had no intention of repeating.

Even staunch supporters of the cause like the Malfoy's had wavered in their forbearance. That would never happen again!

It was why she found herself in this place, heading to the deserted and decaying house on the hill.

It was why she risked exposing herself against her own better judgment, a sound judgment that had kept her alive and undetected for centuries.

Now, after the events of the past several weeks and the complete lack of patience and common sense on his part she was forced to put into motion an alternative plan.

It was something that had occurred to her shortly after she had received word of his unfathomable incompetence.

I swear I don't know why I bother. He's shown his failures and weaknesses far too often to garner any confidence in his ability to control even himself, let alone anything else…

But even as her reservations plagued her she knew she still needed him. If for nothing more than the fear he instilled on the world around him by the mere mention of his name.

She had invested too much time, knowledge and energy into letting it all be thrown asunder but if there was to be success this time she would have to be in complete control. There would be no loose ends to fret over. No weak links in the chain. The new chain would consist of a link of only one... Hers!

The path that led to the dark and foreboding manor house was overgrown with weeds and brambles that snagged at her cloak as she swept her way through. She was much too irritated to care.

The previously grand entrance looked menacing and dangerous now. The wood that made up the wide front steps sagged and appeared rotted beyond use.

All the first floor windows and doors had been boarded up years before and most of the second story windows had been broken out by vandals or curious wildlife. She was aware of the servant's entrance around the back of the large, multi-story house so she picked her way through the waste high growth to the rear.

In the darkness of the overcast night she found there was just enough light to make out the small, nondescript wooden door. She moved forward startling a bevy of Black Grouse nested along side the path. She froze for a moment waiting for the birds to scatter, listening intently for any other sounds coming out of the darkness.

Behind and to her left she heard the faint rustle of something moving in the tall, wild grass. She spun, wand at the ready but realized it was only a small grey fox. The animal shot her a disdainful look as if to tell her she had just ruined his possible supper for that evening, then turned and bolted into the darkness.

She couldn't help but smirk.

When she finally made the door she fished around inside her cloak and produced a key.

Discovering where the key was had been a simple task. It was nothing more complicated than asking him where it was kept. Finding it, on the other hand, had been much more laborious. He had entrusted the key to his family's estate to none other than that conniving Severus Snape.

It took her the better part of a day to find it in Snape's home in Spinner's End. Breaking down his wards and charms was simple due to his demise but he had been very clever about his hiding places.

She finally discovered it suspended in an apothecary of Essence of Mertlap in his potions making traveling kit he used to take to Hogwarts with him when he taught.

She had to give the man credit for his intelligence and ingenuity. He had fooled them all into believing his dedication to the cause only to discover he was working against them the whole time. She realized he had been very much like her in many respects and that was difficult for her to admit.

She had discovered the many secrets this old abandoned house contained. She had discovered the truth when she had seduced Snape. He had been an intriguing and capable lover but she was only after information and this was what little he allowed himself to divulge. She wasn't sure if it was a calculated maneuver on his part or that he was simply a master at Occlumency.

As she slid the key into the door and unlocked it, she decided at this point none of that mattered any longer. What mattered now was waiting inside this dreary and desolate place somewhere below her in the vast damp darkness of the basement.

Once inside she closed and locked the door behind her, pocketed the key and cast a dim red lumos so she could make her way through the dark manor. She dare not shed more light then necessary for fear of detection from outside.

The property was well away from other inhabited structures but she knew very well the place could still be monitored but the Ministry. She had detected no charms, enchantments or alarm spells upon her approach but it still paid to be thorough.

The one thing she could count on from the Ministry of Magic was when they solved a problem their attention was quickly diverted to the next order of business. With the Minister's office, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and many of the other smaller Ministry offices in total disarray it was the perfect opportunity to put her plans into motion.

That was one of the scant few things he had actually done right!

Officials were presently looking the other way but she knew it wouldn't last long. They were nothing if not diligent and resourceful in their efforts to right their own ship.

When news reached her ears Harry Potter was being recruited by the new acting director of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement she knew it was a major cause for concern. That potential threat would not manifest itself for many months or even years but it was still something to keep a weathered eye out for.

It was also going to make implementing part of her plan a bit more difficult but she had contingencies in place for just such unforeseen circumstances.

The Ministry weren't the only ones diligent and resourceful.

As she made her way through what used to be a grand kitchen she stole to the far side of the room to a small door tucked into the corner of a niche. When she tried to open it, the door was suck fast, swollen by weather and age.

Bugger!

She was hoping not to have to use any major magic while she was on the premises but it seemed unavoidable.

With a swish of her wand and a muttered shrinking spell the door opened with a shriek of its rusty hinges that seemed to echo through the whole house.

Oh for Merlin's sake! Why don't you just dance naked on the roof singing Celestina Warbeck tunes at the top of your bloody lungs while shooting fireworks out of your arse!

She stood motionless for a long moment listening intently. Nothing could be heard but the rats scurrying in the walls. At the moment rats were the least of her worries.

Inspecting the steps that led to the basement level she discovered they were passable for the most part. Irregardless, she took her time and care descending into the utter blackness below.

The floor of the basement was lined with flagstones and the walls were mortar and brick. The smell of mold and decay assaulted her nostrils as she looked around the space.

She decided it was safe to cast a more powerful lumos considering she was now underground with no windows or doors to show light.

There was a single narrow hallway that seemed to run the length of the house in both directions with doors set into the walls every so often on both sides of the hall.

While she was certain what she was looking for was here she wasn't certain which small chamber it would be in and searching them all would take time…much more time than she wanted to spend there.

With an exasperated sigh she moved off to the left and went to the last door at the end of the hall. She figured she would start her search backward and might get lucky.

After all, what you're searching for is usually in the last place you look!

She wrenched the small white paint-peeling door open and peered about the small room. It wasn't much larger than a cupboard. This room contained stacks of rotting and molding books, papers and what appeared to be boxes of files.

The next room contained much the same. The third contained a few small pieces of furniture, lamps, odds and ends and an old bicycle. It was the kind that had the huge front wheel and the tiny rear one where the rider sat on what looked like a small wooden seat atop the large wheel. She had no idea how anyone could actually ride the silly looking thing without the use of magic.

And I thought brooms were dangerous!

The fourth and final room on the left side of the hall was quite a bit larger than the others and contained what appeared to be a vast majority of the furniture from the den and living room. She stepped inside and paid particular attention for…

Ah…There we are!

Portraits and paintings!

Several of them, all stacked neatly on a pallet and covered with what looked like an old canvas tarp.

She lifted the tarp with her wand carefully so as not to stir too much dust. When she had the tarp safely out of the way she approached the stack of frames. There were about a dozen all of different sizes. Thin slats of wood separated each frame from the other so as not to damage any of the canvases.

Someone certainly took great care when they stored these! And she thanked the Gods they did.

Laying her glowing wand on a nearby table she gently lifted the first frame off the stack. It was a scene of what appeared to be a rustic Italian village…or something like that. She could tell instantly it was a Muggle painting because there was no movement.

It was obvious the house would possess this type of art. His father and grandparents were Muggles after all but the portrait she sought was one of the very few…if only magical paintings that would have resided within these walls.

She knew it had been done at the request of his grandmother. The portrait had been commissioned just after his graduation and he had hated it. It was bad enough he had to endure the constant attention of his doting fool of a Muggle relative but sitting for a portrait was almost too much for him to bear. A compromise was made and his request it be done by a wizard artist was granted by his grandfather if only to keep the peace.

Besides, somewhere in that twisted mind of his he had actually envisioned his portrait hanging one day in the hallowed halls of his beloved educational institution.

The old woman had been the snobbish aristocratic type and fought to bring her strange grandson in line with the conventional ideology of the rest of the stodgy family, wealth and power were the orders of the day.

There are those who thought she had succeeded but not quite in the way the old Matriarch had hoped.

As she worked through the stack of antique and ornate frames it was becoming clearer the closer she got to the bottom the one painting she was searching for was not among them.

As she turned over the last frame on the bottom she saw a portrait of a boy standing dressed in fancy blue satin togs. It was a hideous portrait. The brass plaque on the bottom of the frame read; Thomas Gainsborough; The Blue Boy, 1770.

She made a face at the painting that suggested the thing smelled bad and laid it back on the pallet. She then grabbed her wand and with a swish the rest of the art returned to its original place, then she levitated the tarp back over the pile.

Why isn't it here? One would think all the artwork would have been stored together.

She resigned herself to keep looking. On and on she went through the storage rooms until at last she came to the door of the final room. Exasperated at the amount of time she was spending in this place she snatched the door open with her wand this time.

Stepping inside the room she saw the usual furniture, piles of linens, lamps and a collection of other such household items. This storage space seemed to contain what looked like the contents of the master's chambers. A huge, ornately carved wood headboard leaned against the back wall.

As she picked her way through all the effects she did not see what would appear to be a portrait. Discouraged at the thought of having to go back through all the rooms again or search the rest of the derelict old house she sat on the dusty corner of a red velvet settee half covered by a sheet.

As she sat there miserably deciding where to go next she laid her wand across her lap and put her hands to her face. When she slid them down, tugging at her cheeks making them sag slightly a glint of gold color caught her eye from near the floor behind the massive headboard against the back wall.

What's this then?

With as much care as she could she levitated the headboard as high as it would go. The wood made a dull thump as it bumped against the low ceiling.

There, leaning against the wall, almost covered completely by what looked to be a hand-made quilt was a piece of artwork. The only visible part of it was the two bottom corners of its ornate gold frame. The front of the painting was turned toward the wall. It was about three or four meters square in size.

With her free hand she gripped the top of the frame and hauled it out from behind the headboard then slowly lowered the huge piece of furniture back in place.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment but then an amusing thought struck her.

Always in the last bloody place you look!

She carried the painting over to the settee she had sat on and leaned it against the back. Slowly she lifted the quilt to expose the canvas beneath.

As the picture came into view a wide smile played across her face as she recognized the subject immediately.

The figure in the painting blinked a few times then, peering out of the canvas, sneered at the woman's grinning face.

“It's about bloody time someone decided to come and find me!”

“You, young man, are fortunate enough I even bothered,” the witch shot back gruffly.

“Yes…yes, whatever,” the figure in the portrait waved a casual hand at the woman, “now be a good girl and get me out of here!”

The look the figure projected could only be described as careless boredom as he sat back on his chair.

The mysterious dark witch took in the whole of the portrait for a moment as her mind filled with indignant rage and her vision suddenly turned red with seething anger.

A teenaged Tom Riddle sat quite casually on a stiff, high-backed gilded chair that put one in mind of what a medieval throne may have looked like, its cushions covered in a gaudy red velvet.

One leg thrown over the other and arms crossed his visage projected an air of supreme arrogance and superiority.

She wanted to reach into the painting and smack the smug look right off his unquestionably handsome face.

She lunged forward with her wand a scant millimeter away from the canvas spitting angry red sparks from the tip.

Tom Riddle's image reared as far back as the chair would allow keeping his wide eyes on the tip of the wand.

“Now you listen to me you pathetic excuse for a sorcerer!” The witch spit with all the venom she could muster, “It's your blundering and continued ineptitude that has brought me here in search of your smarmy little picture! If you possess even a smattering of useful common sense you will keep your repulsive mouth shut and do exactly like I command or I swear I'll torch this little painting of yours and send you on to the next great adventure without so much as a twinge of regret…am I making myself clear or would you prefer that I etch it into the canvas above your oil painted head so you don't have the misfortune of relapsing into stupidity?”

Tom Riddle's image blinked rapidly at the dangerous, glaring eyes of the woman before him then settled back in his chair, arms folded tightly at his chest.

“I suppose I'm at the mercy and whims of whomever possess this painting so…” He held out a hand toward her wearily this time, “I'm yours to command.” As he said it his face pursed as if he had just tasted something dreadful.

“Argh!” The woman slung the quilt back over the portrait with a flick of her wand. She repeatedly reminded herself this was a necessary evil so as not to incinerate the thing. With another wave of her wand she reduced the portrait to a size small enough to fit in the pocket of her cloak and slid it safely inside.

“Now, we will be traveling shortly,” she said to the empty room but she knew he could hear her voice, “so do remain silent until I say otherwise.”

“As you wish oh perpetual queen of the shadows…” She heard his miniaturized voice exclaim.

Gods! I should have just switched sides centuries ago!

With that sarcastic declaration she could almost feel the bones of her Great Grandfather tossing about in his grave.

After making certain she removed all traces of her presence at the old Riddle Manor she apparated to the room she was keeping at the Leaky Cauldron.

Now that the first phase of her plan was complete it was time to implement the next. She needed to prepare for her up-coming interview with a very important and clever witch. She would have to be on top of her game if she was to succeed in her endeavor.

It had been quite simple to produce the necessary documentation and credentials to pass even the most in-depth inquiries into her past and she had spent years perfecting her skills and knowledge necessary to acquire the position she sought. It wasn't that she had a desire to hold such a position in the past, it was as a result of his failures that required her to do so now.

But to fool her interviewer was going to take some very prodigious skill. She could ill afford to make any mistakes.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N; Character and plot development in progress. This chapter is a bit long. It does get better and more exciting, I promise. Some of the next chapters will contain gratuitous smut. A few of our teenaged characters will be acting like…well…teenagers!

Standard Disclaimers Apply…as always.

Chapter Nine - Saying Goodbye

Harry appeared in the shadows of some trees next to what looked like a small park. Across the street was a tall row of hedges that ran the length of the sidewalk completely obscuring whatever was on the other side.

After making certain he was still covered in his cloak he made his way toward a set of ancient-looking arched top wrought iron gates nestled smartly within the thick hedges. Two stone pillars stood on either side of the gates and were topped with miniature medieval looking gargoyles. Both looked like smaller versions of the one that guarded the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Set in the arched tops of the ornate ironwork of the gates were what appeared to be two bones crossed in an x-pattern signifying Harry was at the right place.

As he made his way toward the gates he spied a thin, bent old man who seemed to be tending to the hedges.

Must be a caretaker...

As he got closer, the old man straightened with much more alacrity then he should for a man his age and it set Harry on edge instantly. His hand twitched for his wand.

The wrinkled old man looked in Harry's direction then muttered, “Who goes there,” in a voice that should have been coming from a bloke half his age. Harry realized at once this was probably one of Kingsley's Aurors in disguise and relaxed, but only slightly.

“I here your footsteps,” the man stated pulling his wand, “Show yourself!”

Harry looked around and could see the street was mostly deserted. There were a few Muggles with their children at the park across the street but none seemed to be paying them any attention. The few cars that passed zipped by much too quickly to pay them any heed. Still, Harry moved off the sidewalk and pressed himself as close to the hedge as he could before removing his cloak.

When the old man spied him he relaxed completely and put his wand away.

“Thought it might be you Mr. Potter but just being cautious, you understand,” the Auror said in a hushed voice, “Kingsley told us to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”

Harry nodded without responding.

“Right, this way then,” the old man said turning. He made his way toward the gates but just before he reached them he stopped at a rather thick section of hedge just to the left of the entrance.

He tapped on a branch three times with his wand. The hedge gave a slight shudder but that was all. Harry simply stood there.

The old man glanced at Harry then grinned, “Just walk right through Mr. Potter, nothing to it. Once on the other side just stick to the path. It will take you where you want to go.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. He took a breath, closed his eyes then leaned into the hedge. He fully expected to feel the branches pull and scrape at him on the way through but was surprised to find he felt only a pleasant waft of cool breeze.

Once he cleared the hedge a wide open expanse spread out before him. Headstones and monuments cluttered the landscape as far as the eye could see on the gently rolling hills. A narrow foot path marked on either side by what looked like a knee-high fence made from human bones wound pell-mell through the graveyard.

It took a better part of twenty minutes to make his way to a slight rise. When he crested the low hill he stepped out into an open area where the ground was covered in lush green grass. The sun overhead was bright. He had to shadow his eyes to see a small group of what he was certain to be witches and wizards off to the left.

As he came closer to the congregation he started seeing a few people he recognized. There was a podium set up behind a casket covered with flowers of all kinds. A wizard photo sat in the center of the arrangement and Colin Creevey's smiling face peered out of the frame laughing, winking and snapping off photos with his ever-present camera.

Harry couldn't help but smile.

Several rows of small white chairs were down in front of the podium and casket. As Harry took a seat in the very last row still hidden beneath his cloak he spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt standing off to the far side of the gathering. He recognized Dennis Creevey sitting in the front row with who Harry assumed was his mother with her arm around Dennis' shoulder.

A young man in an Auror's tunic stepped up next to Kingsley and whispered in his ear. He only nodded and went back to listening to the speaker.

As Harry listened he discovered it was Colin and Dennis' father at the podium. Between fits of weeping and smiles he told everyone what a great son Colin had been. Other's got up and spoke on Colin's behalf.

As Harry sat and listened to Colin's friends and family speak about him, he was getting a bit frustrated. He knew he had no right to feel that way but it seemed to Harry his family and friends were missing a great deal of what Colin's true nature was all about.

He agreed Colin was small and sweet and kind and gentile but there were other more significant sides to the little bloke they hadn't seen.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt compelled to get up, throw off his invisibility cloak and go down there and say what was on his mind. As he sat there thinking he decided to do just that.

Harry stood and slipped the cloak off, folded it and slipped it under his shirt. He then made his way right down the center isle of the service toward the front where a Healer was regaling everyone with a story about patching Colin up after a rather nasty broom accident when he was 12. When he was finished the Healer asked if there was anyone else who would like to say something. Harry piped up.

“I would like to say something if I may, sir.”

As the crowd turned to see who had spoken it was if they had all been hit with a mass Petrificus Totalus.

Harry stepped up to the podium, tried to collect his thoughts and calm his nerves. He knew he had no gift for making speeches and wasn't as cleaver as Hermione or witty as Ron so he decided to speak from his heart.

As he looked out over the small stunned group sitting before him, he realized there was absolute silence. It seemed even the breeze stopped blowing.

“I…I've been listening to the things everyone has been saying about Colin today and I think they are all very nice…”

Harry swallowed nervously. His throat suddenly seemed as dry as two year old parchment left in the sun.

“But the Colin I knew was much more than innocent and sweet and kind. He was also one of the bravest blokes I've ever met.”

There was a collective gasp.

“That's right. Colin might have been small but he had the heart of a Gryffindor Lion. I saw it first hand.”

“When I first met Colin his first year I must admit I was a bit annoyed with him at times. He was always taking pictures of me with that camera of his. I think he thought of me as some kind of hero or something. But as it turned out, that camera saved his life from a Basilisk.”

A ripple of shock ran through the group.

“As time went on I got to know Colin a bit better and I guess he decided I wasn't much different than anyone else and calmed down a bit. He was so funny some times. But the thing I remember most about Colin was his strength and courage.”

Harry glanced at Colin's mother and father and his younger brother Dennis as they sat there in disbelief that The Savior of the Wizarding World was actually in front of them saying these things about their son and brother. It made his insides squirm a bit but Harry was determined.

“In our fifth year, the Ministry took over Hogwarts for part of the school year. They didn't want us to learn defensive magic because they were unwilling to believe Voldemort had returned. I guess we all know now they were wrong.”

“So some of us got together and created a club of sorts. It was banned by the new administration but we didn't care. We wanted to learn how to defend ourselves. It was a great risk to do this but we were determined. We called it Dumbledore's Army…”

Some in the crowd nodded their heads in recognition of the story Harry was telling and his brother Dennis, who was also in the club, beamed at Harry and gave him a thumbs up. He pressed on.

“We would meet once a week in a special place in Hogwarts and practice defensive magic until we learned as much as we could. I tell you about this because I want you to know that Colin and Dennis were very much a part of our group. Colin was always the first to show up and usually the last to leave. He would help us prepare for our lessons, stand lookout or do anything we asked of him.”

“No-one worked harder and wanted to learn more than Colin. He was fearless and threw himself into every lesson completely.”

Harry smiled as he looked down at the podium as a fond memory of Colin filled his mind. He had to tell it.

“Once when we were practicing disarming jinxes, I was partnered with Colin. He was trying so hard. He tried to hit me with an expelliarmus. It backfired slightly, knocked poor Colin quite off his feet and tossed him into the fireplace. We all rushed to extract him from the floo but by then the back of his head was smoldering and his jumper was on fire.”

He could here the tittering and cackles of laughter at the anecdote.

“He wasn't hurt but he jumped right up telling everyone he was fine smoking like a steaming bowl of porridge. That's just the way Colin was. He was tough and he never gave up. He volunteered for everything. He had more grit than any of us.”

“I stand up here today to say goodbye to a good friend. Colin Creevey was my friend. I had a lot of respect for him. But as I stand here I can't feel sorrow or regret. If I do then it will make Colin's sacrifice seem pointless. So the best thing I can do is remember him for what he was.”

“Colin was honest to a fault, tougher than a bloke twice his size and braver then all of us. He gave his life so we could be free. Thank you for allowing me to know you Colin. I'll never forget what you've done for us all.”

With that Harry stepped away from the podium and went over to Colin's casket. He placed his hand on the cold metal lid.

Many of Colin's relatives came to Harry's side. His mother held Harry tightly thanking him for his wonderful words. Harry took the time to shake every hand and accept every embrace before he decided it was time to leave.

Before departing he thanked Kingsley. Kingsley took Harry's hand in a firm shake.

“That was a wonderful thing you did Harry,” Kingsley smiled warmly, “It will be a long time before those people forget those words.”

Harry looked at Kingsley for a moment.

“That's good,” Harry said, “Because they were all true.”

Kingsley reached into his robe and produced a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.

“Enchanted guest list for the Lupin-Tonks service,” he said, “You'll need it to get in. There's going to be quite a few dignitaries there as well as the Minister. Security's going to be tight. Present that to any guard and you'll be admitted without any trouble.” He turned to go but then stopped and looked back at Harry, “I don't think you'll need to hide under your cloak this time Harry.”

Harry nodded.

With that he turned on the spot and went back to Grimmuald Place to make ready for Dora and Remus' service.

---@>---

Hermione was in a daze. When she apparated into the kitchen at #12 she hoped to drop right into the midst of Harry and the boisterous gaggle of homeless Weasleys but instead all she encountered was the utter silence of an empty room.

She wondered where everyone could be. She thought they may have gone to Ottery St. Catchpole to work on mending the Burrow or maybe they were still at St. Mungo's.

She wondered if she should just go to her parents place and clean up a bit. She was still wearing the same clothes she had on when they faced down Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She had cleaned them since but she still wanted to change. A long soak in her own bathtub at home sounded good…

…But I really need to see my boys right now…I need them.

As she stood in the middle of the silent kitchen she spotted the Daily Prophet sitting folded on the nicked and scarred old table. With a sigh she plopped down on the bench and unfolded it without much interest.

Normally she thought it important to stay abreast of the latest news and happenings in the wizarding world but since the death of Voldemort, the subsequent disintegration of the Death Eaters and the problems with her parents it just didn't seem all that important.

As soon as her eyes landed on the bottom of the front page she froze. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her head.

Ron Weasley's contorted face looked up at her as that…that little blond tart smiled and waved out from under his arm.

If there was ever a moment in her life when she could have raised her wand to utterly destroy another human it was at that moment.

Hermione's face flushed hot and her ears burned. Tears of anger and frustration blurred her vision. She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she dropped the paper back on the table like it had burned her hands. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Only a small part of her wanted to read the accompanying article to make certain she was not jumping to conclusions but the rest of her just wanted to throw up.

Her stomach twisted violently. She realized she'd had little to eat in the last few days. With an angry swish of her hand she turned the front page over so it covered Ron's ridiculously vapid image.

When she glanced at the small headline on the inside of the first page she saw that Mr. Weasley had been nominated and then chosen for the Minister for Magic post. He had chosen his son, Percy Weasley as Under-Secretary. The story directly below it tagged Kingsley Shacklebolt Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

At least there's some positive news.

She suddenly decided she was not going to let the exploits of Ron Bilius Weasley drag her emotions down any further then they already were. She had too many other much more important things to worry about. She had research to do, she had a list to reconstruct and she had to get her parent's house in order for when they were ready to come home. She had their Dental practice to re-open and she had no time for the stupid, juvenile antics of a boy who refused to be responsible for anything.

Just as she jumped up from the table to leave she heard the front door open. As she heard Harry's voice calling for Kreacher, the wrinkled old Black matriarch's curtains that covered her portrait flew open and she tore into Harry with her usual vitriolic diatribe wailing at the top of her lungs.

Hermione dashed to the steps that led up from the kitchen into the hall just in time to see Harry swipe his wand at the curtains cutting the hateful old woman off mid-insult with nothing more than an irritated wrinkle on his brow.

As he moved down the hallway she saw he was looking at a piece of paper in his hand and didn't notice her standing there.

He was wearing what she knew were the only nice clothes he owned which could mean only one of three things…He was either at some sort of hearing in front of the Wizengamot, had just attended a wedding or he had just come from a funeral. Those were the only occasions that would cause Harry bloody Potter to dress up.

The Yule Ball didn't count…He hadn't really wanted to go to that.

For reasons she could not at that moment identify the frustrations and anger she was just experiencing seemed to ease as she watched him moving toward her.

“I think it's well past time to do away with that barmy old hag's portrait isn't it Harry?”

Harry looked up a bit startled but he knew the voice at once.

“Hermione,” he exclaimed as a huge smile exploded across his face, but as he took in her emaciated and disheveled appearance his smile slid right off like someone had smacked him, “You loo…what's wrong? Are you alright?”

The alarm in Harry's voice startled her quite a bit. She had not looked at herself in a mirror since she left the Prefect's bath at Hogwarts. She just shrugged her shoulder, “I've been better,” was all she said.

To Harry it looked as if she hadn't eaten in days. The dark bruises under her eyes looked almost painful. Her hair was a mess and her clothes looked as if she had worn them while being put through a mangle to wring them out.

“What's going on,” Harry moved forward and took her hand. It was cold, “Did you get your parents back from Australia alright?”

Hermione ignored the barrage of questions with a shrug of her shoulders.

Harry called Kreacher again. This time the old house elf appeared down in the kitchen.

“Is there something you require ma…Harry Potter?” Kreacher asked.

Harry pulled Hermione along with him and she reluctantly followed. When Harry saw the copy of the Prophet open on the table he knew right away she had seen Ron's front page picture. He would address that later. He was much more worried about her condition.

“Hermione you look like your starving. Have a spot of lunch with me, won't you?”

Just the thought of food made her ill but she knew she needed to get something in her stomach. She couldn't keep going like she had been. She had much to do so she reluctantly agreed.

They decided on something light. Kreacher suggested a hardy beef broth soup with veggies and fresh baked bread.

“That's fine Kreacher, thank you,” Hermione said without much enthusiasm.

As she sat with Harry at the table she glanced at the Daily Prophet then back at Harry quickly.

“So,” she asked looking at her hands, “have you seen the brainless oaf?”

“No Hermione,” Harry replied not needing to ask who she was referring to, “not since we left Hogwarts.”

She didn't inquire any further and Harry got the impression by the dark look on her face she didn't really want to so he changed the subject.

He told her about Colin Creevey's funeral and about the Tonks/Lupin service later that afternoon. Hermione let her head fall into her hands feeling ashamed.

“I've forgotten completely about the services,” she moaned, “I feel so embarrassed.”

“Nonsense, Hermione,” Harry said, “Everyone knows you've been busy getting your parents situated. That can't be an easy task. You've got people helping you don't you?”

If you only knew!

She only nodded. She had no desire to go into details about her troubles. She had no desire to talk about much of anything she had been through over the past several days.

The smell of the soup and fresh baked rolls permeated the kitchen. Hermione found her hunger returning with a vengeance. When her stomach made a loud rumbling sound that made her and Harry laugh Kreacher was sliding two good-sized bowls of the soup in front of them and a carving board with a sliced loaf of steaming bread slathered with butted landed gently between them.

The first spoon-full of soup with the tender chopped vegetables made her almost weep.

“Oh Kreacher,” Hermione moaned, “This is so good. It's exactly what I needed. Thank you so much!”

Kreacher bowed low looking very pleased with himself.

“Yes Kreacher, thank you,” Harry added.

“It is my pleasure Mistress, Harry Potter,” he croaked, “Enjoy.”

Harry couldn't help but watch Hermione devour the soup. He had never seen her so put out before. He knew there was more than what she was telling but decided whatever it was could wait. He wasn't going to pressure her to talk. He figured if she wanted to she would in her own time. She usually did anyway.

Another full bowl of the delicious soup and several pieces of warm, buttery bread later Hermione leaned back with her hands on her tummy.

“Better?” Harry asked chuckling slightly.

“Merlin yes,” she whispered, “thank you Harry. I can always count on you to know what's best for me can't I.”

That statement surprised him for a moment then he regarded it.

“Erm…Not really Hermione,” he said matter-of-factly, “It's usually the other way round. It's us who seem to always count on you to know what's best. That's the way it's been since I can remember but it's nice to be able to return the favor now and again.”

She looked down into the empty bowl. Harry saw such a deep look of sadness in her eyes he almost said something.

“I'm not sure I would be the one to count on now Harry,” she whispered cryptically. It was almost as if she were speaking to herself.

Harry was becoming even more concerned but he forced himself to keep his raging curiosity in check.

“I would like to go to the service with you this afternoon if that's alright Harry?”

“Of course it's alright Hermione,” Harry replied.

She wanted to ask the obvious question but decided it was none of her business. It surprised her Ginny wasn't there with him at that very moment and she found it a bit surprising but with everything going on she figured there had to be a reasonable explanation. She was just grateful she had someone to turn to even if it was just to share some space and some really scrumptious nosh.

She knew she had so much to do but going to the funeral felt necessary. She was lost in her overwhelming things to do list when Harry's voice cut across her silent reverie.

“Maybe you should try and take a kip before the service this afternoon Hermione,” he said, trying to be nonchalant about it, “No offense but you really look like you could use the rest. Service doesn't start `till six.”

Hermione looked at the clock on the mantle. It was almost eleven. She just shook her head.

“I'm fine Harry,” trying to convince herself more than him, “I know I look a fright. I just need a nice hot bath and some clean clothes. I still have a few things back to my parent's house so I'll just nip over there and meet you back here at about five, ok?”

Harry nodded and stood up. Kreacher began clearing the table. Hermione rose and went to Kreacher. She bent down and placed a kiss on the top of his wrinkled old head.

“Thank you Kreacher,” she smiled.

Kreacher bowed again as Hermione readied herself to apparate.

“See you at five then,” Harry said.

With a loud pop she was gone.

---@>---

During her first term at Hogwarts, Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger, then just 11 years old had wanted to experiment with all manor of spells, charms, incantations and magic from the very day she received her wand but the Reasonable Restriction for the Use of Underage Magic had prevented it and since she lived in an all Muggle community it made things even more difficult. It was then she asked Professor McGonagall if there was any way around that restriction.

After several inquiries to then Cornelius Fudge's Ministry she was informed if she could show just cause for performing such magic in a Muggle setting she may be granted special permission but she'd have to have a very good reason.

After a twenty-one page dissertation on the benefits of practicing magic away from Hogwarts and two meetings with the Wizengamot, Hermione Jean Granger had been granted a limited permit to practice her magic within her home but only when Muggles were not present and she had to agree to tell no one. The secret had been protected by the Fidelius charm. Her parents didn't count because they already knew about her magic.

Hermione was the first and likely only student in history to have ever been granted such a privilege. Even the likes of Albus Dumbledore had never been granted access to underage magic outside of school.

As a result, after years of practice, study, application and trial and error, there were only two other places in Great Briton safer than and as impenetrable as the Granger house. They were Gringotts Wizard Bank and Hogwarts itself.

Much to her dismay, however both the wizard bank and Hogwarts had been breeched by intruders. One she was personally involved in. It was partly as a result of the continued breaches of defense at Hogwarts she had made the decision to move her parents.

Besides, most of her experiments have gone largely untested against a real threat so she decided not to take any chances with her parent's lives.

Although for the common wizard and/or Muggle burglar, the Granger home would be a very bad place to try and get into.

As a result of her experiments no-one was allowed to apparate into or near the house. All manner of traps were in place for any who tried to gain entry without permission and the floo had been warded against being connected to any other.

If that wasn't enough, if one did manage to gain entry and were still alive, there were charms and spells in place to trap them there so they couldn't get out.

Now, as she approached the house from the back yard she began removing the many wards and curses that permeated the residence. She felt there was no longer a need for such protection at present.

I'd like to see a Death Eater try to get in just now!

In her present state of mind it would be a fatal mistake.

As she made her way through the dark and silent house she had grown up in she continued to remove the many traps and spells she had so diligently placed throughout.

Once she reached her bedroom she pulled open the door. She was instantly attacked by the incantation of a huge, vicious slobbering guard dog with a nasty spiked dog collar.

It knocked her to the floor pinning her arms with its massive paws. As the beast leaned forward drooling slobber all over her shirt it was about to take a bit out of her neck.

“SPELLMAN'S SYLLABARY!” Hermione yelled.

The guard dog vanished in a puff of white smoke. She lay there on the floor shaking and panting, trying to get her pounding heart back under control.

Forgot about that one!

Once she managed to get back to her feet she made her way through her room and collected some clothes. She decided to dress for comfort.

She selected one of her most comfortable pair of blue jeans, a white cotton button-up blouse, her well worn cotton briefs and her favorite sports bra (no binding and really good support…not that there was all that much to support), thick ankle-high socks (the ones with hippogriffs embroidered on them) and her most favorite white trainers.

As she moved to the closet to find a light jacket she spied the picture hanging just over the lamp next to her canopy bed.

It was a copy of a picture Colin Creevey had taken of the three of them in the Gryffindor common room just after they had won the Quidditch cup. She reached up and pulled the picture down and settled on the edge of her bed.

Her fingers glided gently over the photo.

Tears came unbidden, splashing on the glass as she tried to remembered a time when things were simpler, when things were much less complicated and all she had to worry about was grades and essays and… but the truth was there had never been a simpler time.

Their lives at Hogwarts had always been filled with solving mysteries and narrow escapes, figuring out puzzles and riddles that meant the difference between life and death.

She suddenly realized it hadn't been bad luck or the misfortunes of fate; it had been a conscious choice from that very first day on the Hogwarts Express. She could have just as easily walked right past that compartment and ignored her curiosity. She could have been just like any other young student of magic.

As she watched the laughing, beaming face of Ron Weasley cheering for his best mate she tried to understand how it had all gone so horribly wrong. She wanted to convince herself there were things happening that were beyond her control but she knew better.

It was the choices one made that caused actions and reactions to the things around them. She knew her choice to remain at Hogwarts with Harry had hurt Ron. She didn't want to think her decision had caused him to go spinning off out of control. After all he had done and said some pretty ugly things to her over the years but as much as she disliked admitting it she knew her choice had contributed.

She made a decision right then she would try to mend the damage, irregardless of the results she had to try and find a way to pull them back together if it were possible. They had gone through too much and been friends too long to let this rift continue to widen between them.

With her decision lightening her heavy heart just a little she made her way through a long, soaking bath and then a quick shower to rinse off the bath oils. She took a bit of extra time with her hair and even applied a bit of muggle makeup to try and hide the dark circles under her eyes.

Even though she had decided to dress casual and comfortable she opted for her best dress robe for the service. She slipped it and her light jacket into a small Muggle back pack.

As she folded her dress robe neatly she spied her little beaded bag she had used to carry all their essentials during the hunt for the Horcruxes laying on her dresser. She realized she hadn't even unpacked it yet. She moaned. It was just one more thing she had to add to her ever-growing list of things she needed to do.

She spent the rest of the time drifting through the house planning how she was going to put things back together and clean it all up. There wasn't much to do really, a handy dust repellant spell had kept most everything clean, restocking the ice box and pantry with perishables and removing the sheets that covered everything was about the extent of it but would still take time.

She needed to be researching a solution to her parent's memory problems but she knew she would have to prioritize. Somewhere within all those things she needed to do she would have to find time to sleep, eat and do a better job of taking care of herself.

At five p.m. she went back out the back door and into the yard. She replaced a few of her stronger wards on the house then went back to #12.

---@>---

When Ron arrived in Diagon Alley he was almost shaking with dread at the thought of facing his family. He knew his much publicized nocturnal activity had caused an enormous stink with everyone judging by the tone and severity of the howler.

As he stood looking at the front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes he decided there was no sense in delaying the inevitable so he strode inside, head held high like he owned the place.

To his relief, the shop was crowded as usual. He spotted George and Lee right away but didn't recognize the other two wearing the unmistakable Wheezes smocks.

As he elbowed his way toward the sales counter Lee was the first to look up and spot him.

“Well…well…well,” Lee said, nudging George who was assisting a customer, “the Prodigal idiot has decided to show his well photographed mug!”

“Bugger off Lee,” Ron sneered.

George looked at Ron with eyebrows raised.

“Lad,” he said sternly, “You have absolutely no idea how much trouble you're in do you?”

Ron just shrugged. His insides were twisting into knots but he decided he wasn't going to let these two bait him into an argument. He still felt the twinges of the previous night's bender and his head still throbbed slightly.

“Mum sent me a howler that almost burned down a bloody flat,” he eyed George wearily, “so I think I have an idea.”

George and Lee laughed loudly at that.

“I could just imagine,” George chuckled, “Well I guess that takes the Mickey out of anything I could add to it. You look like something a cat puked up,” he reached behind the counter and came back with a key in his hand. He tossed it to Ron, “Flat number two is yours to use for now. Mum made me promise to put you up until they decide what to do with you. All I know, you better stay put if you know what's good for you.”

Ron bristled at the thought his mother was treating him like a child but after all the ridiculous public attention he decided to make as little noise as possible. He took the key and was about to mention he didn't have any of his things and didn't even really remember where they were when George seemed to read his thoughts.

“You can thank Dad and Ginny for collecting you things. Dad got your trunk from Hogwarts and Ginny and Dean went by the Burrow and scraped together what they could salvage from the destruction. Isn't much but it's probably more then what you had the last few days.”

“Right,” Ron replied glumly, “thanks.”

“Hey, don't thank me,” George laughed, “I'm following orders just like you. Just so you know, the Tonks/Lupin funeral service is being held this evening at 6:00 and we're going to lay Fred to rest in the old garden at the Burrow at midnight tonight. I think Charlie, Bill and Percy are already over there.”

Ron nodded, “Does this mean mum and dad are going to rebuild the Burrow then?”

George shrugged, “Have no idea but if I had to guess I'd say I doubt it. I heard mum say something about too many memories and she's completely taken with her new digs at the Minister's residence. I think she likes living in London but she won't admit it of course. I know Ginny's bonkers about the new place.”

“Said `it's about time the Weasley's got to hold the non-crappy end of the stick for a change',” Lee added laughing, “One of the funniest things I've ever heard her say!”

Ron made no comment and turned to go to his flat when Lee moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He moved close to Ron and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Say Ron. I was just wondering. Who was that bird you were with the other night. I swear I recognize her from somewhere but I just can't quite recall. She's quite a looker.”

Ron was beginning to get a bit angry. He frowned at Lee for a moment not really sure how he should answer but he was in no mood for Lee's nonsense.

“Look, I don't know,” Ron replied, “I really don't care to talk about it right now.” He turned and left the shop.

Once he had let himself into the flat he looked around for a bit then began sorting through his things to find something half-way decent to put on. After a much needed shower he dressed in a pair of dark brown corduroys and a blue and gold striped shirt with the Gryffindor coat of arms on the left breast pocket. He had found packages of new socks and boxers and silently blessed whoever had got them for him. Mum…of course!

After he was dressed he stood at the window looking out over the small alley that ran beside the shop.

He thought about Hermione for the first time in what seemed like days. He still felt a twinge of anger at her for running off but he simply resigned himself to believe she had felt the replacement of the Elder Wand more important. He wondered where she could be at the moment…then the realization that her parents were still in Australia finally occurred to him.

Of course!

He thumped his forehead with the heal of his hand. She was off getting her parents back or maybe they were already back and she was with them now. That would explain a lot.

He wondered if Harry had gone with her. The only mention of either one of them in the Prophet was to comment on their seemingly complete absence from the wizard world. He wondered if he should try and find them and explain. He knew Hermione wouldn't understand. She would be angry with him like always but then that seemed to be the way things had always been between them. He would do or say something stupid and she would be angry and act like she didn't care. The constant tension between them had shifted only for that brief moment at Hogwarts during the final confrontation but it must not have been enough to erase years of being at odds with one-another. He realized with a heavy heart he had been mostly responsible for it. He realized his behavior over the last few days would be the final straw as far as he and Hermione were concerned…he knew that.

He thought about Cassandra and how she had looked when he first opened his eyes that morning, the slender arch of her back, the taught rounded curve of her delectable bum. He couldn't seem to shut the images out of his mind.

As he stood there lost in his recollection he almost jumped right out of his trainers when an owl slammed beak-first into the closed window with a loud bang. The owl fluttered dizzily outside the window for a moment until Ron threw open the sash. It then zoomed in and crashed on the floor at Ron's feet. He plucked the note attached to its leg as the small owl wobbled around in a circle trying to regain its balance.

Ron opened the note and read…

Ronny,

I miss you soooo much love! I really want to see you.

Megan and I will be in London later on this afternoon.

Please meet us at the Leakey Cauldron! We'll be there

at about 6 o'clock tonight. Please, please please…Ronny!

I would really like to pick up where we left off last night

if you know what I'm saying? Until then love…

Cassie

Ron's face flushed hot at the thought of what she meant. He thought about what his mother would say but he suddenly didn't care. Cassandra really liked him and he really liked her. His hormones were raging almost beyond his control at the thought of her half-naked form lying next to him on her bed. He knew exactly what he was going to do…

I'm not a bloody kid anymore. I'm an adult now aren't I? Time to make my own decisions…

--@>--

The Lupin/Tonks funeral was much as Harry had expected. When he and Hermione arrived they were immediately approached by Aurors. The guest list Kingsley had given him was scanned with wands for authenticity. When it was discovered Hermione didn't possess a copy Kingsley was summoned at once.

As soon as the Head Auror saw Hermione he magically added her name to Harry's copy and they were allowed in.

Everyone who was anyone in the English wizard world was there. Almost the entire Ministry of Magic was present along with every member of the Wizengamot. Surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix were conversing with the staff of Hogwarts. They even spotted who Hermione had guessed were some of Remus' werewolf acquaintances. They looked dark and menacing but were trying to make an effort to be cordial. There were a few members of the original D.A. but they were aware of one glaring exception. Ron Weasley was no-where to be seen.

As Harry and Hermione made their way through the crowded reception they heard a very familiar voice.

“Hello Hermiown,” the voice said, “It is good to see you again.”

Viktor Krum materialized out of the crowd to stand like a baleful buzzard at Hermione's left elbow. Harry watched as the Quidditch star's eyes slid up and down Hermione's form. Something inside Harry suddenly burned with indignation but he stamped it down with effort.

“You haff…changed,” Viktor drawled.

Hermione was so surprised by his sudden appearance she actually took a step backward physically wincing away from her old acquaintance. As soon as she realized it she felt slightly ashamed of herself for her reaction.

“Viktor!” Hermione squeaked, “It's…it's good to see you!” She tried desperately to recover by moving forward and giving him a loose embrace. Viktor responded by grasping Hermione's waist with both hands and kissing both cheeks. Hermione reddened instantly.

“I vish ve could haff met again under better circumstances but I am glad to see you again just the same,” he said as he reluctantly released her. His doleful gaze fell on Harry who was standing slightly back from them. Viktor thrust a hand toward him.

“Harry Potter,” Viktor attempted his version of a smile as he shook Harry's hand, “It is good to see you again as vell. You are spoken of as a hero in my country as is Hermiown and Ronald Veesly,” his glance back toward Hermione could only be described as hungry. It made Harry a bit uneasy but he forced himself to smile.

“Erm…thanks Viktor but really,” Harry replied, “we just did what had to be done and we certainly couldn't have done it alone.”

Viktor gave him a stiff nod.

“Vere is your red-haired companion?” He asked that more of Hermione than Harry.

Hermione just grimaced and shrugged looking a bit embarrassed and distant for a moment, “I'm not really sure,” she mumbled but then recovered some semblance of a hollow smile.

Viktor's expression seemed to change from grave reflection to a barely veiled look of wonton desire. Just then an inhumanly beautiful blond girl sidled up next to Viktor's side slipping her arm possessively into his. Viktor seem to stiffen and Hermione's eyebrows seem to disappear into her bangs.

Viktor glanced at the girl with what could only be described as a look of annoyance.

“Hermiown,” Viktor said a bit darkly, “I vould like to introduce Evanova Getrenovich. She is…”

The girl interrupted Viktor and held out a limp hand to Hermione…

“I am Viktor's fiancée,” she smiled a rather deviously, “Ve are to be married in zee spring.”

Harry watched as Hermione's appearance of slightly uncomfortable but pleasant surprise shift almost imperceptibly to the look of vapid, cold indifference in the blink of an eye. There were very few who could have even recognized the change in her demeanor but Harry had known her far too long not to recognize those subtle shifts in her moods.

As he stood there watching the rather uncomfortable exchange Viktor's comment about Hermione looking different suddenly struck him.

Hermione had changed. She seemed a bit taller than he realized. Her hair now hung to her lower back and was much less frizzy than it always seemed to be. It was a mane of shiny, controlled curls and waves that spilled over her shoulders framing her lovely features.

The girlish smattering of light freckles that crossed the bridge of her tiny nose seemed to be gone now and the juvenile slope of her shoulders was replaced by the squared look of maturity and strength.

She wore a hint of what he thought was makeup. He had seen his Aunt Petunia apply gobs of the stuff on her face. It sometime made his hideous Aunt look more like a clown but not on Hermione. She looked…older…more mature than he could remember ever seeing her. The close fit of her clothes accentuated aspects of her form he had never recalled seeing before that moment.

For the first time in his memory he looked at Hermione Granger not as the brilliant, bossy little Muggle-born witch who had been by his side for the past eight years…she was a woman…and despite her rather poor physical condition at the moment…she was beautiful!

When he had snapped out of his reverie he realized Viktor had leaned in close to Hermione once again, clasping both her hands in his and kissed her on both cheeks again. He then gave Harry another stiff nod, looped his arm back into his fiancée's, turned and left without a backward glance.

Harry kept his eyes on Hermione's face as she watched the two walk away. Her face was a mask of indifference but her brown eyes could not hide the whirling storm of emotions that raged behind them. For just a brief moment more he watched as what he thought could have been outrage or betrayal or maybe even a hint of jealousy flash across her eyes but in the next moment it was as if she had come to a decisive internal conclusion. In a blink all emotions were gone and there was nothing left but a complete sense of emptiness.

It was that more than anything that shocked Harry and a cold chill ran down his spine. There was no despair or sadness or even anger any longer…there was just nothing!

He wanted to say something to her. He wanted to reassure her of…of what? Hermione turned toward him and they continued on moving almost mechanically. She acted as if nothing had happened as they found their seats for the ceremony and settled in.

As the ceremony began Hermione spotted Ginny seated with her mother, Dean Thomas was on her other side and Seamus Finnegan sat beside Dean. She thought it rather curious the youngest Weasley seemed to have little interest in Harry at all. She would steel a glance back at him every so often and the look on her face seemed to be one of sadness. It left Hermione with more questions than answers.

Between speakers Hermione finally plucked up enough courage and asked him.

“Harry,” she whispered, “are you and Ginny at odds or something?”

Harry suddenly looked as if he had been punched in the chest to get his attention.

“No,” his brows pinched together but then when he glanced at the back of the redhead he seemed to blush, “truth is I haven't seen her since we left Hogwarts. I just figured with everything that's been going on with Fred, her dad's new post and…” he was about to say Ron's foray into the boundaries of complete stupidity but refrained, “she's just needed time to sort it all out…I guess.”

Hermione just looked at him with that empty, blank expression again but said nothing more about it. She simply didn't have the energy to consider it further at the moment.

Many Ministry people and a few members from the Order stood up and spoke on the behalf of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and her father Ted. Mr. Weasley, acting in the capacity of Minister for Magic was the final speaker. When he had finished with a tearful and heart felt speech he then posthumously awarded Dora and Remus the Order of Merlin First Class and Ted received the Order Second Class.

After the ceremony concluded Hermione was out of her seat and making her way toward the exit before Harry even realized she had got up.

He managed to catch up to her just as Molly stepped in their path.

“Oh Harry dear,” she blustered slightly, “How are you and Hermione…” The Weasley matriarch looked Hermione over with appraising concern at her physical condition.

Harry could tell Hermione was forcing herself to remain calm. He could also tell she had little patience for any further confrontations at the moment.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry smiled.

“Harry I just wanted to thank you for your invitation to stay at Grimmuald Place dear. It was ever so kind of you but we simply felt you needed some peace and quiet without all of us blustering about…”

“That's ridiculous Mrs. Weasley,” Harry winced a bit uncomfortably, “After all you've done for me over the years it was the very least I could do.”

“That's so very thoughtful of you,” and with a sniffle she pulled Harry into a bone crushing hug. Then she turned her attention to Hermione who seemed to go completely rigid when Molly wrapped the surprised girl in her ample arms, “I'm so very sorry dear.”

She had whispered those words in Hermione's ear and she wasn't sure why but after thinking about it for a moment Molly seemed to be apologizing for her wayward son's behavior.

Hermione simply patted Molly's back unable to come up with an appropriate response.

What the hell am I supposed to say…`That's all right Mrs. Weasley. Everyone knows Ron is a selfish, brainless twit!' or `I'm sure he didn't mean to be completely insensitive…'

Hermione suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

The next to approach them was Headmistress McGonagall a Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione thanked Kingsley again for adding her name to the list but he just waved it off. She also told him she would have the new list shortly. She was headed to her parent's office to start working on it and she hoped to have it finished before Fred's service so she would give it to him then. Kingsley simply nodded.

She asked Minerva how the procedure was coming, as she glanced at a bewildered Harry. The old Professor said things were progressing as planned but no new information was forthcoming. They left things at that and Hermione continued on through the milling throng.

Harry had been lost through the whole conversation but he was intelligent enough to realize his earlier concern that things were not as they seemed was spot on. He caught Hermione gently by the arm and urged her to stop.

“Hermione I know something's wrong,” He asked as undemanding as he could, “Please talk to me.”

Hermione looked back at him over her shoulder. The look of utter sadness was back in her eyes once more. He could see her big brown eyes swimming.

“It's just something I need to deal with alone Harry and truly don't have the time or the patience to go into it all right now. Please try and understand.”

As soon as she had said those things she regretted it. She knew her words would sting him harshly but she simply didn't have the strength to explain. The look on Harry's face told her everything. He looked as if she had slapped him across the face.

Harry got a bit angry then.

“You know,” he said trying to keep his temper, “I remember telling that very same thing to my best friends once and you know what they told me?” he didn't wait for her to respond, “They told me I didn't have to fight that bloody war by myself and they were going with me…like it or not.” He took a deep breath and looked at his shoes, “And you know what,” he sighed, “they were right.”

She couldn't handle any more right now. She felt the edges of her self control crumbling.

“Look, Harry,” she said miserably, “This isn't the same. I have to go. I'll see you at the Burrow.”

She pulled slowly from his grasp and made her way through the exit without looking back. She could not see the look in his eyes without falling to pieces but she told herself it was for the best right now. She needed to stay focused on her tasks ahead. As soon as she had cleared the protection wards she disappeared.

Harry stood there utterly confused. Even though he was surrounded by dozens of people he knew, he felt utterly alone. It was that same emptiness he had felt standing in the hallway at Hogwarts when Hermione and Ron left to go to St. Mungo's.

His best friends…the two people who knew him better than anyone else in the world had gone their separate ways, each with their own troubles to cope with and Harry felt utterly unneeded.

As he stood there trying to figure out a way to get Hermione to let him into her troubled life he felt a tiny warm hand slide into his and entwine their fingers.

He knew that hand instantly because he had felt it many times before. He closed his eyes and hoped this was a sign of what he had hoped for, for months.

She stepped beside him but stayed just out of his field of vision for some reason. He felt her press her cheek against his shoulder.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny whispered softly, “I know you're probably wondering why I haven't been around. I owe you an explanation and I have every intention to talk to you but you must understand. Things have been a bit crazy for me lately and…well…” she paused as if choosing her words carefully, “Right now mum wants to take me to Diagon Alley to get some new clothes before the shops close. I lost almost everything in the fire and we simply haven't had the time to go. I promise I will tell you everything after Fred's funeral tonight…I promise Harry.” She squeezed his hand before he felt it slide from his grasp.

Harry could do nothing more than nod. He felt his stomach roll uncomfortably. He, himself suddenly wanted to be somewhere else at the moment.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N - Please be advised there is some sexual content in this chapter. If you are opposed to such things you might wish to skip over that part but after all that's why this fic carries the rating it does. There will be more. You have been warned. As always thanks for reading and please review.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Ten - The Witching Hour

Hermione stepped into her father's office with all the determination of a young woman on a mission. She flung a hand up, swatting irritably at the light switch on the wall just inside the door. She was still feeling angry and annoyed at Ron's antics. She had decided to read the article that accompanied the ridiculous photo and it hadn't helped.

The thought of him writing a tell-all book with that hag Rita Skeeter made her blood turn to molten lava. He best pray their paths don't cross for a while. She'll make his old slug puking hex look like child's play.

Part of her thought she should have been much more devastated by his antics but the problems with her parent's memories seemed to overshadow everything else. Besides, this wasn't the first time he had done something like this.

What had surprised her more was Ginny. The way she acted at the funeral confused Hermione. It's as if Ginny wanted nothing to do with Harry. She felt bad for him because he really seemed to love the little redhead but apparently it wasn't enough. If that's true Harry was truly alone now.

Well…not exactly. Harry will never be alone if I can help it…

But Hermione was also acutely aware that in the present state of things, she couldn't help Harry much. She couldn't help her parents. She could barely help herself. She couldn't help but feel incensed and betrayed by the Ministry's failure to keep her list safe.

She wanted to scream and rail against those responsible but she realized most of the people involved in her original plans were dead or missing. It wouldn't help anything anyway.

The small office was bathed in the soft white glow of several lamps around the room. She was determined to re-build the missing list even if it took her all night and day. She didn't care. She felt she had done enough damage to her mother and father's lives.

Her fear the list had fallen into the Death Eater's hands made her ill in the extreme but she wanted to believe the security measures she and Professor McGonagall had placed on the document were enough of a deterrent but truthfully she couldn't be sure.

She could no longer be very confident of anything.

She made straight for the large file cabinet that sat in the back corner of the office, waved her wand at the lock securing the files, yanked open the top drawer and began pulling the alphabetically arranged files and placing them in a neat pile on her father's desk.

She produced several sheets of parchment, a few quills and an ink well. She plopped herself into her father's desk chair and bent to work.

This was not new to her. She had done this very thing almost a year ago. She worked as quickly as she could. Her hand flew across the parchment recording each name and address in the file.

There was no need for secrecy or codes this time because she had planned on placing this list into Kingsley Shacklebolt's hands herself. He was aware of what she was doing and why so he was anticipating the information.

Once she was relatively certain the list was complete Kingsley would set the Oblivators and Aurors to work. This was contingent on the ability to find a solution to their memory problems of course. Hermione knew it could take weeks to complete this task but she was absolutely committed to seeing it through even if she had to do it all herself.

Once she finished a stack of files she replaced them back into their respective drawers and pulled a new stack. On her third trip to the file cabinet she slipped the completed files back in the drawer and grabbed a fresh pile.

As she turned to go back to the desk a file slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, scattering its contents. Hermione's irritation spiked as she slammed the other files on the desk with a bang and stooped to clean up her mess.

I really don't need these careless delays…

She scooped up the records and receipts and slipped them back into the folder but as she was doing so the name on the top of the file made her come to a grinding halt.

I know this name! Where have I seen it before?

She closed her eyes and tried desperately to scour her overly-exhausted mind to place the name on the file. It suddenly hit her…

She looked at the contents of the file again praying she was mistaken but as she read the names and ages of the family within her blood turned to an icy sludge in her veins.

…A father, a mother and three children all under the age of ten - two little girls and a boy…a family of five…OH NO!

It was the exact name and description of one of the many Muggle families the Daily Prophet identified as those mysteriously killed or missing during the war. She knew this could not be a coincidence.

The implications of what she was holding in her hands hit Hermione like a sledge hammer to the temple.

Her legs turned to liquid as the rest of her took on the consistency of semi-congealed bubotuber puss. She felt dizzy and weak.

She realized her worst fear. The Death Eaters or maybe even Voldemort himself had managed to decode her list and used it to systematically execute the people it contained. If they had done it to get at her or her parents, it hardly mattered.

She was also aware if she compared these names in her parent's files to those in the Prophet's obituaries, they would probably match exactly.

I'm responsible for the deaths and disappearances of hundreds of Muggles!

Her stomach clenched like an angry fist. Hermione leaned over just in time to empty its contents into a small waste basket sitting next to her father's desk.

As she tried desperately to get a grip on her heaving insides her emotions overcame her. Once again she found herself lying in the fetal position on the floor unable to get control of any part of her.

With her mind completely paralyzed by the realization of what she had done and her body shaking violently with uncontrollable sobs, she could do nothing more than lay there on the dusty carpet and let the insurmountable guilt crush her for the second time in as many days.

She could feel another piece of her falling off. If this kept up there would be nothing left of her.

“How could you have ever believed you were cleverer than those who were so much older and wiser? You're nothing but a fool, you stupid, arrogant little know-it-all…”

The voice that echoed in and around her complete paralysis was one she remembered well. It was Severus Snape himself. She thought it fitting. Her old Potions Professor had never been impressed by books and cleverness.

As she lay there in the shadowed silence of the office another voice filled her tortured mind. It was much stronger then her own convoluted thoughts.

Remember what you told me Hermione? You cannot blame yourself. You were only trying to protect them. Muggles would have died regardless of any list. I won't allow you to do this to yourself and tell me I can't…

She wasn't certain if the voice in her head was a product of her own imagination this time or not.

Get up! You have work to do…

“I don't want to do this any more,” Hermione whispered to the empty room.

So you're just going to give up…That doesn't sound like the Hermione I know…Courage, Granger!

She knew the voice was right. It simply wasn't in her genetic construction to give up. So with a monumental physical effort Hermione heaved herself to a sitting position and leaned against the side of the desk.

She was physically exhausted and drained. Lack of fuel for her body was taking its toll but with the acrid taste of bile now sitting on her tongue, food was the farthest thing from her mind.

Wiping her tears and blubbering nose on the sleeve of her cloak she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, she mechanically returned to the task at hand.

With several more hours of work she managed to complete the list. Hermione returned all the files to their respective drawers in the file cabinet threw a quick scourgifieing charm at the waste basket and left the office.

As she made her way through the streets of Muggle London where her parent's office resided she could see the gold and dark purple of sunset spreading across the edges of the black background of the encroaching darkness.

A chilly breeze danced around her and helped keep her alert. She was well beyond exhaustion but knew she still had much to do. Once she gave the list to Kingsley she was going to have to return to her parent's house to make it ready for their return…if they could return. She was going to have to return to Hogwarts to scour the library for some shred of information that might help her parents. The fact the Unspeakables had found nothing bothered her greatly.

NO! Hermione chastised herself, I will find a solution. I must!

When they had moved Daphne and Edward to Australia, the Ministry shuttered the house. They had also removed anything that was considered perishable and donated it to a near-by Muggle food bank for the poor. They had carefully recorded every detail as they shut the house and office down.

It was now up to Hermione to see that all the details were put back in place. She felt it even more significant now that her mother and father's memories were damaged that everything was put back precisely the way it had been. She was also aware she couldn't keep on going in her present state but the voice that pulled her out of her self-pity in the office spurred her forward.

You are the cleverest witch of your age Hermione! If anyone can fix this…it's you!

But for the first time in her memory the feelings of inadequacy and helplessness hovered like dark shadows just on the periphery of her consciousness. They were concepts as foreign to her sensibilities as not having the correct answer on a test or not being able to find a solution in one of her many books. Fear seemed to be her constant companion now.

She made for the Ministry knowing her parents were still undergoing the C.T. Scan treatment. She determined Kingsley should be there.

After gaining entrance through the red phone box she made her way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The receptionist told her Kingsley was in the Hit Wizard office so she hurried on her way.

She found Kingsley in the midst of a group of Aurors repairing the rather extensive damage and sifting through reams of parchments and documents that were piled everywhere.

Kingsley turned and spotted her as she approached. He offered her a sad smile.

“Ms. Granger,” he said looking a bit surprised at seeing her there so soon.

Hermione held out the list, “Here's the new list Mr. Shacklebolt,” she said but then her face turned grim, “There's something you need to know...”

He looked down at her with concern.

“What is it Ms. Granger?”

“I'm almost certain if you compare some of the names on this list to the list of Muggles murdered or missing at the hands of the Death Eaters you'll discover, as I did, they are one in the same. I think they were able to break the code and use it to systemically eliminate them,” Hermione was beginning to feel sick again, “I'm sorry Mr. Shacklebolt. It's my fault.”

Kingsley looked at her shocked for a moment but then realized what she was saying. He knew all too well how the Death Eaters had worked their evil. He was well aware how Voldemort had used doubt and fear and mistrust to get the upper hand in his attempts to gain power. He knew at once the existence of a list of names made little difference and the outcome would have been much the same either way. Muggles would have still died regardless.

“Ms. Granger,” he said calmly, seeing the fear and dread in her eyes, “I am absolutely certain you are intelligent enough to know that irregardless of the existence of this list it made little difference in the outcome. You must not blame yourself…”

Hermione made to protest but Kingsley laid his large hand gently on her shoulder.

“I think your energy would be much more wisely spent on caring for your mother and father at this point wouldn't you agree?”

She could only nod. Her throat had seemed to seize up with guilt. She wanted to believe he was right but she could not seem to shake the knowledge she had still been somehow responsible.

“Your parents,” Kingsley went on, “are scheduled to return to St. Mungo's in the morning at approximately 9:00 a.m. You will want to be there I'm sure but I highly recommend you get some rest between now and then young lady. You look strained to the limit.”

Again Hermione only nodded. He was right but the thought of sleeping or eating for that matter felt like an utter waste of time right now. She wanted to find an answer. She was determined to find it…even if it killed her.

As she made her way out of the Ministry she remembered the service for Fred at the Burrow at midnight. She knew trying to start researching tonight would be pointless. She was exhausted so she decided to return to her parents, get some rest if she could and try to make a plan…

---@>---

Ron Weasley stood near the rear entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in turmoil plagued by anxiety and a touch of guilt. The lure of Cassandra's owl was just too great.

He had snuck out of his flat while George and the others were still busy with the shop and apparated just outside Dervish and Bangs. He was still a bit shaky when it came to aparating and with his nerves so jumbled he managed to land in a refuse bin near the rear of the shop.

I'm really going to have to work on that whole `destination' thing!

Once he had extricated himself from the bin he scurried as quickly and unobtrusively as he could toward the wizard pub with as little attention as he could manage. That moment he really appreciated the usefulness of Harry's invisibility cloak but the use of a hooded jumper at least helped hide his flaming red hair.

As he was about to step into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron he felt a large, hard hand fall on his shoulder.

“Hold on there, you,” Ron turned to stare at a rather tall man with a serious look on his face. Ron noticed the Auror's tunic at once and turned to stone with dread, “What's the meaning of skulking about…,” the Auror took in Ron's appearance then opened his eyes a bit wider with recognition, “You're one of new Minister's brood aren't you, the one that's been in the Prophet the last few days?”

“Erm…” Ron's brain seemed to jamb.

“What's with the cloak and dagger twaddle?” The Auror asked but then something seemed to dawn on him and the man's face broke out in a knowing grin, “Trying not to draw any attention to yourself, aren't you? Can't say I blame you but if you're trying to be less conspicuous you might want to stay away from places like this,” the man jabbed his wand toward the pub.

Ron thought quickly. He remembered what it was like when they had been captured by the Snatchers and how quickly Hermione came up with her idea to protect Harry and his story about being Stan Shunpike. A thought occurred to him immediately.

“Just going in for a spot of dinner that's all,” Ron lied, “Really hungry, you know?” He patted his stomach.

The Auror seemed satisfied with that and let Ron continue on his way. He hastily stole into the rear entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and immediately saw the place was packed as usual.

The pub was filled with singing, cheering and raucous laughter. As Ron made his way around the outer edges of the room he finally spotted Cassandra's curly blond head at the far end of the bar. She was sitting talking to several older wizards and they all seemed to be standing very close to her. One of the blokes reached up and tweaked her cute little nose and she giggled madly looking coy in response.

Something raged inside Ron's chest. He felt his face grow hot suddenly as he made his way over to her. But when Cassandra caught sight of him moving through the crowd she squealed his name with delight throwing herself off the stool and pushed her way through the crowd toward him.

When she got close enough she threw her arms around his neck and snogged him madly right in the middle of the bar.

“Oh Ronny,” Cassie gushed, “I've missed you so much!”

“Cassandra,” Ron replied incredulously, “It's been less then a day!”

She shrugged her shoulders and kissed him again.

When she finally let him come up for air he glanced over to where she had been sitting. The three blokes she left behind looked quite disappointed as they watched her snog Ron. That made the tightness in his chest completely disappear.

Cassandra giggled madly as she towed Ron by the hand toward the bar. She wedged herself between a very tall hag on one side and a small group of Goblins on the other. The Goblin nearest to them gave them a distrustful snarl at being interrupted. Ron gave the grotesque looking creature an apologetic smile.

“Oy Tom?” Cassandra yelled smacking the bar with her hand.

The bent old barkeep came over and offered her what could only be described as a knowing grin. “Yes my dear what can I do for you?”

“Bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses please,” Cassie replied smiling, “Is it alright if I take them up?”

“Certainly my dear,” Tom croaked as he handed the bottle and glasses over, “Want me to put this on the room tab then?”

“Sure,” Cassandra replied.

Tom the barkeep eyed Ron with great interest. He was certain the old man recognized him but his leering gaze returned to Cassandra landing in the vicinity of her breasts.

“Captured you a trophy tonight egh love?” Tom laughed.

“Tom!” Cassie said with surprise but then blushed deep red, “Behave yourself you old sot.”

With that Cassandra turned away from the bar. She handed the glasses to Ron then, grabbing his other hand, towed him toward the stairs that went up to the rooms above the pub. As they moved away from the noise Ron's brain began to process what was going on. Cassandra must have let a room here and she was taking him up to it!

His nerves began to show just how uncertain he was about all this but his curiosity was much stronger. He managed to propel himself forward none the less.

As they made the landing on the second floor he needed to do something to break the knots of tension and apprehension roiling in his stomach.

“Where's Megan?” He asked in an almost breathless voice.

Cassandra looked back at him over her shoulder smiling. There was a very strange look in her eyes, one that Ron could not identify.

“Oh she's with some…erm friends. She'll probably be out all night if I know her.”

When they reached the room Cassie turned and flung the hand carrying the bottle of firewhiskey over Ron's shoulder and kissed him again while her other hand fumbled with the key and door latch.

When the door finally opened she tugged Ron through then with her foot she pushed the door closed. She let go of Ron long enough to set the bolt on the door then turned back to him with a wicked smile.

“You don't mind spending some time alone with me do you Ron?” She asked coyly as she placed the bottle on a small table by the door.

“N…no, of course not Cassandra,” Ron said a bit nervously as he sat the glasses down next to the bottle. Cassandra pulled the cork and tipped some of the smoking brew into both glasses. She picked them up and handed one to Ron.

They both blew out the tiny blue flames dancing around the tops of their glasses looking into one-another's eyes. Cassandra put her glass to her plump red lips and tipped the entire contents of the glass in her mouth and swallowed without a wince. Ron smiled and did likewise.

Just as it had on previous occasions the whiskey burned all the way to his stomach and seemed to instantly take the edge off his nerves.

Cassandra's smile was devious and dark as she advanced toward Ron. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lithe body into his as she kissed him again deeply.

The effects of the whiskey and Cassandra's intense kiss made beads of sweat form at his hairline as well as the back of his neck and across the bridge of his nose. He could feel his body reacting like it had never reacted before. Lavender Brown's kisses never made him feel like that.

Cassandra could feel Ron's reaction to her kiss so she responded by pressing her thigh tightly between his legs and swirling her tongue with his. As soon as her tongue touched his she felt the bulge in his trousers twitch and swell.

Blokes are so easy to turn on…

The next thing Ron realized Cassie had release him, took a step back and began unbuttoning her blouse. Their eyes were locked together as she seductively disrobed right there in front of him.

Ron felt his own hands begin working on his clothes as if they had minds of their own while he watched Cassandra's beautiful body come into view. First were her perfect breasts once she removed a black lacy bra. Ron felt himself react again to her naked upper body. The swelling in his groin was becoming almost painful.

After she had let her blue jeans drop to the floor she stepped out of them and stood in front of him in nothing but very tiny black lacy knickers. The thin straps rode high on her slender hips.

She moved forward and grabbed the front of Ron's now tented trousers smiling as she deftly unbuttoned them. He was still fighting with his shirt that seemed to want to tangle his arms awkwardly as he tried to extricate himself from the garment.

Before he could get the shirt pulled off over his head he stopped as he felt his trousers and boxers fall to his ankles. He felt a warm hand wrap around his throbbing shaft and he could hear Cassandra gasp softly.

“Oh Ronny,” she whispered as his head was still comically stuck in his shirt obscuring his view, “you are a very big boy aren't you.” Cassandra's hand squeezed tightly around him making him shudder and tingle all over. He let out a groan and closed his eyes.

With monumental effort he jerked the shirt free and flung it off behind him. He looked down to see Cassandra looking at his manhood smiling broadly. She had placed her other hand on him now and was stroking his shaft in her warm tight grip.

“B…bloody hell,” Ron muttered.

Cassie looked up into his wide eyes and chuckled.

“You've never been with a girl before like this have you Ronny?”

All Ron could do was shake his head. With that Cassandra released his captured shaft and pressed her now almost naked body into his again letting his shaft press against her flat belly as she kissed him again.

“Well,” she whispered into his lips, “why don't we take it slow. Being new at this and all I'm sure you won't last long but that's alright…we have all night.”

As Ron's overheating brain began to try and process everything that was going on a whisper of a thought worked its way to the front of his mind. There was something he had to do tonight. He couldn't quite remember what it was as Cassandra pulled him toward the bed.

With both hand on his upper arms she turned him around and sat him down on the edge of the bed. Ron kicked his trousers and boxers free of his feet as he sat watching Cassandra slither out of her tiny knickers. She tossed them over her shoulder with a smile then moved forward forcing Ron's legs apart so she could press herself into him again.

Ron couldn't seem to take his eyes of the soft, blond triangle of fir that resided between her slender thighs. He slid his arms around her lower back as she wrapped hers around his neck guiding his mouth to one of her hardening nipples.

Ron seemed to know what she wanted as he took the dark nub of flesh into his eager mouth and began to suckle and swirl his tongue over it. The moans and sounds of pleasure Cassandra made went right to Ron's groin as he pulsed and throbbed.

She reached down between them and wrapped her hand tightly around his shaft as she had before. It made Ron a bit lightheaded as her hand moved up and down his rigid length. He could only offer a muffled moan with a mouth full of her other breast.

His body jerked as her finger gently but firmly flicked the underside of the tip of his shaft. He thought his head would explode right then and there.

Cassie chuckled as she moved back from him slightly pulling her breast from his hungry mouth with a subtle pop. She giggled madly at the sound. She looked at Ron with a devious smile as she went to her knees in front of him.

With a hand she pushed his upper body back a bit and he fell back on his elbows as her other hand curled around his rock hard shaft once again.

“This will make you feel really good Ronny,” Cassie gave him her smoky little grin, “Don't hold back ok? Just let the sensations take you and let yourself go. You'll love it I promise.”

Again Ron could only nod in response. The next thing he knew Cassie moved forward between his legs and took his manhood into her warm wet mouth and began sucking and licking him until he thought he was going to burst into flames.

He watched as his shaft would disappear into her mouth then she would pull it back out as her hand would return to squeeze and stroke him again and again. He could barely breathe as the tingling sensations coursed through him. His body shuddered and lurched of its own accord until his groin seemed to tighten almost painfully. He could feel his shaft swell even harder as his stomach churned with butterflies.

Cassie could tell he was close so she slowed her deep plunges and began licking and sucking around the tip.

It only took a few minutes and Ron grunted, gasping for breath. He exploded into Cassie's warm mouth as she sucked and swallowed him completely dry.

As the intense physical sensations began to subside Ron tried to get control of his breathing. He was dizzy and flushed and felt hot all over.

Cassie got to her feet and climbed on the bed right over the top of Ron's convulsing body, pushing him to lie down. She straddled him as she kissed him on the mouth and all over his blushing face.

She took both his hands in hers and guided them to her ample breasts as Ron instantly began to squeeze and kneed those firm mounds of flesh in his eager hands. He could feel her hard nipples pressing into his sweating palms.

Cassie moved her hips sliding her hot moist valley over Ron's still quivering groin. He couldn't help but feel her heat scorching him. He felt himself lurch as the blood rushed from his head once again to settle between his legs.

She moaned as she felt Ron's shaft swell again grinding her hips down hard on him. Before he knew it Cassie had reached down between them again and took him into her squeezing fist. His body reacted to her insistent touch instantly and he rewarded her with a blissful groan.

Cassandra giggled again as she raised her body slightly off the bed and guided his shaft between her damp thighs. As she lowered herself back down on his lap Ron felt himself sheathed tightly within her hot, wet channel. He bit his tongue hard not to scream from the sheer delight of the sensations coursing through his loins.

Ron knew the basic physical mechanics of sex with a girl. Blokes talked after all but none of those conversations or boastings could have ever prepared him for this!

The pure delightful physical sensations exploding through him burned out every preconception he had about sex with a girl. Cassie rode him up and down with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream. Ron unconsciously grabbed her hips and began thrusting up into her delicious bum harder and faster as if by instinct.

After a few moments Cassie let out a long, wailing moan as her whole body shuddered. Ron could feel his own intensity rising beyond his ability to control himself. He felt steaming hot fluid flood his groin soaking him. He could hold on no longer as he-himself shuddered and let himself go in a completely blissful release of his own. Convulsions racked his body as he felt himself gush deep inside her.

After what seemed like long minutes of drawn out climax Cassandra collapsed on top of Ron in a boneless heap. Her hot, sweaty body pressed Ron deeper into the mattress below him. She laid her head next to his kissing his ear and whispering to him as he lie there completely paralyzed with the sensations of overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh Ron,” she panted, “That was magnificent! It's been ages since I've had such a strong orgasm.”

If he had a bit more experience at that sort of thing he would have picked up on the surprise in her voice but he didn't.

Ron felt himself flushing with her praise. He felt his confidence rise even though his erection dwindled still deep within Cassie's incredible body.

After a bit she rolled to his side smiling, “Don't know about you love but I could do with another drink.”

With that she slid off the bed and made her way over to the bottle and poured herself about half a glass. Ron couldn't take his eyes off her amazing naked body…a body he had just filled with his own seed. The thought of that made his groin clench again.

Cassandra looked at Ron seductively over her shoulder, “What about you?” She held up her glass.

“Sure,” he responded, “Why not!” He leapt off the bed and made his way toward her.

They spent several more hours making intense love and drinking the strong whiskey as time passed completely without notice.

Before Ron knew it he was laying on the bed with Cassandra curled up next to him, her head on his chest. She was breathing heavy with inebriated sleep. Half drunk, sweaty and exhausted himself he heard the chime of a small clock on the mantle over the fireplace. He listened sleepily as the tiny gong sounded…eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve…

Midnight…Merlin's beard we've been making love for…

It was in that instant he suddenly remembered what he was supposed to be doing tonight…

…OH - NO!!!

---@>---

Harry arrived at the Burrow at exactly half-past eleven. As he made his way from the crossroads that went in several different directions he could feel himself slipping into wards he knew were in place from the Aurors.

As he made his way out of the small forest that surrounded the Weasley home…or what was left of it, he could see the utter destruction the fire had caused.

After an Auror confirmed his identity he was allowed to pass into the clearing where he could see things much better in the bright moonlight.

The only thing left of the house was a section of the first and second floor. The piles of charred debris must have been hauled away but the scorched earth around the little house was evidence of its complete destruction.

Harry's temper flared at the sight of it.

This is my fault. If it had not taken me so bloody long to figure out what Dumbledore was trying to teach me none of this would have happened.

He knew everyone would disagree with his assessment but it didn't make him feel any better. To him age and lack of experience was no excuse for being slow and stupid.

As he continued to look around he noticed Mr. Weasley's work shop and the chicken coup had survived the attack. He could hear several people milling about inside his tinker's shop. Other groups were gathered here and there as he made his way to the far side of the house to where he knew the old garden to be.

It was in the garden where most all the Weasley's were gathered. The same type venue was set up as it was for Colin Creevey's service with the same white chairs, a similar looking casket set on a low dais covered in bright flowers. A beaming photo of Fred sat in the center of the arrangement. His picture, unlike Colin's was making ogling faces and muggings at whoever happened to be close enough.

Harry almost burst out laughing at the sight of Fred's image sticking his finger in his nose and crossing his eyes at his old Aunt Muriel as she tottered by grousing about “catching her death in this cold, damp night air,” and “why they couldn't have a service during the day like sensible wizards. You'd think the whole lot of them bloody vampires or something…”

As most of the Weasley's greeted Harry warmly as he came closer he couldn't help but look around for Ginny, Ron and Hermione. He spotted Ginny's beautiful long red hair standing in a small group of their Hogwarts friends but he could not find the other two.

“We're so glad you're here Harry,” Molly came up and crushed Harry in a tight embrace.

“Wouldn't have missed it for anything Mrs. Weasley,” Harry replied a bit sadly.

“What have you been up to these past few days,” Charlie asked him.

“Not much,” Harry said darkly, “Kind of hard to go anywhere just now.”

“I've heard Kingsley has recruited you for his new Aurors training program,” Percy said, “You thinking about taking the appointment?”

Harry just shrugged his shoulders. The truth was he had not thought much more about it.

“I'd say he's had about enough of all that haven't you Harry?” The soft feminine voice came from behind him. He knew who it was immediately. He turned to see Ginny's lovely features coming toward him with many of his old friends and D.A. members in tow.

He noticed right away something very different about Ginny from the moment his eyes landed on her but he said nothing as he accepted congratulations and greetings from all his friends. He wanted to take her aside and ask her what was going on but refrained when he heard Mr. Weasley coming toward them all with a few of his Ministry people, Headmistress McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt and many of the other elders he knew.

They all greeted him warmly as well. As he stood chatting everyone up as best he could he looked toward the other end of the garden and saw Hermione coming out of the shadows of the destroyed house.

She was instantly swallowed up in the same fashion he had been so he didn't get much of a chance to speak to her. He did, however notice she still looked thin and strained but the dark circles under her eyes seemed less severe then they had before.

He could tell her smile was strained and she was forcing herself to relax and converse with those around her. No-one else seemed to pick up on her condition except McGonagall and Kingsley who both engaged her in quiet conversation away from everyone else. Harry thought that was rather odd but let it drop.

He was beginning to wonder if Ron was going to be another no-show like he had been for the Lupin/Tonks service when he heard Mr. Weasley having what could only be described as a heated conversation with George and Lee Jordan.

Harry could only hear snippets of the conversation as he tried to make his way to where Hermione was in conversation with Bill, Fleur and Andromeda Tonks. He heard Mr. Weasley growl…

“…supposed to be looking after him!”

…and part of George's reply…

“…we got to the flats after closing up shop he was gone dad! We don't know where he's gone…”

When Harry reached Hermione she gave him her best, sweet apologetic smile. She placed her hand gently on his arm and leaned close.

“I'm really sorry for acting the way I did…” She whispered.

Harry cut her off.

“There's no need to apologize Hermione. I know you're under a lot of stress. I just wish you would trust me enough to tell me what's going on with you.”

Harry was looking at her with an intense gaze. He saw her take a deep breath but before she could answer Minister Weasley announced the commencement of the service. The entire crowd moved to take seats.

Harry followed Hermione but watched as Ginny sat in the first row next to her mother and with the rest of the Weasley clan…all except for Ron.

As they settled into their seat Hermione leaned close to him again, this time her shoulder pressing into his. She did this on purpose because she had noticed Ginny stealing a backward glance at Harry over her shoulder. She wanted to give the torrid little snot something to think about. Hermione saw Ginny's eyebrows pinch together before she turned back around shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Hermione also noticed Dean Thomas watching Ginny from the far end of the second row. She smiled to herself.

“Where is Ron do you think?”

Harry shook his head, “No idea.”

As the service began Minister Weasley got up and went to the podium. He stood silent for a moment looking out over the congregation then took a deep breath.

“Welcome everyone and thank you for coming tonight. It is no easy task to lay one's child to rest however I must say my son George said it best when he helped us to understand Fred's loss was not…in vein. He paid the ultimate price to help protect us all and he did so with honor, courage and dignity. So we are gathered here tonight at the Witching Hour to say goodbye to that brave and kind young man…”

Arthur paused for a moment to collect himself.

“My son…”

He paused again. Everyone could see him fighting the lump that was stuck in his throat. Tears rolled off his cheeks as he looked around at them all.

“The rest of the family decided each of us would come up and recall one happy memory of Fred and I for one think it a smashing idea. So if you'll bear with me I will share with you one of my fondest memories of Fred…”

After Minister Weasley was finished one by one the rest of the Weasley family came up to the podium and told their memories of Fred's exploits and antics. They all laughed and cried as the loving and heart-felt stories were shared.

George was the last to take the podium and the congregation fell silent in anticipation of what he would share. George was, after all, the other half of Fred. He stepped up behind the podium wiping tears from his eyes. He smiled as best he could out over the crowd.

“Oh my,” George sighed, “Where do I begin…”

Before he could say another word they all heard the unmistakable crack of apparition then a loud crashing sound like the snapping of limbs off of trees mixed with shouted oaths from behind the podium and casket.

Harry and Hermione, as well as most of the others including all the Aurors in attendance for security rushed forward with wands ready.

Harry's chest tightened with dread as he pushed himself through the milling throng toward the disturbance just in time to see Ron Weasley at the base of a thick fir tree struggling to get to his feet.

Everyone who reached the scene the same time he did had the exact same reaction. They all stood there struck dumb with their mouths hanging open.

It was apparent Ron had tried to apparate to the service but the wards had bounced him out to the edge of the garden space. He had crashed head long into the top of the tree and fell all the way to the ground where he landed painfully in a pile of broken tree limbs and a tangle of arms and legs.

As Ron was finally able to stand he staggered unsteadily as he peered around him with a wild look in his eyes. Pine bows were stuck to him everywhere and a few needles were stuck to his forehead and in his mussed hair.

“Bloody he…” He stopped as he saw more than a dozen surprised sets of eyes gaping at him. Then a rather goofy smile spread across his dazed face as he raised his hand and gave them all a little wave, “'ello everyone! (hic) Lovely evening…” With that his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he passed out falling straight backwards into the pile of debris.

Harry could tell right away Ron was drunk out of his mind.

“Let me through…please…what's going on…”

It was Molly Weasley's voice pushing through the crowd now gathered around the edge of the wood.

Oh boy! Ronald Weasley is - a - dead man!

Both Harry and Hermione took a reflexive step backwards when Mrs. Weasley finally came to the front of the queue. It took her a moment to take in the scene before her but when it finally registered her face turned a horrid shade of dark purple.

Molly Weasley was so angry she couldn't speak…Harry thought ashamedly it had to be a first for her.

Arthur appeared next to Charlie whispering orders. He told him, Bill and a few of the Aurors to carry Ron to the tinker's shed at once.

When Charlie bent over the unconscious form of his youngest brother Ron belched loudly.

“Great Merlin's ghost,” Charlie reared back fanning his nose, “He's dead pissed dad!” Charlie quickly put his hand over his mouth realizing he had said that out loud.

Now Arthur's face turned a very similar shade of purple as he stood there gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

“Get him to the shed NOW!” Arthur spit, then turned and stomped off toward the shed himself.

Harry caught Hermione's expression with a glance. He could see the utter sorrow and disappointment in her eyes. As they watched Charlie, Bill and the others hoist Ron's limp carcass in an abbreviated version of the fireman's carry, each holding and arm or leg, they moved off toward the shed with Ron's bum bouncing painfully off the ground as they walked.

“Oy Cassandra, there's a good girl,” Ron mumbled then fell silent, eyes still closed

The others in the congregation moved off murmuring and whispering among themselves. Harry saw Hermione's face go dark folding her arms tightly under her breasts as she moved back toward the seats.

When everyone settled in their places once again George took to the podium once again and went on with his tribute to his brother.

Harry continued to glance at Hermione sitting quite rigid now next to him.

“You ok?” he whispered.

She merely nodded but her jaw was set tight.

A moment later they both noticed Ron, being lead by a flustered Arthur and a livid Molly coming from the shop. Arthur unceremoniously dumped the youngest Weasley son in an empty chair at the back row with whispered instructions not to move a finger.

Harry saw Hermione's head sag as she put her face in her hands. He could do nothing more than slip his arm around her shoulders and give her a gentle pat. He felt clumsy and stupid. Telling her things were going to be alright sounded empty and hollow.

He looked over his own shoulder and glared at Ron sitting there glumly. He felt a sudden surge of anger at his best mate not understanding why Ron was acting like a blithering moron.

Ron sat there in the chair trying not to think of anything. His head pounded with the effects of the firewhiskey, crashing through a tree and the nasty tongue lashing he had just received from his mother and father.

Everyone seemed to be angry with him now. Cassandra was mad because he had left so abruptly without really explaining. His family all wanted to kill him and as he sat there he saw Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and give him a very exasperated look.

Is she crying…over me? Oh bugger! Well…you've certainly made a gob of things this time Weasley!

As he sat there looking at all the dark faces glaring at him he decided he didn't really care. He looked at the wreckage that used to be the only home he'd ever known. He stared at the shiny metal box the body of his dead brother lay in and it only made him angry. He looked at Harry sitting next to Hermione. They always seemed to be together. He wasn't sitting with Ginny or his family…but Hermione.

Something finally occurred to Ron cutting sharply through his whiskey addled brain watching his two best friends.

This is the way things were supposed to be. Now that Ginny had decided she didn't need or want Harry…who does the bloke have left? Who else knows him better than Hermione besides me? Who else does he have to turn to? - No one…

With those thoughts swirling in his throbbing head he looked around at what was left of the Burrow and came to the conclusion that with his father now firmly ensconced in the Minister for Magic's position with his mother and younger sister residing in the posh digs of the Minister's mansion in London and everyone else out on their own…this place was no longer his home. It was a tomb - a place to bury the dead and a lifetime worth of memories.

He suddenly came to the conclusion he no longer wanted to be here. So with an effort to make his sore muscles work he got unsteadily to his feet. With concentration he made his way down the isle between the rows of white chairs to the front of the crowd gathered to say goodbye to his late brother Fred.

Ron didn't hear George fall silent, nor did he feel the many sets of eyes boring holes in the back of his head as he staggered his way toward the casket.

When he reached it he laid his hand on the cold surface and muttered, “Goodbye old Fred. Say hello to everyone for me.”

With that he stumbled his way around to the back side of the burial site and made his way toward the tree he crashed in.

He didn't see two people standing up silently watching this take place. One was his mother, red faced and livid with anger and on the verge of flying to pieces - the other, a formerly bushy-haired girl in tears wringing her hands with worry and fear.

As Ron made the edge of the forest only one thought kept repeating itself in his mind…

Destination, Determination and Deliberation!

A ripple of mumbles and murmuring swept through the crowd as Arthur tried desperately to pull Molly back to her seat. Hermione collapsed boneless back into hers when they heard the sound of someone apparating. Only old Aunt Muriel sat cackling like a hen. She thought it one of the funniest things she had ever seen.

When George was finally able to conclude his tribute he waved his wand and all manner of fireworks went off behind him. A shower of gold sparks exploded over their heads that spelled out Fred's name.

With that most of the congregation began making their way to the exit. Hermione almost jumped to her feet and set off toward the exit herself.

Harry was just able to catch up to her as she darted around Hagrid's large frame.

“Hermione wait!” Harry called, “Where are you going?”

Hermione stopped but did not turn around. Harry knew she was in tears.

“I'm going home Harry,” she said gruffly, “I have things I must do. I'll see you later.”

Harry watched her loose herself in the small crowd of people queuing up to apparate out of Ottery St. Catchpole.

When he turned he saw Ginny coming toward him. Any other time that would have been a welcome sight but at the moment he wasn't certain of anything. Nothing seemed to be going the way he had hoped now that Voldemort and the constant threat of death was gone.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny said as she reached him. The look on her face was unreadable. “Think we can talk?”

“What's the deal with Ron?” He blurted out. He had not planned on asking that but his irritation spiked at the memory of Hermione's face when Ron had made his exit.

Ginny just shrugged her shoulders, “I don't know what's gotten into him. All I know is being near mum and dad just now isn't a safe place to be.”

He couldn't believe how badly all that Golden Trio business was going to his head. It was as if Ron simply didn't care about anyone or anything but himself any longer.

She led him by the hand away from the disbursing crowd. They walked along the fence that separated the garden from a near-by pasture in silence for a while until Ginny finally turned and stopped in front of him.

“I suppose you're wondering why I haven't come around since the night of the final battle.”

“The thought had crossed my mind but I figured you've been busy.” Harry said. That sounded so lame to him but he really didn't know what else to say.

Ginny sighed deeply and looked down at her hands for a moment then continued. She suddenly seemed quite nervous.

“The truth is…things have changed Harry.”

She looked at him to gauge his reaction to that statement. Harry kept his features as neutral as possible but inside his guts were twisting into uncomfortable knots.

“There's no other way I know how to say what I have to so please try to understand. This isn't easy for me.”

He nodded. He wasn't sure he could trust his voice at that moment.

“I suppose it all started the day of Dumbledore's funeral. When you sat there and told me that we couldn't be together because it wasn't safe. I felt so…” Ginny felt herself loosing control a bit, “so…frustrated and angry…”

That revelation surprised Harry. He was sure she understood. He said nothing.

“I wanted to be with you so badly. I knew you would go off chasing Death Eaters and Voldemort and get caught up in that stupid prophecy. I wanted to help you and fight side by side with you. But what you said to me at the funeral made me feel like I was still just a silly little girl with a stupid crush on The Chosen One.”

“It made all those things you said to us in the D.A. meetings seem like empty words. I thought the whole reason we were learning to defend ourselves was to be able to face the threat of Voldemort together…but you chose to leave me behind.”

Harry was beginning to feel ill. He couldn't believe what she was saying. He wondered how she could have misunderstood his intentions so badly. He kept silent and listened.

“I tried to convince myself you were really protecting me but when I discovered you let Hermione join you I was completely insensed. I know why she was with you…cleverest witch of her age and all but it didn't make it any easier to take. I was the one who cared for you and yes…I think I may have even been in love with you so it was devastating to know she was allowed and I wasn't.”

“At the wedding, you didn't even stay to see if I was all right or anything. You just let Hermione grab you and dash off to who knew where.”

“Call me a jealous, selfish little tart if you like but it was how I felt at the time. I felt abandoned Harry.”

She paused for a moment. Harry was frozen in place. He had lost all feeling from the neck down.

Merlin…How did everthing go so wrong?

“Dean, on the other hand, stayed by my side the whole time. Even after I had tossed him over to be with you he never gave up on me. He was kind and understanding. It was much more than I deserved.”

“I wanted to be with you so badly I completely disregarded Dean all together. That was wrong of me.”

“I remember the Yule Ball, Harry. Do you remember? I wanted you to ask me to go with you but all you could think about was Cho bloody Chang! I remember sitting in our dorm room listening to Hermione wonder why neither you nor Ron had asked her. That was before Victor Krum, of course. She couldn't believe Victor had asked her. She almost said no. Can you believe her?”

For a moment Harry found himself back at Hogwarts during the whole Tri-Wizard fiasco. Instead of standing there wondering why he was loosing the one girl he thought he truly cared for more than any other, he was wondering why he hadn't asked Hermione to the ball. No-one knew him better than she did. Even though they were nothing more than close friends, he would have felt emensly more comfortable with her than with anyone else…even Cho. Was it because of Ron? He couldn't recall why.

“So…I guess what I'm trying to tell you is Dean and I have, well kind of re-connected unexpectedly. I don't want to hurt you Harry and I still care for you very much but I'm not going to lie to you and pretend.”

She looked at him, blushing.

“Are you angry with me Harry?”

He honestly searched inside himself for how he felt about what she had said. Besides his guts twisting and churning he didn't think he felt angry. It was more like…disappointment.

“No Ginny,” he said softly, “Why would I be angry with you for telling me the truth?”

“You hate me then,” Ginny whispered, her face wrinkled as if she was going to cry, “I suppose I deserve it.”

“I don't hate you either,” Harry added, “I'm not sure what I really feel at the moment. I just wish you would have told me these things when they first started to bother you, that's all.”

“I was frightened,” she sniffed, “I know I didn't handle things very well and I'm sorry,” Ginny burst into tears as she fell into his arms, “I'm really really sorry Harry.”

The memory of his last birthday flooded his mind. It was the last time he had held Ginny in his arms. She had just about kissed him into unconsciousness with her soft, tender lips. He remembered how her warm body felt pressed into his, how her hair smelled so nice, how she had given him that wonderful blazing look of hers that held so much promise of what the future might have held.

Now, as he stood there holding her she felt like a complete stranger sobbing softly into his shoulder, her body rigid.

He felt the weight of depression land on him like a rampaging troll.

Harry had the sudden desperate desire to be somewhere else. He wasn't exactly sure why but he no longer wanted to be among the Weasley's for the first itme since he had met them.

It wasn't just because of Ginny, it was multitude of reasons. The day had been filled with the constant reminder of loss and mourning and Harry had reached his limit.

He gently pushed her away from him and held her at arm's length. Looking at her cheeks glistening with tears he couldn't seem to muster any pitty or remorse. He just felt…empty.

He was starting to understand that look in Hermione's eyes as he realized he needed to find her. Harry looked down at Ginny.

“I appreciate you being honest with me Ginny but I've got to go.”

He turned away from her and without looking back he made his way to find Headmistress McGonagall. She would have the information he needed.

When he finally spotted her she was in a tight group of witches and wizards that appeared to be in a quiet but serious discussion but at the moment Harry didn't care about interupting. He strode forward with purpose and tapped her lightly on her shoulder. The Headmistress turned and looked at him with surprise.

“Professor,” Harry said, glancing at the others, “I'm sorry for interupting but may I have a word with you…in private.”

McGonagall's eyebrows dissapeared but she nodded at the others, “If you'll excuse me for a moment.”

Minister Weasley, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few others he did not recognize all nodded and went back to their conversation as McGonagall stepped away with Harry toward the remnants of the Weasley home.

“What may I do for you Mr. Potter?” McGonagall asked.

“I was wondering if you knew what was going on with Hermione. She's not acting herself at all and she seems almost ill. I'm really worried about her.”

McGonagall looked at Harry for a moment but then her face hardened slightly.

“If she has not confided in you what she is going through at the moment then I can only assume she has her reasons Mr. Potter. I realize this is most likely an unsatisfactory response to your inquiry but I feel it is my duty to protect her privacy in this matter. You understand of course.”

He did…but then again he didn't. Hermione was his best friend.

“Well,” Harry asked, “can you at least tell me where her parent's house is? I've never been there so I don't know where it's located. She said she was going back there and I just don't think she needs to be alone right now.”

McGonagall looked at him with lips pursed. She didn't look as if she was going to respond. Harry was getting desperate.

“Please,” he pleaded.

Something in the old Transfiguration Professor's eyes softened as she gazed at Harry intently.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

“The house is in Camden, just off Primrose Hill. Number 410 Chalot Square. Do you know the area?”

Harry shook his head, “No but I'll find it. Thanks Professor.”

Harry turned to go but McGonagall stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I must warn you Mr. Potter. Proceed with caution. There's no telling what kind of wards, spells and traps she's placed on her residence. She's been experimenting with that sort of thing for years.”

Harry grinned at her and nodded.

Sounds just like her!

A moment later, gaining the outside edge of the wards he was off to London.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Eleven - Interview

Zalina Sheryl Star descended the stairs from her room above the pub at the Leaky Cauldron dressed in the most conservative clothes she could find. In fact, she thought she pulled off the whole stuffy school matron look fairly well.

In true form Zalina Star was a tall, slender olive-skinned, raven haired Goddess by most Muggle and Wizard standards. Her beautiful youthful face and electric blue eyes could captivate any man without the need for magic and her habit of wearing those thin, tight gowns with the plunging neck line to accentuate here full, firm breasts and slit up to her firm thighs to show her long perfect legs could stop any man in his tracks.

This was, after all, an interview.

Not just any interview…but an interview with the stodgy and prim Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She had twisted her long shiny black mane into a tight bun at the back of her head and applied a slight glamour to dampen her undeniable beauty. The application of some horrid looking glasses finished off her mild disguise.

Having sent Headmistress McGonagall all her records and transcripts along with her application by owl on a previous occasion she was told in reply this meeting was nothing more than a formality to meet in person. Zalina's teaching history and credentials had all been investigated and approved but she knew they would be.

As she settled at a table to wait for the Headmistress Old Tom sidled over to her eyeing her intently. He had seen her in her normal appearance when she had checked in. The old pervert could barely take his eyes off her bum.

She was a bit confused by the Headmistress's odd request to meet in the early hours just after midnight but after McGonagall explained about the late-night funeral service she would be attending nearby Zalina supposed it made sense. The truth was she would have met the Headmistress in a boat in the midst of the Hogwarts Lake in a driving rain storm if she had asked.

The pub was now closed to outsiders and those in residence had taken to their rooms at this late hour so they would be quite alone for their meeting.

“Can I get you anything Madam Star?”

“No thank you Tom,” she flashed him one of her devastatingly sensuous smiles, “I'm quite fine for now. I apologize for keeping you at such a late hour.”

She wasn't really. Truthfully she could care less…

“Think nothing of it Miss,” Tom replied bowing low.

She could see beads of sweat break out at the old codger's temples. She smirked inwardly. She knew how to use these gifts she had acquired…

Tom was about to make his way back to the bar when they heard a knock at the rear entrance that came from Diagon Alley.

The old barkeep shuffled his way over to the door, unlatched it and pulled it open with a groan.

Minerva McGonagall bustled into the pub clutching a small satchel purposefully nodding to Tom as she passed.

“Good evening Tom. I do appreciate your assistance and patience for allowing this meeting at such a ridiculous hour. Do forgive me.”

“Nonsense Minerva,” Old Tom waved her off, “Happy to oblige. Can I get you anything?”

“No…no,” she replied, “I shall only be a moment I assure you. I have another interview in the morning and I've much to do at the school yet before it will be ready for next term. You needn't make a fuss.”

When McGonagall reached the table Zalina stood and took the Headmistress's hand in hers warmly.

“I must apologize to you as well Miss Star.”

“Quite alright Headmistress,” Zalina replied with as warm a smile as she could muster, “I understand you're quite busy. Please…”

Zalina motioned to one of the other chairs at the table and both women settled in their seats. The Headmistress placed a small satchel on the table and pulled out a sheaf of documents and arranged them in front of her.

“I shall get right to the point Miss Star.” McGonagall began, “I have reviewed your application and information and am quite satisfied that you possess the necessary experience and qualifications to fill the post of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts however I do have one or two minor reservations and quite frankly would very much like to see your skill…first hand if I may?”

“Of course, Headmistress,” Zalina smiled as she looked around the pub for a moment. As her eyes landed on Old Tom sweeping the floor nearby just close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation she was struck with a rather devious idea.

Zalina pulled her wand and concentrated on the old man looking blank for a moment. With a quick flourish Old Tom suddenly changed from his usual appearance into what looked to McGonagall like a young girl with curly blond hair, pink cheeks wearing a gaudy bright pink dress with a huge white bow at her back tied about her midriff with a wide white ribbon wearing white stockings and dainty white slippers. The old barman seemed to notice nothing as the young girl continued along sweeping the floor. The barkeep reached behind him and scratched his bum just as Old Tom was in the habit of doing often.

With another flourish of her wand Zalina changed him back. Tom merely looked at them and smiled his mostly toothless grin and kept on sweeping as if nothing was amiss.

McGonagall's lips curled into a wry grin.

“I must confess that was most impressive Miss Star. How you were able to transfigure him without his knowledge took some rather prodigious skill I must say.”

“Thank you Headmistress,” Zalina nodded to her, “I am quite adept at Legilimens as well as Occlumens. I've studied both skills quite extensively and found I have a natural talent for both it seems.”

McGonagall's eyebrows rose.

“That's remarkable Miss Star,” McGonagall replied, “I've known those who were proficient at one skill or the other but to be gifted in both is extremely rare indeed young lady.”

“Yes…well” Zalina feigned a look of slight embarrassment, “Those skills manifested themselves quite early in my youth. It was difficult to control at first. There was not an irritating boy or aggressive pet safe in my neighborhood until I went off to school.”

McGonagall couldn't help but smile.

She took in Zalina's appearance, demeanor and posture for a moment. Although slightly nervous as would be expected, she sat upright - if not a bit stiffly - with legs properly together and hands folded in front of her on the table in what Minerva would consider a proper position for a young lady. She could find nothing untoward in the prospective instructor's attitude or conduct. Zalina projected an air of competence, maturity and all-around likeability and even though her dress suggested mild stodginess she was quite attractive underneath. It was as if the woman was attempting to downplay her looks.

But with all of Minerva's years of experience and knowledge assessing her students and faculty she was struck with the undeniable sense there was much more to Ms. Zalina Sheryl Star then what appeared on the surface. While possibly not malevolent or evil there was just…something more…something she would like to keep hidden from prying eyes.

But then again there are many in our world who possess the very same trait.

“As a result of your application and my personal evaluation Ms. Star I am quite certain you indeed possess the necessary skills and abilities to make a qualified instructor however, having said that, the only possible concern I can ascertain to the contrary at this moment is your…how shall I put this without sounding biased…lack of years. As I am sure you know Hogwarts takes great pride in providing the very best curriculum for our students and that includes the most highly qualified instructors in their field. Most all our Professors are of a somewhat advanced age but this does in no way deem you unqualified, I assure you. It is more of a control and disciplinary issue than anything else.”

McGonagall took a breath and continued.

“I am prepared to offer you a position as interim or probationary Transfiguration Professor for a period of sixty days, the contract to be evaluated based on an average of your student's marks and assessments from myself as well as other members of my staff. While I realize there are minor restrictions in a probationary period I assure you Ms. Star you will have complete control of your classes as well as whatever additions to the basic curriculum you wish to add or change to assist you in your capacity as an instructor as long as they are in the best interests of the institution and your students. No one will be perched on your shoulder like an owl watching your every move, I promise you. Is this situation acceptable to you? I assure you I will take no offense if you decline based on the limits of this offer. You will be compensated just as any other Professor on my staff. I will not subject you to a lesser salary as a result of my reservations or temporary restrictions.”

“I understand your concerns Headmistress,” Zalina said with a serious look on her face, “and I appreciate your candidness. My only request is that I be furnished with whatever criteria needed to meet your institutions acceptability guidelines in regard to student mark qualifications and whatever else I will be evaluated on so I may stay abreast of those requirements…”

“Of course, Ms. Star,” McGonagall replied and handed her a parchment with a detailed description of what Zalina would be evaluated on under the terms of the probationary period, “Once the interim period expires the contract will automatically be renewed to our standard and a ten per-cent adjustment will be added to your salary for enduring such a restriction.”

Zalina nodded approvingly as she read over the requirements.

“These certainly don't seem to be unobtainable by any means Headmistress,” she smiled handing the list back to McGonagall, “I think I can live with the probationary period.”

“Excellent Professor,” McGonagall said smiling. After going over the contract, signing all the necessary documentation and issuing Zalina the base curriculum as well as rules, regulations and guidelines for Hogwarts both woman stood and shook hands.

“Welcome to Hogwarts Ms. Star,” McGonagall gave her a tired smile, “I do hope you find our institution to your liking. At 28 years of age you will be one of the youngest Professors in the history of our school.”

Zalina beamed.

“Well!” She blushed, “That's quite an honor Headmistress! Thank you. I won't disappoint you.”

“I do not think you shall, Ms. Star,” McGonagall replied, “I'll expect you two weeks prior to the start of next term. The starting date is in your information package. You may arrive early of course. You will have accommodations on premises if you so choose. The residence quarters within the Transfiguration Department office are quite comfortable I assure you. I've resided there myself for the past 50 years. I believe that is all for now Professor Star,” McGonagall made her way to the rear entrance, “If you have any additional questions you may owl me at any time. Good evening Professor.”

“Thank you again Headmistress and goodnight.”

Zalina watched as Old Tom opened the door and let McGonagall out into the darkness of the alley beyond.

“Good news I gather?” Old Tom asked as he shuffled back toward her still carrying his broom.

“Good news indeed,” Zalina murmured, “How about a snifter of your best Bubbling Brandy Tom? I have reason to celebrate this night?”

“Very good Madam,” Tom croaked with his wide toothless grin, “Right away.”

He turned to go back to the bar. He returned a moment later with a bottle and a round globe shaped glass.

As Zalina settled back in her chair with her glass of warm spiced brandy waiting for the bubbles to recede her mind raced ahead to the next phase of her plan.

She had managed to ensconce herself in one of the most prestigious magical educational institutions in the world by nothing more than deception, forgery and clandestine tactics and no-one was the wiser for it.

Seems they've learned nothing over the past several years!

Although she knew it was more of a testimony to her underhanded creativity and skill she could now bask in almost unquestionable integrity under the guise of her new respectable profession.

Zalina realized the most difficult phase of her plan was yet to come but she was almost certain her efforts would be successful. Her research and preparations had been thorough.

After finishing her drink she bid Old Tom goodnight and made her way up to her room. As she entered the first order of business was to remove the glamour and untie her hair. She let her long tresses spill down her back as she fluffed her locks free with her hands.

Undressing and slipping into a sheer nightgown she washed, brushed her teeth and made ready for a good night's rest. As she made her way though the small sitting area of her room blowing out candles she heard his voice as she bent over to snuff a candle with a soft puff of breath.

“My…my,” the voice uttered haughtily, “I do appreciate a good quality see-through night robe!”

The fact was, with Zalina standing in front of the light one could see the dark skinned shape of her perfect naked body almost as if the shift did not exist.

As she snuffed the last candle she turned to look at the leering image of the teen-aged Tom Riddle sitting on his chair in the portrait propped against the wall behind her.

“Get a good long look did you?” Zalina sneered.

“Quite!” He responded, “I must admit you are an exquisitely sensual creature Miss Star.” The look of raw wanton desire on his oil painted face was unmistakable.

With that, Zalina reached up and untied the dainty ribbon that laced the front of her sheer nightgown. With a tug she unraveled the bow and the thin garment slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the floor at her slender ankles.

“Is this what you were referring to?” She asked, gesturing to her gorgeous naked female body standing before his image.

Tom Riddle's eyes slid from her face down over her perfect breasts with their dark areolas and rather erect nipples to her firm, flat stomach and lingered for a moment on the dark triangle of thin fur that covered her womanly valley. He continued gazing along her muscular thighs and slender long legs. Her dark skin was supple and flawless.

“Mmm yes indeed,” Riddle's image hissed.

In one smooth motion she bent and snatched the shift from the floor and slithered her body quickly back inside tying the ribbon deftly. She glared at the portrait for a moment.

“I hope you got an eye full you disgusting vermin! It's something you'll never be able to touch, enjoy or possess!” She spit.

“Still sore about Bellatrix I see,” Riddle's image sneered completely unaffected by her display.

Zalina's eyes flew wide.

“What? Me…envious of that psychotic, pathetic excuse for a sorceress?” Zalina laughed, “You must be bloody daft!”

“Perhaps - even so,” Riddle continued, “She served me well. Her deviousness was one of her greatest assets and she was loyal to the end…unlike others I trusted.”

Zalina's anger spiked white hot. She lunged toward the portrait and shoved a long, perfectly manicured finger in his miniature painted face.

“Listen to me you stupid self-absorbed twit,” she growled, “If you would have listened to me from the beginning I would have given you the secrets that have kept me alive for eight hundred years but no, you had to be impetuous and arrogant. You let Bellatrix and Severus Snape assist you in creating those…those abominations!”

Her anger was rising inside her to an almost dangerous level. She could feel the edges of her eyes going red with furry.

“Splitting your soul into seven pieces? What were you thinking you blithering idiot? If that wasn't ridiculous enough you did pathetically little to secure your Horcruxes and they were systematically eliminated right under your nose!”

“I…I don't know how Dumbledore discovered my plan…” Riddle stammered.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” Zalina said trying to restrain her temper, “Albus Dumbledore was a thousand times the sorcerer you had never even hoped to be! He'd been watching you from the day he came to pick you up at the orphanage to take you to Hogwarts.”

Riddle's face wrinkled with fury. He lurched to his feet, hands clenched in tight fists at the end of his stiff arms.

“I AM THE GREATEST SORCERER WHO EVER LIVED!”

Zalina put her hands to her face peering at the figure in the portrait with unveiled disgust. She settled on the edge of one of the over-stuffed chairs in the sitting room across from the painting.

“You were…you mean,” Zalina whispered loud enough for him to hear.

That comment made Riddle's image deflate like a pin pricked balloon. She watched as his face contorted through several different attitudes before settling on confused self-righteous indignation. He folded his arms tightly and slumped back in his chair.

“My plan would have succeeded if it weren't for those meddling kids!” Riddle huffed. {*}

“Did you not learn anything while you were in exile in Albania?” Zalina asked.

“What was I to learn?” Riddle spit miserably, “I was completely alone until that disgusting rodent Pettigrew found me and brought me that Hogwarts Professor. Neither you nor any of the others certainly did anything to assist me.”

“Really?” Zalina replied with a slit-eyed gaze, “Who do you think instructed the rodent to go find you? How do you think he came to know where you were? Chance… happenstance? And I think if you remember correctly I was forced to go to ground myself after someone put a decree of death on my head! Let me see,” Zalina stared at Riddle with as much hate as she could muster, “I think that was you wasn't it?”

Tom Riddle's image waved his hand arrogantly.

“Simple misunderstanding on my part,” he said with nonchalance, “I was misinformed.”

Zalina's blood began to boil. Her hands worked clenching and unclenching. Riddle's image had no idea how close he was to being completely annihilated. She had to physically force herself not to go get her wand and do him in once and for all. She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath.

“You knew how important it was to me to remain anonymous. I tried to convince you of the legitimacy of my…talent and knowledge but you refused to listen.”

“You should have instructed me in your complete knowledge from the beginning,” Riddle shouted, “instead what did you teach me…how to occupy another's body like a lowly parasite? If you would have given me the complete process then…”

Zalina cut across him.

“…You'd still be just as dead! You weren't ready for that yet. I told you! It takes years to perfect that ability. You should have been patient.”

“Bah,” Riddle spit, “That is precisely why I devised my own plan. I did not want to rely on someone else's knowledge or skill.”

“Is that so?” Zalina asked smirking now, “Who conducted the ritual to bring you back to a corporal form?” She didn't wait for a response, “Who assisted you in creating and preparing the potions necessary for you to create your Horcruxes? Who placed your diary in the Weasley girl's cauldron? Who did you dispatch to the Ministry the night Harry Potter arrived to save his Godfather and whom did you trust to spy on your most hated and feared enemy?”

The last was the most damming question of all.

“Tell me oh great Lord Voldemort?” Zalina said in a dangerous whisper, “How did all that turn out for you?”

Tom Riddle's painted image said nothing. He merely sat glaring at her with vehement disgust but just as quickly as his rage had appeared it evaporated. His face returned to his usual arrogant sneer gazing down at his fingernails.

“So do you think this new plan of yours will really work? Seems sound in its theory but…”

He intentionally left his comment hanging.

“I have no idea but you best hope so,” Zalina replied as if she had tasted something unpleasant, “It's a brilliant plan and it's the last and only chance you've got. We'll only have one go at this so if you would like it to succeed, if it can, you will continue to do as you're told! Is that clear?”

Riddle's image said nothing but sat back in his chair brooding darkly.

With that Zalina returned to her bed chamber and to settle down for a good night's rest. She was certain she had made her points this night. It didn't mean she didn't worry. Her plan was completely improvised, untested and she was certain nothing like it had ever been attempted before. She had found nothing anywhere to suggest it had so her apprehension was not unfounded.

If she succeeded though, her life-long dream might stand a chance of coming to fruition after all rising out of the wreckage of Voldemort's short-sighted stupidity like a flaming Phoenix.

One can only hope!

{*} Well used line from just about every Scooby Do cartoon and movie ever made! Sorry, I couldn't resist!

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N; Another fill-in chapter. As always thanks for reading. Will try and update faster. Life has been…interesting and the Holidays are coming. Marry Christmas to all!!!

PLEASE REVIEW!!!! It would be greatly appreciated!!!

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twelve - Adjustments

Harry decided it would be best to go back to #12 and try to find out where Hermione lived from there.

After consulting a much outdated street map of London found in the Black library he at least now had a general idea where her street was located.

He apparated to Primrose Hill and made his way to a call box just outside the park. Checking the small map in the directory he found Chalot Square with no trouble.

It took him about twenty minutes to walk the distance and located the house at the end of what appeared to be a very well manicured court yard.

The formal two-story house was twice as large as the Dursley's with bright white siding and black shutters. Lights lit up many of the windows on the first floor. The big crystal chandelier behind the cut-glass arched transom over the large black front door cast multi-colored prisms of light across the front yard.

As Harry made his way across the dark shadowy yard he constantly looked around. With the exception of a few barking dogs off somewhere in the distance the area seemed deserted. He was about to step up onto the front porch when he stopped.

Heeding the words of the Headmistress he decided to make his way around to the back. As he swung around the left side he encountered a high wood fence that blocked the rear of the house from view. He noticed a gate in the fence up close to the side wall.

He was a bit surprised when a simple alohomora let him through. He made his way silently and carefully around the side to the rear. There was a large stone patio off the back of the house with what looked like a trellis over it. The trellis was covered with all manner of ivy and grape vines. Ornate wrought-iron chairs and a glass top table set under the canopy like an outdoor café.

As Harry stepped onto the stone patio he was suddenly jerked off his feet, flipped upside down and suspended in mid air. As he dangled there confused and disoriented he realized he had stepped in a trap similar to the one he encountered in the maze during the Tri-Wizard tournament.

He heard the rear entrance of the house open slowly. He knew Hermione had heard him. She probably had alarms going off all over the house.

“Who's out there?” He heard her call out from the shadows, “Identify yourself! You won't be able to get in!”

“So I've discovered,” Harry said. He couldn't help but chuckle.

“Harry?” Hermione responded with exasperation. He heard her approach as he felt himself slowly lowered to the stone, “Why didn't you just come to the front door? I would have let you in.”

Instead of trying to explain what McGonagall had told him he just lay there looking up at her dark shadow hovering above him for a moment.

“This is so much more fun!” He laughed.

“Well,” she said as she reached down to give him a hand to help him to his feet, “I guess I know my traps and wards work anyway.”

“Don't get many visitors do you?” He asked as he came to his feet.

“You're the first actually,” Hermione said with a grimace, “Come on inside before we wake the neighbors.”

He followed Hermione through the darkness of the patio into the rear entrance of the house. They stepped into what appeared to be the laundry area. Hermione closed the door and threw the bolt.

She led him into a huge sitting room complete with a big bay window at the front, massive black leather L-shaped sectional sofa, matching overstuffed chairs and a huge stone fireplace that took up almost one whole wall of the room.

The house was beautifully decorated. The rich hardwood floor not covered by a huge Persian rug gleamed in the soft lighting. The whole place looked comfortable, cozy and warm.

Hermione carelessly tossed her wand on a table just inside the sitting room. She then turned and gave Harry a rather dour look, arms folded tightly.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” She asked sounding a bit put out, “Did you follow me?”

“I was worried about you and no,” he replied, “I begged McGonagall for your address.”

“Brilliant,” Hermione muttered, “Can't trust anyone…”

“Hermione,” Harry said a bit gruffly. He was getting irritated at her attitude, “Don't blame her. She wouldn't tell me what's going on with you, said you might have your reasons for not telling me…”

Hermione said nothing as she stood looking at her shoes.

“Do you have reasons for not telling me?” He asked.

As he stood there watching her he saw Hermione's face crumple into utter sadness as she began to sob uncontrollably.

Harry automatically moved forward and took her into a tight embrace. He was beginning to get choked up himself seeing her like that.

“Oh Harry,” she gasped as she grabbed his jacket and buried her face in his chest. She was shaking, clinging to him so tightly he was afraid she might tear the coat right off him.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, “please talk to me.”

They stood that way for a long moment until she slowly regained control of herself. When she let go Harry conjured a handkerchief and guided her to the sofa. Hermione sat sniffling and hiccupping for a moment until she gave Harry a sideways glance. She looked miserable.

He said nothing trying to wait and see if she would open up and decided not to push her any farther. After a moment fumbling absent-mindedly with the hanky she stood.

“Come on,” Hermione said holding her hand out to Harry, “I need a drink.”

She towed him through an arched doorway that led into what looked like a formal dining room with a large mahogany table that looked very old. It was set in the center with a large basket of what appeared to be wildflowers and two candelabras on either side of the basket. The high backed chairs were ornately carved. A massive matching etched glass front antique china hutch sat to one side and contained all manner of china, crystal, silver and goblets.

The large crystal chandelier that hung above the table fit the décor perfectly.

As they passed through another arched doorway at the other end of the room it was like stepping out of the past and into the modern era into a kitchen filled with stainless steel and gadgets everywhere.

It looked like a kitchen right out of one of the finest restaurants in London. The huge island in the center of the kitchen was topped with black granite and had a four burner gas stove top, griddle, grill, sink and an oven below the range top.

A stainless pot rack ran around the perimeter of the island and all manner of shiny pots and pans hung around the rack. Harry had never seen two refrigerators before. Hermione didn't bother to explain one was a sub-zero unit and what it was used for.

Harry marveled as he watched her take a glass from a cabinet and slid it into a slot in the massive refrigerator's door. With a slight swishing whir the glass filled with cold water.

When Hermione took a long drink she handed the glass to Harry. He drained the rest.

“Can I try it?” He asked pointing to the fridge.

Hermione cocked a slight smile and nodded. Harry tentatively pressed the glass into the slot and watched it fill with water. He took another drink then handed the glass back. Hermione opened a shiny silver door next to the big sink and placed the glass on the rack of the dishwasher.

“Hermione this is a really nice house,” Harry said looking around in wonder. He knew Mr. Weasley would be going into Muggle gadget sensory overload if he saw this place.

He suddenly realized what was missing.

“Where are your parents? Are they sleeping?” Harry asked.

He saw tears slide down her cheeks again as she sat down at a small table tucked in a niche off to the side of the kitchen next to what Harry assumed to be a pantry larger than his old bedroom at the Dursley's.

“My parents are at St. Mungo's Harry.” She replied.

As Harry joined her at the table she began to talk. She told him everything. From the moment she left for Australia right up to her trip to the Ministry to deliver her new list.

He sat and listened quietly. He didn't interrupt her with pointless questions or hollow regrets. He simply listened until she had got it all out.

Hermione had to admit to herself it helped to tell him. She felt the monumental guilt and tension ease a bit.

When she was done Harry felt like throwing up. He had no idea she was going through so much agony. His anger at Ron flared even hotter as he sat listening to her.

“Right now I don't know if I'm coming or going most of the time. Not knowing why is so bloody frustrating.”

“Well,” Harry quipped, “If you pass yourself on the street or something just remember Polyjuice…”

Hermione gave him an odd look.

“At the rate you're pulling your hair out someone's bound to find some and try to capitalize on all your Golden Girl fame and glory.” He grinned.

Hermione couldn't help but crack a smile at that. She knew Harry was trying to ease the tension and she appreciated it very much. She reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm softly looking up at him with watery eyes.

“I'm really sorry for being so distant and hateful Harry.”

“Stop,” Harry said, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Well,” she said sadly, “I feel I've been a hag to everyone the last few weeks and now sitting here talking to you I realize it was stupid. I have no idea why I was trying to hide everything. I was just so afraid the Prophet would get a hold of what was happening and they would have a bloody field day with it.”

She looked up at Harry with such sadness it made his heart throb with pain.

“Wasn't life supposed to get better after dispatching Voldemort and his lot?” She whispered.

“It has Hermione,” Harry responded with a grimace, “Just not for us…at least not yet but it will. You've got to believe that. I have to anyway. It's the only thing I've got to hold on to at the moment. If I didn't believe that I'd probably Avada Kedavra myself!”

The look on Hermione's face told him his attempt at levity fell a bit flat.

“You can't use an unforgivable curse on yourself you dolt,” She mumbled.

“Maybe your right,” Harry said looking at the floor, “but I never thought I could survive the curse twice either.”

That revelation shocked Hermione. Harry had survived the killing curse on two separate occasions. It was impossible not to see there was much more to Harry Bloody Potter than what was on the surface.

“So there's nothing that can be done to help them?” Harry asked

“Nothing we know of right now,” Hermione sighed tiredly. “It doesn't mean there isn't an answer. It just means we haven't found it yet. I just need to stay focused and not get sidetracked by things like the antics of Ronald Weasley; Blubbering Baboon.”

“I don't know what's gotten into him Hermione,” Harry said, “and apparently no one else seems to know either. You know Ron. He'll come round eventually…”

“NO!” Hermione shouted. She was on her feet in a blink. She stood with her back to him, arms wrapped tightly around herself again, “No Harry. Don't you dare make excuses for him! You always do! Not this time.”

“I was willing to forgive him when he called me a `nightmare' when we were younger. I forgave him when he completely overlooked me for the Yule Ball. I forgave him about the whole misunderstanding with the Slug Club,” she started shaking, “I was even willing to forgive him for that whole Lavender Brown mess.”

She looked down at her hands.

“I might have even been able to forgive him for abandoning us during the hunt for the Horcruxes some day Harry but this…I know I'm not pretty or attractive or alluring but I won't ever be someone's afterthought.”

“Afterthought,” Harry was on his feet now himself, “Hermione how could you possibly think that? You are all those other things and so much more! Don't you dare let some empty-headed sot make you feel inferior. Why I just wish I had the courage…”

Harry stopped that thought right there. He wasn't sure he wanted to delve into his inner most feelings. It was a dangerous place to go and he wanted to kick himself for letting even that slip.

Hermione turned to look at him with surprise. He cursed himself.

“Courage for what Harry?” She asked calmly.

When he hesitated she repeated the question. She wanted to know what he was going to tell her.

“Harry, you're the most courageous bloke I know. What didn't you have the courage to do?”

He looked at her with a sideways glance then quickly down at his trainers.

“To do what Viktor Krum had the courage to do.” He replied.

Hermione flushed hot. She suddenly felt even more weak and ill.

Does he know? But how? No-one knows what happened between Viktor and I the night of the Yule Ball, do they? Oh Merlin! Did Viktor tell someone?

She sat back down at the table before her knees gave way. She had to find out…

“What - what do you mean Harry,” she asked as innocently as she could.

“You know,” Harry said, “I wish I would have asked you to the Yule Ball instead of Cho or whoever.”

Hermione took a deep steadying breath. She tried desperately to get control of herself.

“Oh…well, I understand why you didn't Harry. I was a bit miffed at Ron for not asking because I was under the impression he fancied me. To be honest I'm surprised you didn't ask Ginny but I think she was still with Michael or Dean then wasn't she. I can't quite remember.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione saw Harry's face darken completely, “I've learned that sometimes things like that don't change. Seems to be a Weasley trait among the younger lot.”

“What?” Hermione asked. She thought that a very strange statement.

“Let's just say I don't think I'll be spending too many holidays with the Weasley family.”

“What are you trying to tell…” she began to ask but then reasoning took over…“Oh! What happened?”

“I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it quite yet. To be honest I'm not sure I even understand it all. I haven't had the time to reason things out yet…not that it really matters.”

“I'm sorry Harry,” Hermione said sadly. She herself suddenly disliked the idea of spending time with the Weasley clan. She looked at Harry for a long moment and realized he now had no-one. He was completely alone in the world…both worlds!

How could everyone just turn their backs on him like that? He saved Ginny and Ron and Mr. Weasley! He saved all our lives!

Before she realized what she was doing she stood and moved to Harry. She wrapped him in as warm and tender an embrace as she could muster in her present state of depression. When he slid his arms around her in kind she nuzzled her head against his chest under his chin and closed her eyes.

They stood that way for what seemed like a long time just holding one-another. Hermione realized how pleasant it felt to just bask in the warmth of him listening to the strength of his beating heart. She began to feel calmer than she had in weeks, all the tension and stress seemed to fall away. He rested his cheek gently against her forehead.

The next thing Hermione realized she was waking up from a drowsy slumber lying across Harry's lap on the couch in the sitting room. He had covered her with her mother's afghan that hung over a rocking chair next to the fireplace. He must have carried her.

He was sleeping as well propped against the side of the couch sitting up, his arms still wrapped about her protectively. She couldn't believe she had fallen asleep standing in the kitchen like that.

She noticed it was still dark outside so she knew it was still early in the morning. When she moved to raise up Harry came awake at once with a slight jolt.

“Harry I'm sorry…” Hermione tried to apologize.

“Shush,” he said with a slight smile, “You were exhausted. I didn't know where your room was so I did the only thing I could think of.”

Hermione smiled at him. She stretched and yawned raising her arms over her head.

“It's fine Harry thank you. Besides…you would have never made it up the stairs. It's a good thing you didn't try.”

Harry chuckled.

“Yah,” he grinned, “McGonagall warned me about that.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Then why did I find you in my upside-down trap?”

“I didn't say I was clever,” His eyes sparkled.

As they sat looking at one-another Hermione got a strange tingling sensation all over as she looked into his familiar green eyes. It was something that had never happened before. She had looked in his eyes countless times but never had a reaction like that. It felt odd yet familiar.

She could see so many things there in his gaze. The things he had been through over the past 8 years she could scarcely comprehend and if she had not been standing right next to him when he went through those things she would not have though it possible for someone to endure so much and still be able to smile at all.

Before she could think about it or reconsider or stop herself Hermione was falling forward. When her lips met his it was as if she was covered in a subtle wave of warmth. Her whole body clenched and shuddered in response to the feel of his warm soft lips on hers.

It was wonderful and thrilling and frightening all at the same time.

For Harry the feeling of Hermione's lips suddenly pressed against his was quite unexpected. He had no idea she was going to kiss him so it took a moment for him to realize it but when he did it was as if someone was running their fingers softly down his spine. It felt…so right!

Hermione found herself becoming lost in the power of their connection, so strong and unexpected. Before she realized what she was doing she shifted her position and was now straddling Harry's lap. Her hands came up to cup both sides of his face as their kiss deepened and became more urgent. The feelings of longing and desire were almost overwhelming her senses as she pressed her mouth hungrily into his.

Harry found himself consumed by her. As he sat there reveling in the intense emotions she seemed to be pouring into him through her kiss he forced himself into rational thought.

You're snogging Hermione Granger! She's your best friend!

…But when a soft sensuous moan escaped Hermione's throat as she pressed her body even closer to his he lost all sense of reason or rationality. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment but her.

In the next moment it was as if sobriety had returned to both of them in the same instant. Hermione lurched back off the couch to stand blinking, wide-eyed at Harry for a moment. She reached up and touched trembling fingers gently to her lips as Harry's gaze fell to his hands.

“I - I'm really sorry Harry,” Hermione stammered blushing profusely, “I don't know what got into me…I…”

Harry held up his hand to stall her. He couldn't quite meet her shocked expression.

Hermione stood there for a moment more. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to get control over her jumbled emotions. As she searched inside herself she became aware that kissing Harry had brought her a feeling that had been absent inside of her for a long time.

Comfort!

In the next moment thoughts of her parents flooded back into her consciousness and the magic of the moment before was gone in a puff of smoke.

She was an absolute mess.

Hermione settled into one of the overstuffed chairs beside the couch with a heavy sigh. Weariness settled on her like a pile of boulders.

Harry glanced at her when she settled into the chair and realized she suddenly looked much older and very haggard. Before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet.

“Maybe I should go Hermione,” he whispered, “You need to get some…”

Before he was able to finish his statement Hermione was on her feet as well. A rather wild look crossed her beleaguered features.

“NO!” She said imploringly, “Please don't leave…” She forced herself to stamp down a growing sense of urgency. She had no idea where it came from or why but she was suddenly aware she didn't want to be alone…in this house. She took another deep breath. “Erm…what I means is…I would really appreciate it if you would just stay here…tonight…” She wanted to say with me but something stopped her.

Merlin…Granger when have you become so needy?

Harry nodded.

They both just stared at each other for a moment. The nervous tension crackled through the air between them like electricity.

Hermione smiled sadly then turned toward the stairs.

“Give me a moment to remove the wards and I'll make sure the guest room is ready,” she whispered.

Harry glanced at her nervously as he turned to follow.

---@>---

Ron landed heavily on the cold damp cobblestones of Diagon Alley after apparating away from Fred's funeral service. He had no idea where in the Alley he had landed. The only thing he could think of was getting back to Cassandra so he reasoned she must still be at the Leakey Cauldron.

His head pounded and he felt sick after the night's events. The thought of Hermione sitting so close to Harry flittered through his addled mind. He had finally come to the realization Harry was there for her because he wasn't. It made sense. He had always been there for her. He wasn't quite sure how to handle the knowledge the girl he had secretly, (or maybe not so secretly) fancied for ages was possibly with his best mate now.

Part of him was grateful Hermione wasn't alone and he was glad it was someone other than Viktor Krum.

That was one of the few secrets he had managed to keep over the years. The knowledge of what Viktor had done the night of the Yule Ball sent him into a blinding rage whenever he thought of it but he had kept mum about it besides, he still wasn't absolutely certain it had actually happened that way and he didn't have the nerve to ask Hermione about it. He was certain a nasty hex would follow his question.

As he tried to get to his feet he heard voices and the sound of shuffling footsteps coming quickly toward him out of the darkness.

“There he is!” One voice shouted.

“Put up an anti-apparition ward,” said another.

Before Ron realized what was happening he was jerked to his feet by two very large and very strong sets of hands. As he gazed wildly around him his eyes finally focused on a tall, dark figure coming toward him out of the shadows. He didn't look pleased.

“Ronald Weasley,” Kingsley Shacklebolt announced formally with a growl, “The Minister for Magic has requested we apprehend you and transport you at once to the Minister's quarters in London. You will remain there until the Minister returns, is that understood?”

Ron was too dazed to do anything else but nod.

The next thing he realized he was standing in a rather grand entrance hall of a very large and opulent residence.

The foyer was a cavernous area. The floor was covered in large dark marbled tiles that were so shiny they seemed to glitter from the light of a huge crystal chandelier hanging above their heads set in the large domed ceiling. Two wide staircases went up to a second level on both sides of the grand entrance hall.

The walls on both sides of the foyer were covered with paintings and portraits whose faces peered down at them scowling with obvious disapproval.

Large mahogany doors led to rooms on either side of the entrance hall and the foyer opened up to what appeared to be a huge sitting room through a wide doorway set between the staircases.

A tall, thin man dressed in what appeared to Ron to be a tuxedo came out from the sitting room and glided across the entrance hall toward them. He wore a scowl similar to the ones in all the portraits. With every other step the man made a strange squeaking sound as he walked.

Kingsley stepped forward and addressed the man.

“We've managed to find him Gibble,” the head Auror said, “Please send word to the Minister. I must return to the Ministry. There is still much work to be done there.”

Gibble bowed and hooked Ron's arm with one of his long boney hands. Kingsley looked pointedly at Ron.

“You're to stay here, understand and I wouldn't advise giving Mr. Gibble any trouble. He's been taking care of the Minister Elect for thirty years so he's seen and done just about everything you can think of. Besides…I think you've caused enough trouble for your family already!”

With that, Kingsley turned and with the other two men made his way out the front entrance without a backward glance.

“Mr. Weasley,” the old butler said in a calm polished tone, “This way if you please.” Gibble motioned with his free hand to the staircase on the right.

Ron realized very quickly Gibble wasn't asking as the old man's other hand tightened almost painfully on his upper arm.

“I will show you to your room,” Gibble added stiffly, “May I suggest you clean up a bit before the Minister arrives. Your possessions have been transported from your flat in Diagon Alley so I pray you will find what you need.”

Ron felt himself being guided toward the stairs.

Part of him was terrified at the prospect of facing his father, and worse…his mum! The small inkling to flee was instantly quelled by the fact the head of the Auror's Department was dispatched to find him and they put anti-apparition wards on him to keep him from running. He knew this place would have all types of wards and spells on it so he resigned himself to do as he was told for now.

Gibble half-guided, half-dragged Ron up the stairs. At the top they turned right and continued into a long hallway with large dark mahogany doors on both sides. When they reached the second door on the left Gibble stopped.

With a flourish of a wand the door swung wide to reveal a bedroom unlike any Ron had ever seen. In the middle of the back wall was a huge four-poster bed. All the furnishings looked antique but in remarkably fine condition.

“You will find your personal bath behind the door to the left. The closet is on the right.” Gibble gestured with his hand toward the open door. “If there is anything else you require simply touch your wand to the silver bell on the night stand next to the bed.”

Gibble gazed at Ron seriously for a moment.

“I would not advise trying to leave Mr. Weasley,” his dark eyes flashed, “It would not bode well for you.”

Ron said nothing as he staggered his way into the room. Gibble pulled the door closed as Ron surveyed his new digs. The whole room looked opulent and resplendent with all the fineries life had to offer but it left Ron feeling like he was a stranger invading someone else's home.

He made his way over to the huge bed, turned and fell backward onto the immaculately made surface. The mattress was like landing on a cloud. Without even removing his shoes Ron was unconscious in minutes.

An unknown number of hours later he was torn from the slumber of the dead by sharp rapping on his door. Before he could get to his feet he saw Percy push his way into the room through his hazy vision still blurred by drink.

Percy came to stand over Ron with a disapproving glower, hands on hips.

“Feeling a bit peaky are we?” Percy asked.

Ron could only grunt in response. The next thing Ron knew he was being jerked to his feet and forced to stand stiffly at attention. He saw Percy standing in front of him holding his wand.

“I'm afraid nap time is over Ronald.” Percy said in his most serious and authoritative tone, “You've got about fifteen minutes to get yourself cleaned up and pulled together. Dad wants to see you in his office at once and if I were you…and I assure you I am most glad I'm not…I would not keep the Minister waiting one more second than necessary!”

Ron peered at Percy for a moment.

“That angry are they?” He asked. He knew it was a stupid question.

Percy only shook his head as he retreated out of the room. As Ron made his way into the huge opulent bathroom he spotted a new unopened bottle of Pepper-Up potion sitting next to the sink.

He thanked whatever wizard, witch or deity had deposited the bottle there as he fumbled the stopper off the top and drained the entire bottle. After a loud belch he began feeling the effects and he managed to make his way quickly through a shower without falling down.

After he dried off he went to the other side of the room to a matching door that led to a giant closet. Inside was an entire new wardrobe complete with underwear, socks, shoes, trousers and crisp new button-up shirts. There was even a suit or two. Ron thought about putting on one of the suits for about two seconds but abandoned the idea when he spied a pair of tan trousers with creases so sharp they looked like they could slice fruit.

He chose those along with a crisp white shirt and a new pair of brown wing tips that fit like they were made just for him. He was just checking himself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door when he heard the bedroom door open once again. Percy stuck his head in and taking in Ron's much improved condition cracked a wry grin.

“You look almost human. Come with me…” Percy motioned for Ron to follow and he did so without protest although he didn't like the idea of being ordered around by his older brother who had at one time defected from the family. Even though Percy had seen the error of his ways that stigmatism and a bit of resentment still existed in Ron's mind. Everyone else had seemed to have gotten passed it.

Ron took in what Percy was wearing and suddenly felt woefully underdressed. Percy had on what looked like a finely tailored charcoal grey business suit, bright white shirt and stylish tie under his matching business robe bearing the official Ministry seal on the breast pocket.

As they made their way down the hall toward the staircase Percy began talking rather rapidly under his breath in a very official manner.

“There's something you need to understand right away Ronald,” Percy said, “You are about to have an audience with the Minister for Magic…not your father. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Ron stopped walking and looked with raised eyebrows at Percy who took another step or two before he realized Ron wasn't beside him any more.

“No, actually I don't,” Ron said as if he had just tasted something unpleasant. He stood stubbornly still glaring at Percy with arms folded tightly.

Percy suddenly looked tired as if he would rather be doing anything else than attempting to explain wizard politics to his gormless younger brother. He took a deep breath.

“What do you think is going on here Ron? Do you think this is just some kind of game or a silly joke? Our father is now Minister for Magic and along with that comes an enormous amount of duty and responsibility. If that wasn't enough dad has inherited the complete mess of the past three administrations not to mention trying to sort out the damage done by the Death Eaters and all those Ministry Officials who were under the Imperious Curse.”

Ron looked sour.

“So what does that have to do with me?” He asked.

Percy looked at Ron trying to summon a colossal amount of patience. He realized Ron knew very little of how a political machine worked so he tried to explain things as simply and succinctly as possible.

“Look Ron,” Percy sighed, “Politics, no matter it Wizard or Muggle has as much to do with perception as it does anything else. It's how people view an administration that makes the difference between being an effective governing body or being a complete waste of time and resources. As unpleasant as that might sound it is simply the way things are.”

“If the Wizengamot views our father as a weak leader then they will be less likely to work with him in making effective changes that will benefit the wizard world. Do you remember how Cornelius Fudge tried to cover up the fact Voldemort had returned?”

Ron nodded. He also remembered how Fudge had tried to push Dumbledore aside and discredit him and Harry. He tried to force his influence on Hogwarts as well as the Daily Prophet.

“How well did that work out for him?” Percy asked.

Ron shrugged.

“I still don't see what this has to do with sending Aurors to pick me up like a common criminal and bringing me here against my will!”

Percy held up his hand, “I'm getting to that Ronald.” He continued.

“What I'm trying to tell you is the truth will out Ron. What that means is that anything and everything you do…” Percy pointed at Ron's chest, “reflects directly on this administration for no other reason except that you are a Weasley. You are, like it or not, directly connected to all this and if that wasn't profound enough you just happen to be one of the Golden Trio so what you do out there is magnified ten times more because of your notoriety…understand?”

Ron was beginning to and he didn't like it one bit. He didn't realize how complicated being famous had become. If his father had not been elected Minister it probably wouldn't matter what he did all that much but he knew his mother would still be angry. It made him feel a bit queasy.

“So what's going to happen to me then,” Ron asked a bit angrily. He didn't want to be a part of any of this. He just wanted to be left alone but he also knew that was no longer possible. “Dad going to send me off to Azkaban or something…Family embarrassment and all?”

Percy gritted his teeth.

“First of all it's not dad you have to be worried about!” Percy growled, “He and I have convinced mum to allow the Minister's office to handle this…problem. Believe me, that wasn't easy. She wanted your bullocks on a plate! As I said before you are not going to be talking with dad. You are going to have an audience with the Minister and that requires a certain amount of politeness and respect. Got that? I have no idea what's to become of you but I will tell you this Ron. If you go into that office with a big chip on your shoulder things will go bad for you…do you understand what I'm telling you?”

Ron sighed. He felt the weight of the past week settle on him like it had down in the wizard morgue when he finally realized the loss of life that had occurred the night of the battle at Hogwarts. He felt he no longer had any control over his own life and that more than anything made him angry and resentful.

He didn't want to have an audience with the Minister for Magic. He could care less about the whole bloody thing but as Percy's words sank in about Ron being undeniably connected to the office now he came to the quick conclusion his brother was right. If he went in there with a belligerent attitude he would regret it. He had to begrudgingly appreciate Percy's insight on that particular notion.

“Alright,” Ron asked, “What should I do then?”

Percy rubbed his forehead.

“Honestly,” he looked tiredly at Ron, “I don't know Ron. All I can say is you're going to hear some very unpleasant things…possibly things you didn't know but what I advise is not to loose your temper and don't be disrespectful. As Minister, Dad is under an enormous amount of pressure from the Wizengamot at present.”

“There are things happening I cannot discuss being in the position of Undersecretary but suffice it to say he is on tenterhooks. Just get in and get it over with. Take whatever punishment he decides on and run with it. I'll try and suggest the least unpleasant course of action. He listens to me and is relying on my past experience much more than he should I think but it gives me a little influence on some of his decisions. I won't make any promises but I'll do what I can.”

Ron wanted to rail against this outrageous treatment. He felt like he was being tried for some crime. He suddenly remembered how it must have felt for Harry when he had to go before the entire Wizengamot for breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic. If Harry had enough courage to face an entire Wizengamot then he could muster enough gumption to face his father…but Harry had Dumbledore to help him…Ron had Percy!

I'm doomed!

Ron held his hand out telling Percy to get on with it. Percy nodded and led Ron down the hall to the staircase on the right. They descended to the foyer and turned right to one of the large mahogany doors that lined the sides of the entryway.

Gibble appeared as if out of nowhere to open the door. He nodded at Percy with what appeared to be the greatest respect.

“Will the Minister and the Undersecretary require tea sir?”

“Thank you, yes,” Percy nodded to Gibble slightly, “That is most kind.”

Ron studied this seemingly simple exchange and marveled at the level of rigid formality of it all. Gibble glanced haughtily at Ron with one eyebrow raised as if to say, That's how things are done around here boy. Ron couldn't help but bristle with resentment. He tried to push those feelings aside as Percy first knocked then slowly pushed his way into the Minister's residential office.

As they entered the office Percy stiffly and formally announced their entrance.

“The Undersecretary requests permission to enter. I have brought Mr. Ronald Weasley as you have requested Minister.”

From where Ron was standing he took in the vast room that lay before him. It was huge. His father sat behind a massive and ornately carved wood desk. He looked rather small sitting behind it. Ron could see nothing more than the shiny bald spot on the top of his father's head as he sat hunched over a pile of parchment, the feather of his quill quivering as he wrote.

“Percy,” Ron heard his father's voice say without looking up from his work, “There's no need for such formality son. Come in and make yourselves comfortable. I'll be finished in a moment.”

Percy ushered Ron toward one of the chairs sitting in front of the huge desk. It was made of a heavy dark and ornately carved wood and covered with plush red leather. The back of the chair was ladder straight and as soon as Ron's bum hit the seat he was uncomfortable. Percy moved to another smaller desk off to the side of the office and gathered what appeared to be a folder. He came and settled in the chair next to Ron.

Gibble came in a moment later and placed a silver tea service on the corner of the desk. He placed a cup of tea down for Arthur then came around the desk and set one down for Percy. He completely ignored Ron's existence. He then bowed.

“Will there be anything else Excellency?” Gibble asked.

“No thank you Gibble,” Arthur replied without looking up, “That will be all.”

The man Friday seemed to evaporate into thin air.

They sat in silence for a long moment as his father worked feverishly on the stack of parchments. Percy sat sipping his tea. Finally Arthur slipped his quill into the ink well and leaned back in his chair peering across the desk at Ron for a moment. The look on his fathers face was both weary and a bit agitated.

Percy rose and passed the file he had picked up moments before across the desk to his father. Arthur took the file, laid it carefully on the desk in front of him and flipped it open. He studied the top document for a moment, let out a soft groan then looked back at Ron again.

“Ronald,” his father inquired, “Can you please explain what has gotten into you son? I suppose I can understand having a bit of fun but this…”

Arthur pulled a wizard photograph from the file and held it up so Ron could see it. It was a picture of him kissing Cassandra at Darby Danforth's party. He could see Danforth as well as a few other wizards in the background. Ron couldn't understand what the big deal was. He was just kissing the girl. It wasn't like they were shagging naked or something.

“She's just a bird I met dad,” Ron said a bit more defensively than he wanted, “We went to a few parties and had some fun. What's the bloody big deal?”

His father handed a piece of parchment over to Percy and his brother began to read it out loud.

“Cassandra Crenshaw…also known as Clair Crane, Daphne Brooks and sometimes goes by the professional name of Bubbles. She's been charged with eight counts of solicitation, three counts of attempted bribery and a jay walking charge. She's been convicted twice. Mr. Darby Danforth. Five counts of drunk and disorderly, two counts of collusion, prime suspect in several Muggle disappearances and presently under investigation for suspected involvement with Death Eaters.”

“What's Solicitation?” Ron asked a bit bewildered by what he was hearing.”

Percy couldn't help but smirk but his father looked glum.

“Erm, Ronald,” Percy replied, “I'm not sure how to tell you this but your little girlfriend is a lady of the evening!”

“A what?” Ron asked confused.

“Cassandra Crenshaw is a convicted prostitute Ron,” Arthur chimed in, “and that's not the half of it. We received this the other day from George. He told me Lee found it while going through some of his old issues. He said he was sure he had seen the girl somewhere before so he came up with this…”

Arthur handed Ron a magazine. He had seen one before. Seamus Finnigan had a copy tucked under his mattress at Hogwarts years ago. It was a copy of a tacky skin rag called The Sassy Sorceress. His father had a certain page marked with a tab. When Ron opened it there lay Cassandra wearing nothing more than a seductive smile as she waved up at him from a red satin covered bed.

Ron's blood went to ice as he starred at the pictures. Percy cleared his throat and Ron snapped his attention back to his father's stern gaze.

“I…I had no idea dad, honest!” Ron stammered.

“I believe him Minister,” Percy hastily added, “I believe while there is really no excuse for Ron's excessive drinking he truly didn't know anything about the girl's history or anything about Darby Danforth. It is in my opinion she was using Ron in order to take advantage of his fame and notoriety…”

Ron shot Percy an angry glare. He didn't believe for one moment Cassandra was taking advantage of him. She had never asked him for anything except wanting to be with him and have fun.

“That's not true,” Ron protested.

Percy held up a hand to stall his argument.

“Did you sign a contract with Rita Skeeter about a book deal you two came up with?” Percy asked calmly.

Ron paled, “Yah…how did you…”

Before he could finish his question Percy rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on Ronald! It's all over the Daily Prophet. Your little bird has contacted Ms. Skeeter several times inquiring about when the Galleons will start rolling in and how much your little book might fetch. I contacted Ms. Skeeter myself for corroboration.”

“I…I…” Ron stammered. He suddenly felt ill.

Arthur looked darkly at Ron for a moment.

“Your mother wanted you thrown in Azkaban for a few weeks to rid your befuddled brain of all this silly nonsense.”

“Azkaban!” Ron twitched like he had been struck in the face.

“Lucky for you she decided to visit with Fleur for the next few days.” Percy interjected, “seems Fleur's been a bit under the weather.”

“Calm down,” Arthur said. He rubbed his tired face with both hands, “We're not going to send you to Azkaban but I promised her that I would do…something with you.” His father looked off into the shadows of the corner of his office for a moment, “Maybe I can convince the Muggle Prime Minister to put you in his military for a while. That aught to teach you a bit of discipline at least.”

Ron began to sweat. He couldn't believe the mess he had gotten himself into. The prospect of being sent into the Muggle world frightened him beyond comprehension. He was about to do some serious groveling and pleading when his brother unexpectedly came to his rescue.

“I think that might be a bit extreme Minister,” Percy said frankly, “While I realize Ron has acted like a buffoon I really don't think the Muggle Military is the answer.”

“Have you any suggestions?” Arthur asked Percy. They were speaking as if Ron was no longer in the room.

“Actually I do Minister,” Percy nodded. “He still has one term left to complete at Hogwarts in order to be eligible for his N.E.W.T.S. I recommend sending him back to finish his last year. We can make it official by Decree if it will satisfy the Ministry.”

Ron knew Percy was actually referring to his mother, not the Ministry but the prospect of being forced to go back to Hogwarts was much more palatable then the alternatives.

His father nodded.

“Also,” Percy added, “I think Ron should be confined to the Minister's residential compound until the term at Hogwarts starts in September. That should satisfy mum.”

“I think that's a capitol idea! Write up an appropriate Decree and make certain it states he must finish his last term with acceptable marks.”

“Consider it done Minister,” Percy nodded.

“Oh,” Arthur added, “and better put a clause in there about being confined the school ground so he can't bolt if he were of the mind to.” He looked pointedly at Ron's pale face.

Percy nodded. Arthur rose stiffly from his chair and scooped up several rolls of sealed parchment.

“I have a meeting with the Undersecretary of Finance this morning at six-o' clock. I'll be at the Ministry until about nine.”

“Very well,” Percy rose as well. Ron sat still as death, his head still reeling from what had just taken place, “I'll have the Decree on your desk for approval within the hour.”

As Arthur came around his desk preparing to leave for the Ministry he laid his hand on Ron's shoulder.

“All I can say Ron is this is for your own good son,” Arthur said sadly. “Please don't squander this opportunity to set things to right.”

After Arthur left the office Ron could feel Percy's gaze boring a hole in the side of his head.

“That went much better than I thought,” Percy said with a sigh, “That whole Muggle Military thing came out of nowhere.”

Ron was still numb but the realization of what he had discovered about Cassandra depressed him. He turned to look at Percy.

“How did you find all that out about her?”

“I didn't!” Percy shrugged, “Most of this stuff was the back pages of the Prophet. All I did was contact Kingsley to verify if it was true or not. When Lee came up with those nude pictures I thought mum was going to spontaneously combust. You do see how badly this reflects on the family now don't you Ron?”

Ron could only nod. “I never meant…”

Percy stalled his apology with a hand placed on his shoulder.

“I know Ron,” he said quietly, “Look…just do us all a favor and behave yourself at Hogwarts. Once this mess blows over…and it will with a little time just try not to draw too much attention to yourself for a while ok? That will at least keep mum off your back. Dad doesn't need that kind of stress just now.”

“Alright,” Ron said looking off into space, “Guess I don't have much of a choice do I?”

“Consider the alternatives,” Percy chuckled then left the office.

Ron looked seriously at Percy for a moment.

“Thanks…for your help,” Ron said blushing slightly, “That was…” He wasn't sure what else to say.

Percy shook his head.

“I know I wasn't around for the family much over the past few years. I bought into Fudge's administration hook, line and float. I really thought I was doing the right thing. I thought loyalty was what was needed to succeed but…” he looked down at the floor for a moment. Ron stepped forward and put a hand on Percy's shoulder.

“That's not important any more Percy,” Ron said, “All that mess is in the past. You came to your senses in the end and that's what matters.”

Percy offered Ron a weak smile.

“I'm sorry things turned out so badly for you Ron.”

Ron waved him off as he sat back down in the chair with a heavy sigh.

“Ahh, I brought all this on myself. If I would have went to #12 and stayed with Harry none of this would have happened.”

Percy nodded and exited the office.

Ron sat where he was lost in contemplation. Finishing his final year at Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad but the thought of returning to the school without Harry or even Hermione made it seem empty and pointless.

He thought about being 18 and still in school. He wondered if old McGonagall would make him Head Boy if he inquired but then remembered she and her father were very close. He would be lucky if he wasn't tagged with a tracking charm after what had just transpired.

What will Harry and Hermione say when they find out I've been sequestered to Hogwarts!

He knew Harry would probably laugh. Hermione would most likely tell him it served him right for being a brainless twit.

He thought about Hermione for a moment. Surly she had read about his infamous exploits in the Daily Prophet. He wondered if she would ever speak to him again. For the first time since the end of their sixth year after Dumbledore's funeral he felt the first twinge of regret.

He knew there was no chance things would ever be the way they once were between the three of them and that made him feel worse than any punishment his father, the new Minister of Magic, could dish out.

He remembered what he had seen that night he looked into the Mirror of Erised. It amused him how differently and disappointing real life had become and how tenuous and fickle fame could be. He was certain at that moment the Mirror with all its empty promises of the future reflected nothing more than one's own selfish desires.

He vowed to himself as he got up and made his way from his father's office, if he ever saw that stupid Mirror again he would throw a rock through it…

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Thirteen - Warning

It wasn't unusual to find Sibyll Trelawney sitting at the end of the bar at The Three Broomsticks these days. As a matter of fact Madam Rosmerta considered the strange Hogwarts Divinations Professor somewhat of a fixture. There had been several times the pub owner had to summon Hagrid to come and escort the rather tipsy seer back to her quarters on the school grounds.

So it wasn't strange at all to see her sitting in her usual place on that rather stormy evening a few weeks before the new school term was to begin. As a mater of fact, the pub was enjoying a rather brisk night of business for a change, much to the joy of the proprietor.

Rosmerta was ecstatic Hogwarts was re-opening for the new term. Although the pub did a fair business with all the witches and wizards that had come to help repair the school it was still nice the repairs were now complete and the new term would start on schedule.

Thankfully she had been pardoned for her roll in allowing herself to be Imperioused and used by Draco Malfoy to try and deliver the cursed necklace to Dumbledore through a Hogwarts student. What very few people knew was…it hadn't been Draco at all…it had been Bellatrix Lestrange in the women's bathroom that night.

The death of the Dark Lord had brought about a renewed sense of comfort and normalcy there in Hogsmeade that had not existed in quite some time and the start of the new school term would help get things back to a somewhat normal rhythm. Even though many were still a bit hesitant to let go of their fears and weariness completely life was certainly beginning to move in the right direction.

For some like Professor Trelawney, whose life changes had little to do with the rise and fall of Voldemort she still found herself lamenting her fate and future. But no-one could have anticipated what was about to happen as many of the pub's regulars sat enjoying a quiet evening of drinks and casual conversation.

Hagrid entered the pub carrying the same old pink umbrella as Madam Rosmerta looked on in amusement.

“Evenin' Hagrid,” She greeted him with her ethereally gorgeous smile.

“Evenin' Rosy,” Hagrid smiled as he hung his damp overcoat on its usual peg behind the door, “Nasty weather ou' there tonigh'”

“The usual?” She asked.

“If ye' please my dear,” Hagrid replied as he slipped onto one of the stools at the bar. It groaned and creaked loudly in protest to Hagrid's excessive weight.

Rosmerta put the huge bucket-sized mug of ale down in front of Hagrid and after he set a few galleons on the bar he glanced over at Sibyll.

“Alrigh' there tonigh' Professor?” Hagrid asked but as his gaze lingered on the odd woman he noticed she looked strangely blank…at least more blank then she usually did when she had too much sherry.

As Rosmerta noticed Hagrid watching her Sibyll rose slowly from the stool and stood silently, arms stiff by her side, head lolled back and her mouth slack.

Hagrid's eyes went wide and he was about to leap off his stool to rush to her aid when she started speaking in a strange gravelly voice that was nothing like her own.

“Evil stirs once more in darkness

Born unto the house of the serpent

Ancient's magic within youth disguised

Will unchain the dead from restless slumber

To awaken upon the Savior's demise”

After the last words were spoken she seemed to slowly gather herself back into sobriety. Sibyll coughed and cleared her throat blinking her eyes rapidly then sat back down on her stool and resumed sipping her Sherry as if nothing what so ever had just taken place.

Hardly any of the other patrons even noticed Sibyll standing there much less spitting out another prophecy.

She glanced at Hagrid who was still frozen in place gaping at her.

“I…I'm sorry Hagrid. Did you say something dear?”

Hagrid slowly turned and found a stunned Madam Rosmerta looking back at him. They both uttered the same phrase at the exact same time…

“Not again!”

Rosmerta scrambled to fetch some parchment, quill and ink and she brought them to the bar where she and Hagrid tried to remember the words Sibyll had just said. When they were certain they had it right Rosmerta rolled the parchment, tied it with a string and handed it to Hagrid. She swallowed hard.

“You know what to do with this.”

Hagrid nodded with a sigh. He then gulped down his mug of ale and headed for his coat and umbrella. Tossing an irritated look over his shoulder at the barmy Divinations Professor he left the pub in a hurry mumbling epithets under his breath as he stepped back out into the driving rain.

At that same moment, deep in the bowls of the Ministry, in the Hall of Prophecies within the Department of Mysteries a small globe appeared high up on shelf number 99. It contained the bright blue swirling mist of a memory that flared once then faded to blend in with the surrounding globes. The small tag that dangled from the accompanying wooden base read;

Sibyll Trelawney,

8:15:31p.m. August 22^nd, 1999.

RE; Harry Potter; Tom Riddle;

And {S.S.}?

As Hagrid made for the winding staircase up to the Headmistress's office he was still in a very dark mood.

The barmy old tosspot's a' it again! Can't leave well enough alone can she!

He remembered long ago when Sibyll had done the very same thing and what had followed.

Out of her words of warning the Order of the Phoenix was born and even the combined knowledge and efforts of hundreds of experienced witches and wizards could not contain the evil that gripped the entire wizard world then.

The darkness of those days of the loss of so many of his friends still hung heavy in his heart and with the recent loss of his beloved friend and mentor Albus Dumbledore Hagrid felt more alone now than ever.

It was true he now had Grawpy to attend to but the biting emptiness never seemed to let up. It was too soon. The scars were still much too raw and the losses still too near to be going through something like that again.

He mulled over Trelawney's words again as he ascended the stairs.

Hagrid knew he wasn't the smartest bloke in the world but even he could see the obvious message in some of the phrases. There was only one evil he could remember that she would be warning about - but how? He was dead! Really dead this time…wasn't he? He had seen the corps with his own eyes.

As he reached the Headmistresses office door he could hear voices on the other side. It was clear to him that McGonagall was in conference with the portraits of the past Heads. He was reluctant to knock at first but realized the importance of what he was carrying and knew she would want to be informed.

He knocked a bit louder than he had intended and he realized the office beyond went completely silent.

“Come.” He heard McGonagall's muffled voice say from the other side of the door.

As Hagrid swept into the room he noticed all eyes on him. He glanced up to see Dumbledore looking down on him with a touch of amusement in his gaze.

“Evenin' Headmistress,” Hagrid said a bit nervous and nodded to the portrait hanging above McGonagall's head, “Professor.”

Dumbledore's likeness nodded with a warm smile but said nothing as Hagrid's attention fell back to the Headmistress.

“To what do I owe this unusual meeting Rubeus?” McGonagall asked peering at him over her tiny spectacles.

Hagrid blushed. He wasn't used to being addressed by his first name. He got right to the point.

“Bad business I'm afraid, Headmistress.”

McGonagall's eyebrows rose as Hagrid handed her the parchment Rosmerta had made.

She untied the parchment, uncoiled it and began to read. When she was finished she looked back up at Hagrid, a confused look on her face.

“I'm not certain I understand Rubeus. What does this mean?”

He recalled what happened at the Three Broomsticks less than an hour before. He watched as all the blood drained from the old Headmistresses face. The office was as still and silent as death.

“Are you absolutely certain Rubeus?” McGonagall asked in a dry voice. Her throat seemed to seize up.

Hagrid nodded and with that the office exploded into a cacophony of shouts, arguments and discussions from all the portraits in the room. Questions and comments were flying at them from every direction.

“What is the meaning of this,” yelled Everard.

“This is most upsetting,” hollered Dilys Derwent

“Can this mean the Dark Lord has returned…again? Preposterous!” shouted Armando Dippet.

“I've always said that barmy old woman was a few knuts short of a galleon,” added Phineas Nigellus Black.

Finally an aggravated McGonagall stood abruptly.

“SILENCE!” She hollered, “Please! I need a moment to think.”

Behind her she could hear Dumbledore chuckling under his breath.

“Well done Headmistress,” Dumbledore mumbled, “I didn't think you had it in you. Quite impressive.”

She glanced over her shoulder with such a dour look it made even him fall silent. McGonagall looked back at Hagrid.

“You say Sibyll uttered these words just now - tonight?”

“Yes Professor,” Hagrid said in a rather shaky voice, “Have you any clue what all tha' migh' mean?”

She sat for a moment and studied the words on the parchment.

“Evil stirs once more in darkness. Born unto the house of the serpent,” she repeated, “It's rather obvious who that refers to I would think…any thoughts Albus?” McGonagall turned to look speculatively up at the old Headmaster's image.

Dumbledore's painted eyes twinkled even from the canvas of his portrait as he stroked his long white beard for a moment lost in thought.

“The meaning of that statement seems obvious on the surface dear Minerva but I'm not quite certain it's that simple.” Dumbledore mused.

“It rarely ever is,” McGonagall sighed, “Please explain?”

“Well,” Dumbledore said, “We are relatively certain Tom Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort is quite dead, is he not?”

“Yes,” McGonagall responded, “I'm quite certain. His lifeless remains were sent to St. Mungo's. I saw the corps myself as did many others. What do you mean by relatively certain Albus?”

Dumbledore's image chuckled slightly.

“You do recall his proclivity for defying death?”

“What are you saying Albus?” McGonagall asked, becoming a bit nervous not certain she wanted to know the answer.

“All I'm saying, my dear friend, is that Tom Riddle was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin's Coat Of Arms contained a snake or what could be described as a serpent yes?”

“Of course,” McGonagall replied, “That is a well documented fact Albus. What of it?”

Dumbledore smiled again.

“That statement doesn't specifically name Tom Riddle. It simply states that evil stirs again once more. That being said one could surmise the possibility that there may be another…”

Dumbledore's response was followed by a long stretch of silence. It was Hagrid who broached it first.

“Another what professor?”

“Not precisely a what my dear Hagrid…but a whom I would think.” Dumbledore replied.

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore's portrait with shock.

“Are you saying what I think you're saying Albus?” She inquired.

“While it is only speculation on my part dear Minerva, I think yes. I am saying what you think I am saying.” Dumbledore's smile was that of great amusement as if he were enjoying himself immensely.

McGonagall was becoming a bit flustered. All the portraits in the room began buzzing in hushed but exited conversations with one-another. It was old Everard who piped up.

“You're saying there could be another heir of Slytherin Albus? I don't ever recall old Salazar having more than one child with his wife.”

“True…true,” Dumbledore replied, “but do you recall his wife's sir-name?”

All the portraits looked at each other with confusion. McGonagall's hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide. She had remembered.

“Salazar's wife's maiden name was…Black!”

“Quite right Headmistress,” Dumbledore gleefully stated, “I believe her first name was Isadora if I recall correctly. Hence the connection of the Black family to the Hogwarts Co-Founder, however you must also recall there is a connection of Slytherin to the Gaunt Family name as well. The only connection to this name I could find in Ministry records was with one Elladora Black born in 1850 I believe. The only record to connect the Gaunt name is a single marriage certificate issued to Elladora and one Magnus Gaunt in 1871. It was through this single document I was able to make the connection of Tom Riddle to the Slytherin name all those years ago when I found him in that orphanage.”

“I believe Salazar's wife's name was actually Illzadora Headmaster,” Phineas Black corrected.

Dumbledore nodded, “I stand corrected Phineas.”

“So why was this fact left out of the Black Family history,” Minerva asked.

Dumbledore's held a hand toward Phineas Black's portrait.

“I believe we must consult a Black family expert for that answer.”

The old Slytherin Headmaster's face contorted as if he was chewing on something that tasted unpleasant. McGonagall crossed her arms and glared at the painting.

“Well Phineas?” She asked haughtily.

“It was because Magnus Gaunt was a Muggle!” Phineas spit, “Elladora was a disgrace to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!”

The rest of the paintings murmured loudly.

“You knew?” McGonagall said. She suddenly looked as if she had been confunded.

“Did I know then young Tom was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? Yes. Did I know he would grow up to become the Dark Lord Voldemort? Of course not however I suspected he would be…how shall I put it…different.”

“So what does all that have to do with this new prophecy Albus?” Phineas Nigellus Black inquired.

“I'm certain I'm not sure Phineas however a clue lies in the next statement of this new prophecy I think.” Dumbledore peered down at Minerva with a playful smile.

McGonagall turned back to the parchment and read the next line out loud.

“Ancient's magic within youth disguised,” McGonagall turned again to Dumbledore's portrait expectantly, “I'm not sure I follow Headmaster.”

“If we take that statement at face value one could ascertain that it could be someone young in years protected by ancient magic much as Harry Potter was protected by Lilly's sacrifice those years before. However, if you examine the statement more closely…”

McGonagall studied the phrase on the parchment for a long moment until her head snapped up.

“I don't think that's what this phrase is saying at all Headmaster!”

“Really?” Dumbledore looked surprised, “What is your assessment Headmistress?”

“I believe it could be telling us that someone old…very old may be disguised as someone much younger.” McGonagall replied looking up at the portrait.

Dumbledore's face split in a wide grin.

“Excellent deduction my dear Minerva,” The old Headmaster said, “I believe you've hit the head on the nail as the Muggles would say.”

“Erm…beggin' yer pardon Professor Dumbledore sir,” Hagrid interjected a bit sheepishly, “I thin' tha's hittin' the nail on the head but ye' were close.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore grinned, “Of course. Thank you Rubeus.”

McGonagall gave them both a look of irritated contempt.

“Would it be possible for us to remain focused on the matter at hand?”

Both Dumbledore and Hagrid reddened brightly. When Minerva turned back toward her desk to continue to decipher the phrases before her Dumbledore stuck his tongue out at the Headmistress.

Hagrid had to turn around to stifle a sudden fit of laughter that threatened to spill out. Luckily McGonagall noticed nothing but all the rest of the portraits were stifling their own grins and chuckles.

“So what are we to make of the final two lines of this phrase?” McGonagall asked no-one in particular, “Will unchain the dead from restless slumber…To awaken upon the Savior's demise.”

“It seems to suggest,” McGonagall continued, “the possibility that someone who is deceased at present will be brought back to life…but that's impossible. No-one can be brought back from the dead. You've said so many times yourself have you not Albus?”

“Indeed Minerva,” Dumbledore's visage changed from jovial playfulness to serious insightfulness in an instant. “I agree those who've…gone on can not be brought back to the living world as we know it but what if the one spoken of here has not…passed on yet.”

McGonagall glared at his image on the canvas again.

“I swear Albus if you don't cease speaking in riddles I'll have your portrait transferred to the boy's lavatory on the second floor!”

He held up his hands, his eyes twinkling again.

“I mean no disrespect Minerva. I'm merely suggesting that it's possible for some to linger. Think of the Hogwarts Ghosts for example. While they are not here among you in corporal form you can see and interact with them. It is the same for us contained within our portraits. We are not alive in the conventional sense but we are here just the same, are we not? And I don't think it a stretch of our imagination to consider who the Savior is the prophecy speaks of.”

All within the Headmistresses office mulled over Dumbledore's words in silence for a long moment.

McGonagall found herself collapsing into her chair behind her desk staring at nothing in particular.

“Oh no,” she whispered bringing her hand to her mouth, “Magical Saints preserve us Albus, not again! The poor lad! I think Harry Potter has had enough of this kind of nonsense to last a lifetime. Who else could the Savior be?”

“Not again. Tha's just what Rosie and I said when we heard Sibyll speak those words Professor.” Hagrid added, “So what do we do now? Who do you thin' the youth is the prophecy is talkin' abou'?”

“I have no clue Rubeus,” McGonagall replied with a tired grimace. Her mind turned over all the possibilities of someone that might fit that description and one face in particular kept coming up in her mind but she brushed it aside for reasons unknown. It was preposterous, ridiculous enough not to share it with the others.

Hagrid looked at the Headmistress with a worried expression.

“Do ye' thin' we should warn Harry?” He asked.

It was Dumbledore who responded.

“While I am the first to take Harry's safety into consideration I don't think it wise to burden the lad with this just yet. I think everyone will agree he is most capable of taking care of himself. I believe whatever this prophecy reveals will manifest itself in time just as it did before. Revealing details prematurely my prevent events from occurring at all.”

“But he could be in grave danger Professor sir!” Hagrid replied adamantly.

“I believe many underestimate Harry's abilities. You must remember he has Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley who will assist in times such as these. They make a formidable triumvirate if I do say so myself.”

“The Golden Trio,” McGonagall whispered with lips pursed.

“Indeed!” Dumbledore said with a wide smile and settled back into his chair folding his hands on his lap as he relaxed. The twinkle in his painted eyes never had shown brighter.

End…Part One

A/N…After doing a few various forms of research I've discovered there isn't much that exists to connect Slytherin to the Black Family so I've taken creative license here to make that connection using canon names and history. I heard a statement somewhere that informed us that `back in the day' it wasn't unusual for Pure-Blood Wizard families to inter-marry so one could assume that would have been true for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black as well.

There isn't much information that exists about Slytherin's family tree and his connection to the family name of Gaunt however the Gaunt connection to Tom Riddle is well documented.

One thing that does puzzle me is the Gaunt connection to the Peverell name. If you recall Marvolo's ring possessed the symbols of the Hallows which was believed to be the Peverell Coat of Arms. If the Gaunts came into possession of said ring by inheritance then it would suggest some form of Peverell connection to the Slytherin name as well, hence a connection (somewhere down the family tree) to the Potter Family name. I found this connection (although unconfirmed) quite curious and a bit confusing.

Many thanks to Steve Vander Ark's (on line) Lexicon for containing excellent reference information. It has helped immensely in the creation of this story!

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter 14 - The Ministry for Magic

Arthur Weasley stood looking out over nighttime downtown London with hands clasped behind his back. The large picture window of his office at the Ministry ran with streaks of rain that lashed the enchanted view. Crooked fingers of lightning lit up the city with a dull white light as the low rumble of thunder followed close behind.

The early fall, or perhaps late summer, storms that rumbled over the British Isles was typical for this time of year. It was fitting to his mood none the less.

He had imagined many times what it would be like to sit at the Minister's post but nothing in his most elaborate musings could have prepared him for the utter mess he now faced.

He recalled very clearly what he had felt when he was told he had been nominated to the top job. He was thrilled, elated and flattered beyond comprehension. The pomp and pageantry of the swearing in ceremony was filled with happiness and a clear sense of relief for all. Now, after only three weeks as Minister, he was beginning to realize he may have prematurely jumped feet first and completely blindfolded into a proverbial meat grinder.

The Ministry was in utter chaos after the occupation by Voldemort's lot. While most of the damage and destruction was confined to the office of the Minister and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the Death Eaters and those under their control had done their jobs well.

It took more than a week just to sort out the Minister's office and wade through the devastated records from the past administrations. It was only yesterday that his son Bill managed to break through the entangled magic that was placed on the Minister's vault and safes that contained highly sensitive Ministry financial information only to find almost all the existing Ministry funds had been stolen.

Millions of galleaons in Wizard bonds and tax receipts had been liberated leaving the Ministry on the verge of financial collapse.

At once, Arthur had attempted to invoke a little known Ministry law that was put in place to protect Ministry assets from just such a thing but Gringotts was being very uncooperative at present.

The Goblins were still plenty sore about the breach of security at the Wizard bank as well as the massive amount of damage done to the age-old establishment. They were angry no-one had been prosecuted and punished for the crime. If it were not for the fact that Bill was a Weasley the Goblins would not have given him permission to break the curses that seemed to entangle the entire Ministry.

The Wizengamot had issued a provision that, in the case of theft or attempted embezzlement all Ministry financial assets and accounts would be automatically frozen for protection and no one individual could claim or cash in stolen bonds or gain access to Ministry assets. This was indeed the case. The Goblins clamped down the Ministry accounts and refused to allow access to the assets by his office.

It would take a unanimous decision by the Wizengamot to gain access to any of the Ministry accounts and at present, with some members of the wizard governing body being implicated as Death Eater sympathizers, a full meeting of the Wizengamot was almost impossible for now. However, even then, without the actual bonds being in the possession of the Ministry access would still be denied.

To make matters even more complicated, Arthur's first meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister had not gone well. It had been only two days after he had been sworn in as the new Minister for Magic when the Prime Minister had sent a message demanding a meeting at once.

As a result of that meeting Arthur had been informed, none too politely, his administration would be held financially accountable for a vast majority of the damage sustained to muggle London as a result of what the Prime Minister called “your war!” The Muggles expected reparations to the bridge that was destroyed as well as many other buildings and structures. The amount of galleons necessary to cover the cost was going to be staggering to say the least.

The Prime Minister also informed Arthur any Civil liability that arose from Muggles missing or outright killed during the conflict would be passed on to his administration as well.

After the meeting Arthur felt like a well beaten bludger after a grueling Quidditch match. He also felt Wizard/Muggle relations had taken a major step backward.

Adding all that to the antics of his son Ronald he was beginning to think he had made a horrible mistake in accepting his appointment. Even though Arthur cared little what other's thought of him and his family Ron's indiscretions had, much to his dismay, given his new administration an unintended black eye with many of the wizard public.

If it had not been for Percy's quick thinking and insightfulness in such matters things would have been much worse. The Undersecretary's timely and well thought out press conference had eased much of the tension and pressure being put on his office. It was the first of its kind since Arthur could remember. Usually the Wizard Press just chased down and accosted whoever they wanted to question without regard for privacy. This new way was much more organized and kept the Minister insulated from being hounded by those wanting answers to questions he wasn't sure he could answer.

Arthur remembered the meeting well. Percy had been brilliant.

A room had been hastily prepared down on the second floor in the Division of Wizengamot Administration Services. It was about the only secure location within the Ministry at the moment.

Percy Weasley had sent owls to as many members of the Wizard Press as he could find within the Ministry records. With the date and time of the press conference set Arthur had voiced his concerns and skepticisms of Percy's decision.

“Do you think it wise to call attention to all that is happening just now Percy? It seems to me it would be better to wait until we had some good news to convey.” Arthur looked at Percy with eyebrows pinched together.

“We need to get on top of this situation Minister. There is much rumor and speculation floating around out there right now. You've read the Prophet. You know what people are saying. We need to set the record straight and try to stop some of the bleeding before things get beyond our control.”

Arthur looked pointedly at his son. He was proud of Percy for how he had stepped up and took charge of keeping the `hounds' at bay and standing between him and the muddled nonsense that battered at his office door daily. It allowed Arthur to focus on the important matters he needed to attend to.

“Promise me you won't lie or use those old misdirection tactics Cornelius Fudge used to use?” Arthur asked.

Percy cracked a wry grin, “I promise Dad…I mean Minister, nothing but the truth as we know it.”

The meeting room was filled with eager-looking faces of every stripe as the Undersecretary stepped to the podium set on a raised platform at the front. A low rumble of buzzing conversations came to an abrupt halt and the only sounds that could be heard as Percy took to the platform were those of his own footsteps on the hollow wooden dais.

When he reached the podium hands started reaching for the ceiling and questions began being hurled at him from all sides. The noise was almost stifling. When Percy held up both hands the crowd quieted almost at once but there were some who would not be denied. A few questions lingered but he chose to ignore them. He had a clear set agenda and was not about to be bullied into changing it.

“Please…please,” Percy said loudly to quell any opposition to his control over the proceedings, “I assure you, you will have a chance to pose your inquiries but I have a statement I would like to make that may answer many of them. Please hold your questions until then.”

Percy paused looking out over the crowd waiting until he was sure everyone was willing to cooperate. When they all sat in silence he continued.

He knew these reporters and media people were like piranha. If they smelled just a hint of blood the feeding frenzy would be ugly and vicious. Many still smarted from being completely hoodwinked by the Fudge Administration and the complete tight-lipped office of the useless Rufus Scrimgeour. Percy had recognized many of the faces in the crowd and remembered how Fudge had manipulated all of them. Now, however, was not the time for innuendo or misdirection. He cleared his throat.

“As many of you know this new administration is being headed by a well known and much respected wizard who most of you know personally. However, having said that I feel it is my duty to remind you that he has only been in office for three weeks.”

“Arthur Weasley, our new Minister for Magic has inherited an administration in turmoil, not only from the Death Eater occupation but from the past three administrations as well. As many of you already know those administration's tenures were short-lived and left many more questions then answers.”

“The first issue I would like to address is one of grave concern. There is speculation that there has been wide spread infiltration of the Wizengamot by the former Dark Lord's followers…”

With that statement many sat up straighter and listened intently with quills poised over parchment or `Quick-Quotes” quills quivering in anticipation of his next words.

“The truth is that at present I cannot comment on that particular issue due to an ongoing investigation into these allegations within the Ministry. I can assure you there is no immediate threat from any of Voldemort's known associates and any found to be sympathetic to his cause will be uncovered and dealt with appropriately.”

“Irregardless of what you've heard about the state of the Ministry at present I can assure you we are in complete control. Yes, things are in disarray right now but we are working tirelessly in setting the various departments to right.”

“As many of you also know, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been appointed as Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and has submitted plans for significant changes to that Department pending approval from not only the Minister's office but the Wizengamot as well.”

“I'm sure many of you have seen the increased Auror presence in such places as Diagon Alley and around Hogsmeade. These are some of the preliminary changes that are taking place.”

“However, due to the current state of the investigations any meetings of the full administrative body have been suspended until our investigations have been concluded. I have been told by the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement it will be approximately two weeks hence.”

“The Minister has had an initial meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister to discuss issues pertaining to the Muggle world addressing the damage caused by this recent conflict. Negotiations are on-going so details of those negotiations cannot be revealed for obvious reasons. Relations with the Muggle world are strained at present as I'm sure you can all understand so it is a very delicate situation that needs to be handled with the utmost discretion.”

“After much discussion the Minister has decided to appoint a liaison to the office of the Prime Minister to alleviate some of the pressure. Former Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge has been assigned to that post via the Department of Muggle Affairs Office and will report directly to the Minister.”

That announcement caused the crowd of reporters to buzz with hushed conversations. A few brave correspondents even went so far as to stand up but were quelled by the Undersecretary's raised hands.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen you will all have your chance to ask questions in a moment. Please bear with me…” Percy waited until the gathering quieted once again, “Thank you.”

“The decision to appoint Mr. Fudge to the position of liaison was due to the former Minister's familiarity of the Muggle Prime Minister's office. We felt it important to have a familiar face in place to work with the Muggle world at present. We feel Mr. Fudge is most qualified to competently carry out his duties as liaison and will be an asset to the Ministry in this position.”

Percy took a long breath and continued.

“I know many of you have questions regarding our relationship with Gringotts and the Goblins. At present relations are strained with them as well as a result of what occurred during the conflict with the Dark Lord Voldemort. I assure you we are doing everything within our power to improve the situation between the Goblin community and wizards. Please understand that the Minister's office has no official comment on this particular situation and will be working as best we can with the Goblins to repair this relationship as expediently as possible.”

“On a more pleasant note, I would like to announce that reparations to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are complete and the new school term will begin as scheduled. The Ministry would like to thank everyone who volunteered and worked tirelessly to bring our historical educational institution back to its former glory. Those involved should be praised for their diligence and self-sacrifice to get the job done. Thank you one and all.”

“In the very near future The Minister's office as well as the Wizengamot hope to be announcing the latest recipients of the prestigious Order of Merlin to be awarded for bravery and sacrifice to the cause of freedom and justice during this latest conflict with the dark forces that threatened our lives. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen we all here at the Ministry take the sacrifices by so many very seriously and wish to reward those who paid the ultimate price for our security. As many of you may know that sacrifice hit very close to me personally as well as the members of my family and the Order of the Phoenix.”

Percy paused to gather his suddenly scattered thoughts as memories of Fred flooded his mind.

“We will announce the date and time of the Award Ceremony as soon our investigations have been concluded.”

“Now…” Percy looked out over the crowd with apprehension and dread at the thought of what kind of questions he would shortly be subjected to but he had asked for this so, thrusting his chin forward he continued, “as I promised you may begin your questions as I call on you.”

Almost everyone in the throng stood with hands raised. Percy looked out over them and selected a person at random. He pointed to a tall, skinny woman wearing a lime green hat.

“Delilah Dillywig, Daily Prophet. Thank you, Undersecretary for taking my question. Is it true what they are saying about Digby Danforth? Has he been implicated as a Voldemort supporter?”

Percy groaned internally. They would push for classified information and he was bound by duty to stand his ground. He knew it would make this administration seem evasive and secretive but there was no help for it.

“As I said prior, I can not comment on any of our investigations at this time as it may compromise them. Any member of the Wizengamot implicated as possible associates of the Death Eaters will be discovered and dealt with according to our laws.”

While Ms. Dillywig didn't appear to be all that pleased with the response she made no further protest. Percy pointed at the next reporter.

“Anatol Zanzibar, Bulgarian Wizard News, Undersecretary. What about the remaining Death Eaters who are still at large?”

Percy's response to that question was immediate and decisive.

“We are aware that there still may be some minor players still at large but as you should know most of Voldemort's high level subordinates were killed in the final confrontation at Hogwarts. I have been assured by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that finding and bringing to justice any remaining followers of the Dark Lord is our number one priority. However, to our knowledge there have been no reported attacks or incidents involving what remains of Voldemort's camp but we remain on full alert just the same.”

The foreign correspondent's quill quivered across his parchment as he nodded in response. For the most part everyone was being sensible and Percy began to relax slightly but he knew the tough questions were yet to come. He nodded to the next person.

“Fenton Arbuckle, Daily Prophet. What about Lucius Malfoy? I heard he has been taken into custody?”

“Yes,” Percy replied, “Lucius Malfoy has been detained by the Ministry and awaits trial before the full Wizengamot however as I previously stated any hearings have been postponed due to the on-going investigations. We are not prepared to set a trail date at present but as soon as we do you will be among the first to know.”

“Sebastian Brint-Humbolt, International Wizard Press. Will he receive the Dementor's Kiss?”

“I cannot answer that question. It will be up to the Wizengamot to decide Lucius Malfoy's fate.”

He pointed at the women to his right.

“Gloria McDoogal, Scottish Wizard-Times. I must say, Undersecretary this press meeting was a brilliant idea. My question is, are there any Death Eaters left in the Ministry? Those who bear the Dark Mark?”

“Thank you Miss McDoogal. We thought this much more organized and informative than what the press was previously subjected to by past administrations. I'm glad you approve. To answer your inquiry there are none that we are aware of. Our initial sweep of Ministry Personnel has not revealed anyone from Voldemort's camp but Kingsley is still looking into those matters as well as many others at present.”

“Gustov Prestovinichek, Albanian Wizard-Herald. Is the wizard public in danger of any reprisals from survivors of the Dark Lord's followers?”

“While I am certain there is no major threat the truth is…until we've rounded up all who were in league with Voldemort the Ministry will remain on high alert. I would be remiss if I did not caution everyone to remain diligent and watchful for any suspicious behavior. Having said that however, we do not wish to create paranoia nor do we encourage the public to partake in `witch hunts' as the old saying goes. We will investigate any and all claims of the conduct of dark magic or subversive behavior but please allow the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to conduct the investigations. We don't want to imprison our neighbors for having a bad case of spattergroit or something equally as silly.”

There was a smattering of laughter throughout the crowd at that response.

“Randolph Hurzog, London Times, Undersecretary.”

At that announcement many of the witches and wizards in the crowd sucked in a collective gasp. It was unexpected for a muggle reporter to be in their midst.

“Is there any danger from the remaining Dementors? Are they still on the loose?”

“That's an excellent question Mr. Hurzog and the answer is no. All the original surviving Dementors have been rounded up by the Ministry and are back under our control however there may be a few breeding grounds yet to be discovered but we are still looking for them.”

“The Minister's office is in the process of producing a pamphlet that will educate the wizard public about Dementors, how to recognize one and what to do if one is encountered. This is highly unlikely but just to be on the side of safety we will be distributing those within the next few days. Zeno Lovegood, the editor of the Quibbler has graciously volunteered to produce, publish, print and distribute those for us and we would like to thank him for his generosity and good will.”

Percy paused with a quizzical look on his face.

“I must ask, Mr. Hurzog - I'm just a bit more than curious why the Muggle press is interested in wizard affairs? Surely you're not planning on printing this in the Times? It would be a serious breech in the International Statute of Secrecy would it not?”

It seemed that the entire room was holding its collective breath waiting for his response to the Undersecretary's plausible question.

“I assure you Undersecretary,” Mr. Hurzog replied, “I'm her on the behest of the Prime Minister's office and any information I collect shall go no further than his desk.”

“I see,” Percy sighed in slight relief, “Very good then.”

At that moment Rita Skeeter stood and without introduction, preamble or recognition from the podium fired off those questions Percy had been dreading. She stood swathed in expensive jewelry and impeccably dressed in custom-tailored business robes that announced her recent success with her literary efforts. The smug smile that plastered her overly-plump lips seemed to leave all with the impression of someone who thrives on controversy and stirring up the pot of gossip and subtle innuendo.

Percy cringed inwardly as he prepared himself for what he knew would be a distasteful experience.

“Does the Minister think it wise to appoint Cornelius Fudge to the position of Muggle Liaison? Seems to me he greatly abused his powers as Minister to try and subjugate the truth of Voldemort's return. If Wizard/Muggle relations are as tenuous as you say why should the Minister trust him to this important position?”

Percy took a deep breath and considered her question. He had to admit he had asked the same question of the Minister when his father told him of his plan.

“The Minister has the utmost confidence in Mr. Fudge's ability to carry out his duties in the position without question and the rest of his officers are behind this appointment as well. While there may be some question concerning Mr. Fudge's appointment as a result of his previous administration I assure you those issues have been addressed and discussed at length. Mr. Fudge has graciously accepted the post and has expressed nothing less than complete loyalty to the cause. The Prime Minister agrees and at present that means volumes in this climate.”

Percy leaned over the podium and stared pointedly at Ms. Skeeter.

“The Minister, as well as I, believes everyone deserves a second chance...” he paused dramatically, “Don't you, Ms. Skeeter?”

She knew at once he was referring to her subversive activity at Hogwarts years before regarding how she was able to get within the confines of such a secure location to gain access to certain inside details. She had just barely kept the subsequent discovery of her being an unregistered Animagus out of the press. She still cursed the little `busy-body' who discovered her secret.

Rita blushed to the roots of her copper-colored hair but pressed on without pause.

“You are the Minister's son, are you not? Mr. Weasley? Do you think it a conflict of interest to have a family member in such a high ranking position within the Minister's camp? Do you not have a position of influence over the Minister's decisions?”

Percy's visage took on a dark hue for the briefest of moments as he turned his gaze to Rita Skeeter's benign smiling face. His voice remained calm and controlled but dropped to a deep resonance that emanated authority.

“I assure you that my last name has little to do with my dedication to my position. I take the job of Undersecretary very seriously no matter whose name in on the Minister's office door. I was, much to my dismay, just as loyal to the Fudge Administration at the time of his tenure in office. While some of his decisions were questionable, I stood by my appointment as Assistant Secretary and did not question the Minister's rationality. Some say I should have but my loyalty was with the Office, not the man. I'm sure if I become unstable in my position or start making questionable decisions you all,” he swept the gathering with an arm, “will be more than willing to let me know right away.”

Percy smiled out at the crowd genuinely. Some of the agents laughed heartily at his statement. Rita wasted no time in dropping the next bomb.

“Do you have any comment on the antics of one of the Golden Trio, Ronald Weasley who is, I presume, one of your brother's if I'm not mistaken. How does his…” Rita paused for dramatic effect, “behaviors reflect on the current Administration?”

Percy inwardly cringed at the inquiry. He knew the subject would be breached and he was fully prepared to respond but it still made his insides squirm uncomfortably. It simply amazed him that with all the other more important issues to worry over this frivolous drivel needed to be addressed. Even he was surprised that the wizard public even cared about such things at present but here he was, standing in the proverbial spotlight requesting he answer for his brother's stupid indiscretions in an official capacity. It was simply ridiculous. He took a deep breath, leaned forward on the podium and plastered a very stern but neutral look on his face.

“Please allow me to make something very clear to you all. The Minister's office has no official comment on the conduct of Ronald Weasley or anything that may, or may not be reported on this lad in the press. Yes, Mr. Weasley is the Minister's son and as his father these issues are being handled.”

“This side issue has no bearing on the Minister's official capacity and has no effect on his ability to carry out his duties as an elected official of his office. We would appreciate that your questions pertain to issues related to his office and not those of a personal nature. However, unofficially, Mr. Ronald Weasley will be attending his final term at Hogwarts this fall to finish his education at the request of his parents. What he chooses to do upon graduation is his own choice.”

“We would hope that his contribution to the demise of Voldemort and the subsequent destruction of the Death Eaters, which was substantial, would overshadow any silly adolescent mistakes of judgment that may have occurred over the past few weeks. Need I remind you there are much larger problems to contemplate and correct at present.”

With his response Rita Skeeter seemed to physically shrink in size. Even though she still stood with her smarmy little smirk splayed across her face and her Quick Quotes Quill quivering ceaselessly across her notebook everyone in the room knew she had just been verbally spanked by the administration. The only recognition of that by Rita was the small rosy little patches that appeared on her cheeks.

With as much dignity and aloofness as she could retain she sat back in her seat. The rest of the session were general questions about disappearances and deaths as well as the state of the various Ministry departments and what was being done to correct them.

The correspondent from the London Times inquired about the many missing or dead Muggles. While it was difficult for Percy to put into words how horrible the idea was that those of his world had been responsible for the deaths of so many, what he did not tell him was that the administration possessed the knowledge that it was a list that was created by Hermione Granger that was used to systematically eliminate those who were placed on it innocently for no other reason than abhorrent evil. There was no reason he could think of to throw the young woman to the lions for such a thing. All agreed it wasn't her fault so that was the only truth he had kept from the press that day.

His conscience was clear.

When the stories and articles came out the following day the tone of those reports were much less vitriolic and hateful. Almost all praised the Ministry for the press meeting and considered it a smashing success. To Percy's knowledge, there was only one who had anything detrimental to say about it. One didn't need to possess an extensive imagination to figure out who that was.

While there was only a small portion of her article in the Prophet devoted to blasting, quite anemically, the Ministry for being as secretive and closed-lipped as always Rita Skeeter seemed more interested in announcing the first edition of her new publication, The Wizardly Inquisitor. It was touted to be a weekly publication devoted to what she described as “the true truth” whatever that was.

She was also more than thrilled to announce the up-coming release of her new book,' The Demise of Darkness; The Final Days of Lord Voldemort' but what struck Percy as significant was there was absolutely no mention of Ron's name anywhere in the article as being the source of the book. That suited him just fine for now. He would worry about the details later.

They all had enough to worry about at present.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Fifteen - Assistance

When Harry opened his eyes he found himself disconcerted for a moment. While he remembered Hermione pleading with him to stay the night before and recalled settling in what she had called their guest room for the night he still found himself a bit out-of-sorts to realize he wasn't in #12.

The room was three times the size of his old room at the Dursley's and larger yet than Sirius' room at #12. The furnishings were all modern and the décor was quite nice. The bed he had slept in was huge in comparison to any other he had ever been in and quite comfortable.

He lay there in wonder that his life had been so utilitarian. He also wondered if most other Muggles lived this way.

Surely not? Hermione's parents were professionals. That afforded them a bit more than most others…didn't it?

It amazed him just how limited his views and experiences were of either world he was part of. He was brought out of his reverie by the sounds of soft footsteps in the hall. As he listened they stopped just outside his room door. There was a soft knock followed by Hermione's timid voice.

“Harry? Are you awake?”

Harry reached for his glasses and sat up. He realized he was wearing a pair of dark blue pajama bottoms. He knew at once they must have been Mr. Grangers because Harry had never owned such a nice pair of sleeping trousers.

“Yes Hermione,” he replied, “I'm up.” He looked around the room and could see it had an adjoining bathroom in the far right corner. The door was slightly ajar and he could see a sink and mirror above. “I'll be out in a moment. I just want to wash up a bit. Is that alright?”

“Of course it's alright,” Hermione answered, “What a silly question! I'll be in the kitchen when you're finished. I'll put some coffee on and I think I might be able to find something to eat. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook.”

“Not to worry,” Harry said with a smile as he made his way to the lavatory, “I'll help with breakfast. I've had plenty of practice.”

After washing up and doing his business he scourgified the clothes he had on the night before and went to find Hermione in the kitchen mostly shuffling things about without actually doing any cooking. The smell of rich Turkish coffee seemed to fill the whole first floor as he entered the modern space.

When he found Hermione she was reading the preparation instructions on a package of porridge. He chuckled to himself until he took in what his best friend was wearing. When it finally sunk into his sleep-hazed brain he almost swallowed his tongue.

Hermione was wearing nothing more than a very thin white tank top and a very small pair of white boy shorts. Her hair was a mess but she had captured her long tresses into a hasty pony tail tied with what looked like an old shoelace. He couldn't help but think she looked a bit discombobulated but as he took in her appearance from her small bare feet to the tip of her cute little nose he couldn't help but realize how suddenly warm the kitchen was.

He tried desperately to quell the thoughts that were invading his mind at the moment as he moved to look over her shoulder. The sad smile she gave him when she looked up almost made his heart skip a beat or two.

“Morning,” Hermione said, “How does porridge sound? It's about all I know how to make without the possibility of burning down the entire house.”

Harry reached out and snatched the package from her grasp with a wry grin.

“You mean there's something I know how to do the clever Ms. Granger doesn't? I should alert the Daily Prophet. They might want to put it on the front page.”

Hermione folded her arms and gave Harry a rather dark look. He had to tear his gaze from her as he discovered how thin the material of her tank top was.

“I think that's more the Quibbler's type of headline,” Hermione replied.

“Just point me to the food and stand back,” Harry said chuckling, “I'll take care of the rest. I guess all those years living with the Dursley's wasn't a total waste.”

Harry busied himself making them a scrumptious breakfast of scrambled eggs, perfectly light and fluffy mixed with tender chunks of honey ham and cheese. He added chopped and fried potatoes and lightly toasted slices of bread on the griddle to finish things off.

“Harry, this is delicious!” Hermione gushed as she completely annihilated two whole plates of the tasty nosh.

“Thanks,” Harry replied with a smile, “Nice to be able to take care of you instead of it being the other way round.”

Sadness washed across Hermione's features for an instant and it made Harry regret having said it but she rallied quickly to the blank, emotionless look that seemed to dominate her character of late.

“So what are your plans for today?” Hermione asked.

Harry simply shrugged.

“Don't really have any plans to speak of.” he replied a bit glumly, “It's not like I can take a stroll or hang out in Diagon Alley or something. That would probably cause a bloody riot, ridiculous really. What about you?”

“I'm off to St. Mungo's this morning to see my parents then I thought I would pop over to Hogwarts. I'm going to ask Headmistress McGonagall if I can use the library to do some research on their condition now the school is mostly repaired…see if I can find some kind of solution. There has to be something somewhere that can tell me what happened to their memories. There's plenty about Wizards who've suffered memory loss and spell damage but almost nothing exists about Muggles. It's almost as if we don't count.”

Harry didn't miss the desperation in her voice or the worried look that settled upon her beautiful face. He was all too aware of the prejudices that existed between Wizards and Muggles. The sentiments reached far beyond Voldemort. He had been witness to both sides of it. He remembered how his Aunt and Uncle viewed those of the magical world and the ill feelings Wizards had toward Muggles was well documented throughout history.

It didn't make it any easier to realize Hermione was caught between both worlds with the struggles she now found herself in. He suddenly wished he had paid more attention in both his Muggle schools and at Hogwarts. He felt like a complete brainless oaf sitting next to her.

If she was stumped that meant there was little hope for the rest of them. That revelation made him feel slightly sick.

“Mind if I tag along with you today?” Harry asked not really knowing what else to do with himself. “I'm not sure if I can be of any help but I'll try.”

Hermione seemed to brighten only slightly but tried to offer him a smile none the less.

“Thanks Harry,” she replied, “That's awfully kind of you.”

Hermione leaned over the table and kissed Harry on the cheek. It took everything he possessed in the manners department not to gawk down her tank top when she leaned over.

If I have to endure much more of this I'm going to become completely brain dead!

Fortunately Hermione noticed nothing as a cold sweat broke out on Harry's forehead due to the fact the instead of sitting right back down Hermione lingered close to Harry for a moment looking deeply into his eyes before she reluctantly settled back into her chair.

In that moment he couldn't help recall what happened the night before. The feeling of her warm soft lips on his and the desperate way she had kissed him. He tried telling himself as he lay in bed it was just her disheveled emotional state that caused her to react but as he sat there at the kitchen table peering into her sad brown eyes he could not stop the realization something had happened. He also realized she had felt it as well.

But when Hermione blinked it was as if sobriety returned and she quickly settled back into her chair, small patches of red rising up on her cheeks.

The moments that followed found them clearing the table. Harry declared the dishes off limits seeing how he was already dressed so he shooed her off to her room to dress while he cleaned up with the help of a little magic.

It was a good feeling to use his own wand again. He found he could now perform just about any spell without having to say a word and since he had not really practiced command-less magic he thought it quite remarkable. He was almost certain it was because he had mended his wand with the Elder Wand that gave him this unique ability. It was only a guess on his part but after years of being subjected to strange things he liked to think he had become a little wiser as a result. It still left him dumb as an ox compared to Hermione but he thought maybe some of her cleverness had rubbed off along the way.

Hermione reappeared looking quite comfortable in a pair of kaki trousers and white button-up blouse. She had set her long mane into a rather intricate looking French braid that hung to her lower back.

Even though she still appeared thin she looked much better than she had in the many days previous. The worry lines on her forehead still remained prominent but she seemed to move with much more purpose. Harry couldn't help but look down at his own clothes and got the sudden feeling he was dressed like a homeless person. His worn out ill-fitting togs were getting old even for him.

Moments later they found themselves making their way to the Spell Damage ward within the Wizard hospital. Making their way toward her mother's private room they spotted a still-confunded Gilderoy Lockhart and were surprised to see Neville Longbottom talking with one of the Healers holding a rather large bouquet of flowers.

They spotted Headmistress McGonagall in a hushed discussion with two Healers just outside the Granger's room door. When she turned and spotted them a sad smile crossed her aged features.

“Well Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said, “I see you've decided to take Mr. Potter into your confidence.”

Hermione only nodded as the Healers took their leave.

“I must admit I am pleased with your decision. It is difficult enough what you are going through. Doing thus alone only serves to exacerbate the situation. In times of great tribulation one needs support from one's friends,” the Headmistresses gaze shifted pointedly to Harry, “Isn't that correct Mr. Potter?”

Harry glanced at Hermione whose expression remained impassive.

“Yes Professor,” Harry replied not taking his eyes off Hermione, “You're absolutely right.”

Hermione shifted a bit uncomfortably but lifted her chin as if to tell them she was quite capable of dealing with whatever she had to quite on her own but inside she realized the Headmistress was right as usual. She wanted to steer the attention somewhere else so she turned to face McGonagall.

“Is there any changes with my parents?” She asked expecting the obvious.

“I'm pleased to report your mother seems to be showing very slight signs of improvement in a few small areas of her past but other than that…the situation is much the same. It doesn't mean we are giving up by any means you understand Ms. Granger. We will not rest until a proper solution is uncovered and your parents are restored to their former selves. I remain confident we will find it.”

“Headmistress,” she asked, “I was wondering if it were possible to get permission to search the library at Hogwarts for anything that might help in shedding some light on my parent's problem?”

“Of course Ms. Granger,” the Headmistress responded without hesitation, “Any publication or reference material at Hogwarts is at your disposal. I have also taken the liberty to request you have unrestricted access to any information regarding memory problems contained within the reference material here at St. Mungo's as well as the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries.”

“While I realize the latter has been thoroughly searched I am also well aware of your acute ability to glean subtle information where some may not have the wherewithal to find it. I have been assured by the Head Unspeakable of his full cooperation in this matter.”

“Thank you Headmistress,” Hermione said with a heavy exhale, “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Not at all Ms. Granger,” the old Transfiguration Professor said, “It's the least I can do. Not meaning to change the subject I was wondering if you've given any further thought about returning to Hogwarts to complete your studies?”

Hermione seemed to hedge slightly but McGonagall offered a small but tight-lipped smile.

“I realize this is probably an inappropriate time to inquire but I would like to offer you some incentives for you to return,” again she turned to gaze at Harry for a moment with the same small smile, “I would make the same inquiry of you Mr. Potter however Kingsley has informed me of the offer in which he has presented to you to become a member of his staff.”

The Headmistress turned back to Hermione and continued. Hermione, in turn, glanced questioningly at Harry for an instant.

“I realize you could very well pass your N.E.W.T. level finals without much difficulty but I would like to offer you the post of Head Girl as well as the unrestricted ability to select your own curriculum for your final term. You would be able to select any class you desire to complete your studies. It would be utterly ridiculous for us to think you would be anything but completely successful.”

Hermione's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in amazement at what she was hearing. This was completely unprecedented and knew at once there had never been a student who attended Hogwarts or any other Magical Training Academy that had ever been given such an honor. She didn't quite know how to respond.

McGonagall recognized her young protégé's hesitance.

“You do not have to respond at once Ms. Granger. There is still time before the next term starts in the fall. Think it over won't you?”

Hermione had turned quite pink upon receiving that request.

“I will Headmistress and thank you,” Hermione replied then added, “not just for the kind and very generous offer but for all your help with…well, everything!”

“Nonsense,” McGonagall said as she drifted away, “There are those of us who feel just as responsible for all this as you Ms. Granger. Please keep me apprised of any breakthroughs you may find in your research.”

“Yes ma'am.” Hermione answered, “You'll be the first to know.”

When Harry reached for the doorknob to open her parent's room door Hermione placed a hand gently on his arm and looked seriously into his eyes.

“Harry, what did the Headmistress mean about Kingsley's offer?”

Harry quickly told her what Kingsley had proposed to him several nights before when he came to strengthen the wards on #12.

Hermione said nothing but the look on her face told Harry that she didn't really approve. He knew she would not want him putting himself into the path of rouge Death Eaters curses again but she also knew she had no right to tell him what he should do.

“I told him I would think about it. I didn't say I would do it. As a matter of fact I told him my first reaction was to respectfully decline but…”

“Have you thought about it?” She asked.

“Not really,” Harry answered honestly, “What with all the funeral services and worrying about you…to be honest I've not given it a second thought.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“You're worrying about me? Why?”

Harry gave her a definitively flat look of utter annoyance.

“You're joking right?” He said with a bit of a frown.

With that they went in to visit with her damaged parents for most of the morning. Neither remembered Harry but he put on his bravest face and saw first hand what Hermione had been enduring completely alone. It was almost impossible for him to process what was happening. Her parents were like two complete strangers who were trying to process untenable information in their strange surroundings.

They often spoke as if they were in pain as they tried to recall even the most minute details of a simple memory. It was excruciating to watch and they weren't even his family.

By the time they had emerged from her parent's room to go get some lunch Harry was mentally exhausted. He felt queasy and ill at ease. His heart ached for his best friend as he watched her endure it all with a level of grace and patience he had never seen and his admiration for her increased exponentially during that visit.

As they made their way into the Visitor's Tea Room and Hospital Shop on the fifth floor they spotted Neville sitting at a table nibbling on a sandwich. Hermione glanced significantly at Harry.

He knew why Neville was there but he wasn't sure Hermione did. He recalled how Neville had asked him those years ago not to let on about his own parent's plight. He had never told anyone…not even Hermione.

Now it seemed a bit pointless to keep it all a secret but he still felt some sort of loyalty to Neville so he resigned himself to keep mum unless Neville decided to tell her himself.

When Neville spotted the two he was out of his seat in a blink looking quite surprised and pleased to see them.

“Harry…Hermione,” Neville said with a huge smile, “It's really great to see you!”

“You too, Neville,” Harry replied shaking Neville's hand.

“What are you doing here Neville?” Hermione asked a bit nervously.

Neville took a step back giving Harry a significant look.

“You never told!” Neville said with a big smile.

Hermione looked at Harry perplexed but Harry just returned Neville's smile and shrugged.

“You asked me not to Neville, remember?”

“True,” Neville said still looking shocked, “but I thought you'd tell Hermione. I figured you told her everything.”

“I usually did but well,” Harry said glancing at a still confused Hermione, “I figured if you wanted to tell the others I would leave it up to you.”

Finally Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at both boys.

“Would someone mind telling me what this is all about?”

Neville gestured to the table where he was sitting and they all settled into seats. Neville recounted what had transpired back then as close as he could remember with Harry filling in a few bits of information here and there. When he was done the look on Hermione's face was completely unreadable.

She sat silently for a moment then her face slowly crumpled and tears began to fall. She reached up to hide herself from the others.

Both Harry and Neville became alarmed. Harry reached for her and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Hermione what's wrong?” He asked deeply concerned, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just thought…”

But what he thought upset her wasn't even close.

“It's not that Harry,” Hermione said through her bitter tears, “I've been a complete self-absorbed fool!”

That statement shocked both boys as they sat there trying to understand why she had said it. Neville produced a handkerchief form somewhere and handed it to Hermione who took it with a quavering `thank you.' She then took a deep breath and began to explain.

“Don't you see? All this time poor Neville has been dealing with much the same thing as I have but he's had to deal with that all on his own. He's asked no-one for help and has asked for no sympathy from anyone. Here I've been running about like a banshee thrashing like a haddock out of water making a complete nuisance of myself while making everyone else's life miserable! I'm such a stupid weak little girl!”

It was Neville's turn to look properly confused.

Harry took it upon himself to tell Neville as much of Hermione's parent's troubles as he could remember while Hermione continued to chastise herself silently. When Harry was finished Neville looked up at Hermione sadly.

“Hermione don't be ridiculous. You're not stupid or weak and you're certainly not a fool. I'm not going to pretend it's been easy but there came a point when I simply had to accept my fate just like everyone else. At least I can still see and talk to my parents even though they don't understand. I think about Harry who lost both his parents and I suppose I feel fortunate…in a way. My parents are still here.”

“I know it doesn't sound like much of a consolation to you right now Hermione but if what Harry said is true then you've got a chance to bring them back. Don't loose sight of that. I stay strong for my folks because if I don't then it's like admitting the Death Eaters won and I'll never let that happen. You've got to concentrate on finding the answers just as Harry said. Nothing is more important than that.”

Hearing those words come out of Neville was not only surprising to both Harry and Hermione it felt like a balm to her battered nerves and self control.

Harry looked at Neville with a surprised expression and smiled.

“Well said Neville and you're exactly right!”

Neville blushed beet red but smiled back at Harry just the same. Hermione reached across the table and took Neville's hand in hers.

“You're absolutely right Neville,” she said. Her features took on a look of determined defiance, “No more feeling sorry for myself.”

“That's the spirit,” Neville glowed, “Well I best be off. My Gran's doing a bit of shopping while I have been visiting. If I don't find her she'll be buying a bunch of her barmy old moth-eaten hats. Those bloody things scare me.”

Harry and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

After Neville departed Harry watched Hermione for a moment.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“I'm surprised at you Harry?” Hermione said rather cryptically.

“Erm…” He didn't know what to say to that.

“All this time you knew about Neville's parents and you said nothing.”

Harry didn't know if she was admonishing him for keeping a secret or if it was something else until she offered him a sad smile.

“It just proves what I've known about you all along,” she said, “that you are one of the most trusted friends a person could have.”

It was Harry's turn to blush. After they had eaten some lunch they made their way back to spend some more time with Hermione's parents. This time was a bit easier for Harry having already been exposed to the difficulties that presented themselves to Hermione.

She seemed much more like herself when it came time to leave for the day. Harry found himself thinking it was their conversation with Neville and the fact that Hermione wasn't alone in dealing with her problem that made the difference. He reminded himself to thank Neville next time he saw him.

The next several weeks were spent in and out of the various magical departments trying to find any information that would shed even a shred of light on the problem that plagued Hermione's parents with absolutely no success.

With each passing day Hermione became more desperate and dejected. She had even gone so far as to meet with a Muggle brain surgeon but even he could shed little light on a possible cause.

Harry found himself becoming vastly educated about the inner workings of the human mind and the many spells and incantations that affected it but to him it was mostly pointless. None of it helped Hermione's parents get better.

They spent as much time as they could with her folks, Harry there right beside her. Hermione's quest had unwittingly become his.

As the summer dragged on with no answers Hermione was slowly loosing hope. Harry wanted to say something to boost her spirits but had no idea what to do or say. He simply stayed by her side and did as much as he could to help.

He was afraid if they didn't find a breakthrough soon he would have to watch his best friend fall completely apart and he didn't know how he could prevent it.

They had heard absolutely nothing from Ron during that time. The torrid reports of his nocturnal behavior had all but ceased but his new book hit the stores with a vengeance.

It was the talk of the Wizard world. Many touted it as a masterpiece while some literary critics said it was the best look inside what had really happened in those final days of Voldemort's reign of terror.

For Hermione, she had neither time, patience nor the desire to read it and since Harry was by her side most every day he hadn't given it much thought.

That all changed one evening when Harry arrived at #12 to find something very strange going on at his home.

He arrived by floo into the old dungeon kitchen when he was confronted with what appeared to be articles of clothing everywhere. Kreacher was seated at the table eating a bowl of something grumbling miserably to himself.

“Kreacher,” Harry asked surprised by the mess, “What in Merlin's name?”

“Kreacher tried to keep them out Harry Potter but Kreacher was told to mind his business. They came in through the floo late last evening while Kreacher was sleeping. They made such a racket as to wake my mistress from her slumber. They taunted and laughed at my mistress. She bade them to leave but they just laughed and mocked her. Finally Kreacher was forced to draw her curtain when they went up to Master Regulus' room. They have defiled the sanctity of my former Master's room!”

Kreacher broke down in tears.

“Who Kreacher?”

The old wrinkled elf sniffed and looked at Harry miserably.

“The one you call Weasley, the blood traitor to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!”

Harry's blood froze. He couldn't understand why Ron would come here all of a sudden but he was going to get to the bottom if things very quickly.

He bound up the stairs. There seemed to be a trail of clothing all the way through the house. He followed them up the stairs to the second floor as he saw them stop at the door to Regulus' room at the end of the hall on the right just across from Sirius' old room.

As he approached he saw the door slightly ajar and he could hear soft snoring coming from the other side. At first he recoiled at the idea of peeking into the room but then realized he was being an idiot.

This is my house now! He's come in here mucking things up, terrorizing Kreacher, causing a complete ruckus without so much as a `how do you do'!

Harry's irritation spiked as he slowly pushed the door open. He saw a girl's naked bum. She had one leg thrown across Ron's. Ron was spread eagle on his back, mouth hanging slack. They both seemed to be completely passed out cold.

Harry looked down to see an empty bottle of Firewhiskey lying in the floor at the foot of the bed.

His first thought was to rouse the both of them and throw them out on the curb but he realized that would solve nothing. He would let them sleep for now but as soon as they woke up they would be out on their collective bums. He was certain of that.

As he turned to make his way back down the stairs to apologize to Kreacher he decided he might as well collect their things and set them just inside the door for when they woke up. He didn't want them traipsing about the house in their birthday suits.

Once he had reached the main hall he picked up some very skimpy black lacy knickers and was holding them up to the light examining them with a bit of curiosity when he heard the fireplace in the kitchen flare.

Hermione! Merlin's beard, why did she have to pick this very moment to show up unannounced?

He tucked the knickers into the pile of clothing in his arms and dashed to the stairs that led down into the kitchen. He met her half way across the floor.

“Hello Harry,” she started to say, “Sorry to…” She stopped, gaping at the clothing in his arms with an odd look on her face, “I'm sorry am I interrupting something?”

“Wha…no! Of course not…” But as he said it they could hear footsteps on the floor above.

Hermione just blinked and turned back toward the fireplace when Kreacher mumbled.

“The blood traitor is awake.”

“What did he say?” Hermione asked as she looked up at the ceiling.

“Hermione!” Harry warned but it was too late. She had dashed around him and made for the stairs.

Harry turned in pursuit and bounded up after her, still clutching the bundle of clothing. As he made the top of the stairs he found Hermione standing just off the stairs. As he came up behind her ready to explain they heard the door to Regulus' room open and a girl strode out turning to a door at the end of the hall that went to the loo. She was as naked as the day she was born.

Apparently she had not noticed the two of them standing in the hallway or maybe she simply didn't care. As she disappeared into the bathroom they heard Ron call from the room.

“Oy Cassie,” Ron slurred, “Where'd ja' get offth to love?”

Harry could see Hermione's whole body go rigid. He watched as her hands clenched into fists. With a quick jerk she pulled her wand and took a step toward the open door. Harry dropped the bundle of clothes and was about to reach for her when she stopped.

Her shoulders slumped and her arms dropped limply by her side. It was as if she had come to the conclusion that whatever she had planned to do simply wasn't worth the trouble.

Without a word she turned and, without looking at Harry she descended the stairs and turned down the hall back toward the kitchen.

Harry wasn't sure what he should do but he was certain he didn't want to be caught there watching the naked girl come out of the bathroom so he quickly scooped up the bundle of clothing, dashed forward and threw them into the open door then turned and fled down the stairs as quietly as he could. By the time he reached the door to the kitchen he heard the fireplace flare again. She was gone.

Harry's first though was to go after her but he was aware how angry Kreacher was at his two unwanted guests. He figured he better stay or there was no telling what Kreacher might do.

Bugger you Ronald Weasley! I should curse you myself!

Harry plopped down on the bench across from Kreacher. He looked at the tired old elf and felt terrible for what the little guy had to put up with.

“I'm sorry you had to go through this Kreacher. I didn't know Ron was capable of such ridiculous behavior. Why don't you use the spare room for now and we'll clean and scourgify everything tomorrow. You should try and get some sleep.”

Kreacher nodded. He climbed down from the bench, placed his bowl and spoon in the sink and went off to bed mumbling under his breath the whole way.

Harry didn't blame him one bit.

Harry sat at the kitchen table for a long time lost in thought. He had come to the conclusion that, where it concerned Hermione Granger, Ron Bilius Weasley had just driven the last proverbial nail in the equally proverbial coffin lid of what could have possibly been a relationship they could have shared if Ron had not, for some bizarre reason, lost his bloody mind.

But as he sat in the dwindling firelight he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for Ron. It wasn't just because Ron had caused the demise of the possibility of a relationship with Hermione but because he, himself was beginning to develop feeling for his best and most trusted friend.

Part of him felt guilty for that. It was that part of him that made him enter the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny. It was the part of him that made him rush to the Department of Mysteries to rescue his Godfather. It was also the part of him that made him face certain death when he finally realized the truth.

The other part, the part that might have lingered even after the demise of his nemesis, was elated by this development.

As he sat there the images of the locket Horcrux swept across his memory. He remembered what they looked like as if he was standing there at that very moment. The realization that those images could in any way be prophetic at all made Harry's hair on his arms and neck stand on end.

Could that be the reason why Ron went off the deep end? Did he somehow know those visions would come to pass? Am I guilty of making them come true?

Harry suddenly felt sick. He felt dirty and evil as if he were playing right into the hands of Voldemort as if he were reaching beyond the grave to touch his life.

NO!

Harry lurched to his feet standing with his fists and his teeth clenched.

That's ridiculous! Voldemort is DEAD! He's gone! There must be another reason why Ron's done what he has. You're being stupid.

With that Harry stomped off to his own room cursing Ron's pure-blood heritage.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Sixteen - The Prodigal Dunderhead Returns

The morning found Harry sipping a cup of fresh hot coffee at the table in the dungeon kitchen as he perused the day's copy of the Prophet.

He knew Hermione would either be at St. Mungo's with her parents or at her house and he planned to join her as soon as he was done with his breakfast.

The anger he felt for Ron the night before had changed into something more like pity for his best mate. The guilt he felt the night before dissipated with the rising of the sun because he had finally understood Ron had caused his own troubles. Voldemort had nothing to do with anything anymore. It was just an attack of a guilty conscience but the memories of the visions the locket produced lingered in the back of his mind.

All Harry knew was his feelings for Hermione were growing stronger and more real by the day and he was beginning to realize their connection might be mutual. It was all that mattered to him at present. She needed him and he would do anything to be there for her no matter what. Nothing else was more important to him at the moment.

As he scanned the headlines he saw another review of Ron's book with Rita Skeeter. He finally saw what it had been titled;

The Demise of Darkness; The Final Days of Lord Voldemort {By Rita Skeeter…as told by Ronald B. Wheezly}

It made Harry chuckle Ron wasn't even getting top billing on his own book and she had even spelled his name wrong! He could hear Hermione - “Serves the idiot right…”

Ahh…Poetic justice!

He heard someone shuffling about on the floor above him then footsteps falling on the stairs. A moment later a much hung-over Ron stumbled through the kitchen door and practically fell onto the bench on the other side of the table across from Harry. He gave the little house elf a significant glance.

“It's alright Kreacher,” Harry said glaring at Ron, “I'm quite interested in what the idiot has to say to explain himself.”

Kreacher glared at Ron as well while making a soft growling sound reluctantly sliding a cup of coffee in front of him then turned back to Harry.

“Shall I prepare more breakfast Harry Potter?”

Harry tossed another irritated glance at Ron but then sighed. As much as he didn't want to admit it at the moment Ron was still one of only two friends he had in the world he could somewhat trust these days. That thought wasn't causing any warm and fuzzy notions at present though.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“Famished,” Ron croaked.

“Yes Kreacher,” Harry looked at the elf as if trying to apologize for having to put up with the whole mess, “If you would be so kind.”

Kreacher returned a look that suggested he would rather lop off his own head and mount it on the wall next to his kin than cater to the half-drunk half-wit but bowed none the less and went about his task.

“So,” Harry said trying to break the tension, “Looks like your book is doing well. I suppose the galleons are rolling in. What will you do with all that wealth?”

The scathing sarcasm in Harry's voice was not lost on Ron's pickled brain. He shot Harry a scowl.

“It's not like I've got a vault full at Gringotts or something but it should net a tidy sum if I'm lucky.”

Ouch! - Touché! Well at least we know his wit isn't as dead as his brain!

Harry leaned forward looking pointedly across the table at Ron.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking bringing that girl here last night? Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

After he said it he realized not all Ron's senses had taken leave. His Ickle Ronnykins was apparently working just fine.

“Look,” Ron replied, “she wanted to meet you alright? I…didn't realize things would get quite so out of hand,” Ron paused and took a shuddering breath, “Sorry about that. Besides I had to break out of the Minister's mansion to see Cassie and I knew this place was still un-plottable. I'm sure mum's got the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement looking for me.”

“Great!” Harry huffed, hands smacking the table top, “So you're saying I can expect Aurors to be crashing in on the place any moment? Thanks for that. I should have tossed your arse out last night!”

“Lighten up Harry,” Ron grinned, “I don't think it's like all that. You might get a visit form Kingsley today though. We should be gone by then.”

Harry was still plenty angry but part of him, the bloke, was curious about this girl. She had quite a reputation according to the Prophet. He had never met a girl like Cassandra before. The closest he ever got to a real scarlet woman was Romilda Vane but as Ron's antics seem to complicate his life all of a sudden he just wanted to be shed of it as quickly and quietly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to see his own face and/or name in the Prophet associated with Ron's utter lack of responsibility. Things were hard enough as they were.

“Hermione was here last night,” Harry said, knowing the knowledge would cause a twinge but as he sat there looking at Ron he saw absolutely no reaction to the news at all, “She saw the girl come out of the room and go to the loo.”

Ron still didn't indicate the news bothered him in the slightest.

“The girl was starkers Ron!” Harry added.

That bit of information made Ron's eyebrows raise then a smirk crossed his puffy and chapped lips.

“That's Cassie for you,” he chuckled, “Got bullocks the size of grapefruits that one!”

Harry's irritation spiked. He couldn't help himself. Ron's cavalier attitude made his blood boil.

“You mean it doesn't bother you to know Hermione saw you in bed with her?”

Ron smacked the table top and leaned back.

“Why should it Harry?” It was Ron's turn to become irritated, “Why should she care who I'm with or what I'm doing? It's not like Hermione's all that interested in being together with me now is she? I mean really…”

“Well Ron,” Harry shot back, “It isn't like she's had much time with fetching her parent's from Australia and…”

He stopped. Harry wasn't sure it was wise to be telling Ron everything. Hermione had kept the problems with her parents a secret. He knew telling Ron was tantamount to printing it in bold script on the front page of the Prophet.

“Yah,” Ron shot back, “Well where was she the day I took my brother to St. Mungo's Harry?”

Harry tried to explain what happened when he met with McGonagall but Ron didn't seem to care.

“Look Harry. It doesn't matter,” Ron replied looking a bit sad, “Hermione made a choice based on what was best for her at the moment, yes? Why am I just supposed to accept that and then have everyone get on my case for doing what I want?”

“Maybe it's because she's not running about getting her picture in the Prophet drunk out of her mind hanging on whatever bird happens to be nearby…”

“Is that what you think I'm doing?” Ron asked, “and since when do you put any stock in the rubbish printed in the Prophet?”

Harry jumped up from the table and snatched an older copy of the Prophet from a stack near the fireplace. He crossed the room and slapped it on the table in front of Ron. It was the night he was photographed at The Dancing Leprechaun.

“Then you tell me what it is you're doing Ron,” Harry asked agitatedly, “Public relations for your new book!”

Ron wanted to try and explain what he was feeling that night. The loss and confusion of what was happening with his family but it was much too difficult and the after-effects of too much fire whiskey made it seem daunting in the extreme. He looked up into Harry's angry gaze and a thought occurred to him.

“Why is it of the three of us everyone thinks Hermione Granger always knows what's best for everyone else? Why is everyone so convinced she always has the right answers about everything?”

The question caught Harry completely off guard.

Why, indeed?

He had to think about it for a moment but it didn't take long for him to come to the obvious conclusion.

It was simply that Hermione was right. She was much better at life than both of them combined. It wasn't a mystery she had been the glue that held them together through the years. They'd probably both be dead if it weren't for her and it shocked Harry slightly to think she still cared for Ron even after all the things he had done to try and ruin even a friendly relationship with her.

Hermione's right! You are thick as mud!

“You know as well as I do we could not have accomplished what we did without her. We'd all be dead and Voldemort would still be alive! That has to count for something yes?”

“No argument there Harry,” Ron admitted, “and the next time I run into an evil dark wizard bent on enslaving the world I'll know who to turn to for help but as far as why she and I aren't together,” he paused to sigh, “That wasn't my call mate.”

Harry still thought Ron could have been a bit more understanding about the whole thing but he didn't really care any longer. He looked at Ron as Kreacher slid plates full of piping hot breakfast under their noses.

“Bless you Kreacher,” Ron muttered as he dug in.

“What about the girl?” Harry asked.

“I suspect she'll be down shortly,” Ron said right before he crammed a fork full of eggs in his mouth, “she's all agog about meeting the Golden Boy!”

“Please don't call me that!” Harry grimaced.

“Not me, mate,” Ron picked up the Prophet and threw it at Harry.

He realized instantly the message being sent by that gesture.

“Alright,” Harry conceded, “Point taken.”

“Glad we can at least agree on something,” Ron grinned.

Ron looked at Harry for a moment reluctant to ask the next question but curious all the same.

“So what's with you and Ginny?”

Harry sighed and looked at his hands.

“Apparently,” Harry said sadly, “there is no me and Ginny. Seems she's gotten back with Dean Thomas. Said she was angry I didn't let her fight with me during the war and what made it worse was I let Hermione…or something like that.”

Ron smirked.

“Well I would like to sit here and be all shocked and surprised and everything but the truth is I suspected something was happening. I saw them together at St. Mungo's and got in Ginny's face about it. She just told me to mind my business. You know how she gets when I start meddling?”

Harry nodded glumly.

“Hey,” Ron asked, “You want me to rough Dean up a bit for you. Maybe I can make him disappear for a while, you know like the bloke who got lost in the vanishing cabinet?”

Harry gave him a dour look. Ron shrugged.

“Just a thought!”

As he sat there he suddenly wanted to tell Ron about his feelings for Hermione. He wasn't sure why because he knew it would probably cause another row but the way Ron had acted about the news Hermione had seen Cassandra last night made him think Ron had gotten past his feelings for her. He wasn't sure how he would react to the knowledge he and Hermione were beginning to feel things for one-another. He thought it was better than keeping it all a secret because he was getting tired of that.

“Listen Ron,” Harry said shifting nervously in his seat. Above them he could hear footsteps. He knew the girl was stirring. He heard the bathroom door close and glancing at Ron decided to just be out with it, “I think things are changing between me and Hermione. I'm not exactly sure what that means at this point so don't ask. The only reason I'm telling you this is because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. She says she needs me and to be honest I don't mind being there for her. I feel it's the least I can do after everything she's done for me over the years.”

Ron stared at Harry for a moment, his face unreadable. Harry braced himself for the worst but then another smirk crossed his lips as he leaned forward on his elbows.

“I'm really not all that surprised Harry.”

“Well that makes one of us,” Harry said a bit glumly but inwardly a bit shocked at Ron's response.

“You know,” Ron went on, “it's stupid but I think one of the reasons I wanted to get Hermione was because you and her are so close.”

That statement was like a cold slap in the face to Harry. He sat bolt upright and was about to go off but Ron continued.

“I mean after all here you were, the bloody Boy Who Lived. Everyone knew who you were. You were famous before you were old enough to even realize you were a wizard and if that wasn't enough you turned out to be tops at flying and one of the best Seekers ever. A bit of a tough act to follow, I'd say. Even Dumbledore seemed to hold you in higher regard than any other student…”

Harry leaned forward to say something but Ron put up a hand to stop him.

“…And yes Harry we know why now. It was because of the barmy Prophecy. It's just to a twelve year old pure-blood wizard who has lived all his life in this world it just seemed a bit unusual and hard to swallow that's all. Call me a shallow prat if you like but it doesn't change the past now does it?”

“When you got picked for the Tri-Wizard Tournament it was like…I couldn't believe it. Even Fred and George couldn't get in. The outcome not withstanding I'm not going to pretend I wasn't just a bit jealous.”

“A bit?” Harry smirked sarcastically.

“Ok…ok,” Ron muttered, “Maybe a lot but still, here I was trying to figure out if there was anything I could do you couldn't.”

“After the Quidditch match when Lavender threw herself at me I thought maybe I had found something I was a bit better at then you were.”

When Ron paused for a moment to shove two pieces of bacon in his mouth Harry asked the obvious question.

“And that was?”

“Birds!” Ron replied, “I was going to be much better at getting girls than you so I think that's why I wanted Hermione so badly…well…that and to keep here away from Viktor Krum.” Ron scowled when he said that name.

Harry's mouth fell open in disbelief. He couldn't believe how shallow his best friend was.

“Oh don't look at me like that Harry,” Ron growled, “It's what happens when you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon! I had to rely on other subtle qualities like deception and under-handed sneakiness. Don't even pretend you didn't suspect.”

“I figured if I started snogging Lavender in front of Hermione it would make her realize what she was loosing and she would…you know, fight for me or…something.”

Harry was stunned but couldn't help but dig at Ron's pathetic logic.

“And how well did that work out for you?” He asked chuckling.

Ron's eyes narrowed.

“You know exactly how it turned out. I still have the scars from those bloody canaries to prove it. Ok…so my idea of using reverse psychology backfired horribly.”

“No Ron,” Harry quipped, “It completely blew up in your face! Did you really think you could manipulate someone as clever as Hermione? I can't believe you would even try something so foolish.”

“Yes…well,” Ron muttered, “I didn't realize you have to be at least as clever as the one you're trying to let on. What do you expect Harry I was 15. I didn't say it was good plan. It was all I could think of. The worst of it was I wasn't smart enough to realize she already fancied me but of course she didn't make it easy for a bloke to know that, all the thrashing about simply pushed us farther away from one-another!”

Ron looked at Harry soberly for a moment.

“Did you know Hermione shagged Viktor Krum?”

His declaration made Harry feel like he had suddenly been stepped on by Grawp. That had to be stupid empty gossip. His temper flared hot.

“I don't believe it for one…” Harry growled but before he could finish his admonition Ron cut across him.

“Padma told me,” Ron said, “She was making her way to the Owlry to send a post when she passed the Charms classroom that night after the Yule Ball. She said she heard moaning and groaning coming from inside. Apparently in their haste they forgot to latch the classroom door. Padma said she thought it might have been someone hurt what with all the strange things happening around Hogwarts so she peaked inside.”

“She said she saw Hermione starkers from the knickers up sitting on top of Viktor who was almost completely naked. Shocked her so much she had to look twice to make sure it was really Hermione.”

“I don't believe a word of it Ron!” Harry said angrily.

“Calm down Harry,” Ron raised his hands to try and settle Harry down, “I wasn't sure I did either but the next morning Ginny asked me if we had gone down to Hagrid's or something. I asked her why and she said she was just wondering because Hermione didn't come back to the girl's dorm until very late.”

“I went back to Padma and made her swear what she told me was the truth. I also told her if she breathed a word of it to anyone else I'd hex her into oblivion for it. I don't think she ever told anyone else about it and I'm almost certain she really didn't like me very much after that. Of course, I don't think she thought much of either one of us after that ridiculous dance. What a nightmare!”

“But think about it mate,” Ron added, “It would explain the whole Second Task thing wouldn't it? I mean…why would a famous and internationally known Quidditch star who could probably have any bird he wanted tell the Officials Hermione was the dearest and most important thing in his life? Doesn't make sense, that. They had known one-another for what…less than a bleeding month!”

As uncomfortable as it made Harry to think it he had to admit what Ron was telling him started making sense. He remembered how Viktor had looked at Hermione at the Lupin/Tonks funeral service, like he was undressing her with his eyes. The thought of it made Harry's anger flare again.

“I still find it hard to believe,” Harry said, “It just doesn't square with the Hermione we know. She's just not that kind of girl…”

But the truth was Harry wasn't really sure any longer. They sat in silence for a moment while Harry's mind tried to absorb the possibility that Hermione Granger could be an experienced woman.

“So why tell me this now,” Harry asked, “and if you knew why didn't you tell me back then?”

Ron looked pointedly at Harry for a moment.

“Like I said Harry, I wasn't sure I believed it either and I certainly wasn't going to spread something like that around. It could have ruined Hermione's reputation…not that any of us were all that popular to begin with but still…that's not the kind of thing you go tossing about in general conversation now is it?”

“Besides,” Ron added, “I wasn't about to give that Bulgarian bastard the satisfaction of letting on I suspected and the reason I'm telling you all this now is just as you said…no secrets. If you're starting to fancy Hermione then you need to know the whole truth.”

Harry got up from the table, his breakfast only half eaten and began to pace the floor in front of the fireplace. He tried to figure out why he hadn't known or why he hadn't suspected. He glanced at Ron.

“Why would she do something like that and why didn't I realize?” He asked.

“Harry?” Ron leaned back and folded his arms, “Don't be daft mate. I mean think about it. You were gone on Cho Chang and being chased around by Death Eaters and such. Me,” Ron gestured to himself with a hand, “I was so thick I didn't realize what was going on at the time so I completely looked right past her like she wasn't even there. I was completely self-absorbed in my own stupid endeavors to top the great Harry Potter. It's no wonder she fell for the bloke.”

Ron looked down at his plate, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“Viktor was the first one to see what we should have seen all along and he gave her something we didn't…attention…I mean real attention because she was a lovely girl…not just our resident know-it-all…get what I'm saying Harry?”

“Well it doesn't matter any more,” Harry spit, “We saw Viktor at Dora and Remus' service. He's getting married to some snobbish prig he was with that afternoon. She made certain everyone knew it the way she was acting. Knowing what I know now I can't imagine how it must have made Hermione feel…”

“You think she still has feelings for him?” Ron asked.

“I don't…” Harry wanted to say she didn't but in light of what he had just been told he wasn't sure of anything, “…think so but who's to say Ron. I'm slowly finding out nothing has turned out the way I thought it would and nothing seems to make any sense.”

“I'm not so sure about that Harry.” Ron said, “You ending up with Hermione makes a hell of a lot more sense then she and I, yah? I'm just sorry things didn't turn out for you and Ginny. I know you really cared for her.”

“Yes…well,” Harry sighed, “at least she had the courage to face me and tell me the truth. It says a lot about your sister.”

“Yah,” Ron chuckled, “The girl's got stones and I'd rather kiss a blast-ended skrewt then cross her.”

Harry smirked at the comment as he sunk limply back onto the bench across from Ron still shoveling food into his mouth as if it were his last meal.

“So tell me Ron,” Harry asked sternly, “What about this book you've written with that troll Rita Skeeter? I'm telling you right now…if you've spilled your guts to the woman then you're a nutter…”

“It isn't like that Harry,” Ron replied looking seriously at Harry, “I swear it. I made her put a clause in the contract to force her to write exactly what I told her…”

“And that's supposed to make me feel better about it?” Harry quipped.

“Look mate,” Ron held up his hands, “I'm telling you it's nothing but what happened during the hunt for the Horcruxes and up until old Voldy stopped breathing. Honestly. Read it! You'll see for yourself.”

Harry was still skeptical. He crossed his arms offering Ron another glare.

“Harry,” Ron added, “I promise I didn't tell her anything she didn't need to know. The whole thing is protected by a Fidelius charm. I'll admit there are probably a few facts missing, like the time I wasn't with you two when we were camping out all over the place but the rest is on the up and up. Just the events as they happened.”

“Well,” Harry sighed in resignation, “You really didn't miss much only that Hermione seemed completely out of sorts because you left.”

Ron grimaced.

“I figured as much,” he said, “I mean, none of that kind of thing is in the book, mind you. It's just I wonder if my leaving had more of an effect on her than I thought. Do you think it did Harry?”

“Honestly,” Harry shrugged, “I don't know Ron. I will tell you I had never seen her so sad. It was like she was heart broken.”

Harry realized they had never talked about it before. He wondered if telling Ron this was going a bit too far. There was nothing to be gained from opening those old wounds but as he sat there he realized Ron's actions and attitudes told him he no longer seemed to care for Hermione in that way but he also knew how inconsistent and confusing Ron could be when it came to Hermione. One almost needed a score card to keep track of their tempestuous relationship.

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I deserve that.”

“Look,” Harry added, “I didn't tell you that to try and hurt you. It was just an observation of the situation Ron. It doesn't mean anything.”

“Yes, Harry,” Ron replied matter-of-factly, “It means everything you dolt. The truth is…you've been there for her…all along. It's not just for leaving you two in the Forrest of Dean. It's for all the years we bickered and argued and were constantly at odds with one-another over some of the most ridiculous things. It was mostly my shallow stupidity that caused it. I'm just amazed she felt anything for me at all but loathing.”

For the first time since he had known his two best friends he had to admit what Ron was saying had some merit. Ron had done and said some pretty stupid and hurtful things to Hermione over the years and now as he looked at it from Ron's perspective he too wondered why Hermione continued to have feelings for him. He was simply glad she did. If she hadn't he didn't want to think what his life would have been like without both of them. Without Hermione they would have had no chance of succeeding against all the Dark Magic surrounding them and without Ron his life would have been completely devoid of any solid, trustworthy companionship. What Harry had realized from the start was Hermione's value as a friend and companion…Ron didn't and never could get past seeing her as just another “bird.”

He couldn't help but wonder how it would affect his two best friends as they moved toward an uncertain future. He worried if Ron and Hermione could find some kind of common ground? He didn't want to be between them if they remained at odds with one-another. He didn't know how he would be able to manage it. It was just one more question he had no answer to at present and it left him feeling a trifle empty.

They both looked up as Cassandra swept into the kitchen like she owned #12. She was wearing a bright red half-tee shirt and very tight jeans. It was obvious to both boys at once she considered underwear optional. Her large breasts strained the thin material of the shirt so they stood out as if she were not wearing a shirt at all.

Harry tried his best to divert his gaze but Ron wasn't nearly so subtle. He turned on his seat, gathered the girl in his arms and proceeded to burry his face between her ample mounds making strange growling noises.

It was most embarrassing. Harry stifled a roll of his eyes.

After extricating his face from Cassandra's cleavage, he turned to Harry.

“Cassandra,” he said grinning stupidly as if he was suddenly confunded, “This is the famous Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding world, one of the Golden Trio, etcetera…etcetera.”

Cassandra's smile seemed to broaden so much Harry thought he could see all her teeth. There was something in her eyes that unsettled Harry quite a bit. He wasn't sure what it was but it was as if to her, he suddenly took on the appearance of something very tasty. It didn't seem to bother Ron in the slightest.

He had to admit the girl was gorgeous. He thought she could even give Fleur a run for her money in the looks department and that was saying something.

She held out her hand and Harry politely took it in his.

“Oh, it's such an honor to meet you Harry,” Cassandra gushed, “Ronny's told me so much about you.”

Before Harry knew it she had plopped on the bench sitting so close to him all he had to do was look down to get an up close and personal view of two of the most incredible female breasts he had ever seen. He forced himself to keep his eyes locked on hers.

“I suppose we all owe you a debt of gratitude for what you and Ronny did for all of us,” she continued, “it was so awfully wonderful of you.”

“Erm…thanks,” Harry stammered. He could feel the heat rising out of the collar of his shirt. If he sat there much longer his glasses were going to fog up. As gently as he could he extracted himself from her close proximity and acted like he was helping Kreacher in the kitchen, “Would you like some coffee, maybe some breakfast? Kreacher can fix whatever you like.”

“Oh yes, please,” Cassandra gushed again, “That's ever so kind of you, as long as it's no trouble.”

“No trouble,” Harry smiled. At least the girl was polite.

Moments later she sat devouring her breakfast with the same wild abandon as Ron. Harry thought they were more alike than different in the way they acted but he still couldn't quite figure out why this exceptionally beautiful woman was with a dunderhead like Ronald Weasley?

I guess the bloke's got something she wants.

“So what are you up to today Harry?” Ron asked as he swallowed another mouthful of eggs and kippers.

“I don't know,” Harry replied shrugging while he absent-mindedly washed the dishes in the sink. He had no idea why he was doing it. Kreacher usually waited till he had all the dirty dishes then, with a snap of his fingers the dishes washed, dried then put themselves away, “I thought I might go visit little Teddy this morning. I haven't seen him since he was born for Marlin's sake. Some Godfather I'm turning out to be.” He lied. He did indeed need to go see the little tyke but it would have to wait until things with Hermione settled down a bit.

“Well it isn't like you've had loads of free time now is it?” Ron replied as he got up from the table, “Hermione going with you?”

Harry turned to look at Ron.

“I don't know what Hermione's doing just now. I think she went back home last night as far as I know. She wasn't exactly very chatty when she left.”

Harry's scathing comment wasn't lost on Ron who simply frowned.

“Hermione?” Cassandra asked, “You mean Hermione Granger, the third member of the Golden Trio? Oh do you think I could meet her too? Then I could say I've met all three of you?”

Cassandra said it with so much enthusiasm it almost made Harry burst out laughing. He could just imagine that meeting in his mind. The fall out and destruction would be devastating. It would make Voldemort's evil look like a Muggle child with a toy wand.

Ron's face blanched white instantly.

“Err…Cassandra,” Ron stammered, “I'm not sure that's the best idea, besides I need to get to Diagon Alley to get my books and things.”

That statement caught Harry by surprise.

“Books?” he asked.

“Yah,” Ron replied with a dour look, “Seems I'm being required to finish my last term at Hogwarts. Mum and dad said I had to go. Not so bad, really. At first he was thinking of putting me in the Muggle military! I swear, they've both gone barking mad!”

“Well can you blame them Ron!” Harry blurted out before he thought better of it. “I mean your father is now Minister for Magic!” He tired to back-peddle a bit. “I mean, it's not such a good idea getting your picture in the Prophet totally knackered now is it?”

The look on Ron's face could only be described as mutinous.

“Gods,” he growled, “They've gotten to you too haven't they?”

“What? What are you…”, Harry stammered.

“My mum,” Ron blurted out, “She's been telling everyone `That Ronald's going to be the death of us all. Try and talk some sense into him if you please!' His attempt at sounding like his mother made him sound more like his impression of the old hag in the Black family portrait just up the stairs. “What? Did she come here and lecture you too?”

“No Ron,” Harry said shocked, “I haven't seen your mum since Dora and Remus' funeral. She didn't say anything about you at all! She did thank me for offering to let the lot of you stay though.”

Ron seemed to deflate and the horrid red glow of his head dissipated abruptly.

“Oh…well…sorry,” Ron said as he got up from the table. Having finished their breakfasts he and Cassandra decided they best clear out before his parents figured out where he was.

“So what about you Harry?” Ron asked as he turned to go back up stares to clean up, “You going back to Hogwarts as well?”

Harry briefly told him the offer Kingsley Shacklebolt had made him. Ron just gave Harry a significant look.

“So you're going to be an Auror?” Ron chuckled, “Guess I shouldn't be surprised by that either. I just figured you were over all that chasing down dark wizards shite. You know,” Ron said putting a hand on his pointed chin, “I'll be willing to bet you could get on just about any Quidditch team you wanted to if you had a mind to go professional. What with you being famous and all I'd bet they'd snatch you up in a second!”

Harry thought about what Ron said for about three seconds and came to a decisive conclusion about that idea.

“Maybe you're right Ron but I really have no desire to play professional Quidditch. It was fun in Hogwarts and I do love flying but really,” Harry smirked, “I've had enough concussions and bludger pulverized bones to last me a lifetime and I think going back to Hogwarts at this point would be a bad mistake. I think it would cause the school more trouble than it's worth. Besides,” Harry's look went serious, “I've had just enough of being treated like an oddity and gawked at like a transfiguration experiment gone horribly wrong all the time. I think it would be much worse now.”

“Hmm,” Ron grunted contemplatively, “Maybe you're right Harry, maybe the Auror's Department in the best place for you. All those budding Dark Wizards out there would think twice about trying to rise to power with you on the job.” The look on Ron's face was one of scathing cynicism.

“Right,” Harry replied darkly as he himself got up and decided to make ready to leave. He stopped suddenly and turned on Ron as he watched Cassandra disappear up the stairs, “By the way, I think you owe Kreacher an apology for last night and we would very much appreciate it if you would clean up Regulus' room and put it back the way it was before you leave. That's Kreacher's room now, just so you know.”

Ron looked properly chastised. He moved over to where Kreacher was gathering dishes and bent down to the little house elf's level.

“I am truly sorry for last night Kreacher,” Ron declared honestly, “I was a bloody ingrate and a twice-bloody fool. I hope you'll forgive us. We were fairly trashed last night. We'll put your room back just as it was and I promise the next time we visit we'll be much better behaved. Thanks for the nosh all the same.”

Kreacher bowed slightly but still looked as if Ron smelled like spoiled stink sap.

Within a half hour Ron and Cassandra snuck out the front door using a Disillusionment Charm and Harry apparated to the Granger house. He was not looking forward to what he might find when he got there, if he would find Hermione there at all. He knew where she would be if she wasn't.

A/N; I realize the story is moving kind of slow but as I've said before…it does get better and more exciting - I promise. (And you all thought Voldemort was gone for good! Ha Ha…That's what you think!!!)

I thought it necessary to try and develop the transition from Ron/Hermione into Harry/Hermione in a realistic and believable way. Even though this is obviously not canon it has always been my opinion Harry and Hermione were much more suited to one-another than Ron and Hermione just from a personality stand point.

In canon, Harry would never throw himself in front of Ron to get to Hermione or even Ginny for that matter. It wasn't in his nature and he lacked the experience to pull it off. He would, however, want to protect her even from his best friend if it meant keeping Hermione from getting hurt…yes? Think about it…

I simply loath stories that gloss over or ignore all together the events as they occurred in the books. Throwing Harry and Hermione together without creating some form of transition is annoying and a complete disservice to J.K.R's creation…even though we take liberties with it.

As always…thanks for reading and putting up with all this. Please let me know what you think!

DWK…

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Seventeen - Making Plans

Later that day Harry returned to Grimmuald Place quite depressed. He had gone to the Granger's as planned and not finding Hermione there he went on to St. Mungo's.

The Healer on duty said he had seen her but she had left an hour before. He also told Harry she looked rather out-of-sorts. For someone who didn't know her to say that wasn't good.

As he sat on the bench outside her parent's room he tried to figure out where she might have gone. If she had gone to one of the places to do some additional research he could spend hours trying to find her and reasoned she might not want to be found so he decided to head back to #12.

Later that morning as he sat in his chair in the sitting room drinking an ice cold pumpkin juice he heard the familiar sound of the fireplace flare in the kitchen. Part of him was relieved and the other part apprehensive. He knew her mood would be dark and ill. He hoped she wouldn't take it out on him.

As he heard her footsteps getting closer she stopped for some reason. Harry waited but still she did not come into the room.

Harry was just about to get up when her head appeared around the doorway.

“I'm not interrupting anything am I? I'm sorry, I suppose I should announce the fact I'm coming over instead of barging in like this.”

“Don't be daft Hermione!” Harry chuckled, “You're welcome here any time. You don't have to announce yourself! You might catch me in the loo from time to time but other than that…” Harry raised his arms, “Just me and Kreacher here.”

He wasn't sure if he should mention Ron yet or not so he decided to keep mum about that until she brought up the subject.

The rest of Hermione appeared in the doorway. She looked coy and a bit apprehensive. It was quite unusual for her. She was usually filled with self-righteous indignation and nervous energy most of the time these days.

Harry also noticed she still looked thin and drawn, like she had not slept at all. His heart pinched at the thought of what she had to endure over the past weeks. It was easy to feel for her because he had been on the emotional roller coaster with her for some of it.

Hermione looked into Harry's eyes only briefly as he approached. She couldn't seem to hold his gaze.

That's very much unlike the Hermione I know!

Harry knew something was wrong at once. Hermione looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting nervously.

“I just wanted to come by and…and say goodbye Harry.”

Harry froze.

“What do you mean goodbye?”

His brain seemed to jamb for a moment as his eyes searched hers for some kind of unspoken clue as to what she was really trying to tell him.

Hermione's whole demeanor changed then. She no longer looked timid. She stood straight and squared her shoulders as if preparing to argue her case if it came to that. A serious look settled in her eyes.

It was only because he had known this girl for years he was able to understand her often rapid mood changes. It was also the fact he and Hermione had developed what could only be described as the uncanny ability to often communicate with one-another without the need for words.

He had never pretended to understand it nor took the time to analyze it either. It never manifested itself with anyone else so he wasn't sure it was even something tangible. It had been very useful during some of the most harrowing times for both of them but at the moment it didn't seem to be working.

“I've decided to go away Harry and I wanted to tell you face to face,” Hermione replied, “You're the only one I am telling besides McGonagall. I feel the need to separate myself from the wizard world for a while.”

She walked past him into the sitting room while she was talking, casting Harry a furtive glance over her shoulder as she passed.

He watched her for a moment, turning so he could keep his eyes on her. She sat down stiffly on the edge of the over-stuffed ottoman in front of Harry's favorite chair. Her eyes seemed distant and unfocused.

“There seems to be nothing anyone can do for my parents for now and it seems horribly obvious the longer they remain in this condition the less likely we are to find a solution. One only has to look at Neville's parents to see that.”

A look of raw anguish washed over her features for a brief moment before the empty, blank look that had been her mask for the past weeks returned. It was her attempt to keep all her pain inside that stirred Harry into motion. He moved to the chair behind the ottoman and sat leaning toward his best friend.

Harry reached out and without realizing, gently forced Hermione to turn around on the ottoman and face him. He took both her hands gently in his and peered into her eyes. He expected to see them glistening with tears but he was not at all prepared to see a look of utter despair and resignation hidden beneath her stoic countenance.

“The situation with Neville's parents is completely different. They were tortured into madness by evil. You know that. Hermione I know there is a way to help your parents and I know you'll be the one to find it. I've never known anyone in my life as clever, resourceful and determined as you. I would not be here right now if it weren't for your ability to reason things out. You just need time.”

Harry dropped his gaze to their hands. Hermione had entwined her fingers with his and she held onto him tightly. He continued.

“Maybe getting away from everything is just what you need. You know, help clear your head and all. Can I ask where you're going or is that a secret protected with one of Hermione's cleverest hexes?”

He glanced back into her eyes and realized to his relief her usual `what-an-idiot' smirk played across her lips for a moment. He was relieved to discover she was not too far gone into the depths of despair.

“No Harry,” she said softly, “That's one of the reasons I came here before I left you dolt.”

“Oh?” Harry's eyebrows shot up, “And what's the other reason?”

Hermione glanced up into his eyes with another serious look.

“I want you to go with me Harry.” She replied in an almost breathless whisper.

Harry was stunned for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say. Hermione began speaking rapidly like she did when she was very nervous.

“I mean really Harry. Think about it for a moment. You can't leave this place without getting mobbed by every Tom, Dick and Sally wanting a piece of the…bloody Savior of the Wizarding World and the Prophet haunts your every step. I mean, you've got blokes bouncing off #12 on a daily basis for Merlin's sake.”

He knew she was referring to the two wizard reporters who tried to break the wards to #12 and got thrown all the way to the Scottish Highlands by the rebounding charm Kinsley installed as a joke. It had happened while they were at Hogwarts doing research. An alarm spell had been tripped when it happened and Aurors were dispatched instantly. Kingsley had sent them his patronus to let him know.

Hermione released her grip on Harry and stood up. She began pacing the room, her hands animated as she made her case.

“Ginny in her infinite stupidity tossed over the most powerful Wizard in the world for her old boy toy. Not to mention your best friend has written a ridiculous tell-all book with one of the wizard world's biggest gossips and there's no telling what kind of rubbish that work of fiction contains…”

Harry watched her with amusement. He had already made up his mind but she was on a roll and he liked seeing her like this much better than being lost inside her own head.

Hermione stopped pacing and looked back at him expectantly.

Harry sat back in the chair as if in contemplation. He looked up at her with a smirk.

“Well when you put it that way it sounds like I need a vacation worse than you do.”

Hermione crossed her arms and stared at him, her eyes had gone to thin slits.

“You do!” She answered.

“Alright, you've convinced me,” Harry said matter-of-factly as he stood up, “When do we leave?”

Hermione seemed to morph like the sun had suddenly come out from behind heavy dark clouds. She was beaming as she threw herself into Harry's arms with a squeal of delight.

“Do you mean it Harry?” Her face was covered in a huge toothy smile. It had been a long time since he had seen it and it was like one of Madam Pomfrey's healing potions to an open wound.

Harry seemed to think she was a bit more excited about this than he thought was appropriate but as he stood there in the sitting room of his home holding his best friend in his arms wrapping him in a bone crushing hug new and very un-platonic thoughts swirled in his brain.

Harry couldn't help recall, once again, the night she had kissed him at her parent's house. She seemed to press her body into his molding herself to him as though she couldn't get close enough. She laid her head against his shoulder for a moment holding him in a death grip.

Her body felt almost frail in his arms. The past few months had taken a physical toll on her. He knew she had not been eating or sleeping well. If going away with her could alleviate some of her anxiety then it would be worth it. He would do it for her.

Before he could react Hermione leaned her head back just enough to look up into his face with a very Ginny-like blazing look. The smell of her lavender scented skin and the softness of her hair assaulted his senses like nothing before.

Harry suddenly felt her lips, soft and warm on his again. The contact, while anticipated this time still sent a wonderfully exciting tingling sensation right up the middle of his back. His hands seemed to grip her tighter all on their own.

What started out as nothing more than a friendly peck seemed to change into a sudden desperate need even stronger then the last time.

Hermione felt a rush of heat that started somewhere near her navel and coursed over her body flaring past her cheeks to scorch her ears.

Suddenly their mouths crushed together. She wanted to taste him. It was is if she couldn't breath unless she did. It was a curious and frightening feeling. Hermione's lips parted and her tongue touched Harry's. It was as if a bolt of lightning blasted through her. She suddenly realized she wanted more.

For the second time in her life the thrill of physical desire coursed through her body. The first time had been with Victor Krum. The passion and desire he had felt for her had been thrilling and dangerous. She had given in only out of the sheer longing to be needed and wanted by…someone.

Victor had made it easy. He hadn't cared if she lacked grace or the skills of her seemingly well experienced dorm mates. What began as an awkward attempt at self-discovery and an attempt to strike back at Ron for being such an insensitive idiot ended in a blazing inferno of physical passion and mutual need but Victor had become nothing more than a vehicle to assuage her curiosity. It had been intense.

She had felt guilty for weeks after her brief affair with the Bulgarian Quidditch star but he had taught her things she wanted to know.

The fact she had, for quite a while, remained in contact with Victor through their on-going correspondence was what she considered her penance for using him. Victor never saw it that way. He had been so caring and understanding. His gentleness was a stark contrast to the person he showed the world.

She knew at once she didn't love Viktor. It was one of the things that made it so horrifying to think of after it was over. He, however, had been completely smitten with her. She had to tell him it wasn't intended as a start to a long-term romance. He would be leaving soon. The words Scarlet Woman echoed in her head for a long time after. She thought maybe Rita's article in the Prophet wasn't so wrong after all.

But even with all the knowledge and experience she had gained from Victor it had not prepared her for the things she was now feeling in the arms of the boy she suddenly realized she had been in love with all her young life.

The certainly of it filled her conscious mind as she stood there probing the depths of him with her tongue. His taste, his warmth, the strength of his body pressed firmly against hers. It was enough to burn her to ashes right there in the middle of the sitting room.

After months of debilitating sadness and grief the damn that seemed to be holding back all her emotions burst wide open and emptied into the depths of Harry's physical presence in her life. She finally understood he was now and had been for most of her life as a Muggle-born witch the only one she had ever turned to who truly understood her to the depths no-one else possibly could. Not even her mother and father.

Hermione clung to him as if Harry was a life preserver being tossed about in an endless stormy sea.

For Harry, Hermione's desperation became clear very quickly. He kept himself anchored to the reality he was snogging most intensely with his best and most trusted friend. For reasons he could not fathom at the moment something inside told him she needed this. Hermione needed him in a way, here to for, he had never considered possible or practical.

But there he was, locked in a passionate and intensely heated physical encounter with the most amazing girl he has ever known. The feel of her soft lips and swirling tongue on his wiped every other conscious thought from his slowly over-heating brain.

It was impossible for the rest of his body not to react to Hermione's raw need. He wanted to be embarrassed but just couldn't seem to manage it. Hermione slid a hand to the back of his neck keeping his mouth pressed firmly against hers and grinding her hips against his in response to his growing excitement.

If he was to be honest, he had never had this kind of reaction with Ginny. He never felt like this when he had kissed Cho Chang for the very first time. It was so much more intense. It was so much more…real.

Is this what true love feels like?

The thought slammed into Harry's mind as he stood there enjoying the sensations Hermione was making him feel but he also knew if he didn't stop soon it would be very easy for him to loose control of himself. With Hermione in the state of mind she had been in for the past months, common sense told him she was vulnerable and weak. That thought was enough to gently put a bit of space between them.

With great reluctance Hermione's lips left his and she leaned back looking up into his bewildered face.

“Wow,” was all Harry could mutter.

The heat that flashed through him during the kiss diminished only slightly as he saw the look in Hermione's eyes. He wasn't sure he recognized it. He recalled seeing a similar look on the face of one Romilda Vane a few years before. He was just as clueless then. He thought it best to steer them into safer waters.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to stay within the safety of Harry's arms. For the first time since they left Hogwarts after Dumbledore's funeral she felt at ease as if nothing bad could touch her there within his embrace. Her tired mind felt calm and she could feel his strength and resolve flow into her. The kiss had caused her own body to react in ways it had never done before. Not even during the throws of passion with Victor. This was different…it was much deeper.

“So where are we going anyway?” Harry asked in a rather breathless voice.

Hermione smiled.

Always the gentleman this one…even when I'm not sure I want him to be…

Hermione took his hand and pulled him toward the hallway.

“Come on,” she said with a big grin as she tugged on his arm, “I'll show you.”

Harry allowed her to tow him up the stairs and into the small Black library on the second floor. She stopped in front of an old, faded antique globe of the world set in a shadowy corner of the room. Harry could scarcely remember the globe even being there.

Hermione spun the dusty orb slowly letting her fingers glide softly over the embossed surface until it came to a stop with her fingers resting over the island of Australia.

Harry's heart pinched again but to his surprise Hermione was smiling. She pointed to a collection of what appeared to be tiny brown dots in the middle of an almost endless expanse of blue. She turned and looked at Harry's surprised face.

“These are the Islands of what is called French Polynesia in the Tuamotu Archipelago. See the largest island here?”

She pointed to a brown dot that was only slightly larger than the rest.

“That's the island of Tahiti…”

“Tahiti,” Harry repeated as if he was trying the word on for size.

“Yes,” Hermione continued. Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she smiled sadly at him, “My parents took me there when I was 8. I couldn't help but fall in love with the place. It's so warm and peaceful.”

A distant look passed across her face for a moment but then she smiled again looking into Harry's eyes.

“I know you'll fall in love with it too Harry.”

“It's so far away from everything isn't' it?” He asked. “Are there…”

Before he could ask the question Hermione seemed to already know the answer. The wordless communication ability seemed to be back.

“No Harry,” she said as she stepped back from the globe, “there are no wizards or witches there at all, at least none who live there that I know of.”

Harry nodded.

“How will we get there? Are we going to apparate?”

Hermione didn't look at him.

“No Harry,” she said as her eyes scanned the globe again, “It's much too great a distance to apparate. I think I just need a break from magic for a while as well. Can you understand that? You being half Muggle should understand what I'm saying, yes?”

That statement caught Harry completely by surprise. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. It was like hearing the Muggle Prime Minister saying he was tired of politics or Victor Krum was through with Quidditch but as he stood there absorbing her words the rationality of what she had said sank in.

Over the past several years Hermione had become so engrained in the world of magic she had all but lost touch with a wholly separate world she had been a part of half her life. Even if she felt she never truly fit in she had a life there. She had a childhood and memories and wonderful times with her parents.

Harry could scarcely relate. His life as a Muggle had been filled with abuse, emptiness and loneliness. None of which he understood or realized until he found out he belonged to a completely different world himself. For him it was an escape, a way to break free of a life filled with hate and the lack of self-identity.

He never before thought about what it must have been like for Hermione to learn she was completely different from those around her. It must have been the same for his mother Lilly as well. To find out you don't even fit in with your own family must have been devastating for them.

For Hermione, she had taken hold of the Wizard World with an iron grip of her tiny fist. She had proved to everyone Hermione Granger would take a back seat to no one when it came to magic. Her skills and abilities rivaled those twice her age and her intelligence was incomprehensible to any but the most experienced of their kind.

But for the first time since she had burst into their compartment that fateful day on the Hogwarts Express Harry wasn't seeing `The Bossy little Nightmare.' He was seeing a young woman who had been through much pain and sorrow. He wasn't seeing the determination and strength that had kept them alive the past five years, he was seeing a girl who needed to be loved and cared for. Someone with feelings and needs even though he wasn't quite sure what those needs were at the moment.

As he looked into her eyes Harry thought he could sense she felt he could give her what she needed and he decided right then and there he would…whatever it was he would give it to her. It was just as he had told Ron, after all Hermione Granger had done for him it was the least he could do.

The realization of what he had just decided filled him with a warmth and happiness he had never felt before.

“So how, then,” he asked again, “How are we to get to that little dot in the middle of the ocean?”

Hermione's face broke out in a wide, devious grin.

“Ever been on a Muggle airplane before Harry?”

“No, actually,” Harry blanched, “Is it anything like flying on a broom?”

Hermione wrinkled her cute little nose and rolled her sparkling brown eyes.

“No silly,” she quipped as she grabbed his hand and in her usual bossy fashion she towed Harry from the library, up the stairs and toward his bedroom, “flying on a plane is nothing like a broom. The one we'll be on is very large so you don't even know you're flying really. Now we've got to get you packed!”

Hermione's excitement was back as they entered his room. She turned his hand loose and went right to the closet. She pulled her wand from her pocket and with an expert flick of her wrist all his hanging clothes marched into the room and laid themselves in neat stacks on the bed.

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

“I thought you said you needed a break from…”

Before he could finish his retort Hermione cast him a withering glare. It shut him right up. He made himself busy pulling under things from the drawers of Sirius' old dresser.

As Hermione stood surveying his clothes a look of sheer agony crossed her face.

“Oh Harry,” she groaned, “Are these the only clothes you have?”

Harry's face blushed scarlet. He knew he didn't possess nice things. Most of his wardrobe consisted of old, worn out Dudley hand-me-downs both tired and ill-fitting. Until that moment he had never cared much about his appearance. It wasn't like he went to fancy parties or social events like Ron. He had only one set of nice clothes and he usually reserved them for hearings in front of an angry Wizengamot or funerals. There had been way too many of both in the past few years.

As they stood surveying his pathetic wardrobe Hermione's whole expression changed as she placed her hands firmly on her hips. She turned to look at Harry with a most serious expression on her face.

“I think it's time for you to get some new things Harry,” Hermione said with an authoritative air, “past time, actually. You once told me you've got plenty of galleons in your vault at Gringotts yes?”

Harry nodded as he fingered one of Dudley's old ragged t-shirts that was two sizes too large.

Hermione reached out and took his hand once again.

“I'm taking you shopping,” Hermione ordered. “We'll stop by Gringotts bank and get the funds you need. Besides, you're going to need a bit of spending money for the trip. I'm sure they can convert some of your galleons to Muggle money.

With that Hermione towed a reluctant Harry away from his room.

Harry's head was spinning slightly as he allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs toward the fireplace down in the kitchen.

A sudden unpleasant thought occurred to him as he followed Hermione through the house.

He stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione stopped with a jolt and turned back to look at Harry's pale face.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I'm not sure how wise it would be for us to show up at Gringotts at present if you know what I mean.” Harry replied.

She realized what he was getting at instantly. The memory of breaking into the wizard bank flooded her mind. They had been single-handedly responsible for an enormous amount of damage to one of the most secure locations in the wizard world. The Goblins were not likely going to forget it any time soon…if ever.

The here-to-for impenetrable establishment not only took a major hit to its reputation but also to the Goblin's pride. There was not only an Official Investigation demanded by the Goblins but there were articles in the Profit for days after detailing every aspect of what was now being called, `The Assault on Gringotts.'

What was left of the Ministry and several members of the Wizengamot had rushed in and attempted to explain to the Goblins what had happened but the Goblins were not at all please there would be no one to answer for the crime. It had created a larger rift in an already strained relationship between Wizards and Goblins and would not be healed any time soon.

For Harry, he felt guilty for being responsible for causing the problems at the Wizard bank.

For Hermione, she thought the whole thing completely ridiculous.

Even though, she stood looking thoughtful for a moment. Then her face took on her usual no-nonsense look as she continued toward the fireplace in the kitchen.

“Not to worry Harry,” she said with her head held high, “That won't be a problem.”

---@>---

The silence of Shell Cottage was almost palpable as Fleur sat on the ornate floral sofa trying to concentrate on a book her mother had given her on her last visit. The only sound was the constant lulling waves rolling gently against the shore in the background of the bright, late morning sun.

It usually had a calming effect but for the last few days it was an effort for her to keep the nausea and light-headedness at bay.

Since Arthur had been elected as Minister for Magic, Molly and Ginny had decided to move into the Minister's residence in London.

Part of Fleur was glad to have her home back to herself but she felt a bit guilty for feeling that way.

Molly was an ever-present entity at the cottage since the night they went to St. Mungo's wanting to be useful as always and Ginny, restless as ever, seemed to be joined at the hip with Dean Thomas the entire time she was there.

Between Arthur, George and Percy constantly popping in and out and Bill being under an enormous amount of stress trying to convince the Goblins what had happened at Gringotts was for the greater good of the wizard world she got very little peace or privacy.

She was about to give up on the book for the present and go make herself a cup of tea when the fireplace in the corner of the living room flared to life in billowing green flames.

Fleur started so violently her whole body seemed to clench painfully.

She looked at the fireplace to see a fiery representation of Hermione Granger's head and shoulders sticking out from the grate.

“I'm really sorry for the intrusion Fleur. I hope I'm not interrupting…” Hermione's flaming head announced.

“No…no, eet is quite alright `ermione. What can I do for you mon cheri?” Fleur asked, still trying to calm her fluttering heart.

“I was looking for Bill actually. Harry needs to withdraw some of his money from his account and as a result of what happened we thought it best to check with Bill first. We don't think the Goblins are…very pleased with us right now.”

Fleur's annoyance at the stress and pressure Bill had been under the past few weeks flashed through her mind but she kept it from reaching her face. She understood as well as anyone why they had to break into Gringotts but it was still hard for her to reconcile the fallout that her husband had been dealing with, her present physical condition not withstanding.

“Bill is at the office at present I believe. Perhaps it would be best eef I were to send him a message on your behalf, no?”

“That would be great,” Hermione's head smiled, “Thank you Fleur. I certainly wouldn't bother you…”

Fleur waved off the apology and rose from the couch. A sudden spell of dizziness swept over her and she had to clutch the arm of the sofa to steady herself. Her stomach seemed to roll unpleasantly as she absent-mindedly clutched her mid section.

Hermione noticed and a look of concern crossed her flaming visage.

“Are you alright Fleur?”

Fleur nodded without answering for a moment. She then straightened up slowly and turned to the fireplace. Hermione thought she looked a little green but made no further comment.

“Just a beet under zee wezar,” Fleur cringed. “Not to worry. I will tell Bill to meet you and Harry out in front of Gringotts at say…” Fleur glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was 10:00a.m., “eleven o' clock? Will zat be acceptamon?”

“That will be perfect Fleur, thank you again for your help,” Hermione paused before she pulled back from the fireplace, “Are you sure…”

Again Fleur's hand came up to stop her question.

“I'm quite alright `ermione,” she answered, “not to worry. I sink I just need to go and lie down for a bit.”

“Very well then,” Hermione still looked concerned but said nothing further about it, “thanks again.”

With that she pulled back from the fireplace and returned to the kitchen at Grimmuald Place. Having been the first time Hermione used the floo in such a manner she found herself a bit disoriented by the experience. She had to sit for a minute and gather her wits. When she recovered she related the info to Harry and they made their way up to the library to wait until about 10:45 before they left.

In that time Hermione had called the Airline she had booked the flight on to see if she could get Harry a seat otherwise she would have to cancel her flight and take a different one. Since the airlines weren't all that busy at present she had no problem getting Harry on and was even able to get them seats together.

She also contacted the Muggle resort where she had booked her reservations and changed them to two guests instead of one. She was pleased to discover she would receive a 15% discount on Harry's stay for adding the extra guest.

She had also made arrangements for them to pick up Harry's passport and Visa on the way back from Diagon Alley.

By the time she was finished she admitted her Muggle credit card was now almost maxed out. Harry frowned at that.

“Don't worry Hermione, I promise I'll pay my part. Maybe Bill can fix it up to put the money back on your card while we're there.”

“Don't worry about it Harry,” Hermione said, “I'm just relived I'll not be going alone.”

Something occurred to Harry at that moment. He had no idea where the thought came from but he couldn't help but grin slyly.

“Well, you could have always invited Cormac McLaggen.”

The look she gave him made him suddenly wish he had not opened his mouth.

“And you can fly half way round the globe in a full body-bind curse as well smart arse!” She glared, “I'd feed you to the sharks but you'd probably just give them indigestion. Can we go now before I really lose my temper?”

Without another word Harry spun on his heel and they made their way down to the front entrance. Thankfully, by the time they reached the door Hermione was chuckling and mumbling to herself about confunded-muscle-bound-bludger-beaten-idiots.

As Harry grabbed the door knob he stopped. He recalled the last time he left through the front entrance. He turned to look at Hermione's surprised face for a second.

“What now Harry,” she asked with her eyebrows raised.

“Erm…maybe we should just apparate from here.”

He really didn't want to get into a long explanation about what had happened to him last time so he just gave her a serious look.

“Wizard press.”

“Ah,” Hermione nodded. She needed no further information then that.

They clasped hands and with a twist Hermione thought of Diagon Alley very clearly in her mind. With a “pop” they both vanished on the spot.

Appearing just outside the entrance to Knockturn Alley they made their way across the small square to the corner of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley near the front entrance to the wizard bank.

They saw Bill standing just outside the building talking to two Aurors who were guarding the front entrance. As Harry and Hermione approached they noticed something very unusual about Bill's appearance.

They realized at once Bill looked quite normal. The damage that had been done to him by Fenrir Greyback seemed to be completely gone! They looked at one-another with large smiles on their faces as they approached Bill's smiling handsome face.

“I can see by your expression my glamour is working flawlessly,” Bill grinned, “Good to see you both again. It's been too long.”

He reached out his hand to Harry shaking it and gave Hermione a quick embrace.

“How…” Harry asked unable to hide the look of surprise.

“It seems the Healers at St. Mungo's are experimenting with all sorts of things like this these days,” Bill replied as he ushered them into the bank, “They've even managed to make a replacement ear for George. It's quite amazing. Looks just like his old one.”

Harry already knew about the ear of course but Hermione was stunned. Harry didn't tell Bill that George and Lee had already modified his ear to do some crazy things.

“Fleur hates it,” Bill added, “She says it's not the real me. I just use it at work. It makes dealing with clients and customers much more comfortable and these days I need to try and be as inconspicuous as possible.”

They knew exactly what Bill was saying. Their little stunt had caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people.

As they made their way toward Bill's office Harry and Hermione got the unmistakable sense of a multitude of eyes on them as they passed. The feeling of malevolent anger settled on the back of Harry's neck like a sunburn and the tension in the place was so thick you could cut through it with a wave of a wand.

As they entered what was a rather large and nicely appointed office Bill went around and settled behind his desk.

He motioned for Harry and Hermione to take two comfortable chairs setting in front of his large oak desk.

To the right a tiny Goblin sat at an appropriately sized desk bent over what looked like a large and elaborate ledger, his quill scratching across the surface filling in numbers taken from a pile of papers on the left side of his tiny desk. He didn't even bother to look up when the others came in.

“That's Trumble Fent,” Bill said introducing the Goblin. The little creature only waved to them without looking, “He's my assistant. Good fellow - very smart with the numbers. Now what can I do for you two. Fleur said you needed to make a withdrawal Harry?”

When Bill said the words withdrawal and Harry the little Goblin's head popped up and he turned to stare at them with wide eyes. Bill scowled at his assistant.

“Mind your business Trumble,” Bill growled, “I'm dealing with a customer.”

The little Goblin said nothing but simply turned and closed the huge ledger book slowly, slipped off his stool and shuffled his way to the door.

“I shall return in a moment Mr. Weasley,” Trumble croaked, “Shall I bring our customers refreshments upon my return?”

“No thank you Trumble but it's very nice of you to ask,” Bill replied not taking his eyes off the Goblin until the office door closed. Bill sighed heavily.

“I'd wager within minutes every Goblin in the building is going to know you two are here so it would probably be best to finish our business as quickly as possible.”

Harry's face fell with a look of sadness.

“I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble for everyone but getting in here without the Death Eater's knowing was essential. I just didn't realize it would cause so much damage…”

Bill held up a hand.

“Think no more about it Harry,” Bill said with his usual handsome roguish grin, “What had to be done is done. So how much will you need?”

Harry thought about it for a moment but then turned to Hermione for advice.

“Well,” Hermione replied looking thoughtful, “You need a complete new wardrobe Harry. You'll also need a few things for our trip…”

“Trip?” Bill asked, his eyebrows set high.

“Yes,” Hermione said blushing slightly, “I need a break from the wizard world for a while so I invited Harry to go on holiday with us for a few weeks. We both need a break from all the ridiculous attention and nonsense.”

Harry couldn't help but catch the us in Hermione's explanation. He was certain she didn't want to explain about her parents.

“Ah,” Bill said with a smile, “I understand completely. So when you say a complete new wardrobe?”

Hermione quickly explained the pathetic state of Harry's clothing. Harry couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Hermione laid a comforting hand on his knee.

“I see,” replied Bill, “Well that will certainly be a bit of an expense. Would you say two thousand would be enough to cover it?”

Hermione looked at Harry, eyes wide not realizing just how much money it would cost to replace everything he had with better stuff. She nodded ruefully.

Harry just grinned, “Better make it three thousand just to be on the safe side.”

Bill only nodded completely unaffected by the request. Hermione blanched.

“For Merlin's sake Harry,” she said glancing at him worriedly, “You don't want to empty your account do you?”

Bill chuckled and Hermione looked at him puzzled.

“Hermione,” Bill said with a smile, “It would take days for a team of Goblins to count all the galleons in Harry's vault. Three thousand pounds worth wouldn't put the smallest of dents in his balance.”

Hermione's eyes flew wide, “I see.”

“The exchange rate from galleons, or should I say gold, to pounds right now is better then it has been in ages. The exchange at the moment is,” he shuffled some papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for then held it up to read it, “790 pounds to the Galleon.”

“Seven hundred and ninety pounds!” Hermione almost choked. She stared at Harry wide-eyed.

Bill nodded.

“Something tells me I should have been investing my allowance in galleons,” Hermione quipped under her breath.

Harry and Bill laughed.

“Can you transfer funds over to say…a Muggle credit card or something like that?” Harry asked. Hermione shot him a look.

“Certainly,” Bill replied, “You've got a credit card Harry?”

“No…no, It's just Hermione went to a lot of expense to make the necessary travel plans and I think she spent most of her money doing it. I would like to replace what she spent on me.”

“It was my parents actually,” Hermione added hastily. It wasn't exactly a lie. The card was in her father's name after all.

“No problem,” said Bill, “Let me see the card and I can do the transfer right from here. Believe it or not the Goblins are heavily invested in the Muggle world. Much of their financial resources come from the profits they make on a few…shall we say…clever inventions they hold patent rights on in the Muggle world.”

Hermione blanched.

“Isn't that a breach of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Bill held his hands out palms down as if to signal for Hermione to keep her voice down. He was suddenly sorry for saying anything about that particular subject.

“Technically…yes,” Bill responded, “but the inventions are only minor ones and the Ministry has seen fit to look the other way so to speak. It's netted a sizable profit and the Goblins have been generous to the Ministry as a result. It's politics Hermione. Having said that it would not be in the Ministry's best interest to object to much of anything at present due to the climate which we find ourselves in if you understand what I'm saying.”

They did but it stuck in Hermione's craw the past Administrations had seen fit to allow such an obvious breach in the law.

Bill cleared his throat and decided to steer the conversation to safer waters and get back to the business at hand.

“So how much do you want in pounds and how much transferred to Hermione's card? Bill asked with a smile.

Harry and Hermione talked it over for a moment then she looked back at Bill.

“Ok, the round trip ticket was 4125 pounds, the open reservation required a 300 pound deposit, add on the Visa and passport fees of 50 pounds and that's it for the expenditures on the card for Harry.”

Bill was working an old-fashioned adding machine while she was speaking.

“Very well, that's 4475 pounds total, factor the exchange rate, transfer and conversion fees, and done!”

Harry tossed Hermione a rye glance then looked back at Bill.

“Transfer an even five thousand to her card if you would please Bill.”

Hermione looked at Harry like he had just insulted her mother.

“No you will not Bill! Just the amount I specified please.”

“Bill.” Harry said.

“Harry!” Hermione glared.

“Hermione,” Bill chuckled, “It's his money. He's the customer.”

Hermione folded her arms in a huff looking mutinous.

“Fine!” she growled, “Do what you like.”

Harry chuckled then they finished making all the necessary funds transfers. They finally decided on three thousand for the wardrobe, one thousand pounds in cash with an additional five thousand put on a Muggle cash card they could use anywhere. It was Bill's suggestion they not carry such a large amount of cash on them.

Harry split the cash and handed half to Hermione who at first refused to take it. When Harry explained it was just for security reasons she reluctantly agreed.

With the funds put back on Hermione's credit card they felt they had enough money to cover just about any situation they might encounter in the Muggle world.

Hermione was still miffed about the extra money but she suddenly recalled how Fleur had looked when she floo-ed Shell Cottage.

“Is Fleur not feeling well Bill? She looked positively ill when I popped in on her. Is she alright?”

Bill's face unexpectedly went a light shade of pink that showed even through his glamour. He sat back in his chair and gave Hermione a significant look mumbling something about confounded clever little witches. Luckily Hermione didn't catch it.

“I'm going to tell you both something I would appreciate not being repeated to anyone else for the time being, understood?”

Both Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Of course Bill,” Hermione said, “not a word. We promise.” Harry nodded.

Bill took a deep steadying breath.

“Fleur's pregnant.”

It took a moment for the announcement to sink in but when it did both Harry and Hermione were on their feet smiling, laughing and congratulating Bill most jubilantly. Bill, on the other hand didn't look quite as enthusiastic about the news. That struck Hermione as quite odd.

“What's wrong Bill? Why do you look so unhappy?”

Bill looked as if he were struggling with some very unpleasant thoughts for a moment.

“Fleur's alright isn't she?” Harry asked, becoming a bit alarmed himself.

Finally Bill decided to out with his concerns.

“It's just I'm scared that's all. What with Fleur being part Veela and you're well aware of my affliction…I'm just worried there will be complication or we might lose the baby for some odd reason,” Bill leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. He dropped his head in his hands, “Losing the baby would absolutely kill Fleur. We've decided not to tell anyone yet until we are sure she can carry the baby to term. Mum doesn't even know yet and she's been popping in and out for the past two weeks. We've just been telling her Fleur's ill.”

When Bill looked up finally he saw Harry had a look of honest concern on his face but when he glanced at Hermione she was giving him a knowing little cryptic smirk.

“What's that look for Hermione?” Bill inquired a bit haughtily.

“Personally I don't think you've got a thing to worry about Bill,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“Explain?”

“Very simple actually,” Hermione replied grinning, “I think you're forgetting an important fact. This had already been accomplished if I'm not mistaken…and I'm not.”

Both Harry and Bill gave her quizzical looks. Hermione just rolled her eyes at how thick they were being.

“Nymphadora and Remus you knuckleheads!” Hermione laughed, “And if I recall correctly, and I think I do,” she continued smugly, “Remus' lycanthropic infection was quite a bit more severe than yours and I believe little Teddy picked up his mother's traits instead. Even though it would seem the lycanthropy would be the dominant trait in that situation it didn't seem to manifest itself in Teddy at all…quite curious actually but really Bill, I don't think you need to torture yourself like this. I think your chances of having a perfectly healthy baby are ten times what they were for Remus and Tonks and it didn't stop them in the least.”

A look of sheer wonder and surprise settled on Bill's features. Harry just sat grinning at her. He had become well accustomed to her level of intelligence over the years.

“Why that's…I…” Bill stammered, then recovered quickly. “You know, the Healers didn't even pick up on that. Why do I suddenly feel very foolish?”

“Not to worry Bill,” Harry said, “Happens to me all the time when I hang around with this one.” He threw a thumb in Hermione's direction.

Hermione just rolled her eyes again but decided to bask in the glow of her own cleverness for a moment. That hadn't happened in a long time.

Now, if I could just fix the problems that plague my parents I would be a bloody genius!

She tried to shake those dark thoughts away. It would do her no good to start brooding.

“Speaking of Teddy,” Harry turned to Hermione, “Do you think we have time to pop over for a visit before we leave tomorrow?”

Hermione consulted the large, antique clock on the wall of Bill's office. They had been there a little over an hour. She figured it would take several hours to get everything Harry needed even if they hurried.

“I'd say we could go visit Andromeda this evening if you like but we'll need to hustle. Our flight leaves Heathrow at 11:00 a.m. in the morning.”

Bill shot Harry a surprised look.

“You're going to fly,” he asked quite amused, “on a Muggle airplane?”

Harry just shrugged. Hermione smirked again.

“Ever try apparating with luggage?”

“Ah!” Bill understood at once.

With that he stood and escorted the two back out into Diagon Alley. Harry and Hermione wasted no time in returning to #12 for as soon as they stepped outside the bank they realized Diagon Alley had become thick with witches and wizards and it didn't take long for someone to recognize them. The last thing they wanted was to get mobbed.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Eighteen - Visit

Once back at #12 Harry and Hermione wasted no time in making their way into Muggle London via the tube. They quickly made their way trough a few clothing stores picking up the essentials like trouser, shirts, socks and undergarments.

Harry's mind was in a constant state of dizziness as Hermione dragged him from one location to another. It was the first time in his life he had ever been shopping for himself and he felt dull-witted and completely out of sorts. He simply relied on Hermione's knowledge and expertise in the present situation.

He determined if he could trust her with his life he could very well trust her to outfit him with some stylish togs so he simply went along for the ride and did as he was asked without much fuss.

Hermione had become so intent on getting Harry squared away not only was she at her bossiest best but she had not thought about her parents in hours. The distraction, while making her feel a touch guilty, was welcome. She had managed to find quite a few bargains and sale items that helped trim down what she knew was going to be a whopping expenditure.

She had to admit to herself the lessons in frugal shopping learned from her mother through the years had paid off big time.

After they had acquired most all the essentials Hermione concentrated on items he would need for his trip. She wanted Harry to have fun without worrying about anything. She figured this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime holiday so they might as well go big.

They found themselves running through Allders in Croydon, then off to Selfridges & Co. and John Lewis on Oxford St. then found themselves in the ever-present BHS (British Home Stores) where they managed to round out Harry's makeover with one of his first ever pair of new trainers. He was so please with his new shoes he told the sales lady he wanted to wear them out. Hermione could help but laugh.

They had a bit of time left before heading out of London to visit Andromeda and little Teddy so they browsed in the store.

“We certainly got a lot of stuff didn't we,” Harry asked looking at the huge pile of bags and boxes they had accumulated in their spree. They had lugged it all to BHS by hand.

Hermione frowned as she took it all in, then casting a furtive glance about the men's department saw they were quite alone for the moment.

With a wave of her wand she cast a shrinking charm on all but two of the bags. All the rest of their items fit quite nicely in those.

Harry gave her a significant look but she just smirked at him. He couldn't help but chuckle.

She saw some very nice Hawaiian-type shirts that screamed Tropical Vacation on a display rack and talked Harry into trying them on along with some swim trunks. He rolled his eyes but said nothing as he made his way to the fitting rooms.

As she browsed the Misses department waiting on Harry something in the display window made Hermione stop in her tracks and gawk open-mouthed.

It was a gold, very tiny string bikini made out of some type of very shiny fabric. It was to DIE FOR! The top was nothing more than two small triangles of gold caught in a web of thin strings to keep them in place. For someone as buxom as say…Cho Chang or Lavender Brown the top would have left scant little to the imagination of their ample breasts but for Hermione, who found herself looking down at what she considered her paltry bust line she thought it would fit quite nicely.

The bottom was of the thong variety and the practical woman in her gagged at the idea of ever getting caught dead in such a scandalous garment…but for the first time in her life Hermione was feeling a bit rebellious. Getting killing curses hurled at you, tortured, chased by blood-thirsty Death Eaters and tossed aside by the boy you thought you were in love with can change even the most introverted of souls.

She stood there staring longingly at the bathing suit when a saleswoman approached.

“Can I help you with something Miss?” She asked.

Hermione contemplated for a moment sucking on her bottom lip, then decided to take the plunge.

Why not? It's my escape! I'll do it my way. I don't care what anyone else thinks!

“Do you have this in a size to fit me?” She asked the clerk pointing to the gold bikini.

“Certainly,” the woman smiled broadly, “Would you like to try it on?”

Hermione nodded but then stopped.

“Wait,” she inquired with her brows pinched together, “How much?”

“I believe that one is 125 pounds Miss. It's on sale!” The woman said smiling.

A HUNDRED AND TWENTY FI…

Hermione started to sweat. No matter how lovely and sexy it looked she could not justify spending that much money on less than a dozen square inches of fabric and some pretty shoe strings. The rebellion seemed to be squashed before it was able to muster any steam at all.

The saleswoman seemed to understand Hermione's hesitancy.

“Why don't you try it on anyway Miss,” the women said, “No harm in looking yes?”

Oh! This woman's clever!

“Right,” Hermione said wincing inside.

“I'll meet you at the changing booths.”

She passed the changing room Harry was using and knocked. She heard the latch click open. When she peaked inside he was wearing a pair of dark blue swim trunks and nothing else. The sight of his slender but rather well defined body made the temperature go up a bit.

Harry turned to look at her with a smile

“Well how do I look?” He asked.

“Smashing Harry,” she wasn't really talking about the swim trunks, “if you don't mind I'm going to try something on.”

Harry glanced out into the store with a grin.

“Of course not,” he said, looking at her a bit funny, “Why would I mind?”

“Well, it's just we're here for you not me,” she said shyly, “that's all.”

“What a load of rubbish Hermione,” Harry worked on taking one of the shirts from the hanger and unbuttoning it, “get whatever you want or need. It's on me…”

Hermione threw up both hands out in front of her as if to stop something.

“No…NO, Harry,” she stuttered, “I'm just trying something on to see how it looks that's all. No way can I afford it.”

Harry gave her a look of annoyance but Hermione made a hasty exit as she saw the saleswoman approach. She was holding the bikini high up in front of her as if to parade it around the shop for everyone to see.

Hermione approached quickly and snatched it from her grasp.

“Umm…sorry, thanks.” Hermione muttered as she slid quickly into the fitting room.

Before she could snatch the bikini from the woman's hand Harry had poked his head around the corner of the fitting room door and saw what the woman was holding. He couldn't believe how tiny the bathing suit was.

Hermione? In a tog like that? Ooh my... I think I'd give my wand arm to see her in that…

He quickly derailed his train of thought right there! In fact…he laid dynamite on the tracks, blew them up and the train disappeared into a smoking hole!

Blushing scarlet from the neck up he went back to his own fitting.

For Hermione, the silky gold two-piece fit her body like it was made specifically for her. In her mind it showed just the right amount of what to her were her pathetically small breasts. (Although, they really weren't that small. She just didn't burst out of her tops like Cho or Lavender) Not too much…not too little. She thought it scandalous but found her reflection smiling at the thought of the look on Ron's face if he saw her.

I'll show you Scarlet woman you moron!

The straps of the bottom rode high on the slender curve of her hips and tied off on both sides. The tiny triangle panel in the front was large enough to cover what needed to be covered but that was all. The smaller panel in the back seemed to be just for show. It fit snugly against the small of her back but left both cheeks of her bottom completely exposed. She felt almost completely naked but as she stood there looking at herself she couldn't help thinking.

Merlin…It looks smashing on me!

She fluffed her abundant hair and let it spill unfettered down her back. The young woman looking back at her in the mirror was not the introverted know-it-all book worm she came to recognize throughout her life and she liked it.

But as quickly as the magical moment came, it evaporated like the morning mist over the Hogwarts Lake as the price tag tickled the extreme left edge of her breast.

It took her less than five seconds to remove the most beautiful bikini she had ever seen. With a heavy sigh she re-dressed, hung the garment back on the hanger and went out to tend to Harry.

When she opened the door she found him sitting on a bench just outside her fitting room waiting. She flung the bikini behind her with a twitch but it was much too late. He was looking right at her.

“What's that you've got there,” he asked.

Hermione blushed so hot she thought her hair was going to spontaneously combust.

“Oh…erm, nothing,” She stammered, “Just wanted to see how it…looked.” Hermione turned on her heel and fled.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He continued to sit waiting for Hermione to return when the sales woman passed by with an arm full of garments on hangers.

“Excuse me Miss,” Harry asked as he stood up.

The sales woman stopped and smiled brightly at him.

“That thing my friend tried on. You know what it was?”

“Yes sir, of course,” she replied brightly.

“Can you do me a favor please,” Harry asked.

“Certainly,” the sales woman said.

“Can you wrap it up like a present and put it in a separate bag for me? Nothing to elaborate just a simple package. I would like to purchase it for her but I don't want her to know. She would probably throw a fit but if I give it to her once we get to where we're going she won't be able to say no.”

“Oh, how romantic,” the sales lady's eyes grew wide, “she'll love it I'm sure. Consider it done.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as she rushed off.

Romantic? What's romantic about a present? We give them to each other all the time.

Several hours and a few thousand pounds later Hermione had outfitted Harry with a complete new wardrobe and everything she thought he would need for an extended holiday on the islands.

Before they returned to Grimmuald Place she called to double check the flight departure time, boarding pass confirmation, Visa registration and the accommodation update. Everything was in order.

When they got back they spent the time removing tags and packing. By five that evening Harry was all set.

As he stood there clad in a pair of new, well fitting blue jeans, a light grey button up long sleeve blouse and his spotless new trainers Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how much more put together he looked in clothes that actually fit him. He was handsome.

Granger…you are a bloody genius! Now if you could just do something with that hair!

After a quick evening meal at #12 they decided to head out to visit Andromeda and little Teddy.

“Do you know where the Tonks cottage is,” Harry asked as they prepared to apparate, “I know I've been there but I don't exactly know the way.”

“Not to worry Harry,” Hermione smiled as she latched on to Harry, spun on a heel and vanished with a loud pop!

At the other end they both stumbled out into the park across from the Hermione's parent's house. It surprised Harry for a moment. He was expecting to land at the Tonk's.

When he made to ask Hermione what she was doing she just smirked.

“I've got a bit of a surprise for you.”

“Ok…” Harry replied but decided not to push. She would tell him in her own time.

They made a bee-line toward the front yard careful to look around to check for any unsuspecting Muggles.

As they gained the front entrance Harry was laughing to himself. Hermione turned and gave him an odd look.

“I was just thinking of the last time I came here.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she let them in. Hermione went directly to the kitchen leaving Harry standing in the foyer.

The place looked as if someone had been living there all along now. Harry made his way about the den looking around as he waited for her to return.

“Is Crookshanks still with Andromeda then?” Harry asked in a loud voice. He had remembered she had told him about that a while ago but he had forgotten.

“Yes,” she said from the other room. It sounded as if she was going through drawers looking for something, “as much as I hate to admit it I think he's much happier there with them…ah there you are!”

Harry heard a drawer slide shut and something that made a metallic jingling sound. When Hermione appeared in the doorway to the kitchen she was holding a set of keys in her hand and smiling rather sadly looking around the room.

“What is it?” Harry asked but he already knew the answer.

“I miss them Harry,” Hermione whispered.

It was caring and a deep concern for her that propelled Harry forward. He folded Hermione into a gentile embrace. She laid her head on his chest.

“They'll be home before you know it,” he said with all the conviction he could muster.

“I know,” Hermione said as she looked at her hands, “but I can't help but feel like I'm abandoning them in their time of need.”

“Having second thoughts about this trip?” Harry asked holding her by the shoulders looking her squarely in the eyes.

Hermione's expression changed to one of certainty and conviction. She knew she had done everything she could to help her parents up to this point and nothing could be gained by coming apart at the seams. She needed to get away, if for no other reason then to clear her mind and get some much needed rest.

“No Harry,” she replied a bit more sternly then she had intended, “We both need this. My parents are in the best capable hands and until we can find an answer there's nothing more that can be done for them. I have to face that. It's just as Neville said. I'm going to have to eventually come to terms with the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” Harry asked but he already knew the answer.

“That there my be no way back for my mother and father. I have to somehow accept that as a possibility yes?”

Harry frowned.

“That sounds like Hermione has given up,” he said darkly, “That's not the Hermione Granger I know.”

It was Hermione's turn to frown.

“You of all people should know me better than that Harry.”

That shut Harry up right and proper. He smiled as he looked at her sideways for a moment. Hermione pushed him back with a gentle stiff-arm to the chest.

“Let's go visit your Godson shall we?” Hermione grinned, “We'll save the heavy discussions for some other time?”

“So how are we to get to the Tonk's? Apparate…floo…or take the Knight Bus?”

Hermione smiled her devastatingly devious and cute little dimpled smirk.

“None of the above Mr. Smarty New Pants,” She held up the ring of keys and jingled them in his face, “We're going to drive!”

Harry was completely stunned by that revelation. At first he thought she was trying to make a joke but when she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the front door he quickly realized she wasn't kidding at all.

She let them out of the house and locked the door behind them. Turning to the right side of the house they went to what Harry recognized as the garage. He remembered some of the houses in his old neighborhood at Little Whinging had a single-car garage attached to them but this one was three times the size.

Hermione went to the side of one of the big roll up doors, lifted a small lid that revealed a hidden key pad. She touched the pad a few times and the big door began to open all by itself. Hermione chuckled at Harry's amazed expression.

Inside were three automobiles, each one looked larger than the next. The first was a large black sedan. Harry didn't know much about Muggle cars but he was looking at a Mercedes-Benz 500SEL.

Hermione quickly explained it was her mother's car. Her father wanted her to drive something safe.

Next to the big black sedan was a slightly smaller beautiful blue BMW M3. It looked fast just sitting there.

Finally Hermione pulled him toward what looked to him like an older, smaller little convertible car that looked positively antique next to the other newer modern vehicles. Hermione smiled at him as she laid her hand lovingly on the top of the little green machine.

“This is a car my father bought from some bloke who refurbished these things for sport, I think. This one needed some repairs so my father purchased it and had a repair shop go through the whole thing to make certain it operated correctly.”

“What is it?” Harry asked. It looked nothing like his Uncle Vernon's small sedan nor did it resemble the Weasley's old Anglia.

“It called an MG Midget. My father fell in love with it and thought it would be a car I would like to drive around if I got the notion, not that I drive all that much.”

Harry looked at her with eyes wide.

“You drive this thing…or does it fly?”

“Well, of course I can drive it and no it doesn't fly!” Hermione gave him a funny look as she opened the driver's door, worked the latches on the convertible top laying it back then slid behind the wheel, “I got my driver's license two years ago.” She paused then smiled, “I am a Muggle you know. Come on…get in!” She patted the passenger's seat.

She noticed Harry's reluctance.

“Oh come on Harry don't you trust me?” She said grinning. With that she slid the key into the switch, turned it and with a few tries the little car came to life. The engine purred quietly as she sat there waiting. Finally, swallowing a mouth full of saliva Harry slid into the passenger seat and settled in.

“Don't forget your seat belt.” Hermione quipped.

Harry looked around for a moment a bit confused.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” Hermione huffed with a sigh as she leaned over Harry and snapped the lap belt in place. After she buckled her own belt she yanked up on the center console parking break lever and dropped it, slid the shifter into first and eased out the clutch. Revving the engine just slightly the little sports car began to ease forward. When they cleared the garage Hermione reached up and touched a red button on a small box hanging on the sun visor.

Harry turned to watch the garage door close all by itself. With that Hermione laughed and took off out of the driveway screeching the tires slightly. The sudden acceleration threw Harry back against the seat.

He was amazed at how easily she maneuvered the little car through the crowded London streets, zipping in and out of traffic as if she had done it all her life. He watched as she seemed to know exactly when to move the leaver in between them to make the car go faster or slower depending on what the traffic around them was doing.

She briefly explained to Harry the differences in an automatic transmission and a manual one. He couldn't help but be completely impressed and amazed by her.

As they passed beyond the crowded busy city center and into the English countryside Hermione told Harry she was going to stretch the little car's legs a bit. The car hadn't been driven in a while. With that she worked her way up through the gears until it felt as if they were flying down the road.

“This thing really goes fast doesn't it?” Harry asked, “I feel like I'm riding a broom but it's much less windy.”

Hermione laughed. Harry couldn't help but notice she seemed to be relaxing. This drive was definitely having a positive affect on her disposition.

“Not really Harry,” she explained, “This little car will only go about 90 or maybe 95 miles per hour top speed.”

“Well, that's pretty fast isn't it?”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders.

“Not when you consider your Nimbus flies nearly as fast and that blue car you saw in the garage…”

Harry nodded.

“It can reach speeds well above 150 miles per hour.”

Harry mouthed the word `WOW!'

They settled into a comfortable silence as Hermione concentrated on driving and Harry, his initial nervous jitters now subsided, watched the scenery flash by as they made their way further into the country.

Soon businesses and residences gave way to quaint country farm houses and long stretches of open rolling fields and knots of dense forest. After several miles of that Hermione finally turned left onto a narrow roughly paved road that wound deep into a thick grove of very large trees that towered over them.

The dappled sunlight flashed across them as the crisp clean air assaulted his nostrils. Harry sat back and took it all in. It wasn't long before she turned again onto an even narrower dirt road that wound ever deeper into the dense forest. The trees and undergrowth seemed to press in on the little car on both sides.

Hermione seemed completely unaffected by it as she expertly piloted the car up over a small incline then out into a clearing. The road curved sharply to the right and they came to an abrupt stop at a white and red stripped warning barrier. It appeared to be a dead end.

Hermione pulled her wand, swished it saying “Evanesco!”

The barrier and the wooded area beyond seemed to slowly shimmer and evaporate. In their place the dirt road continued. When Hermione continued on she pointed her wand over her shoulder and the dirt road all but disappeared behind them.

Not much further up was the house Harry remembered. He could see the area where he and Hagrid crashed. He knew the remnants of Sirius' motorbike were still ensconced in Arthur's tinker's shed. It made him a bit sad to realize it would probably never fly again as they came to a smooth stop in front of the house.

He looked over at Hermione beaming widely as she turned off the engine.

“That was brilliant Hermione!”

“Yes…well,” she quipped a bit glumly, “Not quite like a broom though is it?”

Harry frowned at her slight as they got out of the car. He wondered where that came from all of a sudden. She seemed in such better spirits while they were driving. He thought that a bit curious.

Andromeda had already opened the front door waving a jovial greeting with little Teddy in her arms.

“Hello Hermione!” Andromeda beamed, “How lovely to see you again.” When she saw Harry passed her shoulder her smile got bigger, “And Harry as well, how wonderful! Come in…come in!”

She waved them both into the house with great enthusiasm. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Hermione took hold of little Teddy almost immediately and Andromeda seemed almost relieved to hand him off.

Harry watched in wonder as Hermione cooed and spoke to little Teddy. He smiled and laughed like mad when Hermione grabbed him. He seemed to know her instantly.

“Please Harry come in and make yourself at home,” Andromeda told him. “This is the first time you've seen Theodore since he was born isn't it?”

“It is actually,” Harry said not able to take his eyes off the little tyke.

Hermione turned and looked at Harry smiling.

“Do you want to hold your Godson Harry?”

Harry could only nod. He suddenly found himself unable to speak. Little Teddy was as cute as any little baby he had ever seen. It was impossible to miss the features of both his parents but what shocked Harry most was as Hermione approached Teddy's smile seemed to grow as his eyes stayed locked on Harry's face. He reached out for Harry.

When Teddy settled into Harry's embrace he held on to Harry for dear life. It was almost as if the little tyke knew exactly who Harry was.

Harry's heart melted at once. It was all he could do to keep from breaking down into a blubbering mass. Hermione wasn't so subtle. Silent tears leaked from the corner of her eyes as she watched Harry nuzzle Teddy affectionately for the first time. It was almost as if she could see the physical connection being made between them.

For most of the rest of the visit the baby stayed in Harry's arms or sat quite contentedly in his lap while he and Hermione caught up with Andromeda. Several times Crookshanks came and wound his way around Harry's legs, finally settling quite contentedly at Hermione's feet when she finally sat down.

At one point Harry was sitting talking to Andromeda when he felt something warm and wet on his leg. He snatched Teddy up only to realize he had hosed his diaper leaving a rather large dark circle of wet on Harry's jeans. They all laughed as Hermione took Teddy from Harry.

“I'll take care of this,” she chuckled, “I'm becoming quite good at swaddling the little imp.”

With that she disappeared down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

“I'm so glad you two came to visit Harry.” Andromeda said as Harry scourgified his pants. “Hermione comes when she can and Molly comes by but I so rarely have any company.”

“Well,” Harry looked at her seriously, “When we get back from holiday I promise I'm going to be more of a presence in Teddy's life if I can. I want to know and spend time with my Godson. I know if Sirius was able we would have had more time together. I want him to know he's not alone.”

The conviction in his voice made Andromeda move to embrace Harry lovingly.

“He needs you,” she whispered, “He needs as many people as are willing to take the time with him. It's important.”

“You're absolutely right,” Harry said.

“I suppose you of all people should understand that,” Andromeda said a bit sadly.

“As long as I'm able Teddy will never feel alone.” Harry said as he watched Hermione reappear with a freshly swathed Teddy huddled tightly in her arms.

He couldn't help but marvel how at ease Hermione was with him. They seemed to have an amazing bond only they could understand. Hermione whispered something into Teddy's ear and the tyke giggled madly. His hair suddenly went from a light sandy brown color to a flaming red.

“Well done!” Hermione said laughing, pinching his chin affectionately. She seemed like a completely different person since they arrived at the house.

They visited for a while longer as the sun began disappearing behind the trees. They took little Teddy outside and Harry rolled around with him in the grass for a time, laughing and playing, Crookshanks never very far away.

Andromeda looked expectantly at Hermione for a moment almost seeming hesitant to ask a question but then gave in.

“Hermione I was wondering if it would be possible for Crooks to…stay a little longer. I realize you must miss him terribly but Teddy has become so attached to the furry little beastie…”

“Of course Andromeda,” Hermione said, her eyebrows pinched together only slightly.

As if knowing he was the topic of discussion Crookshanks made his way over to Hermione and practically vaulted into her arms. She snuggled her part Kneazle for a moment then wrinkled her nose.

“Merlin's ghost Crookshanks,” she coughed, “what have you been rolling in. You smell terrible!”

“Oh Crooks,” Andromeda put her hands on her hips, “You've been chasing gnomes into the peat bog again haven't you?”

Crookshanks just gave them a look as if he was saying, `Who…me? Sorry you must have me mistaken for another Kneazle.'

“Ugh,” Hermione put him back down, “I suppose I should give him a bath before I leave.”

“Oh think nothing of it Hermione,” Andromeda smiled, “I'll just toss him in with the baby later. He loves splashing about the bath with Teddy.”

Hermione's eyebrows all but disappeared in surprise.

“You mean Crookshanks likes to get wet?” Harry asked shocked.

“Only when he's chasing gnomes or when Teddy's taking a bath. I think he feels a bit left out when Teddy's getting washed. Sometimes I have to fill both sides of the kitchen sink. Teddy sits in one and the barmy old cat in the other. Funniest thing I've ever seen.”

Hermione began laughing so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks. Harry couldn't help but laugh along with her. The thought of her cranky old cat-kneazle sitting in a sink full of water looking for all the world like a drowned rat was just too much.

They watched as Crooks sauntered away quite haughtily in response. He apparently didn't see the humor in it at all.

Once Hermione regained control of herself they bid their farewells to Andromeda and Teddy who decided to morph into what appeared to be a furry little monkey for a brief moment.

“That's his father coming out in him,” Hermione explained.

Teddy held on to Harry for dear life until Andromeda had to practically pry him out of Harry's arms. He cried for only a short moment but it was enough to make Harry's heart almost break. He was reluctant to leave.

“Don't worry,” Hermione whispered in his ear, “We'll come back when we get home. He has a way of growing on you…doesn't he?”

“Yes,” Harry replied sadly, “He does.”

They watched Andromeda and Teddy disappearing into the house but Harry just stood there, the aching in his heart something strange and new.

For a moment he thought about love. He knew he loved little Teddy even though the tyke belonged to someone else. He felt like family to Harry, not that he ever really had a real one of his own. He thought about what Dumbledore had told him about it but that didn't quite explain what he was feeling at that moment. It was different.

The love he had felt for Ginny was real. He knew it was but it was different. He knew he loved the Weasley family but again it was different. What he was feeling for Teddy was unexplainable…at least until he felt Hermione slip her hand in his and lean against him as he stood there looking at the Tonks house.

When he glanced at Hermione's face, upturned slightly, giving him a quizzical look it finally dawned on him what he was feeling…because she felt it for him as well.

Unconditional love!

He wasn't sure if he fully grasped the concept but he understood that to love someone unconditionally there were no barriers between you. You accepted one-another exactly as you found them. Nothing that could be done or said would ever change that connection, that trust…and nothing could ever come between that love - not even death.

He slipped his arm around Hermione's shoulder and gave her a slight hug.

“Thanks for bringing me her today,” he said softly, “This visit was long overdue.”

Hermione beamed up at him and merely nodded.

“What say we go back to my folk's?” Hermione suggested, “You might want to let Kreacher know we'll be gone for a few weeks, yes?”

Harry nodded.

As they made their way back toward London he couldn't seem to shake the melancholy feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach. Many things passed through his mind as the countryside gave way to brick, concrete, asphalt and stop lights. Once inside the city limits the noise was almost deafening after the quiet of the country.

For some strange reason Godric's Hollow popped into Harry's mind. He had no idea why but the memory of Bowman Wright's old home place, the house his mother and father had lived in sat decrepit and destitute.

Why?

He thought he remembered Hagrid telling him something about how the house couldn't be repaired because of how it was destroyed.

Does that still apply now that Voldemort is truly dead?

He was suddenly struck with an idea. Maybe it was born out of the feeling of family he got when he was holding Teddy. He wasn't sure but at that moment he was certain some day, maybe not tomorrow or even next year…but some day he wanted to return to Godric's Hollow. Not just for a visit…but to live there…in his parents old house if he could manage it.

It was much more than a promise - it was a conviction.

A/N - I'm not certain if the conversation between Harry and Hagrid about the destruction of the cottage in Godric's Hollow ever took place or not. I distinctly remember hearing that somewhere but could find no references to it during my research. It may not have been Hagrid who told him that or I might have read it in another Fan-Fic story somewhere. I'm only mentioning this so I don't get “called on the carpet” for it later! Thanks - as always for reading!

DWK/NGL

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

A/N - I apologize for taking so long to update. I've had Everest-sized personal issues to deal with over the past few months. I'll try to update as quick as I can and thanks once- again for reading.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Nineteen - Preparations and Introductions

Headmistress McGonagall looked around at her staff pleased most of her original Professors had decided to return…with a few obvious exceptions.

A single long table had been set up in the Great Hall to provide space necessary for this impromptu staff meeting before the term began. She felt it necessary not only to introduce the new additions but also bring everyone up to scratch on repairs, preparations and final details.

Minerva found herself rather preoccupied at the prospects of being Headmistress for the coming year. In her heart she would gladly trade her position to have all those who gave their lives so this meeting could take place back among the living.

The revelation of Sybill's new prophecy did little to assuage the feeling of gloom and urgency that seemed to permeate the Headmistresses office but she did her best not to let it trickle down to her staff. She constantly worried Hagrid would spill the beans but he seemed to understand the importance of keeping it secret for now.

The addition of her hand picked Transfiguration Professor seemed to set well with all who had introduced themselves to Zalina Sheryl Star. She seemed genuinely pleasant. It wasn't difficult to understand why she seemed so popular with the male members of the staff but Ms. Star remained cordial and professional.

The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts had been filled by a middle-aged gentleman named Hilliard Dervish. He was a high spirited chap who seemed to have nervous energy oozing from every pore.

He had worked inside the Aurors Department for over 11 years as an administrator and his skills were quite extensive. The reason he never saw fieldwork was due to his high-strung nature and had developed a severe pigeon toed condition about a year after he had graduated from training.

After Professor Sinistra had met Professor Dervish she had quietly compared him to a Yorkshire terrier that had been fed too many sweets but he was pleasant and jovial and seemed to be accepted by the rest of the staff readily enough.

Professor Dervish put others in mind of Gilderoy Lockhart but with the actual skills to teach D. A. D. A. although they looked nothing alike. Professor Dervish was reed thin, rather short, bulging ice blue eyes and a wild shock of auburn hair that looked like someone had attached several rusty wire brushes to the top of his head.

The Muggle studies Professor Charity Burbage was replaced with a Muggle-born witch named Agnes Llewellyn. She had been living primarily in the Muggle world after she graduated from Hogwarts some 15 years before. It had been as a result of a rather nasty splinching incident during a side-along apparition with a friend that caused her to temporarily abdicate from the Wizard world. She didn't like to talk about it.

And finally, after all the falderal that took place at Hogwarts during the destruction of Voldemort, Professor Binns formally announced his retirement. Atriums Croaker, a retired Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries agreed to take over the History of Magic position.

He was a rather quiet and reserved bloke but seemed pleasant enough. He had a bald head, weak chin and a very long neck. He bore a very strange resemblance to a light bulb.

After the formal introductions were concluded McGonagall took a deep breath and began the information portion of the meeting.

“Firstly, I am proud to announce that our Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick has been selected and has graciously agreed to accept the position as the new Assistant Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

He received unanimous applause and congratulations all around.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Professor Flitwick said beaming, “and thank you all very much. I will try to bring as much honor and respect to the position as you did Headmistress.”

“I have no doubt you will Filius.” McGonagall said smiling.

“Next I would like to announce the new Head of Gryffindor house will be none other than Rubeus Hagrid.”

The reception to this news was rather mixed but all applauded appropriately.

Hagrid nervously lurched to his feet sending the bench he was sitting on sliding back several feet with a loud screech across the flagstone floor. Many cringed at the sound.

“Than' ye' Headmistress for this opportunity,” he nodded at McGonagall, “I'll do my bes' ter' keep all our fine Gryffindor's in line.”

“Yes,” McGonagall said clearing her throat gently, “I'm sure you'll do a fine job Rubeus.”

When Hagrid awkwardly regained his seat she turned her attention back to the table.

“And lastly, in regard to our new appointments I am sorry to announce that Rolanda Hooch will not return this year.”

There were many groans and awe's among the table.

“She has accepted a position with International Quidditch Officiating Committee to referee professional Quidditch matches. We have accepted Mr. Oliver Wood to take her place but he will not be available to start until a few days before the term begins. It seems he's being required to complete his contractual obligations with the Puddlemere United before he can accept the position.”

McGonagall took a breath and continued.

“As you all know the reparations are now complete. Most everything has been put back in place but there still may be some minor adjustments left to be made in each department or classroom. Please inform me as soon as possible if you require any additional materials or items not present in your areas.”

“Now, I wish to take this time to discuss a few items that I believe will have an impact on the coming school term.”

“As most of you are aware, many of our 7^th year students were unable to complete their N.E.W.T. level courses due to the…interruption of our curriculum last season. I am pleased to report most all those students will be returning this year to finish their studies…however, this presents an unusual and unique situation Hogwarts has not been subjected to in its long and illustrious history.”

“Most all these returning 7^th year students will be eighteen years of age. I don't think I need elaborate on the possible problems that can arise from this situation but at the Sorting Ceremony I shall take great care in reminding our older students they will be expected to conduct themselves as young ladies and gentlemen for the duration of the term but as we are all aware and I am certain you realize, boy and girls will be boys and girls.”

“I am counting on you to be diligent in assisting me to maintain an acceptable level of decency within our institution. Please do not hesitate to report any…untoward behavior to either myself or Professor Flitwick at once.”

“As a result of the notoriety of some of our returning students, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…”

McGonagall indicated with a hand toward Kingsley Shacklebolt who was sitting quite stealthily in the far corner of the Hall. All heads turned in his direction and he gave a curt nod in response.

“…has agreed to provide appropriate security for the school term. We feel it in our best interest to protect these individuals from outside interference and over-zealous…well wishers. Mr. Shacklebolt, would you like to inform the staff of the details of your security?”

“Certainly Headmistress,” Kingsley rose and made his way to stand at the far end of the conference table. He looked around at them all smiling pleasantly, “As a result of what took place in the final confrontation with the Dark Lord a few of the students have become…rather well known for their rolls in defeating the evil that plagued our world. It is for this reason, as well as ensuring no retaliation will take place, the Aurors will be a constant, but unobtrusive presence in and around the institution for the duration of the coming term. As many of you may already know the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has opened several new satellite offices throughout the wizard world. One such office now exists in Hogsmeade and will be staffed with some of our top Aurors.”

Pomona Sprout raised her hand a bit tentatively but Kingsley smiled at the Herbology professor warmly.

“Yes Madam Sprout?”

“I was wondering,” she asked pleasantly, “Will the Aurors assigned be under the authority of Hogwarts or the Ministry?”

“Those stationed here at Hogwarts will answer directly to me however if any of you have problems with any of my staff please feel free to contact me directly at once or let the Headmistress know. They have all been briefed to be as inconspicuous as possible but do not hesitate to call on them if you suspect trouble. That's precisely what they will be here for.”

Professor Sprout nodded.

It was Zalina who raised her hand next as she felt most everyone's attention shift to her. Kingsley nodded to her with the same pleasant smile.

“Are we to assume the…Golden Trio will be returning to complete their final term, Mr. Shacklebolt?”

Kingsley glanced at McGonagall. He wasn't sure just exactly what she had told them. The Headmistress picked up on the significance of his gaze immediately and returned a rather stern look of her own. She wanted Harry to complete his education but also realized it would be difficult if not nearly impossible for him to return to Hogwarts without being bombarded by…well…almost everyone. She still felt a bit miffed at Kingsley for suggesting he go into Auror training. She cut in.

“To be perfectly honest we are not precisely certain which, if any, of the Trio will return this year. I have personally extended the invitation to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger but have not received confirmation they will capitulate at this juncture. I certainly hope they will.”

Kingsley held up a hand briefly.

“I can assure you Ronald Weasley will be attending his final term.” He tried desperately to keep his face completely neutral. “I'm sure the Minister will want to speak with you regarding his son before term starts Headmistress.”

McGonagall gave the Head Auror a quizzical look but simply let it go for now. She presumed she would find out what his cryptic statement meant in due time.

Zalina Star felt a knot tighten in her stomach for a moment. Her entire plan rested on the fact she was 99 per-cent sure Harry Potter would be returning to Hogwarts to complete his final year. It was preposterous to think otherwise?

…But if he chooses not to return where would he go - what would he do? After all it was the whole reason I took this ridiculous position. It certainly wasn't because I want to teach these annoying, empty-headed sots the finer points of Transfiguration! Baah!

She could feel her annoyance spike but she forced herself to keep it from reaching her face. She was lost in her own musings for a moment shutting out everything else going on around her.

She suddenly realized the meeting had been adjourned and the new D.A.D.A. professor was speaking to her.

“…think it's marvelous we get an opportunity to shape the minds of our youngsters!” Professor Dervish gushed with a beaming smile at her.

“Oh, yes,” she stammered trying to appear as if she had been listening, “I personally can't wait for the term to begin. If you'll excuse me Professor I have much work to do before I will be prepared for the start of coming school year.”

“Of course my dear Professor Star,” Professor Dervish bowed to her and gestured with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, “If I can be of any assistance please don't hesitate to call on me at once!”

“Eeh…thank you Professor,” she said as innocently as she could muster in her agitated state of mind, “That's very kind of you.” She turned to Headmistress McGonagall, “Headmistress if there isn't anything further I would like to return to the Transfiguration department if I may?”

“Of course Professor Star,” McGonagall replied.

Zalina wasted no time in vacating the Great Hall. She had much to contemplate.

The rest of the staff stood conversing quietly among themselves. Many congratulated Professor Flitwick and Hagrid on their new appointments. Hagrid in particular was practically beaming with pride he was given such an important position but expressed his nervousness about being the Head of Gryffindor to anyone that would listen.

A few moments later they all heard one of the huge doors to the Great Hall open and watched as Mr. Filch made his way swiftly but stiffly toward them with Mrs. Norris close at his heels. He limped up to the Headmistress and bowed slightly, wheezing like a tea kettle about to boil.

“Begin yer' pardon Headmistress but the Minister of Magic as' me ter' announce `es presence and requested an interview with ya' in yer' office a' yer' earliest convenience. Said it was important.”

“Very well,” McGonagall replied immediately, “I believe I am free to meet the Minister right away.”

Filch stood there unmoving as if he was unsure what to do next. McGonagall stared incredulously at the old caretaker for a moment.

“That means you can tell him he may meet me in my office,” she paused. Filch still stood there with a blank look on his gnarled features, “Now, Mr. Filch!” She pressed.

Filch jumped slightly as if someone had touched a flame to the bottom of his trousers.

“Righ'” He finally turned and hobbled back toward the entrance.

McGonagall chuckled and shook her head. Kingsley wasn't quite so subtle. His wide shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

“I swear,” the head Auror said finally, “That old codger get stranger every year.”

“Yes…well,” McGonagall gave him a pointed glance with a rather crooked smirk, “You'd be a bit odd too if you had to put up with the goings-on in this place for as long as he has Mr. Shacklebolt.”

Kingsley nodded, “You're probably right on that score Minerva.”

Later, the Headmistress found herself sitting behind her desk waiting patiently for the Minister to arrive. When she heard the rotating staircase outside her office she moved to the office door and ushered a rather flustered-looking Arthur Weasley into the office.

Once informal greeting with the portraits of the past Heads as well as a beaming Albus Dumbledore were concluded McGonagall conjured a pot of tea and pressed a cup into Arthur's hand.

He sat in one of the chairs in front of the Headmistresses desk and suddenly looked like a scolded school boy. She would have laughed at this picture had it not been for the urgency in Arthur's request for an interview.

McGonagall sat back down at her desk and quietly waited. Even though she and Arthur had known one-another for decades, he was Minister for Magic now and his office and title demanded a certain level of respect, however she had always respected Arthur without the title.

The Headmistress noticed his hands were shaking slightly as he set his untouched teacup and saucer on the edge of her desk.

He began to speak…

“I may as well be candid with you Minerva. There is no reason to beat about the bush, as the Muggles say.” Arthur managed a weak smile.

McGonagall smiled warmly back. This seemed to help with his nerves somewhat. He took a deep, calming breath.

“The Ministry Finance Department and I have repeatedly gone over the books of the past thee administrations and have determined that by the end of this year the Ministry will be utterly bankrupt.”

McGonagall's face turned sheet white as she sat frozen in place.

“Oh Arthur,” she whispered, “what a horrible prospect!”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, “I'm sure you can ascertain the ramifications of this predicament. If the Ministry can not raise the funds to balance its budget by the end of November then I'm afraid Hogwarts will become one of the many casualties of the shortfall.”

“It seems during the occupation of the Ministry by the Death Eaters during the war, many important documents were liberated from the Minister's office. That includes over five hundred million galleons in Wizard bonds.”

“The Ministry uses the bonds to procure funds from our general accounts to pay bills, write purchase orders, pay salaries and balance the general budget ledger. While those bonds are unaccounted for, the Ministry assets are frozen by law to protect the assets against procurement from outside sources.”

McGonagall sat thoughtful for a moment.

“Can't the Ministry borrow against those frozen assets to at least maintain its operational status? I thought in times of emergency the Wizengamot allowed for just such a measure?”

“You're correct of course Minerva and I suppose we could borrow. The main problem there is we will only receive approximately eight to ten sickles on the galleon due to the interest rate applied to such a loan. I have already met with Geldron the Wise who is now in charge of Gringotts and he is `by the book' steadfast in his application of the by laws, I'm afraid.”

“Seems there was a major shake-up in management after Harry's little stunt to gain access to the Black family vault. The goblins are quite distrustful of the wizard community at present. I was fortunate enough to even get an interview. If it wasn't for Bill, I don't think I would have been granted the time of day.”

McGonagall felt as ill as she began to look. She couldn't believe what she was hearing but she wasn't all that surprised. Similar things happened the last time Voldemort tried to usurp power over the wizard world although not to quite such an extent.

It angered her to no end he still seemed to be affecting their lives even though he was destroyed. She stood up and paced the office, wringing her hands in worry.

“Surly there is something we can do Arthur, some way out of this dilemma?”

“Oh I assure you Minerva,” Arthur stated, “it gets worse.”

The aged Headmistress stopped pacing and looked pointedly at the Minister.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems the Muggle Prime Minister is…how can I put this kindly…requesting Ministry financial assistance in the repairs of not only the bridge that was destroyed but also many other structures damaged or destroyed during the past year. Not only that, the Prime Minister assured me any civil liability arising from the private sector having to do with those mysterious disappearances of Muggles would be deferred to us as well.”

“What an absolute mess you've inherited Arthur,” McGonagall looked deflated. She sat heavily back down in her chair.

“While I can't disagree with your most colorful assessment of my present administration, Minerva, it will not due for us to loose precious sleep over all this. The picture is not as bleak as it seems. There may be a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.”

“We have managed to seize many of the accounts of the known Death Eaters involved as law allows. We will use those funds to cover as much of the damage to the Muggle world as is possible but I'm afraid it will only scratch the surface. We will still find ourselves on the negative side of the ledger.”

“Do you have any clues to the whereabouts of the missing Bonds?” McGonagall asked, “I realize it is most likely a ridiculous question but I'm afraid I have no other ideas. While I cannot speak for my staff, I can tell you with the utmost certainty I will do what ever I can to assist you.”

“Thank you Minerva and no, we have no leads as to the location of our missing funds, however, after much research we believe Voldemort possessed a rather vast fortune in addition to any assets he may have…acquired along the way. He was, after all a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin.”

“It is safe to assume the Hogwarts Co-Founder was well subsidized. However, Ministry records are a bit confusing when we searched through the history of disbursements of funds from the Slytherin trust.”

“It seems there was a Marvolo Gaunt listed as an heir and was entitled to an enormous disbursement but those funds were never claimed.”

“There was another name on the ledger as well as Tom Riddle. It was the name Ella Dora Black. We thought that quite odd. A vast portion was claimed by her over one hundred years ago but she is now listed as deceased, of course.”

“Not only that, Voldemort was also heir to the Riddle fortune as well.”

“We have been able to unearth the Muggle financial records of his late father's assets and holdings and have discovered Tom Riddle Sr. and his Grandparents were quite financially well off. It seems upon his family's death, Voldemort quickly liquidated many of their investments and converted the cash into galleons.”

“We have been able to trace the funds to an account we believe is the correct one in a financial institution in Albania. However, the name on the account isn't Tom Riddle but again, Ella Dora Black. We find this most odd because the name on the account was said to have been changed only 18 years ago.”

“That would have been about the time Voldemort went into hiding after he killed James and Lily and tried to kill Harry. What's even stranger still is…her name was placed on the account more than seventy years after her death.”

“We cannot understand why her name was used as sole holder of the account. Since she is listed as deceased, we are having a most difficult time convincing the institution to release the funds since it can no longer be traced, at least in recent records, directly to Tom Riddle or Voldemort.”

“If that wasn't enough, it seems there was an enormous insurance settlement paid to Tom Riddle Jr. after his father and Grandparent's…unusual demise. Since the officials listed their deaths to be of natural causes, the insurance company was obligated to settle the claim.”

“While we have no hard figures at present, we are estimating the settlements were in the millions of pounds, Muggle. We're almost certain Voldemort converted those funds into galleons as well.”

“My stars,” McGonagall placed her hands over her heart.

“Well put Headmistress,” Arthur said, “So you see, we are sitting on what could potentially be a rather substantial windfall if we can only convince the Albanians we have a legal right to the account. It would certainly solve many of our financial woes but at present, we cannot assume those funds are forthcoming so I am forced to prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst is reducing expenditures, reducing staff and unfortunately eliminating certain programs from our budget. I only just managed to get approval from the Wizengamot to allow the Law Enforcement department to expand to a few select satellite locations before we had all the hard figures in place. I realize that was more than likely putting the proverbial cart before the horse so to speak but I felt it necessary to bring about some sense of security to Wizard London.”

McGonagall sat up a bit straighter.

“I realize you are trying your best Arthur,” she said with as much compassion as she could, “Surely no one blames you for the predicaments we find ourselves in at present. As I said, I will do what I can to assist.”

The Minister looked a bit sheepish for a moment then took a sip of his tea. Wincing at the now-cold brew, he pulled his wand and waved it over the cup until steam curled from its surface once more. He then turned to face the Headmistress.

“There is a…favor I wish to ask of you Minerva if I may? Something of a personal nature which has been made into an official one at the behest - or should I say insistence - of Molly. I find myself in a difficult position in regards to Ronald.”

McGonagall caught herself pursing her lips at the mention of the lad's name. His extra-curricular activities had not escaped the attention of the staff. Some of her professors had made comments. She herself had seen some of the more vitriolic statements in the Daily Prophet and was none too pleased but she tried to keep her thoughts on such things to herself.

“I realize I'm most likely being out of line when I say this Minister but I think Ronald needs good swift kick in the…”

“Yes!” Arthur interrupted, “I cannot disagree however I think Percy and I have a suitable alternative. I have, albeit reluctantly agreed to issue an official Decree that will require Ronald to return to Hogwarts to finish out his seventh year. He must pass his N.E.W.T.s with acceptable marks and will be confined to this institution until the term is completed.”

“I think it a brilliant idea Arthur,” McGonagall nodded in approval.

“I simply ask you keep me apprised of his progress and inform either myself or Percy if there are any…problems along the way.”

“Consider it done, of course,” McGonagall said with a warm smile, “I am certain we can convince Ronald of the importance in completing his education.”

“Excellent Minerva,” Arthur slapped his thighs as he stood to take his leave, “Thank you for your patience and assistance. I believe Ronald has…seen the error of his ways. He's not a bad young man you understand.”

“Of course he isn't,” McGonagall said incredulously, “Even the best of us can go astray now and again…isn't that right Albus?”

McGonagall turned to face Dumbledore's portrait as he sat feigning sleep in his chair. The only sign he had heard the conversation was a slight curling at the corner of his wizened old mouth.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twenty - Holiday (Part 1)

Hermione took several deep breaths as she settled back in the comfortable seat of the Air Tahiti Nui AirBus A340 as it was finally taxiing down the runway at the Paris-Charles De Gaulle Airport. The connecting flight from London Heathrow was a mad rush from one check point to another until they were safely aboard the plane. With a little help from some mild and subversive wand-less magic negotiating security had been almost effortless.

He wisely followed Hermione's lead as they navigated the intricacies of modern mechanized flight. He seemed to be in a constant state of surprise and a bit of detached amazement.

Hermione, however, seemed to be completely at ease, almost like she was in her element, being the one in control and Harry was quite content with that. Her prior statement saying she needed a break from magic not withstanding, her decision to shrink most all their luggage into two backpack sized carry-on bags was, as it turned out, a brilliant idea and made moving through the crowded airports much easier.

It was then she finally reluctantly agreed, regardless of her present emotional disposition on magic, it was indispensable in making their lives in the Muggle world much easier. Harry had done nothing more than offer her a knowing and rather smug grin.

Hermione had also pressed her marvelous little beaded bag back into service in which they put items they might need to get at quickly - like their wands.

She had read somewhere once many airlines had a terrible habit of loosing luggage and the more connecting flights the greater the possibility one had of reaching their destination with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the items in their pockets.

Now sitting safely ensconced in their seats on the flight into the island of Bora Bora she felt herself relax for the first time that day.

Harry, on the connecting flight from Heathrow to Paris had gripped the arms of his seat with white-knuckled intensity for the entire flight. Hermione had told him constantly to relax but he did not relinquish his death grip until they had landed.

“You know, this is rather curious behavior from someone who can fly a broom at break-neck speeds doing all sorts of crazy stunts.” She had whispered.

“Yah…well,” Harry replied a bit stiffly, “I can't see the ground, makes me nervous.”

After, on the way to the Air Tahiti Nui departure terminal he had commented, “That wasn't so bad.” Hermione really wanted to smack him but was content to give him that look.

When they were finally aboard the final leg of their trip and settled down they both seemed to take very deep breaths and melt into their seats.

As Harry sat there he began fiddling with everything like an overly-curious child. He produced a set of ear buds and figuring out where to plug them in sat back and closed his eyes while listening to some soft music.

Hermione couldn't help but study him for a moment. She noticed the tenseness around his eyes and mouth seemed to ease.

As she turned to peer out the window she let her mind drift to the night before at her parent's place…

---@>---

She had sat cross-legged on her favorite comfy chair in her big sitting room perusing Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. She had already made her way through The Healer's Helpmate as Harry sat completely engrossed in the DVD she had put in for him.

Upon making her way back down the stairs after she had gone to her room to change her clothes and readied herself for bed, she heard the unmistakable theme music of a special disc set her mother had purchased for her on a lark not long after she had received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts.

She couldn't help but put her hand over her face and shake her head both embarrassed and bemused by the fact he would chose that particular DVD out of an entire library of films and serials.

When Hermione first received the disc she remembered being so excited, thinking it some form of multi-media introductory information about Hogwarts and/or the Wizarding World. After all, with a title like `BEWITCHED' one would think, having just been accepted to one of the most prestigious magical training institutions in the world, it seemed to make perfect sense.

Rushing to complete all her chores that day she then went to the kitchen, proceeded to make a plate of some of her favorite healthy snacks, (Celery slices with peanut butter on top, fresh baby carrots with ranch dressing to dip in, green seedless grapes and her very favorite of all and one guilty extravagance - chocolate covered raisins!)

She had also retrieved her brand new copy of `Hogwarts- A History', a note pad and pencil just in case she needed to make notes.

She placed the disc carefully, almost reverently on the tray and pushed the button on the DVD player. Dashing back to the sofa and sitting ready with pencil poised quivering over her notepad the adventure began.

Less than 30 minutes later Hermione found herself storming up to her room in a towering temper.

The film hadn't been about Hogwarts or Wizards or magic at all for that matter!

It was, her mother later explained between fits of raucous laughter, nothing more than a ridiculous Serial that was made in the United States when her mother was a girl. The little she had managed to sit through had a rather attractive woman named Samantha, about her mother's age, doing ridiculously impossible things just by twitching her nose…TWITCHING-HER-NOSE!

Hermione had remembered feeling so incensed and hurt. She felt her parents were poking fun at her for being different. It wasn't until her mother explained it had just been in fun she had stopped crying.

Even though it was a rather unpleasant memory she couldn't help but smile remembering, especially now with her mother and father in such dire circumstances.

She had swept into the sitting room in her usual bossy fashion and snatched the remote from Harry's hands as the credits were rolling before the first episode began. She quickly hit the `stop' button.

Harry just looked up at her a bit surprised.

“I'm sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly, “I didn't think you would mind…”

“Of course I don't mind Harry,” Hermione said smiling, “It's just…that particular disc is probably not what you expect.”

She then proceeded to tell him an abridged version of the story. He laughed and nodded.

“You're absolutely right. That is ridiculous…ha…twitching her nose…Stupid!”

When she went to the entertainment center she scanned the titles on the shelves until her eyes landed on what she thought would be a perfect film for him to watch…Pirates of the Caribbean. It even fit with the theme of their pending adventure…sort-of.

Holding the DVD case in her hands, it suddenly sparked an even deeper and darker memory from her past…

---@>---

She had asked her father if she could get that particular movie after it had been released. It was when she had a rather serious girl crush on one Orlando Bloom.

Strangely enough she had first seen the actor in the film Lord of the Rings. She had seen him one evening when her parents had the movie on. Hermione wasn't really watching it, she just happened to be in the room at the moment his particular character was on the screen.

She had thought the character of Legolas (although she didn't hear his name the moment she had spied him) the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on and found herself becoming unwittingly drawn into the film for a while until she recognized some of the character's names. Gorgeous or not, she had no affinity to sit there and watch anything associated with The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings.

Hermione Granger had a deep seated dislike for all things J.R.R. Tolkien.

It had all started when she was in 5^th grade. Nearing the end of that school term her father had become engrossed in the Tolkien novels and in his spare time read them incessantly.

Hermione - being Hermione - really had no attraction to fiction unless it was of the `historically accurate' variety but as she watched her father become completely immersed in the tomes she became curious.

One evening she got the courage to ask her father what the books were about and his response was to hand her his copy of The Hobbit.

“Just read it sweetheart,” he had said with a beaming smile, “I promise you'll enjoy it very much.”

And that's precisely what she did.

She too became completely lost in the tales of Bilbo Baggins and his adventures. The thing that impressed her most was how the author had created his own languages, alphabets and symbols to describe Middle Earth and all its inhabitants. She thought it remarkable and clever and spent some of her free time trying to teach herself how to speak and write Elvish.

It was silly and frivolous but to her it had been fun.

Not long after she had read the books her teacher had set before them a simple essay. `Write about an interest' was the assignment. No specifics were given, just be clear, precise in your description, spelling, grammar and construction counts, of course.

As a result of her recent interest in the Tolkien books Hermione had decided to write about languages, specifically written languages, a historical look at writing itself, the significance of certain ancient alphabetical and graphical systems and the influence they had on those that followed.

She had spent days doing intensive research in the library both at school and the public. She enlisted her mother's help to track down some very archaic texts from near-by Oxford. She had gone with her mother and even managed to obtain an interview with a Professor of Ancient Languages. The crusty old bookworm had found little Hermione Granger delightful, curious, inquisitive and thoroughly engaging (her mother had told her later).

In the end Hermione had constructed a masterful and complete work on a historical glimpse of the written language - nineteen pages of text complete with preface, index, references and even a bibliography.

She remembered being so proud of her work. Her mother and father had praised her paper saying it was well written, concise and well constructed. She remembered she couldn't wait to get to class that day to hand her paper in.

Even at ten years old Hermione Jean Granger's essay would have been more than acceptable in any entry-level college course.

In her 5^th grade Grammar School class, however…

She remembered it all very distinctly. Her paper was handed in on a Thursday, by the following Monday she was sitting in the Head Master's office with her mother and father having a `discussion' about what they described as Hermione's rather odd and often eccentric behavior.

“This is not the first time something of this nature has occurred, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” and “We are a bit concerned Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” and “Perhaps Hermione would be better suited…” and on and on it went.

Her father had been completely bewildered while her mother completely incensed by the whole ridiculous interview. Hermione remembered feeling completely embarrassed. How could someone's best be considered so…so inadequate or inappropriate?

To Hermione, it merely drove home the undeniable fact that she was different. That realization had been a constant albatross since the day she began to read, write and attend school. She had never fit in…and was convinced she never would. She would always be `that queer girl” or “teacher's pet!”

It had utterly crushed her and she had shut herself in her room refusing to go to school. In the end she had gone back. She had decided to finish and in the process decided she would not let a bunch of pencil-pushing public education system bureaucrats dictate to her how she would learn. The lingering effects, however, would be to wall herself and her emotions off from those who could hurt her. It had become a habit.

She remembered her mother and father having long and involved discussions behind closed doors about their `unique' little Hermione. Thankfully it wasn't much later that her Hogwarts letter arrived and after a subsequent interview with then Professor and Assistant Headmistress Minerva McGonagall things about their little girl seemed to become much clearer to her parents.

She had later rationalized (once she was a bit older) that `setting the curve' in school is one thing, making it completely unobtainable by not only her class but the rest of the entire school system was something else altogether. She supposed it made their curriculum look bad but as she was packing her trunk for Hogwarts she realized she no longer cared.

---@>---

When she found her books shed no light on her parent's dilemma she irritably tossed them on the small table next to the chair and let her mind drift.

She and Harry had spoken little after returning to her parent's house from their visit with Andromeda and Teddy. They were both lost in their own thoughts.

Harry contemplated the idea of resurrecting the old Wright house in Godric's Hollow and eventually establishing a home there. Hermione seemed to be preoccupied with everything else.

She found herself going back over the night she met with then Professor McGonagall to propose her idea of protecting her parent's lives by moving them far from London.

She remembered the conversations, the advice against such a risky operation and her subsequent stubborn refusal to listen. Once again regret washed over her as she sat there looking at Harry who was completely oblivious, lost in the world of movie make-believe.

She had kept them out, he and Ron. She was afraid to tell anyone details of her plans, especially Harry with his unintended mental connection to Voldemort. She had mentioned it to them that night in Ron's room at the Burrow before Fleur's wedding and it occurred to her afterward she probably shouldn't have but thankfully her error in judgment had not done any irreparable damage to her plans.

So many secrets…

She felt weary as she thought of all the things she had done neither Harry nor Ron knew about. She let her memories drift away again…

---@>---

There was the time turner, for one. That had been a huge blunder. Trying to shift time to acquire more knowledge was just a disaster waiting to happen. If it had not been for all the extra-curricular activities going on at the time maybe it would have worked out better but…

…Was all that really necessary?

She knew if she had not had the time turner saving Sirius and Buckbeak would have been impossible but she also realized it made little difference for Sirius in the end. That realization made her sad even now and the thought of how utterly dangerous and stupid meddling with time was left her feeling foolish. How McGonagall had even trusted her with such a thing still astounded her.

Then there was, of course, her secret ability to practice under-aged magic outside Hogwarts. She had used it to get a leg up before starting the Wizard school. The thought of confronting the famous Harry Potter and those who had grown up in the wizard world drove her to seek the required knowledge she thought was necessary to compete and the thought of being shown up by those who considered themselves pure bloods left a horrid taste in her mouth.

It didn't take long for her to realize how utterly ridiculous her rationality was. She quickly found out Harry was just as lost and confused as every other Muggle-born and breeding had little to do with one's ability to perform competent magic. It wasn't long after, much to her dismay, she discovered it wasn't all about learning and knowledge either. Some magical ability was instinctive and some imbued in others by unintentional consequences.

Books and cleverness, indeed!

Hermione tossed Harry a clandestine look and couldn't help but smile as he sat watching the pirate movie completely oblivious to her musings. He was completely engrossed and utterly mesmerized.

She remembered how she was given unrestricted access to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library in her second year. Madam Pince had not been happy about that. She felt it was a desecration of the sanctity of her library allowing any student unfettered access but since the order came from Dumbledore himself she was forced to oblige…not that it had helped all that much in the end.

Then there were her own secret meetings with the Headmaster. He had summoned her many times during their years at Hogwarts with strict instructions not to mention them to anyone…not even her boys. He had enlightened her about many things that had to do with Voldemort and Harry. It was how she came to know about the books Dumbledore had removed from the Restricted Section even though she had played it off to Harry and Ron later.

Much of it she had surmised on her own but he had given her many details to fill in the blanks of not only her own theory but his as well. It was he who had impressed upon her the importance to assist Harry in his quest. She had quite happily told the Headmaster she had every intention of doing so anyway. She remembered his beaming smile in response to her rather cheeky retort. After Dumbledore became ill after wearing the Gaunt ring he was most adamant about her roll in what was to come.

At first she refused to accept it but as the words of Trelawney's prophecy began to fulfill themselves she realized his advice could not be ignored. She was still a bit aggravated Dumbledore had not confided in her about the Hallows or the Horcruxes. It would have been much simpler for her to understand when the time came and she wouldn't have been so resistant to the idea…but she also now understood why he didn't. It would have tainted their quest and the necessary destruction of those vile pieces of Voldemort's soul.

She was also a little miffed he had not told her about his theory Harry's scar was also an unintended Horcrux but then again, Dumbledore was wise enough to realize she would not have let him face Voldemort alone to do what needed to be done, no matter how necessary it seemed at the time.

There were the secret potion treatments she had to endure at the hands of Professor Snape after she had been hit with Dolohov's curse the night they went to the Department of Mysteries to supposedly save Sirius. Madam Pomfrey was at a loss. It had left no mark on the outside but at times Hermione's insides felt as if they were boiling. They never determined precisely what the curse was but the residual effects caused her excruciating pain for months after.

It was Professor McGonagall who had approached the Headmaster to enlist Professor Snape to find an answer. Hermione absolutely did not want Severus Snape poking and prodding on her for answers but she reluctantly agreed when the pain became so acute she would have done just about anything to make it stop. In the end Snape had found the nature of the curse and cured it with a month-long regiment of potions and meditative healing techniques. He had refused to divulge the nature of the curse only because she had asked him. It had angered her greatly but in the end, she had to reluctantly admit he had probably saved her life, although it hadn't been something either one of them enjoyed.

The result, however, had been utterly devastating. It was during a post-treatment examination she had been informed by Snape that, as a result of the damage done by the curse and an unforeseen side effect of the cure she would most likely be unable to bear children. In fact, he had given her a less than twenty per-cent chance of ever successfully carrying a child to term. It wasn't so much the damage as it was the extensive scarring to some of her reproductive organs.

He had been cold and utterly unfeeling in his pronouncement. It was as if he were telling her she had received an `Exceeds Exceptional' instead of an `Outstanding' on a Potions essay. When Hermione broke down in front of him Professor Snape became angry.

“Please do keep in mind Ms. Granger, you - are - alive!” he spit hatefully, “I realize this may be little consolation to one with your…obsequiously illuminated mind but let us look on the bright side shall we? You'll be forever more a truly unique insufferable little know-it-all!”

Severus Snape had loathed weakness and self-pity about as much as he had hated the Marauders.

Throughout her young life Hermione had prided herself on being impartial and as unprejudiced as she could possibly be but after that day she realized she hated Severus Snape more than any other creature on the earth. Even after all had been revealed about his motives for allying himself with Albus Dumbledore her opinion of the man changed little. He was still the vilest most despicable man to ever have drawn a breath as far as she was concerned and even death could not assuage her hatred of him.

It was one of the main reasons Hermione had seemed so distant to her boys in their 6^th year. Trying to come to terms with it all had occupied most of her strength. It hadn't helped Ron seemed to be determined to swallow Lav Lav's head every fifteen minutes.

Now, after all had been said and done she found herself sitting across from a young man who meant more to her then anyone with the exception of her parents. Even she and her parents had been drifting slowly apart as she finally admitted to McGonagall in Australia.

She marveled at how they had arrived at this very moment. Both their lives had taken so many strange twists and turns to end up at what Hermione finally realized as the truth…the real truth but the guilt for keeping him at arm's length for all those years settled on her like a sack of wet sand.

He and I were made for one-another. How could it be any other way?

---@>---

The jet hit some turbulence and jolted both of them out of their introspections.

“Wha' was that,” Harry asked lurching upright gripping the armrests again. Hermione chucked and patted his hand.

“It's perfectly fine Harry, just a bit of a rough patch.”

“Oh…rough patch, yah…ok.” He settled back in his seat but was still a bit tense.

It was remarkable to her that he grew up in the Muggle world just as she had but it was as if he's had little to no experience with it.

“You know, Harry you sometimes act like you've never been in the Muggle world before at all.”

He cast her a rather strange look as he pulled the ear buds from his ears.

“I might have grown up in this world Hermione but it's not like I ever really went anywhere or did all that much. I was too busy playing resident slave and house elf to the Dursleys.”

“They let you watch the telly didn't they?”

“Yah,” Harry said, “sometimes but it was always whatever Diddykins wanted to watch. Merlin forbid if I ever got my hand on the remote. I would have been scrubbing toilets for weeks.”

The back of Hermione's neck suddenly felt hot. She couldn't believe how he had been treated by his own supposed family. It was utterly despicable.

“That explains a lot.” She whispered.

“Yah,” Harry said, “but I can tell you in detail what the underside of a staircase looks like. I know that part well.”

Hermione's eyes began to swim.

“Look Hermione,” Harry shifted in his seat, “I really don't want to think about that anymore. That time is behind me now. The Dursleys are gone and I don't ever have to see them again.” He smiled at her despite the dark thoughts swirling in the back of his mind. “I'm on holiday going to a little brown speck in the middle of the ocean with the most important person in my life. As far as I'm concerned nothing else matters at this moment. Get what I'm saying?”

She nodded. She dare not speak because her bottom lip was beginning to quiver.

“I want you to make me a promise right now Granger,” Harry looked at her seriously.

He rarely ever called her by her sir-name. She looked deeply into his beautiful green eyes. She nodded.

“I want you to promise me you're going to have fun. That's what we're doing this for, to let go and have fun. No moping about wondering, worrying or thinking about this or that. You need to clear your mind and relax, yes?”

Again she nodded.

“Do I have your word?” He cracked a grin.

This time Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked.

“Do I have to take an oath in blood or something?” she asked with a smile.

Harry stroked his chin for a moment looking thoughtful and she swatted at him.

“Tosspot,” she mumbled, “Yes, Harry I promise to have fun. I promise to have the time of my life! Is that acceptable?”

“I suppose it'll do for starters,” Harry grinned, “So tell me about this place we're staying?”

Hermione brightened instantly. She reached in to fish several travel brochures out of her beaded bag. While she was rooting around looking for the ones she wanted her hand fell across a book. When she pulled it out she read the title then cast Harry a dour sideways glare.

“Oh Harry,” she grumbled, “You must be joking!”

She was holding a pristine, hard bound copy of The Demise of Darkness - The Final Days of Lord Voldemort.

She instantly noticed Ron's name had been misspelled.

Hermione burst out laughing and had to cover her mouth when nearby passengers turned to stare.

Harry snatched the book from Hermione's hand and laid it in his lap.

“You know,” he said, “It's really not half bad. At least they get most of the facts right and I have to admit the way its written is well…rather interesting.”

Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. She refused to accept anything that came from a self-serving, dishonest, loose-lipped gossip and a thick-as-mud, whiskey-addled, hormonal teenager could be worth the paper it was printed on but she begrudgingly realized if it got Harry to read it might not be a complete waste of material.

At least the rubbish can be recycled!

As she watched he opened the cover. She could see writing on the inside.

“Oh Harry,” she cackled, “Don't tell me he autographed it! When did you get that?”

He told her Ron had left it for him the night he came to Grimmuald Place with that girl. Hermione forced herself not to think about that night.

He showed her the inscription. It read…

To my best mate Harry Potter. Without whom this book could not have been possible.

Ronald B. Weasley

The penmanship looked as if a third grader had written it but Hermione kept that comment to herself. At the very least Ron seemed to recognize the importance of Harry's contribution to his success so she rationalized it had to count for something.

“So show me this place already,” Harry asked blushing slightly trying to change the subject.

They spent most of the rest of the flight talking about Tahiti. Hermione gave him a brief (at least brief for Hermione) history of the Polynesian Islands. The fact their language was French concerned Harry a bit.

“Don't worry,” Hermione told him, “Most all the residents speak English. They get a lot of tourists from the United States and besides…I can speak French fairly well.”

It was almost dawn the following morning by the time they reached the small airport in Bora Bora due to flying almost half way around the globe but even at the early morning hour the place was alive with people and activity.

Hermione informed him they could get to the island of Tahiti in one of three ways, (well, four if you count apparating and five if you count swimming but neither option very appealing), they could either take a smaller plane or ride on a water taxi that jumped from island to island or they could charter a boat to take them directly to Tahiti.

When Hermione asked Harry which he preferred he told her he didn't care but he was a bit tired of riding on airplanes for a while. They eventually decided on the water taxi when they found out how much a charter boat cost. Harry was more than willing but Hermione's frugal nature and common sense prevailed in the end. It would take longer for them to get there but they would have a chance to see so much more on the taxi.

After boarding the next available water taxi they settled back onto a bench just outside the bridge house of a boat called The Galloping Guppy. They were remarking on the name with quiet snickers when a tall dark man in a captain's hat turned the corner. He apparently heard their comments.

He looked down at them, hands on hip and a rather knowing grin on his face.

“Does de name of dis boat amuse you?” He asked in a good-natured way, his broad white smile never leaving his face. His voice was heavily accented in an unknown dialect.

Harry and Hermione both began to back peddle quickly but the man just held up his hand chuckling.

“I realize da name is a beet strange but eet was geeven to me by my then four year old daughter when I brought she and my wife to look at de craft after I had first purchased her from a feesherman in New Guinea. She say `Papa, de boat looks like a beeg fat guppy!'” He shrugged, “The name stuck!”

Harry and Hermione couldn't help but smile and laugh at the story.

The Captain chatted them up for a bit. He informed them his route took them first to the island of Morea, then to a few of the smaller islands in the chain, then onto Tahiti before turning and retracing their route back to Bora Bora. After that he made his way to the bridge wishing them a pleasant Holiday.

Harry and Hermione spent the trip from Bora Bora to Morea mostly in silence looking up at and endless sea of stars in the utter blackness of the night. There were very few lights on the boat because, (as a deck hand had mentioned in passing) many people liked to nap on the late night crossings. Harry and Hermione had slept a little on the flight so neither was tired. They were both excited and Harry seemed to fidget relentlessly.

Hermione had pointed out several constellations as well as the Milky Way as Harry sat listening in rapt fascination. He remembered many of them from Astronomy class but he was quite content to let Hermione be - well - Hermione.

He could tell she was becoming more and more her old self and it made him feel good. She was relaxed now, more so than he had seen her in the last several months.

Just as they were arriving in Morea the first tendrils of light could be seen on the eastern horizon. At first a deep bronze, then gold spreading like glittering diamonds across the surface of the rather calm ocean, then the deep blues of what appeared to be a pristine sky veiled the stars to announce the coming of a cloudless dawn.

They decided to explore the wharf area for the hour the Galloping Guppy remained at port in Morea. The Captain told them they could find a quaint little café not far from the boat that served some of the best Turkish coffee in the Polynesian Archipelagos. They sat sipping the robust brew as they watched the morning unfold in front of them. They had an unobstructed front row seat.

Harry commented on the way back to the boat he felt like the coffee had reached right out of his cup and slapped him across his face. Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud. Before she realized it they were holding hands as they made their way slowly and lazily back to the Guppy. They perused the little shops along the way not really stopping to look at anything in particular, just a leisurely stroll.

For the first time in months she found herself thinking of nothing, merely taking in everything around her and letting the sights and sounds and smells of the island permeate her entire being. It was absolutely cathartic.

Harry seemed quite pensive as he, too took everything in. The only thought that permeated his mind was the realization he should have done something like this a long time ago but things were quite different back then. He hastily shoved any thoughts of the past aside.

They decided to remain on the boat at the rest of the Guppy's stops and it was early afternoon by the time they reached the island of Tahiti.

As they approached from the north-west they could see the towering cone of Mount Orohena. Hermione could sense Harry's growing excitement.

After the boat turned a densely forested corner of land they entered into what appeared to be a shallow bay. To Harry it was a lot like some of the places he had seen in the pirate movie. The smile that spread across his face and the absolute delight in his sparkling green eyes made Hermione laugh. Harry glanced at her.

“It's brilliant Hermione,” Harry laughed taking in the thatched huts that seem to come right out over the water into the bay. Brightly colored triangular shapes skimmed across the smooth surface of the crystal clear turquoise-colored water in every direction stood out like beacons against the back drop of the almost bright-white color of the sand. There were smaller boats and personal water craft zipping back and forth.

On the right side of the lagoon was the harbor with docks and landing areas. Hermione explained that massive cruise ships docked there and they would most likely see one or two while they were there.

Harry took it all in. He let his imagination soar as the taxi eased its way into the harbor zone.

“Do you think there are any pirates here Hermione?” Almost at once he realized what a stupid and childish question it was but he was letting his excitement get the better of him.

Hermione was about to offer a snarky response when one of the deck hands came up behind them grinning.

“They say dis place was once a pirate haven back in de day,” the deck hand said, “Eet is said there is still pirate treasure buried on some of de islands in dis Archipelago.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Please don't tell him that or we'll be spending the next two weeks looking for buried treasure!”

The deck hand laughed loudly. Harry just blushed but grinned himself.

“I think it would have been brilliant to be a pirate like Captain Jack Sparrow!” He said laughing.

Hermione gave him a rather strange look but then laughed.

“I don't know Potter,” she quipped, “For some reason I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of you…swashbuckling!”

They both burst out laughing.

After leaving the Galloping Guppy at the harbor with cheerful farewells to the captain and crew they made their way to one of the ground transportation locations and took a rather modern looking shuttle to the front entrance of the Tahiti Intercontinental Resort.

Coming up the circular drive they could see the place was beautiful. All color of flowers lined the entryway.

Several men dressed in what appeared to be red suits with dark blue trousers with red stripes down the sides of the legs came spilling out of the entrance and immediately began taking bags and ushering the guests up the few steps into the grand and very formal-looking reception area.

A very tall, thin man with a long nose, heavily lidded eyes, long graying hair slicked back over a high forehead, dressed in an impeccable black formal tuxedo complete with tails made his way from guest to guest shaking hands, bowing stiffly and welcoming them all to the resort. When he had finally made his way around to Harry and Hermione they got the instant impression they were being sized up, appraised and inspected all at the same time.

From the man's expression and demeanor Hermione caught the unmistakable air of questioning suspicion as he peered down his long nose at them. He stood stiffly, head thrown back almost leering down at them.

“I am Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque,” he said in a clipped and formal heavy French accent, “I am Concierge here at The Intercontinental, a…pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The pause was not lost on Hermione. She instantly did not like this man. Her first impression was that he was arrogant and snooty.

“You will be staying with us for two weeks I believe Monsieur Potter, Mademoiselle Granger?”

The fact he knew their names shocked Hermione almost speechless. She nodded but Harry wasn't so subtle.

“How did you know…” Harry began to ask but the Concierge cut him off with a wave of his thin spindly looking hand as if his knowledge should have been obvious.

“It is my duty to know who is staying at my resort Monsieur,” he was regarding Harry as if he were a particularly nasty stain on one of the lobby's expensive Persian carpets.

His manner was grating on Hermione's sensibilities when he turned toward her and pinned her with a long and rather peculiar stare. She was instantly becoming uncomfortable under his obvious scrutiny and she was about to comment when he spoke.

“If I may be so bold as to enquire, Madmioselle,” he asked haughtily, “I noticed you are from London, oui? Are you any relation to a Daphne and Edward Granger?”

His question stunned Hermione like a cold slap across the face. She knew she must be gaping at the man like a complete idiot so she quickly tried to get control of herself. She set her features to much the same as his before she replied.

“I am?” she responded matter-of-factly, “They are my parents. Why do you ask? Do you know them?”

The Concierge's rather stiff and icy demeanor evaporated almost instantly. Instead his features took on what appeared to Hermione to be almost a whimsical look of fond memory.

“Indeed Madmioselle,” Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque replied with a tight smile, “You parents are well known to me and I remember them with great fondness. You mother…” the Concierge began but his voice trailed off for a moment as if lost in a pleasant memory. She thought she had caught an almost inaudible sigh come from the snooty man. With a slight shake of his head he seemed to snap out of it.

Harry cast Hermione a quizzical look but Hermione could only shrug in response looking a bit bewildered herself.

“Please allow me to explain,” Des Fortesque continued, eyes closed with a spidery finger upraised, “I came to know your mother and father upon one of their many visits to our humble resort. I'm sure you are aware Madmioselle this was their favorite vacation destination I believe.”

Hermione nodded. She couldn't seem to find anything to say.

“As I recall you accompanied your parents here several years before, no?” He asked, smiling rather genuinely now.

“Yes,” Hermione said slowly, “When I was eight years old.”

“Ah yes, of course,” the concierge said, “I knew I recognized you. You have become, if I may speak freely Madmioselle, as lovely as your wonderful mother.”

Hermione couldn't help but blush a deep crimson.

“It was a most unusual circumstance that brought your parents and myself together on a previous occasion. They hand mentioned to me once they were both practicing dentists. It was this memory that caused me to call upon their services under rather dire circumstances.”

“There was a very important person staying wiz us at the time. He was the Puja of Nom-Gamier. He was…how can I say it politely…a most difficult guest to please. The Puja had a most peculiar affinity for pistachio nuts. He would consume several pounds of them a day.”

“One evening the Puja's personal assistant rang the front desk in a terrible panic. Apparently the Puja had broken a tooth on his pistachio nuts and requested we do something to ease his pain immediately. He was most insistent. I then remembered your parents were dentists and…voila, they were most gracious in assisting the Puja and pulled the offending molar most expeditiously.”

“Your parents not only helped me personally but they helped save the reputation of our establishment. The Puja was most pleased and vowed to make the Intercontinental his favorite vacation destination. He has returned every year since.”

“Erm…Well,” Hermione replied still a bit stunned by the strange man's revelations but he seemed to have changed his opinion of the two young people standing before him, “I'm very please my parents could help. They both have a very charitable nature…”

“Indeed!” Des Fortesque bowed slightly, “I hope they are well. I'm sorry they were unable to accompany you this time.”

Hermione's expression darkened at the thought of her parents and Harry picked up on her distress instantly. He jumped in to save her the pain of explaining. Thinking quickly he covered for her.

“Hermione's parents aren't doing so well right now. They were both involved in a serious accident that caused them both to be put in the hospital. They'll live but their condition is…delicate right now. It's hard for Hermione to talk about it.”

“There's nothing more that can be done for them at present so I suggested Hermione get away for a while. The stress, you see.”

Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque put his hand over his heart and closed his eyes.

“I understand completely,” the Concierge nodded to Harry, “Mademoiselle Granger, I am so sorry,” he whispered, “My heart goes out to you and I shall remember your mother and father in my thoughts.”

Hermione was touched by the sincerity in his declaration and she couldn't help but smile.

“Thank you Monsieur Des Fortesque. I will be sure to pass along your sympathies to them when I return to London.”

“Of course,” the Concierge clapped his hands twice in quick succession as his haughty manner resumed as if they had not had the previous conversation at all.

A skeletally thin man, about the same height as the Concierge with the same haughty expression appeared at the older man's shoulder at once as if appearing out of thin air.

“Oui Monsieur Des Fortesque?” The man asked bowing slightly.

The Concierge peered down at Harry and Hermione with the same snobbish expression he gave them when they first arrived. Harry began feeling a bit confused by it all.

“Trousseau, this lovely young lady and her gentleman escort are my personal guests,” the Concierge stressed the last two words with a pointed stare at his assistant, “They will be treated as such. Please place them on the fourth floor in the continental suite and make it your personal duty to see to it their stay is most pleasant. If they require it you shall make it so.”

Both Harry and Hermione gaped at the Concierge for a second before looking at one another.

“”Erm Monsieur,” Hermione said aghast, “That's really not…”

But Des Fortesque simply tut-tutted her. With a pinched smile and a wink he turned and made his way back to the reception desk leaving an attentive Trousseau in his wake.

The gentleman named Trousseau bowed slightly and bade them follow. He led them to the elevator and up they went until they came to the fourth floor. Following the assistant they were brought before a double door entrance with the doorknobs in the center of each door slab.

When Trousseau opened the doors Harry and Hermione's mouths dropped open in amazement. The suite was huge with a large sitting area complete with overstuffed couch, love seat and easy chair. A huge screen television was mounted to the wall on the right side. To the left was a small but modern looking kitchenette that was separated from the sitting room by a short bar.

To the far left were a huge bedroom with a monstrous king-sized bed, walk-in closet and an adjoining bath with a whirlpool tub you could swim in but the best part of the entire space was the balcony. It spanned the entire length of the suit with French doors that spanned the entire back wall. On the balcony were several loungers along with a glass topped table and comfortable looking wicker chairs. From the low rail you could see the entire bay.

Trousseau took a few moments to explain where everything was and even showed them the panel that operated the motor-driven blinds that would open and close to pre-set times to let in the morning sunlight or close to block the view.

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Harry had commented which made Hermione and Trousseau laugh. When he was done he bowed himself out of the room and left them alone.

Hermione was stunned at their good fortune.

“I never dreamed we'd be in a place like this Harry,” she beamed.

It made Harry's heart pinch for a moment. The look in her eyes brought back memories of when they were younger and both still so new to the world of magic. Everything seemed to be wondrous and exciting then, before all the darkness…

He forced those thoughts aside and they began un-shrinking all their things and with the help of that very same magic, they had all their things stowed away.

Hermione stood for a moment looking at the massive bed in the room. Harry came up beside her.

“Erm, I believe Trousseau said the sofa folds out into a bed. I don't mind…”

But before he could finish his statement Hermione looked up at him with an odd expression and cut him off.

“Don't be ridiculous Harry,” she motioned to the bed, “Look at the size of this thing. I think we could both sleep on it and never even see one-another for days!”

Harry laughed loudly at that. She swatted his arm playfully.

“So what do you want to do now?” Hermione asked.

Harry thought for a moment then replied in a matter-of-fact way.

“I think I would like to look around the resort for a bit, you know, find out where everything is and then I would really like to get something to eat. What about you?” He looked at Hermione with a grin.

“I think that's a lovely idea Mr. Potter,” Hermione beamed again, “Why didn't I think of that!” She giggled.

Hermione Granger just giggled! This is going to be more fun than I thought!

With that she told him she wanted to freshen up and change her clothes to something more tropical and bid Harry to do the same. She gave Harry the bathroom first because, as she said, girls tend to take longer than boys.

Harry didn't put up a fuss so when he was done Hermione disappeared into the cavernous bathroom while Harry dressed for the evening. He put on a light tan pair of linen slacks, a white button-up shirt left unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. He wore a white cotton tank under his shirt.

Instead of shoes he opted for a pair of brown leather sandals Hermione had told him were a must for beach life. Checking himself in the mirror he decided trying to do something with his hair was pointless but he looked and felt completely different than he ever had in his life. The clothes fit perfect and they felt good.

He moved out onto the balcony and looked out over the clear blue water and pristine white sand. The sun was falling low off to the left but was still high enough in the sky to see everything. Life teamed below him with people sun bathing on the beach, children swimming and splashing in the shallow water and subtle waves that washed up on shore. All manner of multi-colored sails carved across the surface of the calm surf out in the midst of the lagoon, lazily bobbing up and down as they passed.

This is paradise!

He couldn't suppress a smile as he took it all in. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly for a moment to let it all soak into him like a sponge. He heard Hermione's voice behind him. When he turned he could scarcely believe what his eyes beheld…

Hermione was wearing a lovely white sleeveless sundress that went to her ankles. The top was like a spaghetti string tank but was lacy and frilly. She had done her long mane into an intricate French braid that fell to her lower back. On her feet were the same style sandals as Harry's (they had bought them at the same place at the same time - they were on sale!)

She looked lovely and radiant in the late afternoon light. She noticed Harry gaping at her as she fit one of her earrings in place.

“What?” Hermione asked grinning a little. Harry swallowed hard.

“You…you look…erm…wow Hermione,” He stammered.

She beamed again. Harry was really, really beginning to like Tahiti very much.

“You look pretty wow yourself Harry,” as she made her way out onto the balcony. Turning toward the bay her face lit up with that same look of wonder she had right after they entered the suite.

“Oh isn't it magnificent Harry,” she said breathlessly. Harry couldn't seem to drag his gaze away from her.

“It most certainly is Ms. Granger!” Harry replied.

When she glanced up at his face his look made her blushed profusely.

“Stop it,” she chided but only half-heartedly, swatting his arm gently, “You're making me self-conscious.”

Glancing up at him again she grinned and leaned against his shoulder.

“You know Harry, you should really consider getting that Muggle procedure that corrects your vision. Then you wouldn't have to wear your glasses any more. If you're thinking of joining Kingsley's special program it might be wise, don't you think. I mean, just one simple spell and any Death Eater worth their salt could render you potentially helpless…then where would you be?”

“True,” Harry responded considering her words, “but that's what Auror-grade sticking charms are for yes?” He smirked.

“It's just a thought,” Hermione sighed turning back to look out over the bay. She had unconsciously threaded her arms around his leaning against his body as she gazed out over the lovely view. When she realized what she was doing she disentangled herself form him with a bit of a jolt at her forwardness.

“Erm, sorry Harry didn't mean…”

Before she could finish her words Harry leaned toward her and captured her mouth with his. He had no idea what drove him to do it. The moment - her look - the place, but as his lips met hers Hermione practically melted into the kiss like butter on the hot stove.

Before either of them knew it their kiss turned into a heated exchange of barely restrained longing and desire for one-another. Hermione reached for him, pulling him closer as his arms encircled her body and pulled her in even tighter.

When they finally separated they were both gasping. Harry looked Hermione right in the eyes. Something was driving him forward. He wasn't sure what but it felt wonderful - she felt wonderful!

“Thank you for inviting me on Holiday with you. This is wonderful.” Harry whispered.

“We've only just arrived Harry,” Hermione whispered in return looking into his sparking green eyes, “but I'm glad you came with me.”

They kissed again, both of them getting lost in the warmth and familiarity of one-another. After a moment Hermione realized if they didn't stop things were going to get intense. She could feel Harry responding and it wasn't at all unpleasant.

She reluctantly pulled her lips from his.

“Erm, why don't we go exploring now Harry,” she offered him a rather coy smile.

He nodded grinning himself. He took her hand in his and they made their way down to the lower levels of the resort and began wandering all over the place. They found the indoor and outdoor pools, spas, steam rooms and a full weight training facility complete with personal trainer. They found a bar that was both inside the resort building and outside by the outdoor pool. One could actually swim right up to the bartender and get a drink.

The outdoor pool had a waterfall! Harry thought that was the coolest and told Hermione they would definitely investigate that closer soon. When they made it down to the beach they decided to take a walk there later, after they got something to eat, so they returned to the restaurant.

The dining room was formal and elegant as they found themselves seated at a cozy little table for two. Hermione had seafood while Harry decided to order one of the largest steaks they offered. After the drinks and salads arrived a waiter brought a bottle of a very expensive French wine, “Compliments of the management!” he explained with a smile. The waiter pulled the cork, poured just a little in a glass and handed it with a bow to Harry.

Harry looked at Hermione quizzically when she quickly and quietly explained the waiter was waiting for Harry's approval on the wine before he poured. Shrugging slightly Harry took the glass, sniffed and tasted the wine, then nodded to the waiter.

The waiter smiled, nodded then poured a bit more in his glass and did the same for Hermione. When the waiter left, Hermione burst out in a fit of stifled giggles at Harry.

“What?” Harry whispered.

“Nothing,” Hermione snorted, “I've just never pictured you like this before. It's a bit, I don't know…discombobulating!”

Harry just sat back folding his arms with a slightly devious grin.

“Would it make you more comfortable if belched, farted and jumped up scratching my bum?”

Hermione had to cover her mouth to keep from bursting out in a loud fit of laughter as she nodded her head, eyes beginning to water from her silent glee.

Harry could only chuckle rolling his eyes. After the food came they ate talking about the subtleties of proper etiquette while in public. Hermione instructed Harry in things he never had to think much about before.

“A finger bowl is for what?” He asked, “Why that just seems silly. Why not just lick the sauce off your fingers? That's a waste of good food!”

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes mumbling something about channeling his best Ronald.

After their delicious and very filling meal they decided to take a leisurely stroll on the beach. Hermione admitted the day was beginning to catch up to her when she yawned.

Night had settled in earnest with only the slightest hint of glow on the western horizon.

Hermione pulled off her sandals and before they had gone very far she realized Harry had taken her hand in his. She looked up at him with a smile.

Harry thought Hermione never looked so lovely as she walked beside him on the sand. He looked up into a night sky filled with billions and billions of pinpoints of light.

“You don't see this many stars in London,” He said in a hushed tone.

With another girlish laugh she let go of Harry's hand and dashed ahead of him slightly. She then held her arms out straight, leaned her head back and began to spin slowly in circles.

“What are you doing you silly witch?” Harry asked chuckling as he watched her spin round in circles.

“Try it Harry!” Hermione said laughing, “Fix your eyes on the brightest star then spin in circles.”

Harry did…and after a moment it seemed that he was spiraling through a vortex of circles of light. It was amazing to see but after about three spins his head began to feel funny. The next thing he knew he was crashing to the sand, landing hard on his shoulder.

Laughing madly Hermione crashed down next to him.

“My goodness Harry! You were spinning so fast it looked as if you just might lift off!”

“Well, that explains it,” Harry mumbled rubbing his shoulder.

“I really thought you a bit more coordinated than that,” she chuckled as she let herself fall back on the sand, arms flung over her head. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

Harry gaped at her for a moment.

“Hermione,” he exclaimed, “You're going to get sand all over you and your pretty white dress. I really like that dress, by the way.”

“Lighten up Harry,” Hermione quipped, “We're at the beach - on a tropical island - in the middle of the ocean. Sand is our friend!”

Harry laughed loudly and fell back on the sand beside her.

“That's better,” she said turning her head to gaze into his eyes. She reached out and touched his face letting the pads of her finger glide lightly across his cheek.

Harry closed his eyes shuddering slightly at her soft touch. He reached up capturing her hand with his and pressed his lips against her wrist, kissing softly. Harry heard a soft sigh escape her. It was just barely louder than the sound of the gentle waves lapping the shore of the pristine white sand.

Even though the sounds of Tahiti night life went on all around them they seemed lost in a bubble of their own little world for a moment. Harry desperately wanted to kiss her just then but she gently withdrew her hand and settled back on the sand again gazing up at the night sky.

“It's marvelous isn't it?” Hermione whispered.

“Yes Hermione,” Harry said as he too looked up into the night sky. His eyes landed on the star he focused on when he was spinning in circles like a nutter a few moments before, “What's that bright star there Hermione. I don't remember that one.”

Hermione shifted her gaze to the star in question and smiled widely.

“You should remember that one Harry!” Hermione glanced at him with a wry grin, “That's the star Sirius!”

“Of course,” Harry replied feeling a bit foolish, “The Dog Star. You're right. I should have remembered that one!”

“The Polynesian people in this region have been using Sirius to navigate by for thousands of years.”

“Sounds funny when you say it like that…” Harry chuckled.

Suddenly Hermione was on her feet looking down at Harry grinning. She reached out a hand to help him up.

“I think I'm ready to call it a day Harry,” she said as Harry grabbed her hand and she yanked with all her strength. When Harry got to his feet she wrapped him in a tight embrace and kissed him letting her tongue swirl with his for a moment. When she released him Harry was a bit dazed, “Time for bed…” The sleepy, slightly sultry look in her eyes made Harry's heart jump all over his chest.

With that she began towing him back toward the resort hotel. Harry wasn't sure what to make of this girl at the moment. Her slightly erratic behavior was quite out of her usual character but after what she had been through over the past several months he realized she hadn't exactly been herself in a long time. Harry just decided to roll with it and see where it took them. He had promised himself to give her what she wanted without protest or question…and that's exactly what he intended to do.

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply - Please see comments at end of chapter…

Chapter Twenty-One - Holiday (Part 2)

The next morning Hermione was up well before Harry. It was partly due to the fact she had always been an early riser and the radical time change had scrambled her internal clock somewhat but what really got her wide awake at 6:15 a.m. local time was when she opened her eyes found herself snuggled up tightly against Harry's chest with his arm thrown over her shoulders.

Her first reaction was to burrow deeper into him and go back to sleep but then reality dumped on her head like a bucket of cold ice water. Much to her relief she managed to extricate herself from his close proximity without waking him.

She wasn't sure why really. She had been ever so comfortable there pressed against him. His warmth and familiar scent was safe and reassuring - like Crookshanks on those blustery winter nights at Hogwarts when she sometimes cried herself to sleep not knowing what fate had in store for them then.

I love him…I love him more than anyone on this earth. So why am I so reluctant to give myself to him that way? Is it fear? Fear if we don't…fit together that way…would I lose him completely? No…surely not. Harry Potter would never be so shallow. You're just being insecure…

As she sat on one of the little bar stools she could see into the bedroom. The only thing she could see of Harry was his haphazard locks sticking up out of the massive comforter on the bed.

Her mind drifted to Viktor and how that craziness had happened. It had been like a flash fire - unplanned, unexpected and completely out of control. She had been a jumble of emotions because of the altercation she had with Ron earlier at the Ball.

Viktor had listened to her lament about the boy she was certain she was coming to fancy…a lot! When Hermione turned to him to bid Viktor goodnight she felt he at least earned a kiss for his patience and thoughtfulness but when their lips met it had been like and explosion of mutual desire and urgent need.

It had been a horrible mistake on her part. She blamed it on her vulnerability but she now knew better. She had known what she was doing and she had hated herself for it. She had not been old enough or mature enough to handle something like that but her curiosity and weakness had gotten the better of her.

But the utter danger and thrill it caused in her was like nothing she had ever felt before. It had been intoxicating. All the things she had heard older girls in her dorm talk about when it came to boys had landed on her and she had tucked it all away in her overly regimented mind.

The thought of getting killed by Death Eaters without ever knowing what physical pleasure was like was unacceptable to her so she simply closed her eyes and jumped…

Impetuosity is the fodder for utter self-destruction!

She told herself after that night, she would never…ever do that again!

She wondered if Harry had ever gone farther with Ginny then she had let on. Ginny had, at times, been rather vocal about some of the things she had gotten up to with Michael Corner and Dean Thomas. She seemed completely unabashed to talk about it but after she and Harry hooked up…not a peep.

As she sat there watching Harry sleep trying to push all her musings about such things out of her head she heard a gentle rapping on the door.

When she opened it a crack, a bellman was standing there with a stainless steel push cart. On it was an urn of coffee and plates piled high with bagels, muffins, crepes, tarts, pastries and all kinds of treats.

Hermione looked at the bellman with eyebrows raised.

“Complements of the Concierge and the Intercontinental Resort Mademoiselle,” he bowed, “May I?” He then gestured toward the interior of the room.

“Oh, of course! Thank you,” Hermione had to take a moment to get a grip, “Please give Monsieur Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque my sincerest thanks. He is such a wonderful host! Thank you very much. Wait just a moment,” Hermione dashed back to the bar and found her small change purse. She took out a five pound note and gave it to the bellman. He bowed thanking her profusely as he backed out of the room closing the doors in his wake.

She was marveling over their bounty when she looked up and saw a much rumpled and still very sleepy Harry coming from the room. He was wearing just his pajama bottoms. His hair was a mess and his eyes squinting without his glasses. He stretched, yawned widely and scratched his left butt cheek.

Now that's the real Harry Potter I know and love! But Merlin…isn't it a lovely picture to see him so unpretentious!

“Did I miss something?” He mumbled.

“Yes actually,” she replied quite seriously, “The Minister for Magic was just here. He proclaimed all House Elves are now free!” She had no idea where that snark came from.

But Harry was not to be outdone. She might be the cleverest young witch and all but he had been paying attention all those years.

“Lovely,” he replied just as serious, “Fetch me when they issue wands to the Goblins then won't you?” He turned right around and went back into the room.

Hermione Granger stood there stunned speechless - which was an accomplishment!

When did Harry bloody Potter get so clever?

She started laughing like mad. A rather impetuous notion overcame her - she dashed after him and attacked him from behind pushing him onto the huge bed with an affected growl. In seconds they were both laughing, rolling around the bed play fighting, Harry quickly turned the tide of her assault and began taunting, teasing and tickling her relentlessly.

Finally, he had her arms pinned to the bed lying on her back crying “Uncle!”

He looked down at her as he hovered above. She was wearing the same small tank and those maddeningly tiny boy shorts she had worn at her parent's house the first night he had stayed.

Her expression was part demure and part impish and wasn't quite certain which he should act on at the moment. He could have stayed right there looking into her beautiful sparkling brown eyes forever.

He wanted to kiss her but also knew he had just got up so he needed to brush his teeth and do his business. He pushed himself up off the bed and moved to the bathroom.

“How long have you been awake? We're on holiday for Merlin's sake. You should sleep in Hermione.”

“Not long,” she replied. She was a bit disappointed when Harry left the bed. She was certain he was going to kiss her. She wanted it…much more than she realized. Part of her was ready to know Harry that way. She thought she longed for it and it was very much not like her…

But there's time for that. Maybe he's not ready. Don't push this Granger or you'll ruin it!

She thought it could be his lack of experience with such things although it wasn't like she was an expert.

Maybe I'll have to be the one to make the first move…

“Oh…stop it Granger,” she whispered to herself becoming irritated, “You're acting like a complete ninny!”

She threw herself off the bed and went to enjoy some of the treats on the cart and get a cup of coffee.

When Harry emerged Hermione had annihilated an apple filled pastry that was to die for and she was well on her way through her second cherry filled delight.

“Save some for me you piglet,” Harry chuckled. She had cherry compote on the right side of her mouth. “Good grief, you're gobbling those things like someone might take them from you!”

“I'd very much like to see them try,” she laughed.

Harry leaned close pointing to the corner of her mouth where the filling was.

“Seems you missed,” he then kissed the side of her mouth licking all the filling off the corner of her lips and cheek, “Not to worry,” he whispered in her ear after, “I'll volunteer for clean up.” He smiled that ever-familiar roguish smile of his.

Hermione could have died right then and there! To say she found her panties twisted into a knot was a rather accurate assessment of her present situation. She had the sudden but incontestable urge to toss her pastry over her shoulder and proceed to shag the snot out of one Boy-Who-Just-May-Not-Live-Through-It!

But alas, she just took another bite of her sweet pastry and sighed. They sat a while longer enjoying their tasty treats when Harry finally came up for air.

“So what do we want to do today Ms. Granger?” He asked as he swallowed the last bite of a blueberry and cream cheese filled crepe.

“Very glad you asked Mr. Potter,” she smiled then made her way to her little beaded bag. She reached in and pulled out a roll of parchment. When she untied it the scroll fell to the floor.

“I've got the entire next two weeks planed right down to meals, rainy day alternatives, even a bathroom schedule if we need it.”

Harry just looked at her for a moment then got up and moved to where she was beaming at her usual skill at proper planning with great pride.

“May I see that for a moment?” Harry asked smiling.

“Of course,” she handed him the itinerary and pointed to the first lines, “See, I have today planed for…”

But before she could finish he whispered Incendio! Hermione's well thought out and well planned itinerary burst into flames and charred to black ashes in seconds fluttering to the floor like demonic snowflakes.

Her mouth and eyes flew wide with shock. She was about to come completely unhinged when Harry gathered her up in his arms and kissed her for a very long time. When he finally released her she looked as if she had been properly confunded.

She tried to recover her previous indignation but failed miserably. That annoyed her even more than his destroying her itinerary.

“No plans, no schedules,” Harry said with a dreamy smile rocking her back and forth gently, “Let's just wing it, shall we?”

“Fine,” she replied a bit stiffly, “but you know what usually happens when we just wing it don't you Harry?”

Harry looked at her a bit surprised.

“Well we'll not be chasing after dark wizards this trip love, I promise you that! Might get the notions to try and find a few pirates maybe.” He chuckled.

She couldn't help but smile. It was her turn to kiss him back.

“Alright Potter,” she relented finally, “We'll do this your way but I'm still plenty miffed at you for torching my itinerary.” Her countenance changed suddenly to a pouty little girl. She turned her back to him and crossed her arms, “I had some really good ideas on there I thought you'd really enjoy.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind kissing her softly on the back of her neck making her body physically shudder.

Merlin's ghost! Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?

“I'm sure you did and I appreciate all the thought and hard work you put into your plan but please Hermione, just this once, let's just take things one day at a time and just do what we feel like when we feel like it. You'll love it, I promise.”

“I won't,” she said pouting more. She had completely resigned herself to accept Harry's idea but she wanted to punish him a bit for what he did so she decided to make him grovel a little.

“Please Hermione,” Harry said gently turning her to face him, “Don't be like that. Since when did you start pouting?”

“Since you hurt my feelings,” she answered with affected haughtiness looking sadly up into his eyes. She poked her bottom lip out even more. She was pouring it on.

“Ok,” Harry sighed, “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Hermione twisted her hands together, one over the other bringing her right shoulder up to her ear like a little girl. She looked at him with a bashful grin batting her eyelashes coyly. She was being completely ridiculous but it was fun.

“Erm,” she pointed back over her shoulder, “you can go over to my beaded bag and get the extra copy I made of my itinerary.”

“Oh you little…!” Harry growled.

With that she turned and bolted for the bedroom laughing and squealing playfully with Harry right on her heels.

When Harry dove to grab her Hermione side-stepped him at the last second and he went crashing head-long onto the bed laughing his head off. Hermione then proceeded to pounce. It was her turn to tease, torture, terrorize and tickle him into submission. It didn't take long.

He smiled up at her and whispered `Uncle.'

The strange and unexpected changes in Harry's personality had completely disarmed her. She fell forward into his arms and melted into his kiss.

The fire was lit - and his lips and hands were fanning the flames. If she didn't pull back soon there would be no stopping the inferno that would engulf her and there would be no turning back. She knew this but - at the moment Harry was gently kissing the soft flesh just under her left ear - she simply didn't care any more…

The soft sight that escaped her went right to Harry's heart. This girl he had known for so many years was opening a door - a door to possibilities he had never imagined or expected and it was a very heady thing.

He wanted to know more - do more but wasn't quite sure how he should proceed. He had no experience with this kind of thing. His time with Ginny had been about exploring one-another, a bit of petting, soft touches and quiet conversations about things that had little meaning. It was easy and care free with no pressure to do or say something deep and meaningful. They thought they had the future for those things…but now, at that very moment, with Hermione Granger so soft and warm and vulnerable above him he could not see his life any other way.

“I love you Hermione,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you more than anything in this world.”

For the first time since she was a little girl she was feeling and experiencing the raw and unencumbered emotional responses to this boy she knew so well. All her natural and learned personal defenses came crashing down. All the impenetrable walls she had built around her heart for so many years crumbled into utter ruin as he reached up for her.

With a desperate gasping sob she collapsed on top of him wrapping her arm around his middle and held him tightly. The sudden flames of desire raged inside her like never before.

Want him…Need him NOW!

Those were the only two thoughts in her mind at the moment. She kissed him through her tears trying desperately to control her raging emotions.

“I…I love y…you too Harry,” she choked but then her voice became heavy with longing and need. She looked down into his eyes as Harry reached up and wiped the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “And I want you!”

She had said those last words in almost a growl. Hermione wasn't certain she was capable of fully understanding what was happening to her. Her body was reacting to his words and his touch in ways she had never experienced before.

The intense throbbing and wetness was almost embarrassing but she was way too far gone to care.

Harry put his hands gently on Hermione's taught bottom and let his fingers drift ever-so-softly over her curves to slip up under the thin tank top. The pads of his finger glided gently over her warm soft skin.

This gentle sensual contact caused every muscle in Hermione's lower body to contract like a clenched fist. She gushed even more. The sound that escaped her throat was like a strangled cry of pain and she found herself pressing her bottom down harder on Harry. Her building lust was almost beyond her control.

Harry sat up wrapping his arms around her kissing her with his own barely controlled desire. As he searched for her soft warm tongue with his a smell hit his nostrils. It was a scent unlike anything he had ever encountered before and it was affecting him in ways he had never experienced.

He realized at once it was coming from Hermione. He wasn't about to stop what he was doing and analyze but he realized it was reaching deep inside him, scorching his baser instincts. His groin pulsed and throbbed in response.

Hermione could feel him swell, pressing against her now sodden center. While she loved the sensations and feelings he was provoking in her she couldn't take any more of this sensual torture without the top of her head blowing clean off.

She broke off the kiss a bit abruptly and sat back on her haunches gasping for air. She reached over her head with her right hand and mumbled, “Accio wand,” in an almost breathless whisper. When her wand zipped into her grasp from the other room she waved it once and what little clothing they had on was gone. With another swish and flick she mumbled a protection charm on herself then quite unceremoniously tossed her wand over her shoulder with teeth clenched.

“I want to make love to you Harry,” she growled in a heated whisper, “Please!”

She fell on him then kissing him hard. She shifted just enough to let her hand slide down between their bodies wrapping her slender fingers around his throbbing shaft.

Harry stiffened throwing his head back against the pillows of the bed letting a groan escape his throat.

“Oh…oh, Hermione!”

That was all she could take. She lifted her bottom and leaned forward enough to guide him to her dripping center. With a gasping sigh she slowly lowered herself down onto him letting her body wrap around him with her warm wet channel.

“Great Godric's ghost!” Harry murmured, “That feels…that feels.”

When Hermione had settled on him completely a hissing, “Yesss Harry, it does!” escaped her. She let her head loll back with eyes closed tightly. Her mouth fell open in a silent `OH' as he filled her.

After a few moments just enjoying him inside her she began to move. It was nothing more than a gentle rocking at first but it was enough to elicit some very favorable responses from her lover. Harry reached up to cup her breasts in his palms. The contact of his hands sliding gently across her swollen nipples was enough to make her gasp and clench again.

The feeling of her muscles tightening around him made Harry groan loudly.

He liked that! He liked it when I tightened around him!

What Hermione found she liked very much was that she was in control at the moment. With a twitch this way or a movement that way she could give Harry some very intense pleasure with her body. It was very empowering for her.

With this knowledge she began to move a bit faster gliding up and down on his hard shaft. For Hermione she could feel the heat and pressure building inside her and it wouldn't take much more for her to explode in an intense release.

For Harry the change in her movements sent thrilling sensations spreading out from his groin to make his hands and feet tingle. The sensations she was eliciting from his manhood were making his groin muscles clench in the buildup of his own pending release.

Harry sat up and took Hermione's mouth again. It caused her to pause her grinding motions on his hardness for just a moment but this young witch was not to be denied. With clenched teeth she pressed him back down on the bed and resumed her motions with a renewed intensity. She looked him directly in his eyes hovering above him.

“You feel so good,” she gasped, “Does it bother you I'm on top?”

“Erm…should it?” Harry gasped. He couldn't quite understand how she could even create a coherent thought at the moment, He could barely breathe, “I just want to make you happy.”

His words combined with her intense building need were enough to break even the most introverted and self-protected soul. As she pressed her body down on him as tightly she could feel the first throws of a majorly earth-shattering orgasmic release slamming into her with all the subtlety of a speeding locomotive.

Harry could feel something change within her after that last verbal exchange. He could feel her body grip him even tighter and he was about to lose himself completely in the warm tight wetness of her body…but there was something else happening.

He could feel it out on the periphery of his consciousness. He tried to ignore it and focus on this amazing girl who was about to come completely undone on top of him. He didn't want to miss a second of it.

Hermione gasped out loud as she plunged up and down on him several more times before her entire body clenched this time. She threw her had back with eyes shut tightly and screamed as the full force of her release exploded.

Lights and heat and the sound of what could only be described as a hurricane filled her senses as her channel clenched hard on Harry's shaft. Her body gushed squeezing out of her around Harry's hardness. She could feel him swell and the tip of his shaft expand to fill her even more.

Harry's own body clenched as his hips bucked up to meet Hermione's desperate downward thrust. With a gurgling cry his own intense release hit him and he could feel himself let go. The hot fluid exploded from the tip of his manhood and he was powerless to stop it. His body jerked once, twice, three times, four times as he tried to push himself even deeper inside her warm soft body. He could feel her hot fluid flow down over his groin and it felt so warm and comforting. The smell of her sex was intoxicating him.

Hermione's release seemed to go on and on buffeting her in the intense sensations. It was like nothing she had ever experienced or could have ever been prepared for. It was all at once debilitating but at the same time so completely fulfilling. She knew at once she could learn to like this very much!

After the last clenching release subsided she collapsed boneless on top of Harry's heaving body beneath her. They were both bathed in an intensely heated sweat. Harry was sticky with her fluid and she could feel his oozing out of her as she lay on top of him with his slowly softening shaft still inside her. Harry, still gasping for breath, encircled Hermione's body in a loving and gentle embrace.

What he had seen as he watched this girl come completely undone would never leave him. She had taken what she wanted and he let her willingly. He knew in his heart he would do it again if that's what she wanted. He began to realize as she lay atop him panting and trembling and weak from her release this was what true love was all about. The giving of one's self whatever the other needed without hesitations or reservations and the trust required allowing it to happen. It was the knowledge the girl he was holding in his arms would never leave him…not ever. They may be separated by space and time but their hearts would never come apart. It was enough to make his own tears fall but as he looked around them trying to reign in his emotions what he saw was enough to stem his sentimentality instantly.

“Erm…Hermione,” Harry whispered.

It took a great physical effort for her to raise her head from his chest. The look on her face was of a rather sleepy befuddled happiness.

“Oh Harry,” she whispered in a very raspy voice full of drowsy contentment, “That was so…”

But the look on Harry's face cut off her praises and her gaze followed his. What she saw made her sit up with a jolt and a slight squeak of complete shock.

The room was a complete mess. Wallpaper had curled up from the baseboards and was scorched black along the edges. Pictures and paintings were all haphazardly hanging and some looked as if they had been burnt. Several vases of satin flowers were smoldering with thin trials of smoke drifting up from what was left of the stems. Plastic had melted and fabric scorched. A large door length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door was warped and looked like something one might find in a carnival fun house. Furniture had been moved and light bulbs had popped.

“Oh…oh my!” Hermione exclaimed, “Harry! Did we…?”

“I suppose it had to be…” He replied as he gently shifted Hermione's flushed and sweaty body off his and stood up to survey the carnage. He could only scratch his head with a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

As Hermione sat in stunned silence taking in the utter destruction of their room she started laughing. It started as a quiet chuckle as she put her hand over her mouth but quickly became a full-blown belly laugh. She fell back on the bed gasping for air as the comic tragedy of it all overcame her.

Harry looked at her as if she had come unhinged.

“I'm not sure I see the humor Hermione?”

Hermione forced herself into control. She rolled to her side peering up at him with a devious looking little smirk. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over her lovely naked form. Her skin still glistened with sweat and her hair was a mess but she had never looked so completely unfettered and lovely.

“Oh Harry,” she chuckled waving a hand nonchalantly at the room, “This can all be fixed easily enough. You know what this means don't you?”

“I've no idea,” He replied, hands on hips looking around the room astonished.

Hermione slowly and with as much seductress as she could manage slipped off the bed and came to stand in front of him. She slipped her arms around him pressing her still over-heated body against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder and pulled his head down to her kissing him with all the passion she possessed. When she let him come up for air she smiled.

“It means when we are together and so intensely focused on one-another our magic apparently likes to wander. We're going to have to be careful. That was just the first time. I can't imagine what might happen if we really let go!”

Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared.

“Is this supposed to happen?”

“I don't…think so,” Hermione replied, she really wasn't certain, “but what it tells me,” she looked up at him with a blazing look of pure affection and love, “is that you and I are meant to be together Harry. I felt it. Didn't you?”

Harry searched himself for a moment. What he felt for this girl could not be put into words to do it justice. It was simply indefinable at present but he was certain of one thing…

“Yes Hermione,” he grinned, “I felt something happening around us but I just tried to ignore it. I didn't want to take my eyes off you.”

“Potter,” she smirked, taking his hand and leading him toward the bathroom, “you and I together are a menace and quite possibly dangerous,” she giggled, “and I think it's lovely!”

After quick showers and the subsequent repair of the room, which turned out to be a bit more difficult than first anticipated, they decided to spend the rest of the day sunning on the beach.

As Hermione came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel she spied Harry sitting on the corner of the bed holding a bag from the B.H.S. they shopped at before they left. She gave him a quizzical look because his expression was that of the cat who had just eaten the canary.

“What's that you've got there?” She asked fluffing out her wet hair.

Harry patted the bed next to him and Hermione moved to sit in the spot he indicated without protest.

“I got you something while we were shopping,” He replied smiling. He reached in the bag and pulled out a thin flat box wrapped in bright blue foil paper. It had a white ribbon wrapping its length and width.

Hermione looked at him a bit bewildered.

“Harry, I was with you practically the whole time. When did you get this?” She took the present from his hand and laid it gently on her lap still looking at Harry's slightly pink features with surprise.

“Consider it a thank you present for helping me get clothes that make me look human,” he smirked, “If I had to do that on my own there's no telling what I would have come back with. I would have probably ended up looking a lot like Mundugus Fletcher!”

She laughed out loud shaking her head, “I doubt it Harry! You're not that thick,” she paused gazing down at the box, “You know you really shouldn't have…but thank you and I love you for being so thoughtful.” She bonked her forehead against his shoulder playfully.

She sat there for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing over the shiny foil paper.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well, open it silly?”

“Ok…ok,” Hermione huffed, “Can't a girl make the moment last a bit? Sheesh!”

With a grin she tore open the wrapping and slipped the lid off the box. When she parted the tissue wrapping the gift on the inside her eyes went wide and her mouth fell completely open.

Inside was the very same incredibly sexy golden swimsuit she had tried on that day.

“Oh…oh Potter,” she chastised, “Now I know you shouldn't have! Harry this…this…”

“Shut it you,” Harry groused, “I got this for you because I love you and I know you loved it, you git…and besides…,” he paused practically glaring at her.

“Besides what,” She asked folding her arms returning his glare.

She thought his gesture, while sweet and lovely, a bit frivolous and extravagant. She wasn't sure why but the thought of him spending so much money on such a thing grated on her frugal sensibilities.

“I get to see you wear it and quite frankly, I can't wait!” Harry's face broke out in an almost manic grin. He wiggled his eyebrows while holding his tongue between his teeth.

Hermione burst out in a fit of laughter and wrapped him in a bone crushing hug around the middle.

“I should brain you,” she quipped, “but all I really want to do is shag you senseless again!”

“Oh…darn!” Harry sighed looking properly surprised then his expression changed to affected sorrow, “The things I must endure in the pursuit of happiness.”

“Oh, you cheeky little snot!” Hermione growled.

After rolling around the bed again in a tangle of arms, legs and a bit of heavy petting they both agreed if they didn't stop they would never make it outside the room…for most of their holiday…so Hermione clamped down on her suddenly raging hormones, for which she completely blamed Harry, and wandered off to make ready for a day down on the sand and surf.

Harry had already dressed in his new stylish swim trunks and was gathering up what Hermione had indicated they would take with them. He was holding said items when Hermione finally exited the bathroom adorned in her new barely there swim tog. She had done her long hair into a French braid again.

So…all the items Harry was holding ended up on the floor as he couldn't help but gawk stupidly at the incredibly gorgeous and sexy young witch before him.

Seeing his incredulous look Hermione rolled her eyes, hands on hips.

“Harry, we just made love and I was completely naked for Merlin's sake!”

Harry's response was to babble something totally incoherent and begin to drool like Grawp.

“Merlin and Morgana, Hermione!”

“Oh stop Harry,” she grumbled, “I'm not all that attractive. At least not like most of the other girls you know.” She then moved to the dresser and slipped a tee shirt over her head and began to gather up some of the things Harry had dropped.

“Are - you - MAD!” Harry stammered.

“Come on lover boy,” she said grabbing his hand and towing her partially confunded best friend toward the door, “We'll miss the best sun if we don't get a move on. I want to start on a good base tan. I want to look like a native before I leave this place.”

After they made their way down to the sand Hermione decided to settle into one of the loungers provided by the resort but Harry wanted to lie on the sand so he spread his towel down next to her chair.

After Hermione had situated all her beach-going necessities, (towel, sun tan oil, book, sun glasses, sun visor and a bottle of spring water) she then crossed her arms and pulled off her tee shirt stretching her arms over her head. The next moment had her oiling her lithe body with suntan oil.

All male heads turn in her direction and all conversation, activity, heartbeats and breathing come to an abrupt stop.

Harry looked around and as he saw every bloke on the beach gawk at Hermione he watched, open mouthed, as a rather strange and comical sequence of events occurred behind them…

1. A man carrying a rather large cooler full of beer and ice (while gawking at a very sexy young woman's completely exposed bum) tripped over the guy line of a small tent erected by a young family to protect their sleeping young child from the sun.

2. Cooler full of beer and ice tips and splashes an older woman soaking her with ice cold water. She flies out of her chair screaming and lands on grandson's wind surf board.

3. Grandson, sitting on end of surfboard goes flying forward and dives into a very intricate looking sand castle being constructed with tender loving care by a father and his young daughter.

4. Father building sand castle rears back away from flying boy slinging a small shovel full of sand behind him and falling back sits on a bucket full of water.

5. Sand from father's shovel is flung into man's eyes standing watching father and daughter building castle. He lunges back tripping over tie line holding a small sail boat on shore and tears line from its mooring.

6. Wind takes small sailboat off shore in the path of speeding personal watercraft. Watercraft slices through small sailboat sinking it to the bottom of the shallow bay.

7. Young man riding watercraft is thrown off into a young man riding another windsurfer. They both go tumbling into the water.

8. Wind surf board goes flying into the side of a ski boat and punches a hole in the side of same and sends it to the bottom of the shallow bay.

9. Skier being towed by the sinking boat skips off the back of the boat, flies through the air and crashes into a small Orange Julius stand on the beach.

10. Wheel from Orange Julius stand rolls into the Lifeguard's stand. The Lifeguard's stand is knocked over making quite a few people scramble to safety.

11. Umbrella from Lifeguard stand flies off and the point pokes the same man with cooler full of beer and ice in the bottom. He screams throwing what was left of the beer and ice all over the people around him on the beach.

Harry and Hermione stood there gaping unbelievably at what had taken place. When all the carnage settled all the men were still gawking at her.

Hermione folded her arms tightly under her barely covered breasts and huffed.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” she groused, “How utterly ridiculous!” With that she plopped down in her lounger arms still folded tightly. She reached behind her and flipped her towel over her head.

Harry laughed and slowly pulled her towel off.

“I'd say you got everyone's attention,” he chuckled as he settled himself on his towel on the sand.

“Humph,” she huffed scowling.

“Hermione,” Harry said sitting up and leaning against her lounger, “I told you, you are a very lovely girl. I can't believe I never realized just how lovely but,” he shrugged, “I'm just thankful it's me you chose to be with,” then he leaned closer to her whispering, “I'm having a hard time believing it all.”

Hermione didn't seem mollified in the least but the memory of earlier caused her to blush profusely.

“You'd think these blokes had never seen a woman in a bikini before!” She grumbled, “It's preposterous!”

“I'd say very few on them have ever seen one as amazing…”

“Oh enough Harry!” She growled loudly, “I'm not that attractive!”

Harry held his hand out gesturing to the continuing reparations to the carnage around them.

“Your Honor, I present to you for examination as evidence…exhibit A!” He chuckled.

Hermione found herself in a bit of a huff long after the destruction had been cleared away and life went back to normal on the beach around them, all but the owner of the ski boat. It took hours to get the thing pulled out of the shallow bay area.

They spent the rest of the day sunning, swimming and, as Harry had called it, being horribly lazy.

Hermione refrained from going in the water. She was almost afraid to get up from her lounger but when nature called she slipped her tee-shirt back before going to the loo.

Even wearing an over-sized shirt the men (and even a few women) seemed to watch her every move.

By the late afternoon Hermione informed Harry he was getting a bit pink even though she had continually applied her sun lotion to him on a regular basis. They decided to call it a day.

After a pleasant dinner they decided to go for another late night stroll on the beach.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow,” Hermione asked, “I had planned on introducing you to some very fun aquatic sports I thought you'd really enjoy but we can stick to your plan of pure randomness if you prefer.”

Harry stopped and gazed into her eyes seriously for a moment.

“Look, I'm sorry about the whole list thing but I just thought it would be a bit more relaxing if we just did whatever but I see now I should rely on your experience. So what are these aquatic sports you speak of?”

“Well,” she resumed walking towing him along, “There's snorkeling. We can swim a bit farther off shore and look for seashells and things. Then I wanted to take you scuba diving at least once while we were here…”

“Scuba diving?” Harry looked at her puzzled but then grinned, “Wait, I know what that is. I've seen it on the telly.”

“It's great fun Harry. You can actually stay underwater for an hour or so. It's wonderful to dive off coral reefs and such. The ocean floor is full of life and color. It's wonderful!”

“And you've done Scuba diving before I suppose?”

“Yes, a few times but mostly when we went to France. I got my certificate for shallow diving when I was 15. So…you think you'd like to try it?”

“Absolutely!” Harry grinned, “The program I saw had these blokes who went all over the world swimming with all kinds of sea creatures and such. Looked like great fun.”

“Well,” Hermione smiled a bit sadly, “What we'll be doing won't be quite that spectacular but I'm sure there's plenty to see out there,” her arm swept out over the shallow bay, “You'll be required to take a short diving class through the resort before we can go out but it's really necessary and important for you to know at least the basics. I can show you some things but I'm not a qualified diving instructor.”

“That sounds brilliant Hermione,” Harry beamed, “Let's do it!”

“Ok,” she responded by gathering him up in her arms and kissing him passionately, “what say we snorkel a bit tomorrow then we'll get you into the next diving class so we can go out at the end of the week, sounds rather romantic actually.”

The look on her face made Harry's heart beat like a bass drum in his chest as they stood there on the sand, the sound of the gentle surf and Tahiti night life surrounding them with a rather strange sense of peace.

It wasn't something either of them had felt since entering the wizard world when they were eleven. It was so wonderful to think about even the most mundane things instead of worrying if the next day would bring the possibility of death or utter destruction to their world.

Once back in their room they seemed a bit reluctant to lose themselves in one-another again so soon. The desire was still there but for Hermione, she tried to convince herself that too much of a good thing tends to make you take it for granted and she never wanted that to happen between her and Harry.

For Harry, he didn't want to become pushy or demanding when it came to making love with Hermione. It was all still very new to him so he resigned himself to allow her to decide when. He was also a bit intimidated by what had happened to the room around them and wasn't sure he was ready to deal with all that again just yet. He wanted her, there was no doubt about that but the thought of burning down the bloody resort hotel scared him a bit.

The next day found the skies a bit overcast with some high thin clouds so Hermione said it was a good time to go snorkeling. The lack of direct sun would serve not to cook them too badly although she made it very clear one could still get a nasty burn even on a cloudy day.

So they donned their swim togs and headed for the surf with their swim fins, masks and snorkels. Harry instantly noticed Hermione had opted for a more conservative one-piece suit covered by a white tight-fitting short-sleeved body shirt. He couldn't help but laugh.

She was still a bit aggravated by what had happened the day before and commented the lack of swimsuit allowed her to get sun in places she wasn't quite accustomed to.

Taking an hour or so to practice in the swimming pool Hermione explained it was a bit different in the ocean because of the waves and the constant movement of the tide but it gave Harry a chance to fit his mask and work the snorkel.

When she thought him ready off they went. They paddled around the shallows of the bay until Harry wanted to go a bit farther out to deeper water so they could find some shells and see some things.

A bit farther out they encountered crabs and all kinds of shells. The plant life was a bit sparse but they still got a good glimpse of some sea grass and small patches of kelp and seaweed.

Hermione found a good sized Hermit crab and placed it in Harry's hand. It scuttled about for a few moments until it crawled off the edge of his palm and plopped back into the surf. They found a few sand dollars and a beautiful conch shell Hermione declared was a must keep.

They spent quite a few hours out in the bay when Hermione finally begged Harry to head back. She couldn't help but laugh. He was like a little kid, everything being so amazing and wondrous.

That evening found them wandering downtown checking out the local scene. They didn't go into many places but simply wanted to check things out.

The easy pace of the island permeated both of them and Hermione began to admit to herself the idea of just `winging it' had its merits.

A.N. July 19^th 2011

Yesterday I witnessed what I consider to be the culmination of one of the greatest and most prolific literary achievements of our modern age - and I must report my feelings were greatly mixed at the conclusion of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Part 2.

I, like so very many others who have been pulled into this world created by nothing more than a unique and talented mind, find myself a bit…let down by those who chose to shoulder the task of transforming this captivating tale into a visual artistry.

I have learned there are two distinct `schools-of-thought' on the process of adapting the written word to film. First is a visual representation - the process of lifting scenes and images from the pages of a story and bringing them to life through the talents of well selected physical performances and the monumental technical challenge of creative videography.

The second is what - in my opinion - could be considered a visual interpretation of the written word adapted to film using the very same means as the first, however, the end result being quite different, in many respects, from the original source.

Both methods could be construed as being an acceptable means of adaptation but when a story has already been told and generally accepted by those who view that particular creation in a dogmatic context it can often be considered rather degrading or detrimental to find what could be considered by many to be egregious changes in the intrinsic details of a particular tale.

I find myself in that particular place when it comes to almost all the Harry Potter films. While, by themselves, they are very amazing and incredible visual creations that captivated millions of us the world over, allowing us a glimpse into this world we have all found ourselves fascinated by but if one finds themselves expecting these same films to remain within the confines of the original work one also finds one's self greatly disappointed as a result.

As an author as well as a fan I have discovered I'm not certain I can subscribe to the art of `visual interpretation' and feel there are some things that simply should not be improved upon or altered to fit within the confines of someone-else's perceptions.

As for these characters I've come to love over the years - The bungling but courageous Harry Potter, the affable and gregarious Ronald Weasley and our ever-illuminated and effervescent Hermione Granger (as well as the real people who brought them to life for us on screen) - I will miss them but as it is with the written word, they will still be here with us long after the films have faded into obscurity and the true spirit of the story will remain for generations to come…just as it should be.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for giving us this amazing and wondrous tale - for allowing us to lose ourselves in a world so vastly different from our own…so full of endless possibilities…and dreams…

In the words of one ginger-haired Weasley who couldn't seem to cast a spell to save his own life and had a rather annoying smudge on the side of his nose…it has all been most…

Wicked!

DWK…

-->

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twenty-Two - Holiday (Part 3)

The weather remained almost perfect as the end of their first week on the island approached.

Harry was a bit nervous as Hermione helped him slip the air tank harness over his shoulders and buckle him in.

The instructor allowed her to assist when he discovered she was already certified so he could attend to the others taking his short instructional course for first-time divers.

After Harry was all buttoned up they waited until the instructor went over the regulator, gages, simple procedure and weight belts.

Finally Hermione helped Harry slip in his breathing apparatus and settle to the bottom of the deep end of the pool.

He sat looking out his mask at a smiling Hermione. Bubbles leaked out of both sides of her mouth. He tried to smile but his lips were stretched tight around the mouthpiece. He gave her a thumbs-up instead.

She patted him on top his head then drifted to the surface, her wonderful lithe body sliding slowly passed his face mask. The tight black diving top and bikini bottoms doing nothing to assist in helping keep his breathing calm.

He sat wondering how he had completely not noticed how amazingly beautiful this girl was. It simply astounded him how utterly daft and distracted he had been for most of his life.

As he watched her move off to assist the diving instructor with some of the others Harry found his mind going back.

This was very different then the last time he had spent any time under water. His experience with the Gillyweed had been rather surreal but it had been much simpler than this. It amazed him how much stuff was required for a Muggle to spend time under water.

Even though magic could be complicated, strange and often difficult to comprehend at times it made life so much easier in many ways.

He began watching the bubbles from his exhales and found himself a bit hypnotized by them so it was a bit of a jolt when the instructor tapped the top of his head. When Harry's attention snapped to the instructor's face the dark man tapped his air gauge.

When Harry looked he realized he was almost at reserve air which, he was told was also called return air, enough air to get back to the surface plus a little extra just in case. It was set up that way for novice divers like Harry who would tend to forget about their dive gauges.

Harry then dropped his weight belt and with a bit of help from the instructor floated to the surface. Harry removed his mask a bit red-faced at his lack of attention. He completely forgot the instructor told them they would only have about 15 minutes of air for the pool test so they needed to keep an eye on the air gauge.

“You don't want to be 30 feet down and run out of air Mr. Potter.” the instructor said, “It's not like you'll drown because there will be several dive assistants along but it can be quite uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” Harry replied, “I got really relaxed down there. It was kind of nice,” his glance darted to Hermione helping an old woman out of her tank harness, “I'll do better at keeping an eye on my gauges.”

“Not to worry Mr. Potter,” the instructor smiled, “The idea is to have fun on the first dive. We're more than happy to take care of the details for you. It's our job to keep an eye on everyone! Besides,” he too glanced toward Hermione, “you'll be with someone who almost has as much dive experience as some of my assistants so I don't really have to worry about you.”

He winked patting Harry on the shoulder then moved off toward an American couple coming to the surface.

After they concluded their short training in the pool the small group had a quick lunch then was taken by the resort van to a waiting boat at the harbor near where Harry and Hermione came on the island for the first time. After being ushered aboard the dive instructor and his three assistants loaded the tanks and equipment onboard and stowed it all in their proper places.

Once the boat shoved off from the dock the dive instructor, who was also the boat's captain came forward and addressed them.

“Ok folks, now that were hear I'm sure you're all anxious to get in the water but there are a few things we need to talk about before we get to our diving location. First, please remember what we went over in dive class and please, while you're down stay with your dive partner. Since we have all couples this time it shouldn't be a problem.”

“You may go in your own direction if you choose but please try to keep the other groups in sight. Let's not stray too far from the launch please.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. The instructor continued.

“Now, we have a choice for you to decide on as a group. We have three different dive sites we can go to each a bit different for various reasons. The first sight is approximately four miles due west. It's a small coral grove that has quite a bit of marine life in, on and around the short reef. It's a good diving spot and only about fifteen to twenty feet down. The second location is approximately twelve miles north-west. It will take a bit longer to get there but is a cove on one of the smaller islands in the Archipelagos. It is also a bit deeper dive at about twenty five feet. There are underwater caves and such that can be quite amazing to see. It's a bit difficult to negotiate some areas of the cove due to the currants but I think most of you could handle it without incident. However, due to the longer travel time and the depth there will be less time down.”

“The third location is one of our most popular for experienced divers. It is approximately 18 miles to the south of the main island and is a wrecked Spanish merchant ship that went down in what was suspected to be a very strong typhoon somewhere around the late sixteen hundreds.”

Harry's eyes went wide and he brightened instantly.

“A real shipwreck Hermione!”

His boyish enthusiasm made her laugh as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“That's right up your alley Pirate Potter!” She quipped kissing him on the cheek. Everyone laughed.

“However,” the instructor added, “I must tell you it can be a bit challenging for first time divers partly because it is very close to the limit of the standard dive or what we call shallow dive air mix. Any deeper than say…thirty feet or so requires a specialized mix of air called tri-mix or the use of what is called a re-breather.”

“Since we don't get quite that technical on these pleasure dives we try to stay shallow. So, diving on the shipwreck is possible without too many problems but we have had divers experience a variety of discomforts after because of the depth. Just letting you know. Again, as a result of the trip time and depth we'll only have about an hour down.”

The instructor looked over the five couples and smiled a bit sheepishly.

“Since we have so many first time divers in this group I would recommend the first choice…Carnival Reef…but it's your decision. We'll take you where you decide but it must be unanimous with the group. Fair enough?”

Everyone nodded. When the instructor went back to the bridge they all began discussing the choices. Harry was convinced he wanted to dive on the shipwreck but after some common sense advice from not only Hermione but from both the young Americans who were both certified divers Harry reconsidered. He knew they were probably right about the stress in deeper water and didn't want to ruin it for everyone else.

“The first time I went deep was in the U.S. Navy,” the American man said, “After I hit fifty feet I thought my head would explode. I threw up in my face mask. It wasn't pretty.”

Some of the other woman gagged while others made faces. Harry looked at Hermione who just shrugged.

“Strange things happen under water Harry. It's one of two places humans don't really belong.”

“What's the other,” he asked.

“Outer Space,” she said smiling, “Complete vacuum!”

So the unanimous decision was Carnival Reef. When they told the instructor he smiled and told them they made a wise choice. As a result of their kindness to the less experienced divers the experienced and certified divers were given a fifty per-cent discount coupon if they wanted to come back for a second trip. Hermione thought that was very cool.

One of the crewmen turned on a stereo that blared music for a moment until the cd player stopped working. One of the guys smacked the top of the player a few times.

“Stupid thing,” he grumbled, “Only works when she wants to.”

Hermione got to her feet with a smirk and moved to where the crewman was fiddling with the player.

“May I,” she asked with a smile.

“Be my guest,” the crewman grinned, “I'm about to make the thing walk the plank!” He laughed. Some of the other crewman laughed as well.

The others watched as she did something with the disc, then using her finger she reached inside the player and did something. When she was done she set the cd back in the cradle and snapped the lid shut.

When she hit the play button the music played just fine. Harry could only look at her with amazement as some of the other passengers cheered along with the crew.

“I swear Hermione,” Harry laughed as he got up and kissed her unabashedly, “Is there anything you can't do?”

She looked up into his beaming face and a very snarky thought occurred to her. She gave him a silly little smirk.

“Well I can't piddle standing up,” she smiled.

Everyone cracked up laughing at her response. Not to be outdone Harry thought of a snarky comeback of his own. It came completely out of the blue.

“I think,” he retorted, “Not only can you piddle standing up. I'm willing to bet you could write your bloody name in the snow!”

Hermione turned bright red and her mouth fell open wide in affected shock. She thumped Harry on the shoulder as everyone on the boat burst out in raucous laughter. The captain/dive instructor was laughing so hard he had tears coming out of his eyes. Some of the other crew were rolling around the deck.

When the cd player changed to a very popular song everyone seemed to know the American couple jumped up with shouts and began dancing on the deck. The next few moments had the rest of them joining in, Harry and Hermione included. Before they knew it many of the crewman joined them and it was a happy, wonderful celebration of life and freedom.

Harry had no idea what he was doing but he didn't care. He just moved his arms and wiggled his butt. They laughed and whooped and hollered all the way to the dive site.

Hermione overheard the instructor comment to one of his dive assistants he wished all their trips were like this, people having fun and getting along with one-another.

When they reached the dive site the celebration concluded and everyone began suiting up and slipping into their tanks and gear. The mood was light and happy as the crew dropped anchor. It wasn't long until one after the other slipped over the side and waited treading water for the rest of the group to join them.

Hermione double-checked Harry's gear before she let him drop backwards over the side. Once in the water herself she showed him a little trick to keep his mask from fogging under water.

“Just spit inside your mask then rub it around like this,” Hermione puckered up and spit a little on the inside of the lens. She smeared it around a little with her fingers then looked at Harry.

He did as she illustrated then slipped his mask over his head smiling.

Once all the dive assistants were in among the divers they handed out weight belts. They then swam a few yards away from the boat then gave the pre-assigned hand signal to let them all know it was ok to go down.

With a thumbs-up Hermione took Harry's hand and slowly pulled him below the surface. As they sank he was absolutely amazed at what awaited them at the bottom. He marveled at the color of not only the plant life but the brightly colored fish that swam all around them in large schools.

As they neared the bottom Hermione tapped Harry's shoulder. When he looked at her she pointed to her depth gage. When Harry looked at his he saw they were at about 18 feet. She pointed to him then made the ok sign with her fingers. Harry knew she was asking him if he was ok so he nodded. With that they finished descending to the bottom.

The small reef they were diving in was horseshoe shaped. There were all types of coral and shells with creatures still living in them as well as larger more menacing looking fish. Harry marveled at it all taking everything in as they swam along the edge of the reef.

Many of the others had underwater cameras and were taking a lot of pictures. Critters scuttled here and there at the bright flashes from the cameras.

At one point Harry found himself drifting slowly along just above Hermione as she dove to the bottom to get a closer look at a huge fan coral. As he watched he couldn't help but let his eyes take all of her in.

She was amazing. Her long hair in a tight French braid - her tanned legs moving slowly propelling her slender body along effortlessly. It was as if she had been born into this world. It was having a rather peculiar effect on him.

One of the dive assistants managed to catch a rather large spiny crab and they all gathered around to look at it. It seemed quite content to let itself be held as everyone looked and some who were brave enough touched its shell.

When the assistant placed it gently back on the sand it scuttled off quickly sideways slipping under a nearby rock to safety. A bit later they watched a huge sea snake slither by along the top edge of the reef.

As Harry and Hermione reached the southern end of the reef Hermione found a huge abandoned conch shell that she had to keep. It was beautiful with multi-colored layers and dotted with little brown speckles everywhere.

Hermione found a rock that had several very large starfish attached and they looked at them for a while.

It was then Hermione glanced at her dive gauge. She tapped Harry on the shoulder pointing to her gauge then to the surface. Harry nodded reluctantly and they very slowly began finning toward the surface of the reef.

When they broke top water they found they had drifted a fairly good distance from the boat. Harry followed Hermione's lead as she swam toward the boat much like they did when they were snorkeling. It was a bit difficult for Harry to manage because the weight belt and gear was trying to pull him back under. It didn't seem to bother Hermione at all.

When they reached the launch Harry was about exhausted. He felt muscles pulling he didn't even know he had.

Many of the first time divers were already back aboard and it wasn't long until the rest came back. The American couple was the last to return. The woman had found what looked like a rusty length of chain. Everyone gathered around to look at her find.

She willingly turned the artifact over to the captain knowing that anything found in the waters around the Archipelago were sent to the Department of Maritime Antiquities for research and preservation and belonged to the French Polynesian Islands. They were just excited to find it.

The whole trip back the group was lost in discussion about where the chain may have come from. The captain and crew told stories of ships lost near the islands and they listened with rapt attention. Any mention of pirates and Harry would brighten like a light bulb.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh each time. They were having a wonderful time.

That evening after another outstanding meal at the restaurant they found themselves wondering the streets of Pepeete once again, Harry in a pair of jeans and one of his tropical print shirts and Hermione in a light yellow sun dress.

As they made their way to what appeared to be a small park they heard music. It was unlike any they had ever heard. The drums and instruments were not the conventional types but the music was quite rhythmic. When they made their way deeper into the little park area they came upon what looked like a festive celebration of some kind.

A large group of what appeared to be local native people were all gathered under an open shelter. Multi-colored festoon lights were strung around the outside of the shelter and the inside was a mass of tiny twinkling white lights that looked almost like stars.

The floor of the shelter was a mass of people dancing and laughing and having a wonderful time. Children ran here and there chasing after one-another. It was a happy celebration of some kind.

Harry grinned down at his radiant and lovely companion.

“Let's go see what this is all about Hermione,” He looked at her, his eyes sparkling in the reflection of the distant festive lights, “What do you say?”

Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how different he seemed completely removed from the world of magic. How relaxed and at ease he was…and she was finding she liked this Harry…very, very much. She held out her hand chuckling.

“After you, Mr. Potter.”

They found themselves greeted with smiles and very warm welcome as they found out it was a birthday celebration for several family members and friends. One of the elder women was 101 years old this day.

Harry and Hermione paid their respects to the wizened old woman who seemed quite spry for someone just over a century old. She told them they were welcome and to enjoy the celebration.

The music was happy and joyful with a rhythm that pulled them both toward the dancing crowd. Harry took Hermione's hand and pulled her close as the people near looked at them smiling. A very large woman with a wide smile patted them both on the shoulders.

“Welcome to you both. Enjoy yourselves,” she beamed. She had a heavy French accent, “Don't forget to try the puinta!”

“Pweenta?” Harry asked.

“No…no,” the woman laughed, “Poo-een-ta! It's a local drink made from fruit. It's very good. We use it for celebrations such as this. But be careful…” she smiled as she danced in place.

“Careful?” Hermione asked.

“Oui,” the lady smiled, “Too much puinta can make you silly!” She cackled loudly as she spun away from them dancing in circles.

Harry and Hermione looked at one-another ginning. As he looked into her sparkling brown eyes he found himself becoming lost in them.

As they danced and moved together he pulled her body close and held her. Her warmth and the sheer magnetism consumed his attention. The people all dressed in brightly colored dresses and shirts seemed to fade into the background as the music swept them away.

Hermione was feeling it too - The all-consuming strength of Harry's presence was almost overwhelming as he pulled her close. She pressed her soft warm lips to the side of his neck as she allowed him to move them around the dance floor. She didn't care how they looked or if their dancing was any good or not. It didn't matter. She felt her love for this boy becoming as strong as an industrial strength binding charm.

They had no idea it was even happening. They were so lost in one-another they had not noticed the others around them began moving away and staring in wide-eyed wonder at the young foreign couple dancing in the center of the shelter floor oblivious to all around them but each other.

When Hermione finally noticed the wide empty space that had opened up between them and the pressing crowd she saw they were all standing quite still gawking at them. Some of the older women were chuckling, speaking to one-another in hushed tones behind their hands. A few of the younger children were tugging on their mother's or father's garments and pointing.

It was then Hermione realized she and Harry were surrounded in a bright blue swirling mist filled with silvery sparking light. It swirled in a spiral up from the floor and drifted in tendrils along the ceiling of the shelter in every direction.

“Erm…Harry,” she whispered in her ear.

“Hmm,” Harry looked down at her with peaceful dreamy eyes.

“I…erm…think we're attracting a bit too much…err…attention,” She pressed herself even closer to Harry's body as if trying to hid inside him. Her face had gone bright crimson.

When Harry finally snapped back to attention he saw what was going on. It was then the bright blue sparkling mist dissipated and they were left standing there looking like two deer caught in the bright headlights of an approaching vehicle.

It was the rotund woman who had first spoke to them when they first started dancing who approached them with a very bright and surprisingly knowing smile on her plump lips. She wrapped her ample arms around them both laughing loudly. She first kissed Harry on the cheek then Hermione in turn.

“It is obvious to all,” she said. She then released the two of them and turned to the gaping crowd, “These two were made for one-another! It is love as true as the Heavens above and they have been touched by the Creator with his blessings!”

The entire crowd exploded with applause and joyous shouting and laughter.

A very relieved Harry and Hermione were then pressed in a crush of well-wishers and friendly faces. The celebration continued with even more happiness.

Still blushing slightly Hermione pulled a rather bewildered Harry to the side near where the impromptu band was playing.

“Harry,” Hermione asked wide-eyed, “What in Merlin's ghost was that?”

“You're asking me?” He replied glancing around. He shrugged, “I've no idea. I think I need a drink!”

Moments later had both of them holding glasses full of a light pink colored liquid with unmistakable bits of fruit pulp floating through it. When Harry sipped it the flavors of several different fruits exploded in his mouth making his lips pucker at the tartness.

“Wow, that's really good!”

Hermione couldn't help but grin at him as she took a sip of her own. She squealed slightly as she took a sip. When the initial shock of the strong citrus tang subsided she knew at once what the slight after-taste was - Alcohol!

Oh my!

She was about to warn Harry to drink with care when he tossed back the entire glass full and handed it back to the smiling dark-skinned man for a refill. He looked at Hermione suppressing a long belch as best he could smacking his lips with unfettered delight.

“Erm, Harry. I'd be careful if I were you…” She was about to explain why when he waved off her warning with a toss of his hand.

“It's alright Hermione,” he grinned, “We're here to have fun yes?”

A little over an hour later she realized Harry was getting very `silly' as the large woman had said earlier that evening. She decided to take charge and began pulling him away from the celebration. The festivities seemed to be winding down anyway.

The little band stopped playing putting their instruments away and most of the adults began gathering in groups talking. The large woman bid them a jovial goodnight as they made their way back to the resort.

By the time they reached the entrance to the resort hotel Harry was trying to recall the song Ron and Seamus had taught him about `Ladies in short skirts with no knickers doing high kicks' or something like that. Hermione thought she should have been mortified but he was butchering it so badly it only made her laugh.

When they reached the door of their room Harry leaned against it smiling down at her with a look of pure love and desire on his slightly inebriated face.

“I love you Hermione,” he whispered, reaching up and cupping her face gently, letting his thumb caress the apple of her cheek, “I love you with all my heart. Tonight was…was…”

He looked in her eyes lost in his own mind searching for the right word when Hermione's soft whisper cut through the slight imaginary haze hovering around his buzzing head.

“Magic…Harry…It was magic and I love you too.”

They fell together kissing one-another with such intense passion it could have set the entire hallway ablaze. Hermione knew they needed to get control of their strange run-away magic before they did some real damage but she was stumped as to how to go about it. That bothered her much more than she was willing to admit.

They separated gasping.

“Merlin Harry,” she whispered, “You're bloody dangerous with those lips of yours you know.”

He laughed loudly. Hermione reached up covering his mouth gently shushing him.

“You'll wake the whole resort…oh let's go in before we're arrested or something!” She was grinning when she said it.

Hermione was completely enchanted with this Harry who seemed to sprout from within him almost overnight. He was charming and witty, passionate and confident and it was almost impossible to resist him.

She pushed a still-chuckling Harry into the room backwards gripping his shirt with a tight fist so he wouldn't fall over. He really wasn't that dunk but she wasn't taking any chances.

Once inside Hermione reached to flip on the light but Harry, with a rather devious grin on his face reached out and flipped the light right off again. He then reached out and pulled his beautiful and sexy little witch into a tight embrace kissing her with as much heated passion as he could muster in his present state.

Hermione could do nothing more than allow him letting her arms fall limply at her sides as Harry kissed her into complete submission. He could have done anything he wanted to her at that moment and she would have been powerless to stop him. The realization both thrilled and frightened her at the same time. There was something else she was certain of at that moment…

“I want you Harry,” she whispered into his lips, “I want you so badly!”

Her own forwardness shocked her. She thought maybe the fruity alcoholic brew was having an effect on her as well but as she proceeded to unbutton his shirt and practically tear it of his body as they worked their way to the bedroom she didn't really care.

She was throbbing with need again, coming upon her almost as quickly as turning off the lights.

A cool stiff breeze blew through the open French doors as Harry kissed as much of Hermione's warm soft skin as he could get his mouth on. The power of her taste and heat and scent was even more intoxicating than the drink he had earlier.

The slight chill caused goose flash to rise all over Hermione's heinously sensitive skin. The breathless moan that escaped her throat made Harry throb almost painfully. Her breath came in heaving panting gasps as Harry's hungry mouth captured her swelling nipple. He sucked gently feeling it harden against his tongue…another gasping moan sent a shuddering tingle through his entire body.

“Yes Harry,” Hermione hissed, “I want you inside me please!”

Her heated breathless plea was enough to make him obey. He crawled above her and without any subtlety or inexperienced hesitation he drove himself into her warm, tight and very moist body in one smooth motion.

Hermione's threw her head back pressing it deep into the mattress and let out a deep guttural growling scream.

“OH YES HARRY,” she growled through gritted teeth.

Harry looked down to see the muscles in her neck tight, her eyes closed tightly and teeth clenched as he drove himself into her again picking up the pace, moving even faster. She was gripping his upper arms like she might fall if she let go as her slender hips rose off the bed to meet Harry's pounding downward thrusts.

On an on Harry rode his lovely, sexy little witch as she exploded in muscle-twisting, bone-snapping climax after climax. Hermione was completely lost in a swirling hurricane of sensual bliss and mind-numbing orgasmic release and she found herself wishing it would never end.

After what seemed like hours of Harry's relentless assault on her heaving sweaty body she could feel him swell inside her. With an almost animal-like growling cry Harry's loins tightened and he could feel himself about to let go.

“Hermione!” He cried out still slamming his hips against her gushing sweaty bottom.

“Give it to me Harry,” she growled as she tightened her grip on his arms, “I want all of you! GIVE IT TO ME NOW!”

The sound of her own demanding voice shocked her but as the first hot jet of semen filled her she let go of his arms slapping the bed as she gathered up as much of the comforter in her clenching fists as she could. She knew she was about to have an earth-shattering climax and she wanted to anchor herself to something so she didn't throw them both completely off the bed.

Harry couldn't believe how intense this girl beneath him had become. Her taste and scent - the heat coming off her sweat-soaked tanned body was more than he could take. He let himself be consumed in the sheer power that was her. He slammed into her hard as he felt himself let go.

The inebriating effects of the drink was completely gone now and he was well aware that he could burst into flames at any moment and burn to ashes loosing himself inside this amazingly sensual girl's incredible body, mind and spirit.

Whatever was happening between them was so much larger than both. It was pure and real and stronger than any force in the universe. It was a true love of the rarest kind, unyielding, unbending with a devotion that could even span the chasm between life and death itself.

As they both lay there in the afterglow of their second time making love. It was even more intense than the first but this time Hermione had wisely placed wards around the room so as not to damage anything further.

Hermione lay in Harry's arms, her head cradled in the crook of his arm.

Her finger idly traced small circles on the sweat covering his chest. Harry notices she looked very far away staring off into the night sky out the open sliding glass doors to the balcony.

“Thinking about your parents?” Harry asked in a whisper.

Hermione glanced up at him with a rather sad smile but shook her head slightly.

“No actually,” she whispered in reply, “at least not at the moment.”

Harry looked down at her for a long time but decided not to enquire further. He felt completely at peace and content and he didn't want to do anything to ruin it. As he lay there lost in thought Hermione shifted slightly to look up into his sleepy eyes.

At first she wasn't sure she wanted to share her thoughts with Harry. She too was feeling things that at first were exciting and thrilling but now in the aftermath were a bit difficult to categorize in her overly-regimented mind.

She was convinced what she felt for this boy was real and true…and she knew why. It was time to finally admit it to herself. Sharing her thoughts with him felt only right. He deserved to know the truth.

“Harry I have a confession to make,” She said softly, looking at her hands for a moment.

Harry stiffened. When Hermione said things like that she usually followed with dropping a bomb right in the middle of his forehead.

Hermione could sense his tension. She knew he was afraid of what she might say and didn't know what she was about to tell him would make him feel better or just cause him more confusion. It was too late now though…

“I think I've been in love with you from the day I met you on the Hogwarts Express. Maybe even before that though I'm not quite sure…I was just a little girl then.”

Harry was expecting her confession to contain a potentially explosive revelation…but that wasn't it…at all!

He was stunned beyond speech or rational thought. As the words echoed around in his head for a few moments the implications of what she was saying finally landed on him…but so did a multitude of questions that all crowded the front of his brain at once. Sorting out the most important to know first was difficult.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He kept his voice soft and low so as not to cause her any unnecessary stress. He knew she could sense his surprise. No one else was so closely tuned to his emotions and moods as she was but she said nothing, perhaps waiting for him to come to terms with her revelation.

He chose his words carefully for the first time in his life. This was important. It needed to be handled just right. It wasn't something to just bulldoze through with annoyance and discord and he had learned long ago that had been a large part of Ron's problem. Ron had no tact. Neither did Harry but he was learning…slowly.

“I see,” he whispered, “and when did you come to this conclusion if you don't mind my asking?” It sounded almost snobbish and trite but she didn't seem to take offense to his question at all. In fact, she seemed to give it serious consideration judging from the concentration on her face.

“To be perfectly honest I think it was at the beginning of our sixth year. I'm sure it was nothing more than an acknowledgment of my physical attraction to you…”

Harry was stunned again but did not interrupt.

“I mean, after all Harry, you and Ron hit some sort of unnatural growth spurt or something, I'm not sure but you were just…well…” her thoughts seem to trail off with her voice for a moment but then she snapped back to the present, “I don't know…so much more put together than ever before. I wasn't the only one who noticed you know.” She smirked up at him.

As he sat there hearing this he was suddenly filled with a bit of self-righteous indignation. He shifted to face her more squarely.

“Then what was all that rubbish about trying to get me to notice other girls like Cho and Ginny and all that?”

“Oh Harry don't you understand?” She said with lips pursed slightly, “It was because I wanted you to be happy. It didn't matter to me where that happiness came from I just wanted you to be able to feel...normal for as long as our insane lives would allow it.”

“I guess I realized early on you didn't really look at me like you did other girls. I knew why but I guess there were times when I just wished you would look at me the way you looked at Cho or Ginny or the way Ron looked at Madam Rosmerta or the mermaid in the Prefects bath.”

“Part of me didn't really care but then there was another part that…longed for it sometimes I suppose, even though I refused to admit it.”

“When neither you nor Ron asked me to the Yule Ball it hurt me…much more than I was willing to admit to myself at the time. It was as if I was invisible to both of you that way.”

“Is that why you went with Viktor?” Harry asked softly.

“I suppose that was part of the reason. The other was that I guess I just didn't want to be left out and Viktor was a convenient excuse. Beside,” she flashed a devious little grin, “I knew it would drive Ronald spare. A little payback for that whole Lavender Brown thing I suppose. Quite juvenile of me I'll admit, stooping to his level.”

“Well, you hit the mark on that score,” Harry chuckled, “Believe it or not I was happy for you.”

“I do believe you,” Hermione said laying her hand softly on his chest, “and I think that's why it wasn't so difficult to look past things like that when it came to you because you wanted me to be happy as well.”

Harry nodded.

“So you were secretly crazy about me before you came to Hogwarts? How did that work? You'd never even met me before.”

Hermione laughed. It was a real laugh and it sent a tingling thrill down Harry's already sweating spine.

“It wasn't you so much as it was the idea of you.”

“Huh?” Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, “Sorry for being a bit thick but I'm not sure I get it.”

“Oh for the love of Merlin Harry, think about it?” She stared at him grinning, “Here I was a pure Muggle-born girl about to enter the world of magic reading about the famous Boy-Who-Lived in wizard books and publications. I guess you captured my imagination. You were larger than life to me then like a Muggle actor or…I can't believe I'm admitting this…Gildaroy Lockhart.”

She made a face that caused Harry to crack up.

“Well!” She looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, “I was just an impressionable little girl then!”

“Hermione,” Harry smiled, “You've never been an impressionable anything.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“To be honest I really thought you'd be more like Draco Malfoy than anything, this spoiled, pampered snot that everyone treated special and only got by because he was famous. Oh was I going to show you a thing or two.”

“That was one reason why I studied so hard to become proficient in first year magic and what drove me to learn as much as I could…”

“What!” That revelation stunned Harry, “You mean you turned yourself into a know-it-all just to show me up?”

“No, of course not Harry,” Hermione smirked again, “I've always been a bossy little bookworm. I think it was genetic, passed down from my mother's side of the family I'm not sure but I wanted to show the Great Harry Potter what real knowledge and hard work could accomplish,” all mirth and playfulness was suddenly gone, “and then I actually met you.”

A look of sadness washed over her beautiful face so profound it caused Harry to sit up. She looked as if she was about to start crying.

“What Hermione,” He asked gently as he pulled her into his arms.

“You were nothing like I had imagined,” she whispered sadly.

“Yah,” Harry replied a bit darkly, “I must have been a real disappointment to someone as smart and clever as you. I couldn't even mend my own glasses.”

“What…no!” Hermione sat up staring at him intently, “No Harry that's not what I meant at all. What I discovered that day on the train was that you were…a lot like me.”

Her voice trailed off as her mind went back to that day she had met the famous Harry Potter then after she had returned to her compartment and began realizing the truth trying to come to grips with her miscalculation of judgment where he was concerned. It had been a bitter pill to swallow then and it wasn't much better reliving her narrow-minded thinking.

“A lot like you?” Harry scoffed, “Hermione I'm nowhere near…”

But she placed her fingers gently on his lips to silence his protest.

“I realized we weren't that much different when it came to fitting into a world were neither of us really belonged…at least not initially. I came to realize that once I got to know you better. We were misfits…oddities everyone else looked at like we were exhibits in a freak show. You more than I once Voldemort decided to re-emerge from the dead.”

“Neither of us had any friends and most of the time people treated us like we were contagious or something.”

“I know it might sound a bit crazy but I think that might have been why I thought I felt something for Ron. Here he was this pure blood wizard bloke. It was like he was immune or maybe just a bit too thick to notice, I'm not sure which but then we both know how that turned out in the end don't we? At least for me.”

“I tried to remain immune to your notoriety myself for a time, thinking it was nothing more than the wizard worlds way of explaining your survival and having a sacrificial lamb to rally itself around. I think it was after we started our D.A. meetings when I finally realized you really were the real thing…Somehow I knew inside you would succeed.”

“I just convinced myself if I followed you and tried to help in any way I could we would get through it somehow. It didn't hurt that one of the greatest and most respected wizards of all time believed in you as well.”

She smiled so brightly at him he could feel his heart skip wildly all over his chest.

“And guess what…we were right.”

Harry smirked as he reached out gently taking her by the chin, then pulled her to him.

“You just love being right all the time don't you?”

She just shrugged a shoulder as she leaned into a steamy kiss that made his bones turn to liquid.

Great Caesar's ghost! If I only knew then what I know now…

As she curled into Harry's lap and laid her head on his chest she could hear the strong pounding of his heart.

“All I know Harry,” she whispered as she began drifted into a peaceful slumber, “to lose you would have been a fate worse than death for all of us.”

He couldn't resist…

“Or worse…expelled!”

Hermione swatted his shoulder playfully then chuckled.

“You're never going to let me live that one down are you?” She asked smiling.

“Not in this lifetime Granger,” Harry sighed.

Physical exhaustion and the cool evening breeze lulled them both into a peaceful dreamless sleep clinging to one-another in the darkness of their own private paradise.

-->

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twenty-Three: Discoveries

Hermione sat on her lounger, the back rest in the upright position so she could prop her book on her knees and read while she sunned. Harry had opted to lay a towel on the sand beside her. It was a ritual they had developed since the second day on the island.

Harry had told her he loved feeling the sand beneath him, warm and soft. It was something completely new to him and he reveled in all the new sensations he was experiencing.

Even at the urging, begging and pleading from Harry, Hermione had opted not to wear her new swim suit Harry had bought her since that first time. She still couldn't quite get over the reaction and unwanted attention it had caused so she opted for one of her more conservative one-piece suits. It was white with the British flag printed on it.

Harry knew it made no difference what kind of swimsuit she wore. She was gorgeous and would attract attention no matter what she put on.

As Harry lay back on his towel beside her propped on his elbows watching people swim and others riding wind surf boards skittering across the calm water of the shallow bay, he glanced sideways at her.

She had laid her book aside and stretched her lithe, tanned body along the length of the lounger with one leg drawn up and arms tossed carelessly over the back of the chair.

He couldn't help but think how incredibly beautiful and sexy she looked. He couldn't help but suddenly wish the sun was gone and they were back in their suite again. He closed his eyes remembering what her body felt like pressed against his. He recalled the heat and sweat and the intense smell of her when she had her powerful orgasms.

Hermione noticed Harry staring off into space. She knew he was probably trying to process and come to terms with what was happening between them. Things had changed dramatically for both of them over the past week but she sat there in the warm sun looking at Harry so relaxed and…

And what…Happy? Content?

He turned and smiled at her as if he could feel her eyes on him even through her dark sunglasses. It was a smile that told her so much but seemed to be touched with a hint of something she couldn't quite recognize.

Was it fear?

“Sixpence for your thoughts Harry,” Hermione asked smiling warmly at him. She reached out and let her fingers play in his constantly unsettled hair. Even the most industrial strength Muggle hair care products couldn't make his hair behave.

It was almost embarrassing for him to get caught thinking about her naked body so he wanted to drag his mind away from that as quickly as possible.

“I was just thinking about what was going on back home,” he lied.

Hermione face seemed to darken slightly when he said it.

Harry mentally kicked himself. He suddenly realized it would have been much better if he had told the truth. She had not thought about or talked about her parents in days and she had been much more relaxed as a result. Now he had practically dragged her right back into those depressing thoughts. He frantically groped for a way to distract her.

“I was just wondering if all the barmy Golden Trio nonsense has died down yet.”

“I wouldn't worry about it Harry. You're just going to have to accept you are now an even more famous wizard and learn to live with it. I'm sure Ron's little book is doing as much as anything to fan the flames.”

Harry said nothing. As far as he knew Hermione had not even looked at Ron's book yet and had no intention of doing so. He wasn't about to tell her he had read some of it and had to admit Ron was telling the truth about nothing but the facts. He also had to admit the old hag Skeeter did a pretty good job of describing things.

“I really didn't think his memoirs would be all that popular but I guess I was wrong,” Harry said.

“I'm not sure how much actual memoir there is amongst all the speculation, innuendo, half-truths and rubbish.” Hermione quipped.

“You think so?” Harry sighed, “You're probably right. I can see her Quick-Quotes quill dancing feverishly across the parchment embellishing every word. Do you think you'll ever read it?”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulder.

“I can't believe he actually had the stones to do something like that…” Hermione began to say but then caught herself, “never mind…Actually, I can.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh, thankful his devious little distraction worked.

Hermione rolled over on her side to face him with a sudden thought.

“You know Harry,” she said with a wide smile, “You should write your own book. I mean really, think about it. If the Wizard world is clamoring to know what really happened who better to hear it from then the person who was right in the middle of it all. There would be no question about the facts, that's for certain!”

“You were in the middle of it just as I was Hermione,” Harry blanched at the thought, “and besides, I'm no writer. That's more your department.”

“Nonsense Harry,” Hermione's eyebrows pinched together. She didn't like it when he put himself down like that. “You're very intelligent. You just need to have a little faith in your own abilities. Besides,” she grinned her heart-stopping little crooked smile, “I could be your editor. We could make Ronald Bilius Weasley and his ghost writer look like a couple of third-rate Society column hacks.”

Harry laughed, “I don't know Hermione. I'd have to sit down and try to remember everything we've been through and that's plenty yah? I'm not sure if I would even want to.” He paused for a moment then added, “I'd probably need a pensive for that. I wonder if McGonagall would let me use Dumbledore's old one. Can you buy those things?”

As Harry said those last words the gears and cogs inside Hermione's brain began whirring and spinning until they all finally meshed into place with an inaudible clank! The memories of the night they removed her parent's identities and installed the alternate ones filled her thoughts. She sat bolt upright in her lounger yanking off her sunglasses.

“What did you say Harry!” She whispered.

He glanced up at her. Her face was frozen with eyes wide. Her expression was that of utter surprise and shock. He started to become a bit alarmed.

“Wha…what do you mean…about what?” Harry asked.

In the next second she was on her feet, pacing the sand in front of their spot on the beach, fingers on her bottom lip mumbling to herself.

Harry lurched to his feet as well, “What is it Hermione?”

She flung her hands at him as if she was trying to shoo him away. She kept pacing, looking at the sand lost in the depths of her brilliant mind. Then suddenly she stopped. She turned abruptly and looked at Harry, eyes wide again.

“THAT'S IT!” She yelled.

It made Harry jump. The few people within ear shot all looked up at them.

“What Hermione, for Merlin's sake!” Harry asked. He was beginning to get a bit panicky now.

“Don't you see Harry? That's the answer. It has to be!”

“Erm…” Harry didn't see.

“The pensive…the pensive,” she was rowing her arms now, trying to get the thoughts to come out of her head, “My parents memories were placed into Dumbledore's pensive before Professor McGonagall put them into the vials! I'll be willing to bet it has something to do with the fact they are pure Muggle with no magic ability at all! That must be the answer! Storing my parent's memories in a magical device did…did something to them - but what?”

She was lost in though again, staring out across the bay not really seeing anything.

Harry stood watching her lost in his own thoughts about the pensive. He remembered watching Dumbledore pull memories from his temple with his wand and drop them into the magical bowl. The bright blue vaporous stream swirled on the misty surface for a moment then blended in with the rest of the murky substance that filled the device.

“You think your parent's memories got damaged somehow while they were in the Pensive?” Harry asked not really understanding how that could happen but not really understanding how the pensive actually worked either. “Who had access to it while the memories were in there?”

Hermione forced herself to focus on his words.

“No-one,” she replied, “I was there when the memories were extracted. McGonagall placed them into the pensive one at a time. She extracted each one only minutes after they were put there. She said she didn't want to take any chances while transferring the memories from mind to vial - just in case…”

“Just in case of what?” Harry asked.

Hermione's head snapped toward him.

“That's a bloody good question?” Hermione replied. Her face became set with a look of utter concentration and determination. She continued pacing.

“Normally when one stores a memory in the pensive it's only a small portion or single strand of that person's thoughts. With my parents…”

“It was their whole identity,” Harry finished the thought for her, “It was everything that made them who they are, right?”

That statement made Hermione come to a dead stop again. She stiffened for a moment then bolted to her lounger and started gathering up her things quickly.

“I need to send McGonagall an owl at once Harry!” She said almost breathlessly, “I think I have an idea of what happened to my parent's memories.”

“Hermione,” Harry interjected as he bent to snatch his towel off the sand and slip into his sandals, “Didn't you tell me this place was mostly Muggle. Where are we going to find an owl?”

Hermione was half way back to the hotel by the time Harry looked up. Even in the face of this sudden possible breakthrough he couldn't help but smirk. Even dressed down in what Hermione had considered a conservative one-piece swim suit almost every bloke on the beach turned to watch her incredibly slender body and delectable bum swish and twitch its way back across the sand.

Back in their suite, Hermione got out a quill, ink and parchment and set them on the computer desk in the sitting room. They had determined it would be necessary to summon a postal owl from the Ministry in order to send her message.

She told Harry to find a secluded location and quickly instructed him on how to send a request charm to summon an owl.

“Have you ever done this before Hermione?” Harry asked.

“No - not really,” she admitted.

So neither knew if it would work or how long it would take for a postal owl to arrive.

“Why not just send your patronus?” Harry inquired.

“Too much information to convey through a patronus Harry,” she replied, “and I think the distance might be a bit too great anyway.”

Without any further delay Harry found a spot in some trees across the narrow road that ran in front of the resort and sent the summoning charm.

Back in the suite Hermione feverishly poured over the letter to the Headmistress, her hand flying across the parchment. When she finally looked up the sun was settling into its warm bath in the ocean on the western horizon. She had written seventeen pages.

While she was attempting to fold her letter and stuff it into a very uncooperative envelope Harry spotted three small specks appear out of the deep orange, bright crimson and gold of the setting sun.

As the three owls came closer Harry watched them swoop in low over the bay, wings spread wide gliding like fixed-winged aircraft pointed straight at the hotel in a “V” formation. He could see a few people walking down on the beach looking up…some pointing at the odd sight.

“Bugger Hermione,” Harry said as he backed into the wide open French doors to their bed chamber, “Three of them coming in fast. They didn't even wait till it was dark!”

“What did you say in your request Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I just said we needed an owl A.S.A.P. That's all, I swear!”

She realized the how's and why's were really not all that important at the moment as she managed to smash the last pages into the over-stuffed envelope. She had to put three wax seals on it to keep it closed but was relatively satisfied with her work.

When the three owls reached the balcony they pulled up short and landed lightly on the railing that surrounded the outer edge of the overlook. The owl in the center was a large barn owl. The other two were much smaller in size. They looked exhausted.

Harry moved to the bathroom and filled three glasses with water. He then carried them and set them on the floor of the balcony so the owls could get a drink. All three hopped off the railing and settled in front of the water drinking gratefully.

“We don't have any t-r-e-a-t-s for them do we?” Harry spelled out asking Hermione.

The big barn owl glanced up at Harry with a doleful look.

Well…apparently postal owls can spell! Who'da thought?

“Wait!” Hermione said holding up her hand.

She made her way over to the small table she and Harry had eaten room service on a few times. There was a small basket that contained many different types of crackers and biscuits she had decided to keep in case she got the munchies. She fished around in the basket until she produced several packages of Melba toast. They were rather dark, crunchy biscuits that looked like little slices of bread. Hermione didn't really care for them but she had to admit they felt and smelled much more like actual owl treats than any of the others.

She opened one package, broke the two little slices into smaller pieces and put them into a crystal candy dish she swiped from a small table at the entry door filled with small round pieces of multi-colored glass.

When she sat the crumpled biscuits down in front of the owls the big one turned its huge eyes up to her as if to ask, `What are we supposed to do with this mess?'

He hopped forward and sniffed the dish. The big owl snatched a piece of the toast and crunched it in his beak. The two smaller owls watched as the big one chewed and swallowed. He just stood there for a moment as if trying to decide if he liked the stuff or not.

The next moment had the big barn owl pecking furiously at the candy dish while trying to keep the other two from getting any of the toast.

Hermione glared at the big barn owl, “Well that's not very sporting of you now is it…big bully!”

Harry gave Hermione an exasperated look then moved to provide the smaller owls with their own portions.

“I guess they really like that stuff,” Hermione chuckled incredulously as she watched all three devour the treats.

“I've never even heard of Melba toast!” Harry said, “What is it made from anyway?”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders. That was the last thing on her mind.

When they had eaten half their supply of the Melba toast and drank a majority of the water Hermione was becoming impatient.

“All right, I think you've had quite enough,” Hermione finally said in a huff. While Harry removed the cups and dishes Hermione tied her tome-sized letter to the big barn owls leg but after she was finished all three owls just stood there unmoving looking at her with their huge unblinking eyes.

Harry came up behind her to look at the owls over her shoulder.

“Why are you just standing there you silly things?” Hermione growled, “Off with you!”

Harry looked at all the empty biscuit wrappers lying on the table next to the basket. He got an idea.

“Hermione do you have a small pouch or some type of draw-string bag?”

“What?” She asked confused, “Why?”

“I have an idea,” Harry replied.

They couldn't find a small bag like Harry had asked for so he took a rather large handkerchief and transfigured it, crushed up the remainder of the little pieces of Melba toast in it and attached it to one of the smaller owl's legs.

When he was finished they stood back. The owls hopped up onto the railing and took off into the night sky without a hoot or a backward glance.

Hermione just stared after them with a look of bemused confusion on her face.

“So enlighten me `O' Cleverest Witch of Her Age?' What took you seventeen pages to tell McGonagall?” Harry asked as he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently on her warm, soft lips.

Oh…two can play this little game Potter!

With that thought Hermione pulled him to her sliding her arms tightly around his body intensifying the kiss. She forced his lips apart with her insistent tongue and hers swirled together with his in what quickly turned into an intensely heated exchange.

When Hermione's mouth left his Harry's brain would have normally been fried beyond rational thought but he was slowly becoming wise to her tactics. Her kisses still left him tingling all over though but he was not to be denied.

“Why Miss Granger,” Harry smile wryly, “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Parish the thought Mr. Potter,” she chuckled.

Hermione couldn't help but be completely charmed and disarmed by that. The wide-eyed Boy Who Lived from the Hogwarts Express was gone completely now.

For now, though, she gently pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind.

“I have a theory Harry,” Hermione began as she towed him out onto the balcony. They both settled into the cushioned chairs and she began to tell him what she had concluded as a result of their conversation on the beach earlier.

“This is probably going to sound insane and I have absolutely no evidence to back up this theory but I think my parent's memories were somehow damaged or…altered while in the pensive.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Hermione responded, “That's the question isn't it? What strikes us as so odd is that they know who they are. My mum and dad know they are Edward and Daphne and they know who I am for the most part but there are holes or gaps in their memories that seem completely random in nature. It's as if their memories became - fragmented or something. That's what has made this all so infuriating because there's no logical reason for it. Even using the pensive theory doesn't explain how it happened.”

“So do you think if you put their memories back into the pensive they would repair themselves?” Harry asked.

Hermione sat lost in thought for a moment.

“That or simply make them even worse,” Hermione replied glumly, “I'm not sure if I'm ready to take that kind of chance, at least not without a bit more concrete evidence.”

“You know,” Harry asked, “I've never even thought much about it before but how does a pensive work? I've seen Dumbledore use it of course but have never even begun to understand it.”

“Well you've had more exposure to the pensive than I have Harry and again I only have my own theories and what I've read about them to go on.”

“In order to understand how the pensive works is to have a specific knowledge of that magical theory and a thorough understanding of how the human mind works, neither of which I profess to be an expert in, however if I had to take an educated guess it would be that the innate physical properties of human thought are nothing more than the controlled firing of synapses of the brain. Those are made up of a combination of the firing of small electrical pulses and some chemical reactions thus producing a stimulation of a particular region of the brain and in turn stimulating the central nervous system to produce what we perceive as a conscious, or in some cases, unconscious thought. You following me so far?”

Harry gave her a look that suggested she had suddenly begun speaking in a foreign language. She chuckled but pressed on deciding she would probably only serve to confuse him even more if she tried to clarify.

“It obvious by using a bit of magic a memory, or conscious thought can be extracted from our brain. Just exactly what that thought consists of or is made from is a complete mystery to me and might just be the missing key to the discovery of what happened to my parent's memories. It's almost as if their memories began to brake down, possibly as a result of a chemical reaction to what ever resides in the pensive that makes it a container of conscious thought. Again, I'm not sure. These are only guesses.”

“One of the things I suggested to McGonagall in my letter was to take a single memory from one of my parents and place it back into the pensive. I'm hoping if any of the fragmented pieces still exist within the device they will be able to identify its memory stream somehow and we can extract them with some type of spell or I'm hoping like will attract like in this case.”

“So you're hoping that memory will call to the pieces left behind?” Harry asked not even trying to understand the rest of what she had said.

“Exactly,” Hermione grimaced, “It's a long shot but it's all we've got at present.”

“Have faith Hermione,” Harry smiled taking her hand, “You might just get lucky.”

Hermione smiled sadly, “I could do with a spot of luck.” Her expression changed from that to slight disappointment.

“Harry,” she whispered, “I really hate to ask this of you but I was wondering if you would be terribly upset if we were to cut our holiday short. I realize this is something we both needed but in light of this new possibility…”

Harry stood so abruptly it made Hermione set back a bit.

“Don't be daft! I understand completely,” Harry reached for her hand, “We're not packed yet?”

With a huge smile Hermione threw herself into his arms and kissed him so thoroughly it left him dizzy. The look she gave him when they separated made his heart pinch. He could see it in her blazing eyes even before she said the words…

“I am completely, hopelessly and utterly in love with you Harry Potter!”

-->

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - (Part Two)

Standard Disclaimers Apply...

Chapter Twenty-Three; Return

The flight back from Tahiti was long but seemed to pass quickly. Both Harry and Hermione slept for the most part.

The jump from Paris to London was quick but tedious and they wasted no time apparating from Heathrow to St. Mungo's.

Even thought they had both slept jet lag and the severe time change seemed to be pulling at their edges as Harry followed a rather anxious Hermione into the Spell Damage Ward.

When they turned the corner of the hallway leading to her parent's room they pulled up short.

The hallway was filled with people. They recognized a few of the Healers who were assigned to look after the Grangers. They also recognized some of the Oblivators and Hermione had seen a few of the Unspeakables but huddled in a tight group were several odd looking, very oddly dressed men who seemed to be carrying on a rather lively and animated conversation. They were talking a bit loudly with much gesticulation of hands, arms and heads.

Minerva McGonagall was right in the midst of them trying to shush them as best she could. When the Headmistress spotted Harry and Hermione at the end of the hall she broke rank with the strange group and made her way toward them.

Harry and Hermione moved forward to meet her half way but when they came together the old Professor didn't seem the least bit concerned. Quite the contrary, she looked elated.

“I'm so glad you're here,” she said in a rush of excitement, her hands clasped in front of her. (It was completely out of her character.) “I have the most wonderful news.”

Hermione was about to burst if she wasn't allowed to ask the questions plaguing her mind the entire trip home. McGonagall picked up on her angst at once.

“You have questions Ms. Granger, I'm sure?”

“Yes…Sorry Headmistress…”

“Quite alright,” McGonagall replied with a weary smile, “Perfectly understandable. Go right ahead young lady.”

“Did you understand what I wrote in my letter explaining what my theory was?”

“Certainly,” McGonagall nodded with a slight grin, “You were quite explicit and detailed as always Ms. Granger.”

“And did you apply the test I recommended?”

“Indeed,” McGonagall was still grinning, “And the subsequent reintroduction of the test memories back into the Pensive revealed absolutely no results…” she paused to take a breath.

In that moment Hermione's face fell and it looked to Harry like someone had suddenly set a full grown Mountain Troll on her shoulders, but to their surprise McGonagall was still grinning. She continued…

“However, one of the…erm…Specialists,” McGonagall waved a hand toward the strange group of men still huddled in a circle talking, “decided to attach a simple repairing charm to the memory and after a few moments the most incredible thing occurred. We watched as what could only be described as small fragments of thought re-attach themselves to the fragmented memory stream,” McGonagall was beaming now, “You're suggestions and theories were spot on young lady, with a slight creative adjustment!”

The pride in McGonagall's face made even Harry smile.

Cleverest Witch of her Age doesn't even begin to describe this girl!

Hermione looked a bit surprised but there was still worry in her eyes. McGonagall kept speaking.

“The most amazing coincidence occurred while you were away and I discovered it completely by accident.”

“I was glancing at the latest edition of the Prophet when I came across an article describing a Conference that was to take place here in London over a week's time beginning two day ago. I must say I was absolutely stunned to discover it was to be a Healer's Conference and Healers from all over the world would be attending.”

“Needless to say I knew I must find a way to attend the Conference and attempt to gain an interview with the Board of Healers as quickly as possible. I was absolutely convinced they would be able to assist us with the problem with your parents.”

“Much to my dismay, however, I discovered the location of the Conference was a closely guarded secret, for reasons I do not even begin to fathom but as it was, I was forced to…erm, how does the saying go…pull a few strings to get the information I needed.”

“Well, really all that was required was a meeting with the Minister and that was that! After I managed to convince the Board to allow me to speak on your parent's behalf let's just say they were only too eager to assist.”

McGonagall's pointed stare was meant to be part light-hearted and part mischievous. They had never seen the Headmistress so casually animated and excited.

“The gentlemen behind me are a few representatives from the Conference of Healers and they have been assisting us ever since my rather…insistent request, however they also were at a loss for an explanation or solution until we received your remarkable letter Ms. Granger. We were all impressed with what you were able to ascertain while you were away.”

“Well, actually,” Hermione looked at the Headmistress a bit sheepishly, “Harry was the one who figured it out.”

Both McGonagall's and Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared as they gapped at her.

“Is that so?” McGonagall asked shifting her surprised gaze to Harry's bewildered face.

“What?” Harry asked, “How do you figure it Hermione? How did I…”

She cut across him.

“It was your suggestion you would need a Pensive to collect all your thoughts in when we were discussing the possibility of you writing your own book, remember?”

“Yes…b…but…” He spluttered.

“It was your comment that got my mind working in the right direction. If it wasn't for that…” She didn't want to finish her thought. Harry just smiled at her.

“Well, maybe the luck we were wishing for is coming true.”

“All things happen for a reason Mr. Potter.” McGonagall said a bit flatly, “I'm not so sure I subscribe to the fortunes of blind chance but…at this juncture, I'm also not willing to hedge my best if you understand what I'm saying?”

Hermione did. She smirked. Harry laughed amused by their old Transfiguration Professor's less-than-prim behavior.

“There's an old Muggle saying my father used to use all the time,” Hermione said fondly, “It went something like, `Never look a gift horse in the mouth.' I'm not really sure what that means exactly but it seems to apply here.”

“I think,” Harry said grinning himself now, “it's nothing more mysterious than some very smart people doing really smart things and making very smart decisions.”

Both McGonagall and Hermione turned a bit pink but the Headmistresses mouth pursed slightly at his cheek.

“Well said, Mr. Potter,” she turned to Hermione, “The Specialists are eager to meet you Ms. Granger,” she gestured over her shoulder again toward the knot of odd men.

When they moved to join them the group all stopped talking and turned to regard the two younger people as if they were examining a rather interesting exhibit or specimen. The Headmistress made the introductions quickly.

Healer Rabani al-Zipdup was a skinny, bald man with huge round glasses that gave him the strange appearance of a bug with bulging eyes. He was wearing a tight turban, sandals and what appeared to be nothing more than a large diaper. His legs looked like two toothpicks stuck in a large ball of cotton.

Healer Heimlich Glockenspiel looked ancient. He had an amazing shock of white hair that stuck out of his head in all directions. He wore a pair of hip waders as trousers complete with rubber boot but the rest of his ensemble was a formal black tuxedo coat complete with tails, cummerbund and four-in-hand tie.

Healer John Smith, from the United States, was rather young-looking and positively handsome next to this strange lot with blond hair and blue eyes but he was wearing a full-length night shirt over a pair of bright green checked pattern trousers and a pair of red cowboy boots.

Healer Alto Arpeggio was tall, dark, jet black hair slicked back over his head with a hawk-like nose. He looked like a Spanish flamenco dancer complete with a red sash and white shirt with huge puffy sleeves. Hermione, chuckling slightly, thought he looked a bit like an older version of Viktor Crum.

The last was a tiny Siamese man named Healer Hung Dong Lo. He was the least oddly dressed of them all. He wore what looked like a finely tailored business suit and looked quite normal until you looked down at his feet. He was wearing what appeared to be multi-colored bowling shoes. His eyes seemed perpetually closed.

They stood in a semi-circle eyeing Harry and Hermione with great interest when Healer Hung Dong Lo moved forward and looked up at Hermione with his squinty eyes.

“You are de young lady who sent de letter yes?” Healer Lo asked in a squeaky elfin voice.

“Erm…yes, I am,” Hermione replied.

“Brilliant!” Healer Lo said loud enough to make them jump slightly.

The rest of the Healers all nodded fervently in agreement mumbling the same word, some with hands to chin looking quite severe. It was most comical-looking.

Hermione began looking perplexed when she glanced at McGonagall who simply grinned slyly at her protégé.

“The Healers were just discussing how to apply your theory to facilitate a complete repair to your parent's memories Ms. Granger.”

“Yes,” the American Healer stepped forward, “With the success of the individual memory test brilliantly modified by Healer Glockenspiel,” he waved to the old white-haired gent who bowed slightly in response, his rubber boots making a squeaking sound on the tiled floor, “we are attempting to discern the best way to apply a similar technique to make a complete restoration.”

“Do you think it's possible?” Hermione asked expectantly wringing her hands.

“Not only is it possible young lady…” Healer Alto Arpeggio interjected.

“There is a good chance for complete success…” The Healer named Rabani al-Zipdup finished with finger pointing up in the air.

“So there's a chance it might not work,” Harry asked. He had been mostly silent until then.

Everyone turned to look at him with eyebrows raised. He wasn't going to be intimidated by a bunch of oddball Healers no matter how `brilliant' they seemed. He knew what it would do to Hermione if something else happened to her parents. It wasn't long ago she had been a different person and Harry had no desire to see her like that again.

“I'm not trying to be a `stick in the mud' mind you but it's just…I think you should be certain about this before you go mucking about with her parents memories, that's all.”

McGonagall gave Harry a stern look but there was also a twinkle in her eyes. She realized Harry was doing what came natural to him - he was protecting his best friend. She moved forward and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I assure you Mr. Potter these gentlemen have only Hermione's parent's best interest in mind, however, you must understand with any procedure such as this there is always an element of risk involved especially when you consider we are operating in completely uncharted territory.”

“We must concur with Ms. McGonagall,” Healer Lo added, “but we are most certain we shall be able to find an effective application that will be successful.” He bowed toward Harry looking who started feeling a bit sheepish.

Hermione placed a hand softly on his arm giving him such an endearing look it made his face turn bright red. He could only nod after that.

Hermione then turned her attention back to the group of Healers.

“So how do you plan on implementing repairs?” She asked, “I'm not certain removing their memories and placing them back into the Pensive is the best course of action or at least I'm not sure I'm prepared to take that kind of risk. If placing their memories in the Pensive caused the problem to begin with then it seems to me it would only exacerbate the situation.”

“Yes Ms. Granger,” Healer Smith said, hand on chin, “I must admit it was one of the options discussed but we are in the process of determining what other possibilities might be available to us.”

“Conference gentlemen!” Healer al-Zipdup shouted with finger pointed toward the ceiling again. With that they all moved back into a huddle with heads bowed toward the center resuming their animated conversation as they were when Harry and Hermione first approached.

They gawked for a moment at the group of Healer's odd behavior.

McGonagall turned toward Harry and Hermione with another weary smile.

“Ms. Granger,” she asked, “I realize this is most likely an inappropriate time to be asking such a question but I feel compelled to inquire if you have given any further thought to returning to Hogwarts to finish your studies?”

Hermione hesitated but then made to answer when McGonagall held up a hand to stall her reply.

“I would like to offer you an incentive to return. I am prepared to offer, with the full approval of the Ministry mind you, complete freedom in course selection for your final term. You may select your own courses and set your own schedule. I am also prepared to offer you the position of Head Girl and all the rights and responsibilities that go along with such an appointment. You will have complete access to all common rooms and dormitories as well as full use of the private Head dormitory and common space.”

Hermione's mouth fell open with a look of utter shock on her face. She instantly realized that never before, in the history of Hogwarts has any student ever been offered such a thing. Not even the great Albus Dumbledore!

“Headmistress…I…I,” Hermione stammered. McGonagall held up her hand again.

“I would rather you not respond immediately. I merely ask that you give this offer fair consideration and will expect your reply before the term starts in a few weeks, is that acceptable?”

Hermione could only nod her agreement looking like she had just been confunded. McGonagall turned to Harry looking at him pointedly.

“I would bid you return as well Mr. Potter, however, Mr. Shacklebolt has enlightened me to the offer he extended to you to join his staff.”

The look on the old Headmistresses face made it very clear to Harry what she thought of that idea.

“Why don't you two go in and visit with your mother and father for a while. I'll fetch you if there is any sort of breakthrough.”

They both nodded and made their way to Hermione's parent's room. When they reached the door Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm as he reached for the door knob.

“I don't think McGonagall approves of your decision Harry and I must admit I have my reservations. Just exactly what will be involved in the program?”

He briefly told her some of the details of what Kingsley had offered him that night at Grimmuald Place. He had told her about Kingsley's proposal but had not offered details.

The look she gave him mirrored the Headmistresses but only for a brief moment then shifted to that same blank unreadable expression she had worn for the past several months.

Harry didn't know which was worse.

“I'm not going lecture Harry. I think it's time I move past all that silly nonsense,” Hermione said a bit flatly, “You're 18 now and you've earned the right to make your own decisions regarding your future. I just want you to know I love you and I'll stand behind whatever you decide.”

Harry suddenly felt his knees go weak as he looked into her eyes. He could tell without question what she had told him was the truth. He leaned close kissing her softly on the lips then whispered.

“This is why I love you back and you mean everything to me Hermione.”

Hermione's heart fluttered at those words but then gave him a playful look meant to be serious. She had to be snarky or she would break down crying.

“Oh, don't think we're done talking about this mister,” she quipped, “I want more details about this so-called special program before I put my stamp of approval on it.” She was grinning now.

Harry couldn't help but grin right back.

“Well,” he said, “I look at it this way Hermione. I've practically been doing the job of an Auror over the past seven years anyway. I might as well get paid for it…and who knows, I just might learn something.” He chuckled.

Hermione only gave him her notorious, sarcastic What-an-idiot look.

“You thinking about taking McGonagall up on her offer? Sounds spot on for you if you ask me,” Harry said.

“Oh does it?” She glared at him with a smirk crossing her arms under her chest. Harry couldn't help but look down and gaze in wonder at those two perfect mounds of… He mentally smacked himself.

Merlin's beard - I'm turning into Ron! She's made me a complete randy little…

“I must admit her offer is quite unprecedented,” Hermione said just in time, thankfully not picking up on Harry's train of thought.

“I think you should take it,” Harry said without hesitation, “I mean really Hermione, how many students do you know get to pick their own classes and have free run of the school?”

“Well,” Hermione responded by staring blankly at the door chewing on her thumb for a moment, “when you put it that way,” but then she dropped her arms looking up at him seriously, “I've got time to consider it. I've got more important things to think about at present.”

Harry nodded in understanding. They pushed through the door and went in to visit with her parents for a while.

Hermione's mother Daphne seemed quite a bit more like herself since they left for holiday (at least, according to Hermione) and it eased some of her anxiety a little. Her father still seemed a bit befuddled by many things but they hoped the Healers could help find a solution.

Several hours later McGonagall came into the room and asked to speak to Hermione. She left Harry with her mother who was becoming very familiar with him. He was much more comfortable with them now.

Hermione found herself in a room sitting at a rather large table with the Healers on one side and her with the Headmistress on the other. It was the ancient looking Healer Heimlich Glockenspiel who did most of the talking this time.

“We have come to the determination Ms. Granger we see no reason an effective solution to your parent's problem should not be forthcoming, however, at present we are unable to determine the best course of action to facilitate a complete repair.”

“We have devised several possible courses of action but I'm afraid none are without a certain element of risk.”

“One such method of approach is to remove another fragmented memory stream from each of your parent's minds and applying an as-of-yet modified charm use it to attempt to attract all remaining pieces of fragmented memory to this single strand.”

“Another method discussed is to create a charm to collect all like memory fragments together while still in the Pensive then using an individual memory from each of your parents try and attach them to that stream to pull them out as a single block of memory.”

“A third possibility is to create a spell or charm to collect all remaining fragments of memory from your mother and father while still in the Pensive and store them in a vial or some other independent receptacle until the memory fragments can be identified as either your mothers or fathers, separated somehow and then placed back into your parent's minds.”

“Is any one method better than the others?” Hermione asked considering the options for a moment, “It seems to me the first and second methods are quite similar in nature but the first having less steps involved. Seems to me it would be the best course of action simply based on that criteria alone.”

“While we tend to agree…it will be necessary to create the needed charm and that may take some time due to the need for careful and limited testing. We don't want to make matters worse Ms. Granger. We want to make certain we have your approval before we move forward with our diagnosis.”

“Do you honestly think this can work?”

“We are more than confident Ms. Granger,” Healer Glockenspiel replied.

“To retain such confidence Ms. Granger one must possess knowledge of the Pensive and how such a device works,” it was Rabani al-Zipdup who spoke up. Hermione couldn't seem to make it past his huge bugged out eyes but she listened intently.

“The concept of such a device is to contain and preserve bits and pieces of memory. It uses a combination of ancient magic, properties of the correct type of crystalline impregnated stone from which the Pensive in constructed as well as the specific ancient Runes that adorn the exterior surface of the Pensive itself. The specific location of the Runes is critical to the retention ability of the device.”

“There are counterfeit and cheap imitations of these remarkable devices out there and unless you are absolutely certain of its provenance usage of such questionable devices should be limited to short term memory storage if used at all but it is not recommended. Memories fade rather quickly and if the Pensive is not constructed properly it will do nothing to contain the integrity of the individual or collective memory streams.”

“Each memory fragment is stored using what is theoretically known as a Unique Electrolytic-Magnetheric Frequency or U.E.M.F. It is also often referred to as a unique individual memory `signature' to those in the scientific community. Each copy of a selected memory fragment would in theory possess the exact same U.E.M.F. when extracted from the same source but the same memory taken from a different source should possess a different U.E.M.F. altogether, having said that, it should be possible to separate your mother and father's individual memories based on their unique signatures.”

“We are hoping,” added Alto Arpeggio, “that we will succeed in constructing a charm to collect or contain the specific memory fragments using these individual U.E.M.F. signatures and place them successfully back into your parent's minds. It will take time and a bit of research but I, as well as my colleagues, believe it can be done but you must understand this theory is untested and has never been applied in such a manner.”

“It's really nothing more complicated than finding the right U.E.M.F. to attach to the correctly modified charm and implementing the procedure,” added Healer John Smith glancing a bit annoyed at Healer Arpeggio, “but I think it would be prudent to move ahead slowly to be certain our theory of application in this case is sound, hence it involved this round table discussion.”

“I understand completely gentlemen,” Hermione sighed looking at her hands for a moment. She then looked at her mentor, “What do you think Headmistress? Do you think it conceivable?”

“Conceivable, of course Ms. Granger,” McGonagall replied evenly, “Successful…that remains to be seen but I am nothing if not utterly determined to see this through to the very end no matter what the outcome.”

Hermione nodded.

“You have my full consent to move forward gentlemen and I thank you for all your wisdom and assistance. I will assist you in any way I can.”

“Brilliant!” The Siamese Healer piped up. All the others nodded in consent, “Ms. Granger, would it be permissible to bring dis most unusual case to present before da board of Healers at our Conference to obtain a wider general consensus of our prognosis?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied a bit baffled why they would be asking her permission, “In fact, I encourage it. The more minds working on this solution the better as far as I'm concerned. All I ask gentlemen is that you keep in mind these are my parents…not laboratory experiments.”

Again all heads bobbed up and down with murmurs of agreement. With that the Healers excused themselves to begin working on the charm needed to collect the memory fragments.

Hermione sat back, her head spinning at all the information she was processing.

“Headmistress?” Hermione asked.

“Yes Ms. Granger?”

“The next time I attempt to be cleverer than my peers would you please just stupefy me instead!”

McGonagall laughed loudly at that patting Hermione on her shoulder.

“You did what you thought was right at the time Ms. Granger. Don't throttle yourself over it. Regret resolves nothing, yes?”

“Indeed,” Hermione replied. The weight of the unknown was pressing down on her like a building but she knew she had to move forward.

Nothing ventured - nothing gained. Please forgive me mom and dad! If this all blows up in my face it will be nothing less than what I deserve!

It was that thought she carried with her back to her parent's house to await word from the Healers. It would either be a success or back to the beginning. She was hoping for the former because she didn't know how much more resolve she had left.

When they reached her parent's house they were both so exhausted they fell asleep on the couch in the sitting room again like they had that first night she practically begged Harry to stay.

The next morning Hermione was so distracted she had squirted antibiotic ointment on her toothbrush instead of toothpaste. With much grumbling and cursing under her breath she cleaned her toothbrush with a wave of her wand.

It was while they were in the middle of breakfast at about 8:15 a.m. when McGonagall's owl arrived. With a scream and a rather impressive leap in the air Hermione dashed to her room to dress, not caring she put on two different socks and her tee shirt was on inside out.

When she and Harry arrived at the Spell Damage Ward of St. Mungo's she was crying. When they walked into her parent's room to find both her mother and father standing looking quite normal if not a bit bewildered by their strange surroundings she broke down, a mass of blubbering goo.

Her mother was a bit taken aback by her daughter's unusual behavior so it was left to Headmistress McGonagall and Harry to try and explain.

When all was said and done Hermione, finally able to reign in her emotions, found the Healers and embraced each one of them thanking them profusely through her tears of utter relief and joy.

She especially thanked Headmistress McGonagall for all her concern and effort and committed to her mentor her plan to finish her education at Hogwarts. McGonagall quietly told Hermione that was thanks enough for her.

…After all her appreciation Hermione Granger, along with a very relieved and thankful Harry Potter, escorted her completely repaired and healed mother and father home.

Later that evening after her parents had time to settle back in she began making plans to re-integrate them back into their dental practice as soon as possible.

After her parents had gone to bed she applied a silencing charm to her room and made very passionate love to Harry. Hermione knew she would be very busy over the next few weeks before the term started at Hogwarts and she had so much to do so she had no idea when they might be able to find a quiet moment to spend together.

She poured her heart and soul into him that night giving all of herself to him without reservation and he gave back to her just as intensely.

After the roaring flames of their incredibly heated love making they both lay panting and sweaty completely exhausted but very, very happy and content.

Hermione found herself lying on top of him again. She looked into his dreamy drowsy eyes and couldn't help but chuckle at his completely befuddled look.

“I love you Harry,” she whispered, “and I'm sorry…” she added cryptically.

“Sorry?” Harry asked confused.

“Yes,” Hermione said shifting to wrap her arms about his body holding on to him tightly, “I'm sorry for not letting you in just after I returned from Australia. I'm sorry for keeping so many secrets from you over the years but what I'm most sorry for is not realizing that I've loved you practically my whole life and completely denied it. I don't deserve your love or your kindness…” She turned her head to kiss him softly, “but I'm so very glad I have them.”

“You've nothing to be sorry for Hermione,” Harry reassured her, “It's just as McGonagall said - There's a reason for everything. Besides, I think I'm the lucky one here. I'm just thankful we've learned to control our magic so we don't set half of London ablaze while making love.”

They both chuckled. Hermione burrowed deeper into him as they both drifted off into a blissful dreamless slumber.

-->

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Twenty Five - Farewells and Dreams

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat bolt upright in his bed. He realized at once he was bathed in a cold sweat as the disjointed images swirled around his mind.

He shook his head trying to organize his thoughts. When he felt a bit calmer he began to review what he had seen…

He was with the Muggle Prime Minister during a Press Conference. The Prime Minister was trying to reassure everyone the events that had occurred were isolated and singular in nature…but they weren't. He recalled trying to convince the Prime Minister the threat was real and grave but for some reason he refused to listen. They all were laughing at him as if he had told a very funny joke.

Next, he was at Hogsmead. Everyone was there! All of them…the Order of The Phoenix! Edgar, Benjy, Arabella, Hestia, Caradoc, Alice, Frank, Marlene, Fabian, Lily, James…all of them there…but they were dead, littered across the ground like discarded toys and broken dolls. It was Alastor who came to him out of the carnage, bloody and broken. Kingsley heard him speak.

“Do you really think you're clever enough to stop evil? Its magic is older and wiser than you are. You will fail!”

`Why would Mad Eye Moody, of all people, say such a thing?'

Next he found himself at Hogwarts. The castle was engulfed in fire. Hogwarts was burning! Black smoke billowed skyward from the mass of roiling flames. His eyes followed the smoke until they came to light on the Dark Mark! It hovered over the inferno shimmering in the glow as if feeding off the destruction below.

`No…not again!'

His thoughts were suddenly a mass of confusion and, for the first time since graduating from the Auror's Academy, fear…yes fear!

The green vaporous scull seemed to leer down at him as a hauntingly familiar shrill voice filled his mind's ear…

`You will fail!'

The mad cackling laughter that followed made his blood turn to ice.

The vision shifted to the Minister for Magic's office inside the Ministry. He was there but it was he who was seated at the Minister's desk…Why? He wasn't the Minister for Magic. He'd declined the appointment. He was the Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! Then they were there…standing in his office, Pius, Cornelius, Rufus and Arthur.

“You must do something Kingsley,” he heard Rufus Scrimgeour urge

gruffly, “The situation has become completely untenable. How do you plan to deal with this?”

“Yes,” Pius Thicknesse added in his high, nasally irritating voice, his eyes looking vacant and blank, “You must give in. You cannot possibly defeat him. We must negotiate!”

“This is Dumbledore's doing I tell you!” Cornelius groused, “He simply wants all the power for himself! He'll do anything to have it! It's he who must be stopped!”

“Don't be ridiculous Fudge!” He heard a voice say, “You're just being paranoid as usual!”

“He'll destroy Potter,” Pius interjected, “You'll see. The high and mighty Dumbledore will throw the lad into the snapping jaws of death before it's over! Mark my words! Where will your resistance be then Shacklebolt?”

“The words of the Prophecy are clear!” It was Arthur Weasley who spoke next. “We must take swift and decisive action!”

It was his own voice he heard next.

“I'm surprised at all of you, especially you Arthur. Since when do you allow yourself to be swayed by the mere words of a barmy old drunken sot?”

What words? What Prophecy? Was it the one that had resided in the Department of Mysteries, the one about Harry and Voldemort? It had been lost the night of the raid, had it not? It was the night Fudge had finally acknowledged Voldemort's return.

Voldemort - is - DEAD!

The words he heard in the Hogwarts vision returned, echoing in his mind once again with a frightening finality…

“You will fail!”

It was then he had awakened. His breath coming in short, deep gasps as he tried desperately to calm his frazzled nerves.

Audrey stirred beside him, turning to face him.

“Are you alright husband?” she asked in her soft voice rich with the accent of her true African heritage. It was like soft warm silk on the frayed and raw ends of his nerves.

How did I ever live without this woman…

“I'm sorry for disturbing you Audrey,” he mumbled weakly, “Go back to sleep.”

“You should know me better than that by now my love,” she looked up at him with her lovely sleepy gaze, “What troubles you so?”

Kingsley could not stop the smile that slowly crept to his lips.

“Just a dream dear,” he said, “Just a terrible dream, nothing more.”

“Tell me,” Audrey insisted. She would not be denied this night, or any other now that the constant threat of evil had been vanquished.

He did tell her. He told her all of it. Every detail he could remember.

There had been a time when it was not the case. There had been a time not so long ago when he would not…could not tell her anything. Often it had been due to the Fidelius but other times it had been the knowledge of the enemy and his motives and tactics. He knew Voldemort would not hesitate to strike at any advantage.

Kingsley had come to realize very quickly Voldemort had no use for such emotions as love or caring but he had been clever enough to realize what potent and powerful weapons emotions could be when used against those who valued such things.

He also knew how devastating they could be by the effects they had on those he knew, like young Harry Potter. The memories of the lad's losses were almost too difficult to recall but even though he had persevered in the face of insurmountable loss and pain. Now he would be a part of something new, untested and unique.

Kingsley was certain once Harry was exposed to the knowledge and experience he and his assistants had developed there was no telling how powerful the lad would become.

On one hand it was thrilling and gratifying to know Harry would be trained and educated in ways to master his natural talents. On the other, it was a bit frightening to know that one person could possess such indomitable power. If it were any other, Kingsley would not attempt it. He would have not even considered the possibility.

Kingsley also realized he had not been the only one who recognized Voldemort's tactics. At first it surprised him the young and seemingly inexperienced Ms. Hermione Granger had been so quick to recognize the danger but after getting to know the young Gryffindor he understood very quickly. Her unique intelligence and uncanny perception was unrivaled in most twice her age and experience.

Even though the procedure had been wrought with potential risk and the dangers of the unknown she had seen to the safety of her family. He thought it remarkable and daringly brilliant. One could not help but admire and respect the young woman who seemed so much older than her tender years would lead one to believe possible.

When he looked back down at his wife she lay silent for a time absorbing the words and images that haunted his mind. Then, in her usual graceful and calm manner proceeded to be his rock, his solid foundation she had been for him for so many years.

“Do you believe what you are doing is in the best interest of the safety and security of our world husband?”

Audrey's depth of perception never ceased to surprise him. He considered her words seriously for a long moment.

“Yes Audrey,” Kingsley whispered, “I do. I'm almost certain of it.”

“Then stay the course,” she replied, rising up on her elbow to kiss her husband on the cheek, “Let belief and confidence in your own quest be your guides. I love you and have faith in your intuition and instincts. They have not failed you yet. Now go back to sleep. No more bad dreams.”

“No more bad dreams Audrey,” Kingsley smiled into the darkness for a moment marveling in his wife's faith and undeniable trust. He lay back down but this time, fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

---@>---

The weeks that led up to her eventual return to Hogwarts found Hermione Granger working closely with a small army of Oblivators and Aurors to restore her parent's dental practice. It was a difficult and arduous but she went about the task with relish.

After an extensive and well-conceived explanation of the past months with a very relieved Minerva McGonagall the Grangers quickly fell back into their old routine and, somewhat to Hermione's dismay, old habits.

The memory of seeing her mother and father so unfettered and casual had stuck with her. Watching her mother become the prim and rather stiff matriarch she had always been was almost painful but Hermione didn't complain. They were alive and whole and they loved their daughter.

They had been very proud of her when McGonagall told them what Hermione had done, along with Harry and Ron, to save the wizard world. They both also agreed with the Headmistress that Hermione should complete her education so the possibility of not returning to Hogwarts was, at that point, inconceivable.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. She knew Harry was going to accept Kingsley Shacklebolt's appointment to the special Aurors training program and would be gone to Merlin-knew-where for months.

As they stood in the Granger's driveway her father was finishing loading the last of her bags in the boot and her mother had quite inconspicuously went to sit on the passenger side.

For Hermione, standing there looking up at Harry she was struck with the sudden urge to call the whole thing off. She knew the decisions they both had made were the best for both of them…for their future but she just couldn't seem to keep her emotions from bubbling to the surface.

She thought her self control had weakened after all that had happened over the past months but as she looked into his sad eyes the reasons didn't seem to matter anymore.

Tears of misery exploded from her eyes as she threw herself at him with complete abandon. She held Harry in a death grip crying as hard as she ever had in her short life. She tried to reason with herself that this wasn't permanent or it wasn't like she was loosing him but just the thought of even a short separation from him now was almost unbearable.

Harry said nothing as he held the love of his life tightly to him. He knew what she was feeling because he - himself was feeling the same. Now that they had found each other he was loath to giver her up…even for the rational reason of completing her education. It was important just as Headmistress McGonagall had said. He knew that and to think otherwise would be selfish on his part but he couldn't suppress the sudden emptiness that filled him as he stood there on the steel grey chilly September morning.

The night before she had come to #12 so they could spend one last night alone together. Their lovemaking was so much more intense then it had been on the island. It was wrought with urgency and desperation as they clung to one-another in the darkness of Sirius' old room. They pleasured each other like never before - each wanting to give the other something of themselves to remember - remember why they were meant to be together.

He committed to memory everything about her. Every sound she made - every moan and cry that escaped the depths of her throat, every smell - how the muscles of her wonderful body moved and flexed under her warm sun kissed soft skin as she writhed beneath him - the way her eyes sparkled and flashed and how she clenched her teeth when she climaxed screaming and growling his name.

He marveled at how the magic swirled around them as they became completely lost, one wrapped around the other. It was incredible how light and colors seem to bend and swirl and dance around them. The magic seemed to weld them together - two hearts, two bodies, two separate minds but one soul - indelibly linked together forever.

As the heat and power of their physical love subsided and the magic that surrounded them settled the weight of what she knew was to come the next morning settled on Hermione's consciousness.

It was just as impossible to stop the emotions than as it was at that very moment standing there in front of her parent's house about to let him go for how long she had no clue.

He had told her about the petronus Kingsley had sent him with instructions earlier that day. Even though she knew he had accepted the Head Auror's appointment the reality of it all escaped her as she worked relentlessly to get her mother and father's lives back in order.

Now, standing at the threshold of the future she could not seem to make herself let go.

This is absurd Granger, she told herself, Get a-hold of yourself!

…But the words that echoed inside her head sounded empty and hollow.

“I love you Harry,” she choked through her unstoppable tears, “I love you so m…much. I've just found you and now I've got to watch you walk away from m…me. I don't know if I'm strong enough.”

This Hermione shocked Harry a little. He had seen her at her most vulnerable just as he had seen her at her best - on the hunt for clues and completely in control. This weakness was not something he was used to but he knew he had to be the strong one now even if he wasn't certain he could pull it off.

He leaned back slightly and took her face gently between his hands as she gazed up at him miserably.

“Please Hermione,” he whispered then kissed her lips softly, “This isn't any easier for me but everyone says this is the right thing to do for both of us - your parents, the Headmistress, Kingsley, Mr. Weasley…all of them. That has to mean something, yes?”

Hermione put her hands over his and pulled them slowly from her cheeks to fold them in hers clutched tightly to her chest directly over her heart. She nodded unable to speak for a moment. She took a deep gasping breath to try and get control of her raging emotions.

Her father came over to them smiling laying a hand on both their shoulders.

“I'm sorry Harry…sweetheart, we must leave for the train very soon if we're to make it to King's Cross on time.”

Over the past few weeks Hermione's parents had come to know Harry very well. They liked him very much. Her father thought him polite and respectful. Her mother thought him endearing and charming. Hermione made no secret her love for Harry but they had refrained from open displays of affection in front of her parents until she was certain how they would feel about just how deeply in love they were. At the moment though, she didn't really care what they thought.

Hermione took another deep breath and forced herself not to choke and burst out crying again. She didn't want Harry's memories of this moment to be of her as a blubbering idiot.

She pulled his hands to her lips and kissed them, her eyes never leaving his. With a blazing look that told Harry more than words could ever say she smiled a sad smile followed by her trademark sexy little crooked smirk…

“I love you with all my heart and everything that is within me to give to you for the rest of my life Harry James Potter…Now go be great!”

The desperate kiss that followed could have been classified - at least in Hermione's befuddled mind - as one of the greatest kisses of ALL TIME! Her body reacted in ways she never imagined when kissing a boy. Her heart pounded like a base drum being assaulted by a hale storm. Her tight-fisted, white knuckled grip on his jumper was almost painful as her toes curled inside her trainers and her dainties twisted into painful knots inside her trousers.

When they finally and reluctantly separated she was gasping for breath her face bright crimson.

“I don't have the words Hermione…” was all Harry could reply.

Still gasping and a bit light headed she smiled again her eyes wide with wonder.

“Erm…I…I don't think words are necessary at this point Harry!”

“I love you Hermione.”

“And I you,” she said backing toward her mother's sedan, “Write me Harry please!”

“I will,” he said, leaning forward and reaching out as if to take hold of her again but he stopped himself.

They both knew she had to go.

Finally, Hermione turned and opened the door to the car and slid into the back seat. Harry couldn't stop from propelling himself forward.

Mr. Granger smiled and took Harry's hand in a warm shake.

“I'm sure we'll see you soon Harry. Take care of yourself.”

“Yes,” Hermione's mother said leaning over so she could see Harry from the other side of the car, “If you need anything don't hesitate to call on us, please Harry. We're here for you alright?”

Harry could only whisper a choked `thank you', smile and wave at the elder Granger matriarch. He placed his hand on the window next to the girl that meant more to him than life itself. Tears were falling again as the sadness that dominated her beautiful face was almost unbearable.

She reached up and placed her tiny hand against the glass completely obscured by his larger one.

How am I going to make it without her…

The last seven years and so much of what they had gone through flashed across his mind like a film on fast-forward. The wonderful time they had spent alone together in paradise settled on him like a warm blanket.

He couldn't have stopped his own tears even if he wanted to so it took all the strength he possessed to step back as the big black sedan slowly backed out of the drive. Their eyes locked together one last time before the car moved forward then turned to the right and moved out of sight up the tree-lined avenue toward downtown London.

Harry stood there, hand still raised as loneliness settled on him like the empty and silent Granger house behind him.

---@>---

As the car turned the corner Hermione closed her eyes and tried to hold herself together but it was no use. She let her head fall into her hands as she tried not to let the shattering pieces of her heart become lost somewhere inside the depths of her soul. She tried to tell herself they would be together again one day soon but it helped little. The uncertainty and insecurity that had plagued her for the past several years had become a part of who she was. She was well aware it was much more profound for her Harry.

When she looked up she saw her mother's concerned face blurred through the vale of her tears.

“You really love him don't you Hermione?” Her mother asked, one eyebrow raised slightly.

She couldn't speak. She only nodded as she turned to look out the window at London passing by. Cars parked on the street passed in an incomprehensible blur while the houses set further back moved by her more slowly.

Her mother just looked at her daughter for a long silent moment before she reached back between the front seats and took Hermione's hand in hers. The look in her mother's eyes was uncharacteristically warm and tender which was a bit incongruous to the resurgence of her rather stiff demeanor.

“True love doesn't stop, rest or diminish when we are separated from the ones we love daughter,” her mother whispered, “It gives us time to appreciate how much they mean to us and just how important they are in our lives. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that young man loves you just as much in return…wouldn't you agree?”

The smile on her mother's face was full of joy and just a touch of that Granger know-it-all mentality she had seen so many times in the mirror over the years. It was just that time and experience had taught her mother to conceal it well.

Hermione couldn't help but smile through her own misery and tears. She knew the answer to that inquiry, of course…

“Yes mother,” she whispered, “You're absolutely right.”

-->

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

A.N. There is a significance to the number used for the decree issued by the Ministry in this chapter. If anyone can guess what that number represents or what it was taken from then they are, in my estimation “The World's Greatest Harry Potter Fan!” I will give you one clue…Books! You can put your answers or guesses in your reviews and if someone gets it I will post the winner(s) on the review board. If no-one guesses by the end of the story I will post the answer then. Good Luck! And as always thank you for reading! DarkWizardKiller

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Twenty-Six - Return to Hogwarts

It was a day Hermione had both looked forward to with a touch of excitement and almost dreaded with vehement trepidation.

Standing on Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station was an almost surreal experience…almost. Looking at the shiny, steaming locomotive of the Hogwarts Express brought on a sudden bout of melancholy that she could not quite dismiss.

Her now repaired and fully recovered parents had come to see her off to Hogwarts for what would certainly be the last time. She kept telling herself since she had decided to accept Headmistress McGonagall's rather insistent invitation to complete her N.E.W.T. level courses she had made the right decision.

The enticement of Head Girl and the promise of a 100% elective course schedule were just too good to pass up. Hermione was well aware she was quite capable of passing all her N.E.W.T. level finals if she never cracked another book in her life but much to her chagrin, she knew the old Headmistress was right when she reminded Hermione how important it was to actually graduate!

It would have been such a waste of all her hard work in the past to leave this chapter of her life incomplete…and Hermione Jean Granger did not like leaving things incomplete.

But walking away from Harry was almost impossible this time. The memory of seeing him standing in her parent's driveway as they drove away was one of the hardest things she had ever done in her life.

Their (all too brief) vacation had brought to the surface many latent feelings and emotions she had been harboring for what she now realized was years and the thought of being without him now was almost debilitating…but Hermione was nothing if not resilient. She recalled what Harry had said…

`It's not like we're saying goodbye forever Hermione…”

Even though he only said that to try and assuage her sorrow and fear those words had sunk in - and she was going to cling to them like a life preserver.

After all…He's going where you can't follow this time Granger so deal with it!

Standing there watching what she could only surmise as first, second and maybe third year students running around the platform with excited glee she suddenly felt much too old for all this.

Merlin's beard…Where we ever that young and…small?

She knew the answer to that question, of course but she just wasn't sure if she was prepared to accept it as fact yet. She was well aware it wasn't the years that aged her, it was the experiences and there had been many bad ones. She had no intention of dwelling on them now. It was time to move forward.

Even with the promise of seemingly unlimited time in the Hogwarts Library and invariable free reign of the school she knew it wasn't going to be the same.

There were two very important things she knew were missing this term even if she was dreadfully annoyed with one and desperately in love with the other.

The absence of Harry and Ron would be glaring.

Even though, she was determined to make the best of it.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had assured her they would provide the necessary security to keep the wizard press and other rabid well-wishers from disrupting the school for the duration. That only made Hermione feel slightly better but after the last few months it would be a welcome respite from the constant attention and spot light on the Golden Trio.

The publication of Ron's ridiculous tell-all book written with Rita Skeeter and his antics in public had the entire wizard world in a constant buzz.

Hermione realized if she ever got close enough…she would simply have to kill him.

With warm embraces and kisses from her mother and father she bid them farewell and began making her way toward the train. She couldn't help but watch them over her shoulder as she moved down the platform. It just felt so good to have them back to normal once again.

But the memory of how happy, relaxed and content Wendell and Monica Wilkins had looked that day in Perth, Australia would haunt her subconscious mind from time to time. It was impossible not to feel a touch of guilt for everything she had put them through.

It was as if a dark veil had been removed from her existence since they had been brought back. The only bright spot in the last four dreadful months had been the discovery of her true feelings for a certain messy-haired, bespectacled boy she had known now for 8 years.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about Harry's decision to join Kingsley's new and improved Auror's department. On one hand it was just as he had said…

“I mean really Hermione. I've been doing the job of an Auror half my life. At least this way I'll get paid for it.”

When Harry had first said that it was in jest but after she had thought about it for a while she knew he was right.

On the other hand, he would at least be getting proper training and not just running around in a panic or in constant fear for his life. He could at least assuage his saving people thing with proper back up.

She missed him though…she missed Harry terribly already.

As Hermione pushed her cart toward one of the porters she began seeing faces she recognized.

She passed Cho Chang in a tight group of girls. One of which was Marietta Edgecombe. Cho was even more strikingly beautiful, if that were possible and Marietta…

“Hello Cho…Marietta,” Hermione said with a slight smile as she passed the group, “Complexion's looking much better.”

Marietta seemed a bit shocked at first but then a slight scowl crossed her rather pock-marked features. The rest of the girls seemed reluctant to say anything as Hermione strolled past sporting her Head Girl badge proudly.

Some things never change.

She sighed as she continued on.

A bit further on she spied Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood coming out of the mist that surrounded the old steam engine. Much to Hermione's surprise they were walking hand-in-hand.

When Neville spotted Hermione his face split in his familiar huge toothy smile. He towed Luna toward where Hermione was assisting the porter with her things.

“Hello Hermione!” Neville said with such enthusiasm it made her chuckle. He let go of Luna's hand and his cart and folded her in a tight embrace, “It's really great to see you again!”

Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye that Luna didn't look quite as enthusiastic.

“It's great to see you too Neville,” Hermione replied with her own smile, “Luna, how are you?”

Hermione stepped forward and embraced Luna, who accepted it rather stiffly.

“I didn't know you were coming back this year?” Neville said. She couldn't help but notice the Head Boy badge on the lapel of his Hogwarts robe.

Luna saw what Hermione was looking at and moved forward to take Neville's arm rather possessively.

“The Headmistress rewarded Neville for his courage and bravery and chose him for Head Boy this year.” Luna said in her ever-present dreamy voice, “He's a hero you know.”

Hermione smiled at them warmly. Neville's face looked like it was about to burst into flames.

“Yes Luna,” Hermione said, “He most certainly is. The Headmistress could not have chosen anyone better.”

Luna beamed at Hermione and seemed to relax after that. Neville looked as if he was about to faint.

“Does this mean Harry and Ron are coming back as well?” Neville asked expectantly.

She tried desperately to keep the look of sadness off her face but wasn't sure if she managed it.

“No, Neville. I'm certain Harry's not coming back this year and quite frankly, I'm not certain about Ron.”

A quizzical looked passed over Neville's face but thankfully he didn't press her for more details. Luna, however, was unabashed.

“Seems Ronald is having great fun these days,” Luna mused, “The Daily Prophet follows him everywhere he goes.”

Leave it to Luna to expose all ones bleeding wounds.

Thankfully, Neville seemed to recognize the subtle but sudden shift in Hermione's features.

“Well, we best be going Luna,” he began tugging her on down the platform, “See you in the Head Boy and Girl compartment later Hermione. It's really good to know you'll be here this year. Quite frankly, I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be doing as Head Boy yet.”

Hermione looked at Neville with surprise.

“Didn't you read the Head Duties manual sent with your badge? It details our duties quite clearly.”

“No time,” he shouted as they moved off, “I took several horticulture classes at a Muggle university this summer and worked with Professor Sprout for several weeks.”

“Not to worry,” Hermione said loudly, “I'll help get you up to speed during the trip.”

“Thanks Hermione. You're the best!”

As she stood there watching them go she noticed most of the other younger students were eyeing her with great interest. It made her feel a bit self-conscious so she gathered her back pack and boarded the train.

A few minutes later she had stowed her grip in the Head compartment and began her duties as Head Girl.

She heard the conductor shout “All aboard! Last call for the Hogwarts Express!” so she made her way back out to the platform to make sure any stragglers were ushered onto the train. It pleased her to see Neville doing the same on the other end. Neville gave her a wave to let her know all was clear.

When the few students who were getting last minute hugs and kisses from parents were aboard, Hermione gave the conductor a wave and hopped on herself.

Just as the footman was raising the steps of her car she heard someone rushing down the platform yelling at the train.

“Oy…Hold the train! Hold the bloody train!”

There was no mistaking that voice.

Her first reaction was to tell the footman to pull the stairs and slam the door quickly but with a heavy sigh she looked at the older man with a grimace.

“Best wait.”

The footman only nodded and patiently stood by the door waiting.

As the straggler approached pushing a cart laden with a trunk, bags and an owl cage Hermione turned and made her way off down the corridors without a backward glance. She had no desire to see that particular person aboard. He could very well fend for himself.

The thought of Ron Weasley returning to Hogwarts this year was as much of a shock as it was unexpected. The animosity, hurt and anger she felt toward him these days was almost palpable.

She thought she had seen Ginny get on the train with Dean Thomas and a few others but made no attempt to approach the youngest Weasley yet. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Ginny, it was more about getting on with her Head Girl duties than anything else…or at least that's what she was telling herself.

As far as Ron was concerned, she had no desire for that confrontation yet. She knew she would have to be in the proper frame of mind and with absolutely no access to a wand. It would be all too easy to simply curse his bullocks off and be done with it.

She went back to the Head compartment and found Neville and Luna had already arrived and settled in. Neville was deeply engrossed with the Head duties manual and Luna was hidden behind a recent copy of The Quibbler.

As Hermione sat down she glanced at the cover of the magazine and noticed a rather grainy wizard photograph of what she recognized immediately as the giant three-headed dog Hagrid used their first year to guard the Sorcerer's Stone. The headline blared;

MYSTERIOUS GIANT KANIS-SCHNUSER SPOTTED IN WILDERNESS AREA NEAR HOGWARTS!!!

Apparently Luna noticed Hermione gaping at the cover. Her eyes peeked over the edge of the book.

“Quite frightening-looking isn't it?”

Hermione was gawking at Luna pointing at the photograph. Neville kept his attention fixed quite studiously to his manual ignoring the conversation and everything else around him.

“But that's not a Kanis-Schnuser Luna! Why that's…that's Fluf…”, she spluttered but then stopped. Hermione wasn't sure how many people were aware of the vicious giant three-headed dog but she was certain very few students had ever seen it.

Luna looked completely unaffected by Hermione's shocked expression.

“Most wizards think the Kanis-Schnuser is a horrible creature but father says they are quite mild tempered and can be domesticated and kept as pets. We're going to try and catch it.” She paused looking thoughtful. “We're not quite sure what they eat yet though.”

I think you can safely add nosy and disobedient first year students to the menu!

“Erm…Yes, well,” Hermione felt as if she had been stupefied. She couldn't believe what Luna was saying but she knew that to try and contradict the spacey girl would simply fall on deaf ears, “Please do me a favor Luna?”

“Certainly,” Luna grinned.

“If you ever actually see that…erm…creature, please approach it with caution, ok?”

“But why,” Luna looked quite bewildered, “They're not dangerous. Have you ever seen one?”

“I'm not sure,” Hermione blanched, “May have…once.”

“Well see,” Luna looked appeased, “You're still here aren't you?”

“Quite,” was all Hermione could say with a grimace.

She was certain one day she would pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet and read a story detailing the demise of her lovable, flighty friend and her hapless father after being squashed, trampled, gored, eaten or blown up by one of their bizarre eccentricities. She decided to change the subject.

“Did you manage to get your house back in order alright Luna?”

“Oh yes,” Luna beamed, “Thank you. We're still looking for another Snorkack horn though. They're terribly rare.”

Hermione stifled a roll of her eyes with monumental effort.

Why do I even bother…

She glanced at Neville, “How's it coming?”

He looked up a bit alarmed.

“I never realized how much we were responsible for. There's so much to remember.”

Hermione sighed.

“Would you like me to take first rounds so you can have more time to study?”

“Would you, Hermione?” Neville grimaced, “That would be ever so kind of you. I'll make it up…I promise.”

“Gladly,” Hermione muttered as she rose and headed for the compartment door, “but there's no need for all that. I don't mind.”

Part of her was glad to be away from Luna's nonsense. As she made her way through the train her thoughts went to how she was going to handle Ron. She didn't want there to be animosity or conflict between them. That would be an unwelcome distraction. She wanted to focus on getting her studies done so she could graduate and get on with her life.

She knew a confrontation was inevitable but she didn't think she was emotionally capable right now. She thought of Harry and wondered where he was and when she would get to see him again.

The time they had spent together had awakened something within her that she never even knew existed. It was completely different then what happened between her and Viktor. The feelings of longing and an undeniable physical desire were so strong between her and Harry she still wasn't sure how to categorize those in her well-organized mind quite yet.

She knew she loved Harry. That was certain. She was certain he loved her in return but it was all so strange. She felt incomplete when he wasn't around and she wasn't sure how she liked that. She wasn't the type of person to ever be dependant on another to provide a sense of fulfillment for her but as she walked along the corridors she was well aware of the empty place inside her that she was certain only Harry could fill. It made her feel both warm and anxious at the same time. Two emotions that were ill suited to one-another.

As she made her way down one corridor she saw ahead of her three young boys spill out into to hallway tittering and laughing in what could only be described as a devious manner. Hermione was instantly suspicious. She could hear snippets of their hushed but excited conversation. They were so engrossed with what they had in their hands they didn't notice her approaching.

“No…no let me have a go,” One lad said.

“You already got to try that one. It's my turn,” said another.

“Hey, you think she'll be alright,” asked the third.

“Yah, she'll be fine! Directions say the effect only lasts for a bit,” The first answered.

“I dunno Payton,” the third one said glancing back into the compartment window, “she's starting to look a bit pale.”

Hermione's internal alarm went off instantly.

This can't be good!

She knew by the unmistakable banter she was dealing with the subsequent purchase and subversive application of some form of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes interminable and devious Skiving Snack Boxes on some unsuspecting victim.

It's going to be a long year…

“Just what are your three up to and why are you out of your compartment?” Hermione said in her bossiest tone as she came up behind them completely unnoticed.

All three boys almost jumped out of their shoes, stiffened and turned to see her with looks of sheer terror on their faces.

“Um…nothing,” the apparent leader practically shouted as he grinned nervously, trying to hide his contraband behind his back. His nervous eyes kept darting toward the compartment door.

The other two just looked up at Hermione with sappy faces like they had suddenly encountered a Veela.

“Y…you're Hermione Granger!” One of the boys said dreamily.

“Yaahh,” gushed the other. They were smitten almost instantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Nothing egh?” With a flick of her wand all the items they were holding and the contents of their pockets flew out and landed in a pile at Hermione's feet, “Oh yes. I see the nothing now,” Hermione glared at them dangerously.

The boy called Payton shrugged slightly and giggled nervously.

She suddenly heard quiet whimpering coming from the compartment and looked in the window. She saw a tiny girl perched on the edge of the bench. Her nose was bleeding profusely. She was trying to keep the blood from getting on her Hogwarts robe while she sobbed pitifully. There were several other first-year girls sitting with her but they were on the other side of the compartment trying not to get any blood on them

“Now see here! What have you three done!” Hermione bellowed as she threw open the compartment door. With another expert flick of her wand the three boys were jerked ramrod straight and pinned against the train car wall as if by invisible hands. They couldn't so much as move a finger as Hermione went in and sat next to the crying little girl.

Most of the other girls were looking at Hermione with open-mouthed fascination. One of them scowled hatefully at the boys.

“Told you - you better not do it! Stupid boys!” She sat back with her arms folded tightly in front of her with a huff then looked at Hermione with awed fascination.

One of the other little girls looked sadly at Hermione.

“We wanted to help her. We were looking in our book for a spell but we were afraid to try anything. We didn't want to make it worse.”

Hermione glanced at the girl's worried look.

“It's alright,” she replied reassuringly, “You did the right thing by not trying to help at this point. Best wait till you've got a bit more experience.

“Hmm,” Hermione sighed, “Nosebleed nougat. Not to worry.”

With another swish and flick the young girl's nose instantly stopped gushing and the rest of the blood disappeared. She looked down at the little girl with a smile, “That better?”

The little girl nodded. All the other girls just gaped.

“What's your name,” Hermione asked.

“Tabitha Birchmyre.”

“Did those boys convince you to eat that piece of candy?”

Tabitha glanced at the three trussed up youths then back at Hermione's stern gaze. She hesitated to answer. Hermione understood immediately. She didn't want to be labeled a snitch.

With a wave of her wand the three boys were released from captivity.

“You three,” she growled, “Front and center,” pointing to the floor in front of her.

All three rushed to stand in front of Hermione with terrified looks on their faces.

One of the boys looked as if he was about to start crying. He glanced at the other two.

“It was all Payton's idea!”

Hermione's deadly slit-eyed gaze landed on the boy who spoke. He paled three shades whiter.

“Irregardless,” she said in a deceptively calm voice, “none of you did anything to prevent it, did you SO,” Hermione stood up so quick all three boys flinched back, “You'll all three loose five house points from whatever houses you'll be sorted into, you'll all three receive one weeks detention and you'll throw away ALL of your little Skiving Snack Boxes. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

She didn't wait for a response but their heads were bobbing up and down frantically. Her eyes narrowed at them dangerously again.

“Believe me, I'll know if you keep even one single piece of that stuff so don't-even-think-about it, GOT ME?”

All three jumped again.

“Now off with you. Throw that refuse away in the trash bin at the end of the corridor, find yourselves another compartment and do not so much as put a TOE outside the door until we reach Hogwarts, is that understood?”

All three nodded and took off as if shot out of a cannon.

“Serves them right,” one of the other girls said.

Hermione sat back down wearily next to the little girl again. She eyed the tiny first year sadly.

“Boys are so mean aren't they,” Tabitha said sniffling.

That simple statement opened up a rush of first year memories in Hermione's mind. She recalled how everyone considered her that bossy little know-it-all nightmare. It was horrible to recall. It seemed the only one who never considered her that way was one boy-who-lived...twice!

She looked past the little girl and saw a bright new copy of Hogwarts, A History lying on the bench beside them. She gently reached around the girl and picked up the book. It was like holding an old friend. She couldn't help but smile.

“You're the famous Hermione Granger, aren't you?” one of the other girls asked shyly.

“Not sure about the famous part,” she sighed glancing toward the other girl, “but yes. I am.”

“My mum says you're the most brilliant Muggle-born witch ever!” One of the other young girl's eyes flashed brightly at Hermione, “I'm Muggle-born as well. She said if I study hard and learn all I can, I could be…” She stopped abruptly blushing bright red to the roots of her curly red hair.

“You could be what?” Hermione asked gently.

“I…I could be just like you.” The girl looked at her hands embarrassed.

Hermione smiled warmly at the little first year.

“Oh I'm certain you could be much brighter than me if you choose. All of you,” Hermione said, “but your mother is right. It takes hard work and a lot of study to be really good at magic. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't be whatever you choose. But using that same logic you get out of something exactly what you put into it. Keep that in mind won't you.”

Tabitha's smile was so bright and alive with curiosity Hermione felt her heart pinch slightly.

“Do you really kn…know,” Tabitha put her hand up to her mouth to cover it and whispered, “Harry Potter?” Her look was nervous and expectant.

She looked down at the little witch with a grin.

“Yes Tabitha,” Hermione whispered leaning close to the little girl, “He's my best friend.”

Tabitha smiled widely.

“He's so dreamy,” one of the other girls swooned.

“Yes he is,” she smiled, then added quietly, “and he's a great kisser too.”

The young girls squealed loudly laughing and putting their hands over their faces.

Hermione found herself envying these first year girls. This was something she had completely missed most all her life, this easy camaraderie of friends…real friends. It illustrated just how difficult it had been for her to open up to those around her. Sitting there watching the ease in which these little first-year girls interacted with one another left her with that seemingly ever present feeling of utter self-imposed isolation and she could not for the life of her figure out why.

The importance of such relationships seemed less so now but it didn't help to realize it was she that, intentionally or not, walled herself off from those around her. As those revelations came to her they only served to make her depressed. Shaking off those unpleasant memories she told herself there was no use in beating herself up about it any longer.

Hermione got up and was about to resume her rounds when an idea struck her quite out of the blue. She glanced back over her shoulder at the girls all eyeing her with amazement.

She turned back around and grinned at them sheepishly.

“Want me to teach you a great charm to keep the boys from pestering you?”

They all clapped and agreed excitedly.

“All right then,” Hermione turned quickly back to the door, opened it and glanced both ways down the corridor, then turned back closing and locking the door. She reached up and lowered the blind. “You mustn't tell anyone how you learned this and you mustn't use it unless absolutely necessary, agreed?”

All the girls nodded tittering like pixies.

About a half hour later Hermione emerged from the girl's compartment. Behind her there were small flocks of twittering little bright yellow canaries fluttering all about the heads of the four young female students.

“Now remember. Not a word about this to anyone agreed? Better send them away for now.”

With well practiced swishes of several wands the birds disappeared in a blink.

“Thanks Hermione,” one of the girls said. As she was closing the compartment door she heard them whispering.

“She's amazing!”

“Yah!”

“I heard they never could have finished off `you-know-who' without her!”

“Do you think she and Harry Potter are…you know…together?”

“Well you heard what she said. He's tops at kissing!”

Snickering laughter…

“Oh, I hope not. I'm going to marry him someday.”

Hermione could only laugh and shake her head.

I guess I better watch my step. I've got some stiff competition.

The rest of her rounds went mostly without incident. She saw many familiar faces but decided not to stop and talk with any of them quite yet.

She knew that being Head Girl was going to put a further strain on many of her limited relationships with most of her fellow students. She understood all to well her position of authority and for the first time understood what Ron's brother Percy had gone through. She had already made up her mind to adhere to Hogwarts rules and regulations irregardless of who she was dealing with. Hermione knew that made her Enemy #2, second only to the entire staff but she would need to be consistent.

She knew she had to put her days of flaunting the rules for the greater good behind her or else her authority would be completely ineffective. Well…for the most part anyway. Being in charge did, after all, have some privileges. The thought of the Marauder's Map tucked safely in the bottom of her trunk made her smirk.

Harry had given it to her as a going away present the night before she was to return to Hogwarts. They both knew the map would go a long way in making her life as Head Girl much easier and she was grateful for his kindness. She had showed him just how grateful for the rest of that evening.

The memory of it sent shivers up her spine.

As she made her way into the very last car on the back of the train she noticed who she immediately recognized as Pansy Parkinson exiting the very last compartment.

The Slytherin girl looked much different then Hermione remembered. She was a bit taller and had much longer hair. She was actually rather pretty.

As Pansy made her way toward her Hermione realized the girl was crying.

Pansy was so lost in her misery she had not noticed Hermione approaching.

“Everything alright there, Pansy?”

Pansy jolted to a stop with a hiccup startled as she gazed wide-eyed at Hermione. For a moment they both stood there looking at one-another, neither quite certain how to react to the other.

It was as if Pansy came to a silent decision standing there facing someone she had despised in the past. Her demeanor relaxed slightly as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” Pansy replied. Hermione could tell the girl was attempting to keep her attitude neutral. She wasn't hateful but she wasn't being very cordial either. “Not surprised you made Head Girl,” Pansy said glancing at the badge.

“Yes, well,” Hermione replied evenly, “I don't think it has to do with a glowing assessment as much as it does with the fact that no one else really wanted the job.”

Much to Hermione's amazement the corner of Pansy's mouth turned up into a slight smile.

“You're probably spot on about that,” Pansy replied.

“You sure you're…” Hermione began to ask but Pansy held up a hand to stop her.

“I'll be alright. There are just some things I'm going to have to come to terms with I suppose, whether I want to or not.”

Hermione nodded. She didn't push.

“See you around Granger,” Pansy said as she moved off down the corridor. Hermione watched her enter a compartment a few down from where she was standing.

She then slowly made her way to the last compartment and peered around the edge of the door so she could peek inside. She saw Draco Malfoy sitting facing the window outside watching the Scottish countryside flash by in a green blur.

He looked thin and gaunt. He even looked a bit disheveled and that was most unusual for Draco. He was usually the picture of perfect personal hygiene.

Hermione recalled he had spent three months in Azkaban for his roll in allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It must have had a substantial effect on him.

As she watched Draco picked up his wand and held it in his hand. He then flicked it at his trunk sitting on the bench on the other side of the compartment. The wand did nothing more than emit some weak sparks from the tip. The trunk remained exactly as it was.

Hermione thought that very strange. She began wondering if Azkaban had done something to affect Draco's ability to perform magic when she watched him pull another wand from his robe.

She thought she recognized the second wand as the one his mother once carried. She had seen it a few times.

With a flick of the second wand his trunk levitated about two feet in the air then sat gently back down on the bench.

Hermione thought it curious why his own wand didn't work for him as she turned to make her way on to complete her rounds.

She was back toward the front of the train when she realized she didn't remember seeing Ron in any of the compartments she had past. It was probably just as well.

She was about to make a pit stop to the loo when a she heard a commotion toward the back of the train. She could see someone rushing toward the front. When the girl threw open the door that separated the train cars she was winded with a terrified look on her face.

Hermione recognized the girl as a Slytherin named Tracey Davis. When Tracey caught sight of Hermione and the Head badge on her robe she started screaming.

“Fight! There's a fight in the last car…HURRY! I think they're trying to kill each other…”

Hermione didn't need any more details. She was off like a bolt of lightning. She decided to follow Tracey instead of trying to apparate.

That could be very difficult and tricky to do while in a moving vehicle. Even if you had pin point accuracy in your mind as to your destination, you could end up missing it completely because apparition was not instantaneous. She would probably end up sitting on her bum on the tracks as the train moved right out from under her during the transition. Hermione was a very skilled witch…but not quite that skilled…yet.

As she made her way to the last train car she could see through the window. Red and green jets of curses were flying in two directions.

Without regard to her own safety she flung the door open casting a quick shield charm. She instantly recognized Ron, who had his back to her, was locked in a heated duel with Draco who was on the far end of the car. Ron was shouting all manor of ugly diatribe at Draco while he threw curse after curse at the Slytherin student. Draco was busy deflecting while still managing to send his own curse or two at Ron.

Hermione angrily brandished her own wand.

“IMMOBULOUS!”

A pulse of powerful magic coursed through the train car from one end to the other and everything came to a halt.

Both Ron and Draco were frozen instantly. Their respective curses dying at the tips of their wands as everything stopped.

Hermione stomped to the middle of the corridor and glared at both of them. Her initial assessment of the situation was that Ron had come across Draco in his compartment. They probably had words then a fight ensued but at the moment she didn't care how it all got started. She needed to keep her wits about her and get control of the situation before someone got hurt but…she was livid and she wasn't about to take any crap from either one of them.

“Now I don't know what's going on and quite frankly I don't care. I WILL NOT have students dueling on this train or anywhere else under my jurisdiction! Now I'm going to release both of you and YOU WILL put your wands on the floor. IS THAT CLEAR?”

With an expert flick she removed the spell. Draco complied with her order at once. When Ron did not act quick enough she flicked her wand and Ron's zipped from his grasp to Hermione's outstretched hand.

“Hey,” Ron bellowed, “Give that…”

“SILENCE!” Hermione screamed.

Ron glared at her but said nothing else.

A few students had poked their heads out of a few of the other compartments and a small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the car. Hermione whipped her head in their direction.

“The rest of you return to your compartments IMMEDIATELY!”

Most of the onlookers vaporized. Hermione could see Neville making his way toward them wand at the ready. He came through the door with a determined set to his features. As he saw the tableau before him he pulled up short.

“What's going on Hermione? I came as soon as I heard.”

“I've got things in hand here for the moment,” she replied without taking her eyes off Ron and Draco, “Best see to the rest of the students. Make sure everyone stays inside their compartments for the time being.”

Neville nodded and with a surprised look toward the other two he turned and went about his assigned task without comment or protest. “Move along, back to your compartments. You heard the Head Girl…” The rest of the observers dispersed.

Ron turned to her with a sneer.

“Since when does Hogwarts allow known Death Eaters to attend?”

“While I make no pretense to assume Mr. Malfoy's employment status at present that has NOTHING to do with this situation now does it Mr. Weasley?” She glared darkly at him daring him to say something else.

“He started it,” they heard a voice say.

Hermione turned and saw Pansy leaning out of her compartment door sneering at Ron with a hateful look.

“I appreciate your assessment Pansy but I'm not concerned at the moment with who started what. Please go back inside.”

Pansy ducked back into her compartment with a huff and slid the door closed.

“Now I am warning you both. I WILL NOT have any more fighting or inappropriate behavior, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR? If I have any more trouble from either of you I will have you BOTH removed from this train and inform the Headmistress you are to be expelled from Hogwarts.”

“You can't do that,” Ron said.

Hermione stalked right up and got into Ron's scowling face.

“Would you like to find out EXACTLY what I can do Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked him in a dangerously calm voice. It was a challenge and she knew he didn't have the stones to rise to it.

He backed off a step.

That's what I thought.

She turned to face Draco. She could tell there was something very wrong with the Slytherin student. He looked almost ill with heavy dark circles under his eyes and his almost emasculated appearance.

“Mr. Malfoy I will ask that you return to your cabin and remain there until this train stops at Hogsmead Station, understood?”

Draco cast her a rather weary look. He bent to pick up his discarded wand.

“And you, Mr. Weasley,” she said turning to face Ron, “You will return to wherever it is you came from and likewise remain there until we get to Hogwarts.”

Ron glared at her for a moment unmoving.

“Is there something else you'd like to say Mr. Weasley?”

Ron said nothing but held out his hand. Hermione reluctantly returned his wand. When Ron's hand touched it the wand crackled and sparked slightly. He looked at it for a moment then his eyes found Hermione's again.

“I never thought I'd see the day when you would stand up for a Slytherin and a Death Eater to boot against your own mates.”

White hot rage flashed across Hermione's brain searing her with vicious heat but before she could respond Ron turned on a heel and pushed his way roughly out of the train car.

Bloody coward!

Hermione turned back to Draco who was going back into his compartment.

“Did Ron attack you Draco?”

He stopped and peered unseeing through the window of his compartment door for a moment.

“Does it matter?” He asked.

“The truth always matters Draco,” she replied.

He simply shrugged his shoulder and went through the door without looking back.

Hermione stood there and marveled at the changes in Draco. He was definitely not the same Draco Malfoy they had come to know and dislike. It was almost as if he were…were…broken. The thought made her shiver.

She looked up and saw Pansy peering at Draco through the glass of her compartment door. The Slytherin girl closed her eyes as tears slid down her cheeks. She turned away when Draco closed his compartment door.

I know how you feel Pansy…even if it isn't for the same reasons.

Hermione suddenly felt very tired. For the first time since the suggestion was made to her to return to Hogwarts she was beginning to feel like it had been an enormous mistake.

I miss you Harry.

With a heavy sigh she turned and went to find Ron. She might as well get it over with.

She found him wedged in a corner of a compartment full of rambunctious second year Gryffindor boys, arms folded tightly looking mutinous. A few of the boys were playing exploding snaps.

As Hermione wrenched the compartment door open all frivolity and joy came to a screeching halt.

Ron snarled and rose to leave. Hermione pointed at his long nose.

“You…sit!” She turned to the small group of boys, “You three…two compartments down. Go there and stay until I tell you to return!”

They spied the Head Girl badge and without another sound they fled for their lives. One boy cast a pitiful glance at Ron as he hastily exited.

Ron bridled, “Look I have no desire to sit through another of your…”

Before he could finish his remark Hermione had cast a silencing spell on the compartment then whirled on him.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND?” She hollered, “What the hell were you playing at attacking Malfoy unprovoked? And just for your information you moron, I was not taking up for a Slytherin or a Death Eater or anyone else…not even you! I was breaking up a stupid, pointless altercation! That's my job Ron! I'm Head Girl! That's what I'm supposed to do!”

He bristled, “I didn't…” Hermione cut across him.

“Don't you realize doing something that stupid can not only get you thrown out of Hogwarts but can get your arse chucked right into Azkaban!”

“You can't throw me out of Hogwarts Hermione,” Ron growled.

“OH YES I BLOODY WELL…” She was about to blow up but Ron unwittingly pulled the fuse from the bomb.

“Look, I'm not saying that to be smart,” Ron eyed her purple face wearily, “I'm saying you can't toss me out of Hogwarts…no-one can!”

He reached in his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of parchment and held it out to her.

With a puzzled look on her face Hermione deflated slightly as she snatched the piece of parchment from his hand.

It was an official looking document. She sat down on the seat across from him and read it.

Ministry Decree #759

It is here-by recorded and duly noted that

Ronald Bilius Weasley

has been sequestered by this decree to complete

his 7th and final term at Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wizardry and must do so with

acceptable marks on his final examinations.

He will also, by the limits of this Decree be

confined to the grounds of Hogwarts extending

only as far as the town limits of Hogsmead for the

duration of said term. Any deviation from this Decree

will result in immediate arrest and detention of said

Person(s) named above.

This Decree is legal and binding by law and shall not

Be rescinded unless adjudicated by the Ministry

Signed; Minister for Magic: Arthur Weasley

Attested and witnessed; Percy Weasley U.S.T.M.

Undersigned by Defendant; Ronald B. Weasley

The decree carried the official Ministry seal and all. She gaped at it in disbelief.

“Oh Ronald,” Hermione stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, “What in Merlin's name did you do?”

Ron looked as if he were going to be ill.

“It's mum,” he cried, jumping up and pacing the compartment, “She went completely off her nut when those bloody Prophet pictures came out. I mean I was only having a bit of fun that's all. You'd think I was trying to assassinate the bloody Muggle Prime Minister or something. I'll never criticize Fudge for abusing his power ever again! I wasn't doing anything wrong!”

Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms around herself. A look of dark anger clouded her eyes.

“Well apparently someone thought otherwise didn't they?” She muttered looking out the compartment window.

It was then Ron seemed to realize who he was ranting to. He sat back down and eyed Hermione carefully.

“Look Hermione,” Ron began, “I never meant to…,” but Hermione just held up her hand to stop him.

“Ronald you don't owe me an explanation and to be perfectly honest I'm not sure I care to hear it. You're eighteen now and able to make your own decisions and choices. I'm not going to pass judgment on you because I feel I have no right but I simply will not tolerate…”

It was Ron's turn to interrupt her.

“Why did you have to go with him, Hermione,” He asked like it caused him physical pain, “You were supposed to be with me…and my family. I needed you to be with me but it was more important to you to be with him…”

And there it was. Just like that the ugly two hundred pound gorilla materialized in the room between them. All her self-effacing sense of justice and righteous indignation evaporated in a puff of smoke.

She thought she had prepared herself for just such a moment but as she sat there looking at him her resolve crumbled. She looked at her hands lying in her lap. She wanted to jump up and scream at him he had no right to judge her because of the way he left them during the hunt for the Horcruxes and all the other terrible things he had done and said to her over the years but she knew opening up a bunch of old wounds would solve nothing.

They needed to move past all that…but she also realized she owed him some sort of explanation.

“Believe it or not Ron I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. I'm sorry if I hurt you but as things turned out it was probably the right decision. I know that's the last thing you want to hear but I don't know what else to say.”

Ron looked skeptical but then she explained McGonagall's reaction to seeing Dumbledore's wand and how they ended up having to explain the entire last six years to her because she knew very little of it.

Ron already knew that from his conversation with Harry but hearing her say it made it only slightly easier to understand.

“I didn't tell you that to make excuses. Maybe Harry could have handled it all but…” She fell silent; knowing Harry had been exhausted and not thinking clearly. She had no problem admitting she had been rash but she wasn't going to accept all the blame for Ron's stupidity.

“Be that as it may Ron,” she added, “I'm not going to sit here and believe my going with Harry caused you to go running off into the night with that…that…”

“No Hermione, it didn't,” Ron admitted with a sigh.

He recounted what went on at St. Mungo's that night and how he somehow felt his whole world falling apart around him. He had panicked and had no idea how to handle it.

“Look here Hermione,” Ron said, “I think it's safe to say we've both made…decisions that have made us go one way or the other. I'm not saying it was right or wrong I'm just saying…it is what it is.”

Hermione thought about what he said for a moment and reluctantly found herself agreeing with him for the most part. The reasons for making those decisions had come from completely different directions but he was right. They were neither right nor wrong.

“Wow,” Hermione grinned, “Tea spoon Ron has some emotional range after all!”

“Ha bloody ha Hermione,” Ron sneered, “Just think in a few more years I might even develop into a shovel!”

“We can only hope,” She sniggered, “So tell me something Ron? Why did Ginny get back together with Dean then? I thought she was completely gone on Harry?”

Ron looked at her pointedly, “You mean Harry didn't tell you?”

“Let's just say he's a bit reluctant to talk about it.”

“Well,” Ron muttered, “Then maybe I shouldn't say anything…”

“It's no big deal,” Hermione said, “I just think he's really embarrassed about it that's all.”

“Embarrassed,” Ron gawked, “He's got nothing to be embarrassed about for Merlin's sake.”

As Ron launched into what he and Harry talked about at #12 a few days before Hermione couldn't help but smirk to herself inside.

Ronald Weasley, you're so bloody easy to manipulate it's scary. Couldn't keep a secret even if you were confunded and wrapped in a Fidelius charm.

Hermione nodded when he was finished finally understanding things from Ginny's perspective. She worried that Ginny harbored ill feeling towards her and wondered if she should be on her guard.

“Do you think Ginny hates me Ron?” Hermione asked tentatively.

Ron considered that for a moment.

“No, I don't think so,” he replied, “I'm sure she was plenty miffed at all of us back then but I don't think you'll be dodging any bat-bogeys if that's what worries you. Besides, you can just give her detention or something.”

“I would rather avoid that if I could thank you very much,” she grimaced.

“What?” Ron's eyebrows rose, “You were ready to throw me off the bloody train for Merlin's sake!”

“You were trying to off Malfoy Ronald,” Hermione said incredulously, “I think that's a little bit different don't you?”

“Yah…well,” Ron leaned back.

“Promise me this instant that I'm not going to have to continually step between you two all bloody year!” She requested with all her conviction, “Ministry Decree aside I'm not going to put up with it! I'll appeal to the Headmistress or write to your father and ask you be transferred to Durmstrang or something if I must, I swear I will.”

“Alright…alright Hermione! Don't get your knickers in a bloody twist!” Ron bellowed, “I promise I won't go looking for trouble…there…happy?”

Hermione looked only slightly mollified.

“But I'm not going to back down if he starts something,” Ron added.

Hermione bristled slightly but then remembered how bad Draco looked.

“I don't know Ron,” she said, “Something tells me that's not going to be much of a problem. I think his little vacation in Azkaban didn't set well with his delicate constitution. He looked positively ill.”

“Yah,” Ron agreed, “I noticed that.”

“So tell me Mr. Weasley,” Hermione asked with a blazing look of disapproval, “What's with you and the old bat Rita Skeeter? Put out a `Life and Lies of Harry Potter' book? I'm sure it's just brimming with ridiculously entertaining tripe.”

“Not even,” Ron replied bristling himself, “I made sure the contract stated that she could put nothing but the truth in the book. I'll admit she was a bit miffed about that. Her Quick-Quotes quill burst into flames when she signed it but I didn't really care. I swear Hermione…nothing but the facts as I remember them.”

“Well,” Hermione said amused at envisioning the hag's quill exploding in her face, “that's something I suppose.”

“Why don't you try actually reading the book before you trash it?” Ron added with a huff.

They sat for a while in what Hermione could only describe as a strained silence until Ron finally looked up watching her for a moment.

“So what's with you and the Golden Boy?”

She knew they would get there eventually. Hermione tried desperately to keep herself in check but could feel her cheeks grow hot all the same.

“Look Ron…” She began but Ron held up both hands in surrender.

“I know it's probably none of my business and to be honest…well, I'm not really all that surprised.”

That shocked her and she sat there suddenly feeling as if she just took a bludger to the side of the head.

“Come on Hermione. I saw you two at Fred's service. You were clinging to him like you might float away or something. It didn't take a bloody genius to figure it out. Hell, I was completely waxed and still could tell you two were together.” He was chuckling.

“It wasn't like it was something that was planned ok,” she blushed, “It just sort of…happened.”

“Well,” Ron said looking at her sideways, “All I can say is that it's about bloody time you admitted it.”

“What? It wasn't like that!” Hermione was getting flustered. Not just because he had known but it was partly due to the fact that she had finally realized she had been in love with Harry all along.

“What ever,” Ron tossed a hand at her, “I mean, you've been orbiting around the bloke like a planet since our first week at Hogwarts. I mean even the Daily Prophet pegged you two as an item back then,” he laughed, “ `course they also pegged you as a scarlet woman too but still.” He was enjoying watching Hermione squirm immensely.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You'd know all about scarlet women now wouldn't you Ronald,” she said in a quiet deadly tone.

“Low blow Granger,” Ron said sourly, “No fair hitting below the belt.”

“If the shoe fits,” she replied haughtily.

Ron only sighed but then his demeanor turned serious as he looked at her.

“Lay off the pathetic state of my love life, hmm kay? Really Hermione,” Ron sighed again, “It's not that big of a stretch to see this happening between you and Harry is all I'm saying. I mean look at the bloke…he's lost everyone who's ever meant anything to him because they've either died or they've tossed him aside like he wasn't all that important. I can't imagine what that must have felt like. I know how hard it was just to loose Fred and live with what happened to Bill and George.”

“But then I look at you and it's easy to see. No one knows Harry better than you do, know what I mean? Not me, not Ginny, not even his barmy Aunt or Uncle. He's got no-one else to turn to but you. Do you realize you are the only person in his life that has never left him? I can't even make that claim and I'm his best mate! Makes me feel down right ashamed of myself.”

“You've though a lot about this haven't you Ron?” She asked on the verge of tears.

“I suppose,” He said sadly, “I've thought about a whole mess of things lately, kind of easy to do when you're under house arrest. Scary isn't it?” He smiled.

In a split second Hermione's whole attitude and opinion of Ronald Bilius Weasley completely changed. Gone was the seemingly constant irritation she felt for him most of the time. Gone was her anger at him for years of bickering and arguments and fights. She couldn't help but have a new-found respect for her red-haired best friend. No more teaspoons for Ron Weasley.

But there was one thing she wanted to know…

“Does that mean you never really felt anything for me then?” As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted saying it.

The look that crossed Ron's face was enough to make Hermione stab herself through her own heart.

“Is that what you think Hermione?” He said in an almost inaudible whisper.

“N…No of course not…I'm sorry,” she said in a quivering voice full of shame, “That was a completely horrible and insensitive thing for me to say.” She put a shaking hand over her eyes.

“I think,” Ron said quietly, “there are just some people who rub each other the wrong way, you know? It's not something intentional it's just the way it is. There are just some things that aren't supposed to go together and as much as I hate to admit it…I think that's you and I. I mean, don't get me wrong, we get along brilliant when we're not trying to get along if that makes any sense.”

She nodded. In some convoluted way it did make sense.

“But don't ever think I never cared about you Hermione. I know I didn't always do a very good job of showing it…well…actually I did a fairly horrid job of showing it but…I mean after all, what can you expect from a bloody teaspoon!”

“Oh Ronald,” Hermione burst into tears. She lunged across the compartment and flung her arms around his neck hugging him tightly, “I'm sorry things didn't turn out like they were supposed to.”

Ron smiled widely as he patted her on top of her head.

“Well, it's nice to know even the little miss know-it-all can get it wrong now and then.”

She pulled back to look at him questioningly. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I think things turned out exactly the way they were supposed to.”

She beamed at him for a moment then settled on the bench beside him taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together.

Her mind wandered over all the things they had been through over the past seven years. All the adventures, pain and struggles - but even with the knowledge Voldemort and the Death Eaters were vanquished she couldn't find the sense of peace and contentment

she had anticipated. It was almost as if she were still not quite ready to exhale after holding her breath in fear over the last several years.

All their lives had changed and seemed to do so daily. It was as if they were hurling toward the future at the speed of light and no-one seemed to be at the controls. Even with the constant fear of possible impending doom they had a purpose then - a clear common goal. Now, for the first time in her life, it seemed, there was no clear destination laid out before her and until that moment she didn't realize how utterly frightening an unknown future really was. It was a complete contradiction to her aversion to all things Divination.

Hermione's ambitions and goals had always been clear to her even when she was much younger. First it was to be brilliant in her Muggle Academies, then it was to be the best Muggle-born witch there was and when trouble started she was determined to fight and win, dragging with her as many as her knowledge and cleverness would allow her to save. She had succeeded. They had succeeded. They had persevered even in the face of possible death and insurmountable loss but this…

For some strange reason she thought of Professor Trelawney. She thought about how a seemingly barmy old fraud could spit out a bunch of mumbled phrases that would turn the entire Wizard world on its collective ear. It grated against Hermione's intellect but she could not deny it had happened and people with much more intelligence and wisdom than her had taken it seriously. That, in itself amazed and alarmed her.

The power of words is almost as devastating as the power of fear, pain and death!

She also thought about how the fear of nothing more than someone's name had gripped her world for over a decade.

The realization of this made her shiver inside.

“What are you thinking about?” Ron asked. He was looking at her with a puzzled expression. “You looked like you were a million miles away there for a moment.”

Hermione looked at Ron for a long moment before she answered.

“What does the future hold for us now?” She whispered. She remembered thinking that very same thing the night she spent in the girl's dorm in the Gryffindor tower the day before she left for Australia. It bothered her as much now as it did then.

Ron simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't have a clue Hermione but I think that's the point isn't it? We're supposed to figure that out for ourselves. All I know is that I've got to pass all my classes this term or I won't have a bloody future.”

“Well, I'm not going to carry you like I've done in the past,” Hermione said seriously lifting her chin, “It's time for you to stand on your own two feet Ron! I'm going to have way too much to do with being Head Girl and…”

Ron interrupted her.

“Oh put a stopper in it Hermione,” Ron frowned, “I don't expect you to alright? Besides,” he smirked looking at her smugly, “I suspect there will plenty of birds tripping over one-another to help out one of the Golden Trio.”

“OH!” Hermione huffed jumping to her feet, “YOU…YOU…” She couldn't seem to think of an insult strong enough. She stormed out of the compartment without a glance backward.

Ron sat chuckling to himself. He could still drive the girl bonkers without breaking a sweat…

-->

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 27 - Training (Part 1)

Harry stood on an ancient looking dock gazing out over a rather turbulent North Sea under grey overcast skies as a thick mist rolled like a solid white wall about a quarter mile off shore.

He had been instructed to apparate to this place after receiving a rather cryptic patronus from Kingsley.

He was to go to Scotland, specifically to the Islands of Orkney. Once there he would proceed to a town called Kirkwall. Once at Kirkwall he would make his way to a place the locals call “The Dregs.” He would then be met by someone who would escort him to the training facility.

As he stood there having misgivings about his decision he saw a boat appear, coming out of the mists slicing through the rough water like a sailor's worst nightmare.

He realized it was more ship than boat as more of the vessel came into view but what stunned Harry was it looked as ancient as the docks he was now standing, gaping at the craft approaching his position as silently as a Hogwarts ghost.

He remembered the Durmstrang ship they came to Hogwarts in for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This one was similar in design but much, much older.

The thing looked like some of the ships in the pirate film he had seen not long ago at Hermione's. Captain Jack Sparrow was his favorite character. This one, however, looked like it had been dredged up from the bottom of the ocean and pressed back into service wholly against its will and knowing how eccentric wizards could be - it just may have been exactly that.

The sails were nothing more than tattered rags fluttering in the stiff North Sea winds. Its riggings, ropes and lines were all draped with what looked like dried seaweed. Barnacles covered both sides of the bow just above the waterline. The wood looked blackened and slick with mildew and no telling what other things.

Mounted under the front beam of the ship was what appeared to be a carved wooden likeness of a woman. Arms raised high over her head she looked as if she were clinging to the rail with her hand and bare feet pressed to either side of the bow. She wore what looked like a very thin but fancy gown and had a tiara on her up-turned head. Her ample breasts pushed up and out as if proud to display them for all the creatures of the sea before her. The likeness was weather beaten and cracked in places but the physical likeness was uncanny and very life-like. Harry couldn't help but gawk at the figure stupidly.

As it came nearer to the dock the large ship slid silently sideways and came to rest against the dock edge with a muffled thump.

Harry could do nothing more than stand there gaping up at the huge vessel, mouth hanging open. A few moments later he watched as a gap appeared in the rail amid ship and a gang plank slide smoothly and noiselessly from somewhere hidden just below the deck level.

When it lowered and settled on the dock two men, dressed in what appeared to be turn-of-the-century before last sailor's garb, scurried down the plank and stationed themselves fore an aft on the dock. He then saw coils of thick rope sail over the side into the waiting arms of the men below and they proceeded to tie the ship to the dock.

The subtle rise and fall of the ancient looking ship made ominous creaking and groaning noises as it sat there looking for all the world like Jack Sparrow himself might spring from the deck any moment.

Instead, a rather short, squat man appeared at the gap in the rail and proceeded down the plank. He was wearing what appeared to Harry like a tan colored uniform. He instantly recognized it as definitely Muggle military in origin. He had seen them in Muggle films as well. The man was looking around as he descended. When his eyes landed on Harry his chubby cheeks puffed out in a wide, rather jovial grin.

“Ah, bless my soul,” The man said in a loud, booming voice that echoed off the surrounding buildings on the other side of the landing, “As I live and breath, it is none other than Harry Potter himself!”

As the man waddled his way to the bottom of the plank on bandy legs he made his way quickly to where Harry was standing, still a bit stunned by the ship. Harry quickly realized the man was about a half a foot shorter than he was.

The older, shorter man took Harry's hand in his warmly and offered Harry a bright, very genuine smile.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last son,” he said with a slight nod, “Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Director Thurston Boreguard. I have had the distinct privilege to be placed in charge of this very special training facility. When Commander Shacklebolt informed me you had accepted his appointment I must admit I was more than a little pleased.”

“Thank you, Mr. Boreguard,” Harry said smiling, “That's very kind of you…or should I call you Director or…something?” Harry couldn't help but glance up at the ship towering above them.

“Director, will be fine going forward Mr. Potter,” he chuckled seeing Harry gaping at the ship, “I see you have much the same reaction to our rather unique method of transportation as most others.”

“Is that…” Harry began to ask pointing to the vessel.

“It most certainly is Mr. Potter,” the Director said with a bit of pride, “This ship was once the pride and flag ship of Her Majesty's Royal Navy. I'm afraid her long and illustrious history is simply much too involved to go into at present but if time permits I will gladly share my knowledge of her past. Saying thus, do you have everything you wish to bring with you?”

“Yes sir,” Harry nodded and scooped up the ruck sack at his feet.

“Excellent,” Director Boreguard said with a beaming smile, “If you'll climb aboard we'll be shoving off shortly.” He gestured to the gang plank, “We're awaiting the arrival of a few more recruits but they should be along any time now.” Harry watched as he pulled a pocket watch from his pocket and inspect it briefly, “You are more than welcome to look around the ship but do step cautiously. She can be a bit slippery in places. I will rejoin you shortly. I have some business to attend to at the harbormaster's office.”

“Alright then,” Harry said, glancing up at the ship again a bit wearily as he made his way aboard.

Stepping on the deck he noticed several men milling about doing various chores and tasks. They seemed to ignore his presence completely which was fine with him. When Harry placed his hand on the rail the wood felt as slick and slimy as it appeared. Making a face he wiped his hand on the seat of his trousers and proceeded to make his way toward the rear.

There was what appeared to be a wall that ran the entire width of the boat. Set in the wall were windows with a rather short door in the center. On both sides were wide stairs that ran up to the level above what Harry guessed was a cabin. Just above the cabin entrance Harry saw the unmistakable shape of the wheel!

He couldn't help but smile. It looked just like it did in the pirate picture.

As Harry made his way around the deck taking in the unmistakably abandoned appearance of the vessel he heard voices below. Making his way over to the dock side of the ship he carefully leaned over and saw several people approaching. They seemed to be hesitant to approach the ship.

There were three men and a woman. They all looked slightly older than Harry but what caught his immediate attention was the woman's hair. It was jet black. In the back it was just a bit longer than shoulder length but at the top, it was spiked and the tips were a bright red color. He then took in the rest of her appearance.

She was slender but not skinny. Her clothes were dark. She wore black jeans and a very tight black tee-shirt and heavy black boots along with dark red lipstick and black painted finger nails. She had on a very intimidating studded dog collar and matching gauntlets around her wrists. What was most surprising were the tattoos on both rather well muscled arms, the colorful art scrawling up from her wrists into the short sleeves of her shirt.

When she glanced up at the ship Harry could see her face. She was very pretty but what shocked him was that she bore a striking resemblance to Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin! In fact the resemblance was so close he had to look twice to make certain which, he thought later, was completely ridiculous.

The others below stood milling about until he heard Director Boregaurd approaching. He, in turn introduced himself in the same friendly manner as he had with Harry and quickly ushered them aboard.

When they were all on board the same men scurried back down the gang plank and proceeded to untie the lines from the dock. Other men were up on the deck quickly pulling the ropes in winding them into impossibly neat coils as the other two hurried back aboard.

Once back on the ship the gang plank again slid silently back into its hidden location below the top deck of its own accord.

As Harry stood watching this all take place it was as if the men attending to the ship simply vanished into the ship itself. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining what he had just seen.

Director Boreguard, seemingly completely unconcerned by this, stood in the middle of the main deck and pulling his wand swirled it in a circle above his head. The ship lurched sideways and began pulling silently away from the dock. A few moments more and they were heading out to sea toward the wall of mist.

“Lady and gentlemen,” the Director said, “please relax and enjoy your trip. It should only take approximately an hour to make the crossing, however, as we make our way through the mists you may want to avoid leaning over the rails as the old girl's deck is a bit slippery. We don't want anyone going over the sides in this pea soup. It would be almost impossible to find you.”

His laugh was meant to be reassuring and light hearted but Harry could tell it had a rather ominous tinge to it. He decided to stay where he was perched on one set of the steps leading to the bridge.

As the journey wore on Harry noticed the others remained together standing toward the middle of the deck. He could barely make out their shapes in the thick mist but could hear bits of their hushed conversation. He was almost certain he had heard his name at one point during their trip but wasn't sure. He really didn't care.

He took the time to think about Hermione. He missed her already. The realization she loved him kept him impervious to the damp sea mist swirling around him. He could see her beautiful sun-kissed face in his minds eye as she smiled up at him standing in the setting sun on the pure white sands of the beach in Tahiti.

As long as he lived he would never forget their adventure. It was, he was absolutely certain, the very best time in his otherwise dreary and often dangerous life. Things would be different now, how different amazed him when he considered it.

If Ginny had not reconnected with Dean Thomas...

But he didn't want to consider it. Not any more. He had cared for Ginny very much but she was happy now so there was no more guilt.

He loved Hermione. He loved her with everything he was or ever could be. He wanted to make her proud. He remembered her words just before she left with her parents for the Hogwarts Express…

I love you with all my heart and everything that is within me to give to you for the rest of my life Harry James Potter…Now go be great!

She had left him with a blazing look of affection in her eyes. He didn't want to leave. For the first time since he had stepped foot into Hogwarts he felt he belonged. He belonged to her and nothing, not even space, time or death would ever change that. How it made him feel was indescribable.

As suddenly as they had entered it, the foggy mist cleared. Harry stood looking out past the side of the ship to what looked like a jagged and craggy collection of peaks rising out of the churning waters of the North Sea, jutting up at angles toward the sky.

The tops of the jagged cliffs were hidden in much the same mist they had just come through. The land looked dark, ominous and foreboding. For just the briefest of moments he felt he had seen this place before but searching his mind he could not for the life of him remember where.

As the ship eased its way closer they could see a dock that looked very similar to the one they just departed. Again the ship silently turned and glided up snugly to it just as before. The gang plank slid out and the same men dashed down the ramp to lash the ship fast. Again, the men seemed to appear from nowhere. He had not seen them the entire voyage and it gave him the chills.

He shoved all thoughts aside as they disembarked and stood in a group at the bottom of the ramp waiting on Director Boreguard to join them.

As Harry glanced at the others his eyes fell once again on the woman. They made no effort to introduce themselves so Harry decided to keep to himself.

Now that he could see her up close it did nothing to detract from the uncanny familiarity of her face. There were subtle differences but not many. He hadn't realized he was starring.

“Gettin' an eye full are you?” The woman asked in a rather gravely voice seeming a bit irritated.

Harry quickly cast his eyes elsewhere as he nervously shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry,” he said in a weak voice just above a whisper, “You remind me of a friend I once knew.”

“Once knew?” She asked a bit haughtily, “Savior of the Wizarding World don't wanna be associated with freaky lookin' chicks now that he's all famous aye?”

Harry's anger spiked hotly at her words. They stung like being burned by a blast-ended Skrewt. He looked at the girl full in the eyes this time as he spoke.

“Actually, she was one of the toughest and bravest people I've ever met. She died a hero fighting in the war. Her husband died at the same time. I'm Godfather to their son who's an orphan now…just like me!”

The young woman's hand came up instantly to cover her gaping mouth. The look of shock that covered her face turned quickly to shame.

“I…I'm really sorry,” she stammered blushing, “That was a bloody insensitive thing for me to say, wasn't it?”

Harry simply held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger just slightly apart as if telling her `just a little.'

The girl blushed profusely again looking properly chastised but said nothing more.

As Harry turned back to watch Director Boreguard descend the gang plank he noticed a plaque made of wood attached to the side of the ship just below the windows of the cabins above. It was old, weather beaten and split in placed making what was written on it very hard to read.

As he strained his eyes squinting at the faded script he thought he could just make out some of the letters. It appeared to be something like…Q_EEN A_N'S REV_N_E.

He just shrugged his shoulders. To him it made no sense. He smiled thinking Hermione could have figured it out with half her brain confunded.

He could here that lovely, sweet, bossy little voice in his head.

Oh Harry, it's really very simple! (Roll of her eyes) All you have to do is put in missing letters until it make's sense…see!

His irritation at the woman's comments evaporated in the face of such internal joy.

Harry began applying the imaginary Hermione's advice to solve the riddle but the Director announced for them to follow him so he was forced to abandon his little distraction.

It didn't do much for his self-confidence to know even an imaginary Hermione was still more clever and intelligent than he was in the flesh. The realization made him sigh.

Being without her now is going to take some getting used to.

They all fell in step behind Director Boreguard following a narrow path in the rocks that wound up through the craggy peaks to a rather long tunnel cut right into the side of a sheer cliff face.

Again Harry got a strange sense of familiarity but it seemed completely misplaced. He would have known if he had been to a place like this before. Nothing actually looked familiar…it was more just a feeling.

Exiting the tunnel they came to a small clearing. A carriage, much like the ones at Hogwarts was waiting except this one was being pulled by a team of very ordinary looking horses.

Off in the distance a bit below them in a shallow valley was a quaint but very old looking village. Surrounding the village proper were what seemed like miles upon miles of fertile green fields with all manner of things growing in them.

Apparently it was harvest time because the fields were crawling with people. They looked the size of insects from where they were standing on the ridge above.

As they climbed onto the carriage the Director chose to ride up front with the driver.

As the driver flipped the reigns to get the horses moving Harry noticed the path before them went in two directions. An old, deeply grooved and worn path led down to the town below and the other newly cut path went off to the left winding in between two sharp and ominous looking spires of black rock. Boreguard turned in his seat to regard them all with his signature jovial smile.

“This strange island you find yourselves on is known today mostly as Hideaway Island.” Director Boreguard began to tell them as they made their way slowly along the cart path toward the spires, “It's really only a nickname. To most of the locals, however, the proper name for the island