Chapter 2
"Fong."
Hermione smiled, "Sleep well, Harry?"
The arm of his glasses held in his teeth, Harry rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "I'd forgotten how loud Ron snores. Around one, I gave up and Silenced him. On top of it, I wanted to kill Scabbers all night."
Chuckling softly, Hermione stood from her chair in the common room before shouldering her bag. Hooking her arm in her husband's she whispered, "My poor husband."
With a hint of a grin, Harry asked, "Can you kiss it and make it all better?"
She laughed as she rolled her eyes, "Come on, I'm hungry."
Walking down to the Great Hall was a little slice of Heaven for Harry. He'd dreamed about this repeatedly for the year he'd been without Hermione. His wide grin was contagious, so by the time they sat at the Gryffindor table both Potters were grinning like fools.
The emotional whiplash from the heights of joy to the depths of despair and back was beginning to wear on the time travellers, though.
Hermione spooned herself some porridge and as she was reaching for the sugar, she asked in a quiet voice, "How's your head?"
Harry nodded around his mouthful of eggs. They'd tested each other's Occlumency shields the previous night after leaving Minerva's office. After a bit of readjustment to their 'new' minds, both Harry and Hermione were satisfied they could keep the Headmaster and Potions Master out of their minds.
Pausing, as if he was reminded of something foul, Harry eventually replied, "I'm Ok. Had a bit of a headache last night, but nothing this morning." He didn't look her in the eye while his face paled somewhat.
She stared at him, knowing full well that he was hiding something. At the same time, she knew that Harry would tell her when he was ready. When they were teens - the first time, that is - she would have to badger and nag him until he told her what was on her mind. His first instinct was to hide any distress he felt and deny any reason for being upset. It was a product of growing up with those Dursleys. She hated them then and hated them now.
Sighing to mentally get back on track, she remembered how they'd made a breakthrough whilst in Cardiff during their 'preparation' phase. It was one of her most painful and wonderful memories. It was the day that Harry completely unburdened himself of his secrets. It was the day that he made the decision to trust her completely with himself.
Three days later they'd made love. The two decisions were inextricably linked for both of them.
She figured that Harry's nightmares were back. The nightly terrors were either of the Voldemort variety or just plain old regurgitations of the horrors they'd witnessed. Or it could be the horrors in which they'd participated. Those were the most unpleasant nightmares.
Just before moving to Cornwall and giving up their resistance to 'Emperor Voldemort', she and Harry cracked a bottle of gin and tried to count how many Death Eaters they'd killed.
They lost count at two hundred and thirty two for him and two hundred and nineteen for her. They didn't even try to estimate how many her lethal wards had killed. That magnitude of butchery changes a person, no matter how justified the acts.
The combination of those wonderful facts with sleeping in the same dorm room as his parents' betrayer spurred Hermione to wonder how Harry got any sleep at all.
Their discussion tapered off as they watched Luna Lovegood enter the hall. Luna looked very much as she had during their fifth year; pale blonde hair, protuberant blue eyes with pasty white skin. Instead of the usual preoccupied expression on her face, this morning Luna had a mixed expression of fear and determination. And she was staring right at Harry and Hermione.
"Uh, oh," Harry muttered.
Luna marched over to the mostly empty Table of Lions where she stopped right across from Hermione. Her gaze held both the Potters as she stated, "I don't understand why, but everything is different today and it's because of you two."
For the second time in her life, Hermione was stunned into silence. Harry, picked up the slack, "Will you join us for breakfast, Luna? We can have a chat after we've eaten."
Slowly, Luna sat on the bench across from the time travellers. Harry handed her the orange marmalade while Hermione poured her a cup of coffee. Luna blinked at the unsolicited provisions. "How did you know these are my favourites?
With a soft, regretful voice, Hermione answered, "Because we're your friends."
Stunned, Luna just stared. Eventually, a slow smile drifted across her face. She repeated, "Friends," as she spread the marmalade across her toast. By the time she sipped her coffee, Luna Lovegood had the widest, most genuine smile she'd worn since her mother had died.
It was a slow meal. Luna was thoughtfully working her way through her stack of toast. She didn't revisit her earlier assertion and neither did Harry or Hermione. Harry and, to a lesser extent, Hermione were both still overwhelmed by the presence of everyone in the hall who had died in their previous incarnation. Luna was overwhelmed for wholly different reasons. She wondered how these people knew about her and, most importantly, she exulted in the fact that she now had friends.
Minerva entered the hall. Staying true to form, she didn't acknowledge the Potters. The three of them had discussed the issue and decided they didn't want to draw any untoward attention from those who would notice any outward show of affection.
Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve, indicating she was ready. Harry caught Luna's attention, so the three students shouldered their satchels and made their way out the front doors toward the lake.
Once they settled on two of the benches near the lakeside and Hermione had cast a Privacy ward, Harry began. "Luna, we'd like to tell you some things, but there's a problem. Some of the people in the castle practice Legilimancy. Do you know what that is?"
When she nodded, he continued. "Good. The problem with telling you the story is that these persons who practice Legilimancy will not allow you to keep our secrets, they'll be able to pluck them from your mind against your will."
Luna's usual omnipresent ethereal aura was gone and had been replaced with a hard gaze. "Who?"
Hermione sighed, "That's part of the secret."
The second year Ravenclaw nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds as if we are at an impasse."
Crossing her legs, Hermione settled in a bit before she replied, "We can test your mind for its natural defences using Legilimancy to determine how well your mind is defended. Once we all get a feel for where you stand, Harry and I can help you with defending your thoughts."
Hermione stifled the sigh that was working up into her gullet. It had taken her and Harry years of painstaking effort when they were adults to become proficient Occlumencers. What hope was there that twelve year old Luna Lovegood would become proficient in the next decade?
With a hint of a shrug, Luna acquiesced, "Go ahead."
Harry drew his wand and incanted, "Legilimens."
Hermione hated to let Harry take the lead when it came to testing and probing others' minds with Legilimancy. In the end, though, Harry had much stronger capabilities in the discipline. Years of fending off Voldemort's long distance attacks had forced Harry to become a more than proficient Occlumencer. From there it was a short step to Legilimency. Necessity had been truly the mother of invention.
When learning the mind arts, usually women teach women and men teach men. In this case, though, it was necessary for Harry to test Luna. Not even Mad Eye had been able to keep Harry out of his mind.
The once and future Mrs Potter watched as Harry and Luna engaged in the usual staring match between the Legilimencer and Occlumencer. After a long minute, Harry muttered, "Finite." Turning to Hermione, he just shook his head in negation.
"Ok. We can begin studying soon." Seeing their blonde haired friend's downcast expression, Hermione reached out to take her hand. "None of that, now. This is a very difficult discipline and I've heard of no one who had natural defences strong enough to keep Harry out." She finished with a smile to which Harry rolled his eyes and snorted.
There was a long moment of silence as Luna smiled, savouring the fellowship amongst the three of them. Harry's eyes narrowed before he asked, "Luna, are you having…difficulties…with your possessions?"
Luna blushed and looked at her feet. "It's nothing; everything comes back in the end."
"Bullshit," spat Hermione.
Harry's shocked expression was mirrored on Luna's face. "Excuse me>" the Ravenclaw asked.
"It's completely absurd to tolerate theft and harassment as acceptable. You're a good person, Luna, and it's not on to let these prats run roughshod over you."
Wide eyed, Luna sat stock still for an even ten seconds before she catapulted herself into Hermione's arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated in a joyous, sobbing litany.
Hermione sniffled as she held the blonde girl. Regret, shame, guilt and determination were warring within the time travelling teen. If anyone at Hogwarts should have empathized with Luna, it should have been Harry and her. They knew what it was like to be the outside, shunned and unwanted. Yet in their original fifth year, Harry and Hermione had taken their turn as 'the popular people' and shunned Luna. Emotionally shunned her, that is. Never again Hermione resolved. The touching scene was interrupted by the first bell sounding over the grounds. Luna gathered herself up, wiping her cheeks and blowing her nose.
With gentleness from him that only Hermione recognized, Harry gave Luna an affectionate hug. It was the embrace from an older brother.
The Potters watched Luna scamper up the lawn to make her Transfiguration class. Harry and Hermione followed at a much more sedate pace. They had Runes and the classroom was across from the Great Hall.
"Was it bad?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. After a quick survey both visually and magically to see if anyone was listening, he replied, "She's been alone since her mother died. Her dad threw himself into the Quibbler in the aftermath of the accident. Maybe he did it to avoid his grief, I don't know. I do know that he's noticeably absent from her memories for the last three or four years. On top of it, she's a dead ringer for her mum." He shook his head and exhaled forcefully, "I can't count how many memories there were of her crying herself to sleep."
Shamefacedly, Hermione sighed. "I can't help remembering how badly I treated her our fifth year. It helps that she isn't so…well, 'Luna' if you catch my drift."
"Yeah." Harry walked in silence for a bit before he came to the only logical conclusion. "I suppose her fanciful behaviour was a defence mechanism against the loneliness and grief she felt. After a bit, it became self perpetuating as she was scorned and rejected here. We'll have to better friends, this time."
Wrapping her arm around Harry's waist, Hermione nodded in agreement, "Yes, we will."
.oOo.
Roger Davies was very upset when Harry outlined the harassment that Luna was suffering. The sixth year Ravenclaw chaser thought highly of Harry, the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' issue aside. "I'll set them straight. Thanks for letting me know, guys."
"Runes was interesting," Harry commented as Davies left them behind and they made their way back to Gryffindor tower.
Hermione looked at her husband while a confused expression bloomed. "Huh?" she finally asked.
Harry smiled, "I know you did your best, but I kind of brute-force learned Runes 'before'. I never really got the patterns as they repeat through the Norse alphabet." He swallowed a smile and added under his breath, "Of course, I was lusting after you constantly while learning, so a few of your lessons may have been 'over my head' as they say."
She smirked, "I knew. Thank goodness that you finally got up the guts to kiss me. I was about to lose my mind and have my wicked way with you that night anyway."
A startled laugh burst out of Harry. "That's it, blame the guy."
Satisfaction purred up from her as she leaned into Harry, "You're learning."
Their laughter echoed off the high ceilings and stone walls as they passed through the Fat Lady's portal.
Approaching the stairs to the dorms, Harry told Hermione, "I'll just drop my books on my bed, meet you down here in a few?"
She nodded, "I've got to use the toilet, but I'll be down shortly."
He gave her a quick peck on the lips before running up the steps. This was the first time that he'd ever been truly joyful whilst at Hogwarts, he mused to himself. The 'first time through', there were many times when he'd been content and even happy. But now, with Hermione and he properly aligned and no immediate threat of death, he was joyful despite the dark clouds on the horizon.
He bounced through the doorway of the third year boys' dormitory, but before he reached his bed he heard a sneer. "So, I guess you're shagging her, now. Guess you're too good to hang with us low lifes. She must be a right tart, then. Maybe if I had a vault full of gold or nice tits you'd hang around with me."
The Boy-Who-Lived froze in place. When Harry got angry there was one of two outcomes: he either burst into a frenzied attack, or he stilled and became quiet. When he became quiet was when he was most dangerous. He'd once killed nineteen men after a loud mouthed Death Eater made comments about Hermione that were quite similar to those just uttered by one Ronald Bilius Weasley.
Slowly, he turned to face said Ronald Bilius Weasley who was sitting on his bed. "What did you say?" Harry whispered, his face a blank mask.
Something in Harry's tone, expression or manner clued Ron into the fact that he had gone too far this time. Somehow, he'd awoken the apex predator which lived in Harry. Too late, the youngest son of Arthur Weasley remembered that Harry had killed a Basilisk when he was twelve and beaten the most powerful dark wizard in a score of centuries when he was eleven.
What the redheaded teen didn't know was that, over a span of ten years, Harry had learned and perfected the art of killing as quickly and violently as possible. Though his thirteen year old body wasn't as conditioned and toned 'this time around', the results of that training still showed in how he carried himself. Most found it intimidating, but right now for Ron Weasley it was chilling.
The expression on Ron's face shifted from sneering anger and derision to fear and even terror.
Without thought, Harry dropped his satchel on his trunk before gracefully advancing on the redhead. As he glided forward, Harry rasped, "You've been a friend of mine for a long time, Ron. My first real friend in fact. Because of that, I'm going to overlook this…slight…against Hermione. The next time, I'm going to rip your tongue out of your head."
As Harry loomed over him, Ron began to frantically nod his head and squeak, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll never say anything like that again!"
Stilling, Harry surveyed Ron. Realization dawned on The Boy-Who-Lived that Ron was a thirteen year old teen that had been extremely sheltered his whole life. In fact, Molly Weasley had stringently coddled her youngest two children. As a result, Ron was more immature than his physical age. It was an unpleasant realization for Harry.
Where circumstances had aged Luna Lovegood far beyond her twelve years, circumstances had retarded Ron's maturity to far less than his thirteen years. Even before 'resetting the clock', Harry and Hermione were far older than their birthdays indicated so he'd never noticed the differences in their redheaded friend. It was always 'Ron being Ron'. Now he saw differently.
All this flashed through Harry's mind in an instant. Shaking his head, Harry muttered, "Don't do it again, Ron. I'm sorry I reacted so strongly, but…just don't have a go at Hermione."
Red faced and barely in control of his temper, Harry moved to leave the dorm as Ron muttered, "Sure, sorry."
.oOo.
Hermione followed Harry as he stormed out the portrait hole. Catching him out in the passageway, she snatched his arm and spun him about. She didn't even ask him what was wrong, she merely cocked an eyebrow.
"Fonging Ron!" he exclaimed.
Thoroughly confused, she blurted, "What happened?"
Visibly regaining control of his emotions, Harry ground out, "He said some less than flattering things about you, me and the both of us together. I reprimanded him."
Stunned at the implications of his statement, she asked, "What did he say?"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes. I do."
Shrugging, the now mostly-calm Harry replied, "Fine. He called you a tart because you're 'shagging me' and told me that I was too arrogant to hang out with him anymore. There were some more things but you get the idea."
There was a long moment of shocked stillness before Hermione spat, "That foul mouthed loathsome little toad! I'll show him…"
Harry gently caught her elbow before wrapping his arm about her shoulders. "I've come to a realization about Ron." She regarded at him expectantly until he finished, "Ron is thirteen."
Hermione deflated. "Yes, he is. On top of that is Molly's coddling and I suppose that he's really seven or eight emotionally."
Harry shook his head affectionately as Hermione seamlessly came to the same conclusion that he had not so long before.
"He never has been a model for emotional maturity…" she trailed off with a look of hurt and despair. Turning to Harry with a tear in her eye, she asked in a quiet voice, "Do you think we can still be friends with him? Do you think he'll want to be friends with us?"
Harry shrugged and pulled her close. Despite all of Ron's poor behaviour over the years, he was still their friend. Neither Harry nor Hermione had the luxury of discarding friends, so this apparent loss of Ron in their lives was painful.
"Come on, let's get some lunch." Hermione nodded at his idea and they slowly made their way to the Great Hall, arm in arm.
.o0o.
"Transfiguration after lunch?"
Hermione nodded. Knowing that she was grieving the whole situation with Ron, he held his tongue. She was an introvert and had to make sense of the situation in her mind before she could emotionally digest and accept the situation. It was why she had such a hard time making friends. Finally, she sighed and leaned into her husband's side.
"Crap," she muttered.
Wrapping his arm about her shoulders, he risked a quick peck on the crown of her head. Whispering into her ear he affirmed the truth of his whole existence, "It'll be Ok. We've got each other; in the end, that's all that matters."
She sniffed before nodding and burrowing a little more into his arm.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for a disgusting public display of affection," a hated voice hissed from behind them.
Harry stiffened. He was about to rise, spin and attack the disgusting man, but Hermione's tight grip on the front of his robes kept him seated.
"It will be further ten points if you don't move at least twelve inches apart. Now."
His muscles taut with tension, Harry slowly removed his arm from Hermione's shoulders and scooted away from her on the bench. Breathing deeply, he bent over his plate and waited for the Potions master to leave. After ten full seconds of silence, Harry heard the clop-clop of Snape's boots as he walked away.
Through gritted teeth, Harry murmured, "I fucking hate him."
Hermione didn't even reprove him, just rubbed his thigh under the table. They choked down the balance of their lunch before fleeing the hall for the fourth floor and Transfiguration.
They were the first in the door and found Minerva at her desk reviewing a series of reports. Seeing her favourite students ambling in the room, she set the parchment aside. "I usually enjoy being the Deputy Headmistress. However," she paused and scowled at the pile of reports on her desk, "Right now isn't one of them. I really could care less about the request for another sixty acres to be cleared for pasture."
Apparently Hogwarts was a fully self-sufficient school. There was a whole staff who worked the farming side of the effort. Fields of grain, corn, beans of all shapes and sizes and, of course, potatoes. There was also a livestock aspect of the operation which raised the cattle, chickens and sheep that eventually made themselves to the tables of the Great Hall.
"As Deputy, I am responsible for the management of 'The Farm' as we call it."
With a smile, Harry asked, "I gather the task it isn't to your liking?"
A scowl was her only reply.
"Joking aside," Hermione began, "There's a problem in Ravenclaw." She explained about Luna and how they'd talked to Roger Davies. "I think that Roger will take care of the problem, but if you'd talk to Filius, we'd feel a lot better about it."
Her mouth set in a grim line, the Scot murmured, "Oh, I shall."
After a moment, Minerva's scowl melted to a tentative expression. Finally, she asked, "How are you two doing?"
Harry shrugged before looking to Hermione. She answered for them, "Some good and some not so good." She laughed softly, "Courses are beyond easy. Social issues are less easy."
"Mr Weasley," Minerva stated.
"And Snape," Harry growled.
Nodding, Minerva observed, "Mr Weasley's a young lad. You two are far different and even before everything changed," she looked at them significantly, "You two have been always far more mature than your peers."
"As far as Severus is concerned, has he done anything that would be considered inappropriate?"
Harry stared at her in disbelief. "His entire existence is inappropriate."
She stared at The Boy-Who-Lived, not amused.
"What my frustrated husband is attempting to tell you, is that Professor Snape consistently bullies his students, insults them and is a general lout. Other than unprofessional conduct, no, he hasn't done anything inappropriate."
With one last glare at Harry, Minerva turned to Hermione. "When he displays unprofessional conduct in his class again, document it and have as many of your peers sign the description to testify to the truthfulness of your description. We'll have to build a case against him as Albus believes the man can do no wrong."
After a long pause, Minerva's face fell as a further realization formed in her mind, "Or he doesn't care what Severus does wrong."
Since Harry and Hermione had come to her a few nights previous to disclosed their secret, Minerva's opinion of Albus Dumbledore had plummeted. Immediately, she had been disappointed, but the more she reflected on the man's behaviour, the more disillusioned she became about the Headmaster. Her personal regrets for allowing Albus to run roughshod over her own concerns about the Dursleys fitness for Harry's guardianship headed the list of situations her new perspective on Albus Dumbledore had caused her to re-evaluate.
The Potters nodded in sad agreement as the door opened to admit Neville, Parvati and Lavender. Taking the unspoken cue, the three warriors sat at their respective desks and assumed their professional mien.
Class was…painful. Dreadfully bored, Harry had to struggle to keep awake while Hermione flipped through the textbook, looking for something - anything - that would hold her interest.
She was unsuccessful.
"Mr Potter, Miss Granger, stay behind."
After the classroom emptied, Minerva cast a Silencing charm. "I noticed that the topic failed to consume you."
In addition to their very personal relationship with Minerva, both Potters respected her greatly as a teacher. Hermione blushed and stammered a response while Harry looked at his shoes.
A dry chuckle preceded her question, "I was wondering if you'd like to work on the Animagus transformation this year?"
Her eyes wide, Hermione asked, "Really?" At Minerva's short nod, Hermione gushed, "We'd love it!"
"Good." Reaching into her desk, she produced a thick tome, "Read this, then come back. You can read it in class if you like, just cast an illusion to hide you activities from your peers. I shan't call on you in class."
With a wide smile, Harry said, "Thanks, Min."
An uncharacteristic smile graced the Head of Gryffindor house. "It's my pleasure, Harry."
.oOo.
Charms, too, was deadly dull. "How are we going to survive?" Harry asked as they all filed out. Ron had sat as far away from Harry and Hermione as he could and still be in the classroom.
Hermione shrugged before murmuring, "Talk to Min?"
As Harry nodded in assent, he froze. Walking toward them was Remus Lupin.
"Fuck me running," Harry murmured. Hermione was so taken aback that she didn't reprove his profanity.
Looking his usual post-full moon pasty and weak, Remus wended his way through the throng of third years, smiling and greeting them as he passed.
Tears sprang to the Potters' eyes. Remus had been the first of Harry's 'family' to return. Sirius was next and then later, he'd added Minerva and, of course, Hermione. But Remus had been the first.
One of the gentlest men that either Harry or Hermione had ever met, they found out later that he'd been slaughtered like a hog and fed to his fellow weres on a full moon in late 2000. Mad Eye had told them that his wife, Tonks, had been raped to death in front of Moony before Walden Macnair had accomplished his dirty work. It is said that only silver can kill a werewolf, but that is a misnomer. So too can dismemberment. And the Killing curse. But that's another discussion for another day.
Here was Remus Lupin slowly moving down the hallway toward our heroes. When the current Defence Professor noticed Harry standing along the wall, his amber eyes zeroed in on his pseudo-nephew. The Boy-Who-Lived caught his breath. As an ickle thirdster, he'd never picked up on the subtle cues from Remus that he knew Harry, much less that he'd been 'Unka Mooey'.
Yet here was their Defence Professor approaching with an expression of tenderness and affection that was plain to those with eyes to see.
Remus nodded his head to the Potters before greeting them, "Harry, Hermione. How are you this fine day?"
"We're well, Professor," Hermione choked out. Harry could tell by her tone that she too was overcome by emotion.
A tad bemused, Lupin looked back and forth between his third year students with a small smile playing across his features. Latching onto Harry's gaze once more, he bid them farewell before moving on down the hall.
Harry sagged against the wall, Hermione sagging onto him in turn. "I need a drink," he muttered.
"Me too. Come on, let's get our homework done before dinner. We need to go to Gringotts tonight."
He nodded wearily, emotionally wrung out and tired, he trudged after his wife to Gryffindor Tower.
.oOo.
Homework took a grand total of seventeen minutes followed by a ten minute supper in the Great Hall. Neither had the emotional reserves to engage any of their 'peers' in discussion, so they fed the monster within before heading to the humpbacked witch passageway on the third floor.
A quick "Dissendium" caused the hump of the witch to open wide. Harry bowed and snootily intoned, "After you, milady."
Giggling, Hermione curtsied while fanning herself with a conjured hand fan, "Why thank you, milord."
Cackling, they climbed in the hole and slipped down the short slide. Following the twists and turns of the secret passage, they made their way out from the famous Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards. Hermione illuminated her wand so that both she and Harry could inspect the inside of the passageway minutely. "If we're going to Apparate back to this spot, we should know it pretty well," she'd reasoned.
They cast illusions over their features and with a quick double pop-pop and they were gone.
.oOo.
The wards funnelled the Potters to the corral looking area that was the Apparition centre for Diagon Alley. Harry was surprised to see three red-robed Aurors standing watch at the only non-warded site for the Alley. Heads bowed under the hoods of their cloaks, the teens scurried into the darkening shopping district.
"What's with the Aurors?" Harry asked.
"Sirius," she replied.
Rolling his eyes at his lapse, Harry pushed on to the bank. It was time to assert control over the Potter finances.
Although Gringotts is a bank and therefore closes its doors promptly at five PM, its larger depositors have access to the Goblins at any time.
After hammering on the door of the bank for a minute, a small slide opened and a Goblin peered out at Harry. "What do you want?" he snarled.
"I'm Harry Potter, open up. I need to see my account manager."
"Oooo, the bleedin' Boy-Who-Lived needs in the bank…" the Goblin mocked.
With a grin that was more feral than friendly, Harry snarked back, "Open the damn door before I roast your entrails as an appetizer."
The Goblin blinked and barked a laugh before sliding the peephole closed. A quick moment later, the door opened. "Get in here, you walking roast."
Hermione chuckled under her breath, "Directness always pays with Goblins."
The door warden led the Potters into the office section of Gringotts. After five minutes and over eight different hallways (by Hermione's count), they pulled up in front of a non-descript door. "Snagrat's in here," the door warden blurted before turning on his heel and walking away.
After a deep calming breath, Harry opened the door, allowing Hermione to precede him. Inside, they found a middle aged Goblin, the thick tufts of hair sprouting from his ears just beginning to grey.
Without looking up from his desk, Snagrat barked, "What?"
"I'm Harry Potter and I want to talk about my money."
Looking up from the parchment in his hands, Snagrat peered at the teen. His eyes cutting to Hermione, he again barked, "Who's she?"
"My wife."
Now Snagrat's thick furry eyebrows shot up in surprise. Leaning back in his chair, he motioned to two empty chairs across his desk, "Really? Have a seat Mr and Mrs Potter."
Delving straight into business - directness is valued by the Goblins after all - Harry began, "We are here for me to assert control over the Potter Trust and all other fiduciary holdings, as well as, add my wife to said accounts."
The Goblin nodded thoughtfully while scrutinizing Harry and Hermione. After a long pause, he finally told them, "You are not of age. Your legal guardian has not designated you in writing to assert control over your inheritance, so I cannot facilitate your request." Turning to Hermione he scanned her again before adding, "But we can add your…wife…to your trust fund account."
Dreading the answer, Harry asked, "Who do you have on record as my legal guardian?"
Without hesitation, Snagrat replied, "Sirius Black. Since he is imprisoned, or rather was imprisoned and now a fugitive, the title has temporarily devolved to Albus Dumbledore."
"Fong," Harry muttered. "At least it's not the Dursleys."
"Snagrat," Hermione began, "What is the source of those choices of guardian?"
"James Potter's will, of course."
"But…" Harry was thoroughly confused now. Why had he been able to gain control over his finances 'before' and he couldn't now?
He stopped as Hermione muttered to him, "Last time, you'd completed your O.W.L.s and both of them were dead. That's why you got control."
Thinking hard, Harry asked, "Are the accounts monitored for activity?"
A slight grin graced the taciturn Goblin, "Any transaction under one thousand galleons does not require a notice to your guardian."
Obviously, Snagrat was going to make Harry work for his answers. Hermione continued the line of thought, "And how many nine hundred and ninety nine galleon transactions can take place within a specified period of time before my husband's guardian is notified?"
The grin blossomed into a smirk, "There is no stipulation along those lines."
Nodding, Hermione followed up, "The current account balance?"
"Fifty thousand galleons. It is refilled from the primary Potter vaults every six months."
"Hmmm," Hermione temporized. Finally, she smiled, "Snagrat, may my husband assert reporting requirements over the Potter accounts and holdings as well?"
When Snagrat barked a laugh, she smiled in return, "Say, for any withdrawal not made by myself or my husband?"
Snagrat looked to Harry who merely nodded in concurrence. "It shall be done."
"One last thing," Hermione mentioned, "We would like a complete accounting and report of the activity of the Potter estate since the death of James and Lily Potter."
Glaring at Hermione, Snagrat barked, "Fifty Galleons and four weeks."
Harry stood, "Thank you for your help, Snagrat. We'll show ourselves out."
.oOo.
"Well, that was less than helpful." Harry grumbled on the way out of the bank.
"Yes and no," Hermione countered. "We'll know if Albus is helping himself to our money and if we really want to, we can siphon just short of a thousand every few days into offshore accounts."
"And if we find out Dumbledore is stealing from us?"
Chewing her lip, Hermione thought for a minute. Finally, she explained, "I don't think he's doing that." When Harry scowled, she continued, "Look, he's a cold hearted bastard who has no compunction ruining the lives around him if he feels it's necessary, but he's not a thief." She paused, considering her statement. "I think."
Harry shrugged, but remained quiet. Deep down, he knew she was right, but didn't want to admit it. He'd wanted to try and gain a level of control over his life in just this one way. It was something that frustrated him to no end. Harry always had felt that he never had any control over his life, that forces pushed him this way and that, never letting him strike out on his own: Voldemort, Dumbledore, Dursleys, wizarding public as a whole, all of them pushed, prodded or drove him in ways that he'd rather not go.
"Fong," Harry muttered. She wrapped her arm around his waist as they meandered through the late night crowds, slowly heading toward the Apparition point.
.oOo.
"I am not looking forward to this lesson," Harry murmured as they entered the Potions classroom.
Setting her books on the worktable, Hermione agreed, "Neither am I." Setting her satchel on the floor, leaning against the table's leg, she added, "For God's sake, don't look him in the eye."
Harry rolled his eyes, only to be punched in the arm by his wife. "Ow, that hurt."
She huffed in humorous annoyance as she prepared her parchment for note taking.
Bang!
The door slammed shut as Snape strode in the classroom, his sneer more pronounced than usual. "Be careful, it'll stick that way," Harry whispered.
Her eyes widened just a tad as Hermione ruthlessly supressed her laughter.
"Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class."
Red-faced, Harry stared at the table top. Hermione's hand on his thigh was the only thing that kept him in his seat.
"I was talking to you, Potter. Look at me!"
Slowly, Harry raised his face to the sallow faced goad. Somehow, he had the presence of mind to avoid Snape's gaze. Struggling with his fury, Harry concentrated on a spot just over the man's shoulder.
"Pitiful," Snape spat as he moved to the front of the classroom.
Harry's head jerked back down to the table with an appearance of calm, but he was literally vibrating with rage. The only reason the Shrinking Solution he and Hermione were working on wasn't a cauldron full of boiled shit was because Hermione did everything, Harry was only capable of going through the motions.
By the end of the lesson, Harry had almost lost control three separate times. Snape had continued his persecution of The Boy-Who-Lived to the point where even some of the Slytherins were frowning. Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, in particular, watched Harry's torment with expressions approaching disapprobation.
As Harry and Hermione exited the classroom, Harry felt a hand gently grasp his shoulder. Turning swiftly, Harry had to forcibly quash the urge to attack when he recognized Neville Longbottom.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
Letting a shaky breath leak out between his teeth, Harry shrugged. The three Gryffindors silently wound out of the dungeons. When they were finally alone, Neville spoke, "He was completely out of order, Harry. You didn't deserve that, you're the best person I know."
Nonplussed, Harry stared at his friend. This was the Neville of late fifth year. This was the kind young man who stood up for his friends and began to break out of his shy shell. What had changed?
Hermione added, "I agree Neville."
Touched, Harry nodded jerkily. "Thanks, guys. It…it means a lot for you to say those things. Thanks."
With a faint smile, Neville added, "Sure thing, mate."
"Neville," Hermione began, "I'm going to write a summary of the lesson and Professor Snape's bad behaviour. Would you be willing to sign it to attest to its truthfulness?"
Knowing exactly what Hermione was doing, Neville considered her for a long minute. Finally, he nodded and told her, "Sure thing, Hermione. I'll even try to help you convince our classmates to sign it as well."
Now it was Hermione's turn to be surprised, "Thanks, Neville."
.oOo.
It was late as Harry and Hermione sat on the steps of the castle. There were ten minutes until curfew and the two wanted to stretch out their time alone until the last minute. Harry also had his cloak, but they didn't want to arouse the Headmaster's suspicion just yet by prowling about after hours.
"Are we going to tell them>" she whispered.
"Neville and Luna?" he asked.
Her nod was sad, for she knew the answer already. "We can't," he admitted for them both. Nodding, she curled into his arms. Their task seemed even more difficult this evening that it had the first day back.
They only had themselves and Minerva as allies in the know; they'd never felt so isolated in their life. The other Gryffindors were already noticing how different Harry and Hermione had been acting. Ron was making fast friends with Dean and Seamus. It looked like their friendship with the youngest Weasley male was well and truly dead.
"I thought everything would be wonderful if I got back," he breathed. "I've got you," he affectionately squeezed the witch in his arms, "And in the end, that's all that really matters. But…" he trailed off.
Hermione stood before pulling Harry to his feet. Instinctively, they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. "But it's still pretty lonely," she finished for him, as if there had been no interruption.
"Yeah."
"You've Quidditch practise tomorrow," she supplied.
Smiling, Harry nodded. "I do indeed. Thank God for that."
"I know you missed it," she observed.
"I did, indeed." Pinching her bum, he teased, "Not as much as you, though."
In a flash, she had him pinned to the wall. Kissing him fiercely, she pressed her pubescent body to his. After a moment, Harry's mind caught up to her body and reciprocated in kind.
This wasn't about love; it was about pain and finding solace in each other. Even if it was only a temporary reprieve. They trusted each other completely with their bodies, minds and souls. A bit of snogging never hurt anyone.
Breaking off the kiss, Hermione panted, "Thanks, I needed that."
His crooked smile firmly in place, he kissed her neck before muttering, "Anytime, my love."
"Come on, we're going to be late."
Grey eyes watched the young couple move hand in hand down the hallway before turning toward the grounds and loping into the forest.
.oOo.
"Ah, crap," Harry muttered as they entered Defence class.
"Hmmm?" Hermione murmured from her seat next to him.
"Boggart today."
"Oh." The problem immediately bloomed fully formed in her mind. Any of the many scenes of death and destruction from the war could show up. Or worse, one of the many times Harry had been wounded. Or…
Turning to Harry, she saw his despairing gaze focused on her. She knew exactly what Harry's Boggart would be. Not a dead Sirius, not a Dementor, not even a mutilated Ron. It would be her corpse as it had been on the evening of November 22, 2006. Blindly grasping his hand, she murmured, "I'm here. I'm never leaving you again."
A miniscule tear tracked down his left cheek, "What if you can't help it?"
She bolted from her seat, dragging him out of the classroom to surprised glances from the other students who were also early. Not caring about what any others were thinking, she pulled Harry into a broom closet. Holding him tight, the emotions burst from both of them as they wept without restraint.
Neither noticed when the door silently opened. Nor did they notice the man watching them with a concerned expression on his scarred face. "Harry, Hermione, are you well?"
Breaking apart, they hastily wiped their faces. Sniffling back tears, Harry murmured, "'M fine, Moony. Just give us a minute."
Hermione froze. A heartbeat later, so too did Harry. Slowly turning to face their Defence Professor, they saw a white faced Remus Lupin. "W-what did you just call me?" he rasped.
"Er, sorry, sir. I'm just a bit worked up," he stammered. "A bit of bad news from home."
Staring at Harry as if seeing him for the first time, Remus had the beginning of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. "No. You called me Moony."
Wrong footed, awash with emotion from a variety of sources, Harry and Hermione could only gape. A gentle expression crossed Remus' face, "We can talk about this after class, eh Pronglet?"
.oOo.
"Fong, fong, fong…" Harry had been muttering under his breath for the last five minutes and his litany hadn't changed a bit.
At the end of her patience, Hermione viciously jabbed him in the side with her finger. "Enough."
Letting a shaky breath wander out, Harry nodded and got control of himself. "Thanks," he muttered to her.
All the while, Remus had been lecturing on Boggarts and the spell to drive them away. Finally, he instructed the students to form a line to combat the magical creature.
Neville encountered Boggart-Snape again. Once again, at the cry of "Riddikulus!" by the Longbottom scion, the class rollicked with laughter as the Boggart-Snape suddenly was wearing clothes of the style Lady Augusta Longbottom preferred.
The Boggart became a mummy, a banshee, a rat, a rattlesnake, a bloody eyeball, a severed hand and a spider followed by Remus' intervention. Once again, it settled on the full moon. After Banishing the creature back to its wardrobe, Lupin jovially dismissed the class, with a significant glance at Harry and Hermione.
Loitering under the pretence of repacking Hermione's bag, the time travellers were the last students in the classroom.
With an inviting smile and inquisitive expression, Remus indicated his office off the classroom, "Shall we?"
Resignedly, Harry nodded. As he followed Remus up the stairs, Hermione whispered, "Maybe this is for the best."
Acknowledging her, he nodded. They settled into three chairs in round robin fashion when Remus offered, "I'd suggest tea, but you two seem far too nervous for that."
When they weakly returned his smile, he leaned back in his chair, doing everything he could to make the students as comfortable as he could. It was obvious they were very stressed about something. He was stunned when Harry drew his wand and immobilized the two paintings in the office.
Remus was further confused when Harry looked to Hermione and asked, "Vow?"
She considered before turning to Remus and asking, "How susceptible to Legilimancy are you considering your Lycanthropy?"
That was question was on a very short list of the most unexpected questions he'd ever consider hearing from his pseudo nephew and his best friend. Flummoxed, he croaked, "What?"
Sighing, Harry explained a bit, "I know about the Marauders and how they got their nicknames." With an expression of tender understanding, he continued, "And I know why they got their nicknames as well. Because they loved their brother."
Completely nonplussed, Remus merely stared at the two teens.
Tentatively, Hermione told him, "We have secrets. Dumbledore and Snape have no compunction using Legilimancy to scan a person's mind. Given your history with Snape in especial, we need to know about your ability to defend your mind, and by extension, our secrets."
Blinking, Remus nodded. Regaining his composure, he explained, "The Spirit of the Wolf defends my mind, any Legilimencer's mind would be ripped to shreds if he tried to assault me."
Harry sighed, exchanged a glance with Hermione before saying, "I trust you Moony. I trust you with my life, but at the same time, you owe Dumbledore. The old man isn't afraid to call in that debt if he feels he needs something. We'll need an Unbreakable Vow that you'll never disclose our secrets."
Remus blinked. After a moment, he questioned, "Your secrets are that important?"
"Life and death," Harry replied in a solemn tone.
Pursing his lips, Remus considered. Unbreakable Vows were not to be taken lightly. At the same time, he wanted to be of use to Harry. After the little scene in the broom closet, it was obvious that Harry and Hermione were in need of help. If he could be of service to his deceased friends' son, then he had to make himself available. At the same time, this wasn't about James and Lily. It was about Harry; the boy who he'd not seen in a dozen years. The boy whom he'd loved as a toddler, who he wanted to love again as a young man.
Deciding, he told them, "I'll Vow to never willingly disclose your secrets. Veritaserum can overcome anything, though. I'll only willingly discuss your secrets with you or anyone else in the know."
Nodding his head, Harry agreed. Ten seconds later, the Vow had been made with Hermione as their binder.
"Where to start?" Harry murmured.
Hermione interrupted Harry by beginning the explanation. "We have the memories of our twenty seven year old selves. We know what is going to happen and how. For example, this year, we all find out that Sirius is innocent and Peter was the betrayer. Next year, Peter will be instrumental in the resurrection of Voldemort. After that, the reign of terror from the seventies will be revisited tenfold."
"A thousand fold," Harry added, his eyes staring far away.
Completely taken aback once again, Remus repeated, "Sirius is innocent?"
Nodding with a sad smile, Hermione added, "And will soon be living in the Shack."
Leaning forward, Remus took his head in his hands and wept. He wept for Sirius, whom he'd long hated. He wept for Peter, the poor stupid boy he'd been to be so led astray. He wept for James, Lily and Harry; the family which had been rent asunder. He wept for himself and all the sorrow and grief he'd experienced alone over the last decade.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Remus looked up to find Harry and Hermione kneeling in front of him with their arms looped around his shoulders in a gentle embrace. "I'm sorry, Moony. I'm sorry you've suffered."
Shaking away his tears, Remus embraced them both. His new family. "What else?" he asked.
They all resettled in their seats, wiping eyes and blowing noses for a moment. Hermione chewed her lip as she considered Remus' question. Turning to her husband, she shrugged. Harry replied for them both, "Nothing else is really important right now. Our goal is to destroy Voldemort once and for all during the resurrection ceremony next year. Everything after that should just be bad memories for us."
Nodding his head in understanding, Remus asked, "How can I help?"
.oOo.
Hermione trailed Harry down to the Quidditch pitch. He had his trusty Nimbus 2000 slung over his shoulder and nearly bounced into the changing rooms with Katie and the Twins.
Climbing the stands, she unslung her satchel. Conjuring a lap desk, she set about wrapping up her homework for the next few weeks. Smiling she realized that she had every intention of allowing Harry to copy her homework. It's not that he didn't know the material; he just had much better things to do with his time. Like her.
Sighing, she admitted that she and Harry needed some private time and soon. Surprisingly, her early teenage body was more than capable of keeping up with her mature libido. Based on Harry's comments, gropes and searing kisses, so too was his body.
Sex was something that she'd never really given much thought towards. Until their first time they'd been together, that is. In retrospect, it had been uncoordinated, painful and completely wonderful. She had made love with the love of her life. There's no score, award or other measure except that of love and make no mistake, she loved Harry Potter. With all off her heart and soul. He owned her by her own surrender, and she, in turn, owned him.
An hour after the team entered the changing rooms, they exited en masse. As they shot into the skies, she had to grin as Harry looped and barrel rolled across the pitch, shouting to the heavens. Where Hermione found her solace in books, Harry found his in the skies. It had been far too long for him to be on a broom. Nearly a decade as a matter of fact.
She couldn't help but admire Oliver Wood's single mindedness and devotion to Quidditch. In her heart, she recognized a fellow devotee. Where she devoted herself to learning and academic pursuits, she saw Oliver devoting himself to the sport of Quidditch. Now that she was a few years older, she could admit - to herself at least - that there was nothing ignoble about pursuing a career in Quidditch.
Wondering if Harry would ever want to pursue a professional career in the sport, her mind was undecided. He certainly had the talent and enthusiasm for it. At the same time, with Harry's extraordinary disdain for attention, the combination of being The Boy-Who-Lived and a Quidditch star might just quash the idea before it bloomed. They'd have to discuss it.
Despite all the gloom and darkness that overshadowed their lives due to the curse of Voldemort, they had another chance to live. Truly live their lives and it wasn't to be squandered. So, she'd talk to her husband about a Quidditch career.
Shouts and other horseplay refocused her attention on the players. Fred and George in specific. Hermione stifled a laugh at the Twins' capers. They were currently teasing Harry about dating Hermione and she had to admit they were quite funny. They weren't saying anything malicious, just embarrassing. She could tell that Harry was forcing a stern expression but really wanted to laugh. Ducking a bludger, he finally let go a deep belly laugh.
"Finally, a bit of levity," she exhaled.
High on the bleachers, a large black dog silently watched the practice.
.oOo.
"We need the map," Harry proclaimed the next day as he watched the Twins enter the common room.
Hermione nodded in agreement. "I agree. Earlier, when we were talking to Moony, I was about to ask you for it when I remembered that you don't have it yet."
"I'm about to get it right now. Want to help?"
"Sure," she shrugged before placing her book in her satchel.
Harry called after the twins, "Oi, lads. Let's have a bit of a talk."
"Sure, mate. Where?"
With the ghost of a smile, Harry told Fred, "Follow us and learn."
George snorted before snarking, 'Oh, yes. Show us and teach us oh wise one."
Harry smiled at Hermione, who returned it with a mischievous grin of her own. Dashing through the first secret passageway (just to the right out of the Fat Lady), they wound up to the seventh floor in the dusty passageway.
"How the bloody hell did you find this place?" George asked bewilderedly.
"Oh, I know some people."
"Like who?" Fred asked.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," Harry replied with a smile.
Floored, Fred and George stopped in front of the Troll tapestry with Barney the Barmy trying to teach the trolls how to dance.
"How do you know them?" George prodded. Both twins' faces were a mixture of confusion, suspicion and awe.
Nonchalantly, Harry shrugged. "My Dad was Prongs."
"No Fucking Way."
"Way," Harry replied with another grin.
Turning to Hermione, Fred told her, "Don't listen to this next part." After her chuckle, Fred turned back to Harry and intoned, "Son of Prongs, we, the Twins Weasley, stand by to be instructed. School us oh Wise One."
Now Harry, Hermione and George were laughing. Wiping his eyes, Harry gestured to the wall, "Lads, I propose a trade: the map for a room that isn't on the map. A room that is extraordinarily…wonderful."
"Done," George replied without a moment's hesitation. Fred dug into his left pocket before producing the very familiar bit of old parchment.
Gently, Harry took it, caressed it once before pocketing it himself. With another smile, he added, "To sweeten the pot, I'll introduce you to Moony."
Fred fainted. George wept.
"I love you Harry," George croaked as he revived his brother.
Shaking his head, Harry asked Hermione, "Room of Lost Things?"
"Sure, why not."
Harry began pacing back and forth in the hallway while Fred and George watched him, bewilderment evident on their faces.
After the third pass, a large oak door appeared. With a flourish, Harry told them, "Gentlemen, after you."
George opened the door, Fred peeking over his brother's shoulder. "What the…?"
"This is the Room of Requirement. If you concentrate on what you need from the Room whilst pacing back and forth in front of the section of wall, it will provide."
"Fuck me running."
"George! Language!"
Without looking at her, he murmured, "Sorry, Hermione."
"Harry, this place is…well it's…" Fred tailed off.
"Yeah, it is." Harry confirmed.
Shaking his head as if in a daze, George turned to The Boy-Who-Lived and asked, "So. Moony?"
A/N
1. I own nothing.
2. Ok, major problems. My laptop has gone kaput so I've lost ≈ 6k words of Hippogriff Chapter 12 and ≈ 8k words of Harry and Gabi. Muggledad is unhappy. So, while the laptop is in the shop, I'm working on E&B. Did I back up to my desktop? Or the external HD? Of course.
Six weeks ago.
Ooops.
3. Yes, Luna is different than in OOTP. I've always thought that the whole 'spacey Luna' gig was too over the top and made the character into a caricature. Sure, it's a defence mechanism to help her deal with life after her mother died and everything afterwards. H&Hr get to her before she goes too far off the deep end. Her dad's a bit…odd and as you can see in this chapter, she's got a touch of Seer ability going for her.
4. I had a few reviews from Chapter 1 asking about backstory. I'm using canon up until the day after the battle for the Department of Mysteries (with a few additions that will stand out as they crop up). After that, it's all muggledad AU.
5. Recommendation for the chapter is 'Vox Corporis' by MissAnnThropic. It's probably the best written romance fic out there. The Goblin interaction at the Bank door was inspired by Jeconais' most excellent fic, "Happily Ever After".
6. As usual, the status of my stories is updated on Mondays on my FanFiction (dot) net muggledad homepage.