Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Author Note: The magical world always seemed mind-boggling fast, too fast, faster than our world and that's saying something. As per Order of the Phoenix, Harry surely knew the trial wouldn't be fixed and that Rita wouldn't play by the rules. So much for a warm welcoming back; then again, when did these lives ever really have a break?

***

Chapter Thirty-Six - Letters

***

"Hold my fedora?"

"It would be my pleasure, mademoiselle."

And with that, we were gone from our holiday flat, the isolated island literally of nonexistence. Or, so people knew from the numbing charm. I held onto Harry, the stream of blurring colour like watery chalk residue, bounding passed us with enormous speed. A pull, and then a push, our heels collided with the cement before numbers eleven and thirteen of Grimmauld Place. Harry's chrome hued BMW sat outside the gate, we walked around to get the wrought-iron and unlatch the front. We shot glances in every direction before plunging into our home, the building growing as it always did for Number Twelve.

The London sky was gloomy, an overcast of grey cloud, the picturesque United Kingdom. Inside, however, even in the hall the murky weather felt uninvited. The flat remained cool, but not so cold that it hurt. If I hadn't worn a suit-style outfit, stripes of black-and-yellow from my jacket down to my tailored trousers, I would have been exceptionally comfortable. Unfortunately, I hadn't the time to undress. We carried luggage, Harry bumbling moreso than me, upstairs and unpacked.

Not the most incredible hour of our lives, but it needed to be done. Of course, looking back on that hour, I would have rather done another set full luggage than what we received by post. We'd set instructions with the Post in delivering mail. Because our letters were addressed strictly forbidden to be handled by anyone other than ourselves, orders were mandatory or the post be tossed. The life of fugitives-I mean, the lives of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

We were in the kitchen. I'd put on some tea in the kettle and went to fetch biscuits from the cupboard. Harry tended to the two dozen letters, which had fallen from a notch in the wall. He gave me those that were addressed to me personally. I knew from the scrawled writing who the first in the queue of the bundle was from, not to mention the overly-large postage of black-and-red securing the halves together. Breaking the seal, I read:

Hermy-own-ninny,

Thank you for the lovely letter you sent me of encouragement. I cherish it and keep it in my belongings for good luck. Yes, it was a very demanding schedule. The new trainers don't like us to be of children. They want us to act like adults outside the pitch. I've told that to Gregor and he still wants his whiskey and girls. Oh well. So I hear in the newspapers of your marriage to Harry Potter. Joy! You have a pretty mind and a heart of solid gold. I knew when we first met that he and you had a background. I'll confess I'm jealous. Do you hate me? I wonder if that makes me more adult? Anyway, I've enclosed two tickets to an exhibition match here in Bulgaria. I want you and Harry to come. Please! To celebrate your commencement and his birthday. On the tickets are special instructions on Flooing. I want you both here and escape the hardships I read about in your previous letter. You should get away. You shouldn't be sad anymore.

Your friend,

Viktor Krum

I fanned the two tickets burning at my fingertips. Burning because I knew they'd get Harry's outright attention. And, they did. Harry, who poured over a letter himself, shifted to see me making a scene beside him. His eyes lit and he glanced between me and those he watched.

"What? How did-What?"

"I have friends in high places."

I laughed when he snatched them from said fingertips.

He gazed openly as if he'd discovered the alchemist's equation on creating pure gold.

He said in fits, breathless and smiling, "Bulgaria versus Lithuania?! Viktor!"

I nodded. "I told him about you, and if you look at the dates…"

"July 31st…!"

"Feliz cumpleanos! However, early."

"You are amazing," He gathered me and kissed my lips. "Gigantically, enormously amazing multiplied to infinity!"

"I thought you'd like it," I smiled.

"It will positively be the best birthday ever. Thank you," He kissed me again, giving me a tight embrace.

I hugged him tight, too, saying in smiles, "You're quite, quite welcome."

Harry was on his sixth when I sifted open by nail the next. This also had an air of nostalgia written all over it before actually taking the parchment from its envelope. I knew right away who the letter was from, the envelope's paper dyed in a rainbow spectrum of colour and the postage cut-out like a crumple-horned snorkack leaving the author completely indisposed:

To Missus Hermione Potter (Luna insists in describing you as Missus Potter!),

Luna Lovegood is requesting an engagement. She wishes to have lunch with you soon. She hopes you are well and that the nasty bubbling urglops haven't found their way into your bed. Please give her a call by fireplace or post, or by her newly obtained telephone: X9-17065A.

She sends you and Harry her love and wishes you both the very best.

Sincerely,

Stephanie Shultz

Public Relations

Assistant Press Secretary

"I've gotten a letter from Luna."

"Hm?" Harry flicked his eyes to me and asked, "Really? What does she say?"

"She wants to have lunch with me. Now that I have more free time before the session starts in autumn, I'll take her up on the offer. She has a telephone."

Harry chuckled, "A telephone? Wow, that must be a sight, seeing her work a telephone. She loses the darnedest things and I can see her forgetting the functionality."

I rolled my eyes in a grin, "Come now, it's not too difficult to press one, two, and three. Give her the benefit of the doubt."

I began to shuffle the parchment back in the splotches of colour when Harry shrugged, saying, "She's always been a good friend. A great friend, a genuine friend, suffice to the lot we see everywhere else. She loves me and especially loves you. She'd practically bend over backwards to please us, so-yeah."

He nodded. "Have a lunch date with her. Take it easy."

He inclined at the sink, his legs twined together, one atop its partner. I went to take the kettle from the stove eye, it whistling its finale.

Harry shook with a fuss, sighing into his hand at nearly every other letter. He'd slide his hand into the front of his hair and let the long locks curl back downward slowly about his face and ears. I peeked in his direction when he'd said an obscenity, dusting my hands with a cloth after plating the biscuits.

I set my hand on my hip, its twin against the countertop ledge. "We just got home. We haven't had a chance to do anything. What could possibly be wrong?"

Harry crumpled the strikingly white bit of parchment in his hands and threw it on the ground. He stomped on it with his shoe and uttered a grunt.

I threw the rag aside and went to him. "What is it?"

He stood, staring blankly across the kitchen. He didn't blink, his nostrils flaring, his eyes piercing the porcelain sitting on rack along the far wall. I flicked to the goblin-made ware and back to him, not understanding his silence but realising the anger. "What-"

"I'm thinking." He said curtly.

I placed my hand on the arm closest to me, his hand clutching the ledge of the counter. White-knuckled, he had quite the firm grip. "Harry, what is-"

He shot at me. "Hermione!"

Reflexive, I stepped backward, my head dodging his sharpness. For a moment I didn't just hear the animosity, I saw it behind his eyes. The way he looked at me and lurched toward me; but, it didn't last. A mere second, and Harry was back to the person I knew. He retracted himself, and stated in kind apology, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, and then he looked back at me. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's all right, really," I went back to him and persuaded affection. He needed it, my palm rubbing alongside his arm, soothing whatever poisoned my Love. The letter had done the terrible deed; forced Harry to become that slithering serpent. "Tell me what it said for you to reaction like that. It can't be good."

Harry laughed sarcastically, sniveling a snort and bent to pick up the crushed parchment. "That's stating it lightly. Here, see for yourself."

My brow inched, rising, peering at Harry as he offered me the letter un-crumpled and cleaned from his shoe print. He blew away the dirt and it lay in my hand.

My eyes affixed to the legible cursive. The detail fine, I knew right away this wasn't any old letter addressed to Harry James Potter:

From the Office of Burdem and Bange-

Mr. Harry James Potter,

By receiving this letter, we are to notify that the Daily Prophet is intending to sue on grounds of physical abuse and molestation of one, Mr. Jason Daley.

"This… This is an outrage!"

"I hit the man, Hermione. I made him bleed."

"But, he called me a Mudblood!"

Harry flinched.

"A swear! This…," I read the message again, all the lawyer verbiage. "'Jason Daley' incited the incident! There were witnesses at the night club!"

Harry looked as if I weren't even there, and then shook out of his trance, throwing a smaller yellowed envelope at me. I caught it with one hand. "I've got to speak to Kingsley, anyway. He's requested for me to be present during the trial of Ivik Varishka, an Undesirable. He thinks we've seen him during the War, but he doesn't exactly remember."

"And, who would?" I huffed, beginning to reveal the contents of the Ministry-signed envelope. "It's not like there were a handful of Death Eaters; more like an entire country of evil."

"I'm to be the key in sentencing him…," Harry's eyes strayed towards me where they instantly lit. I'd unsealed the enveloped.

"Hermione! Don't!" Harry went to snatch the envelope from me, but was late in grasping. His hand went right through what was the paper object, it catching on fire and burning on the kitchen floor where I dropped it.

Harry stomped it out.

"…Should have realised Kingsley would put a charm on the letter."

"Classified and confidential," When Harry lifted his foot there was nothing. No soot, no burn marks on the floor, nothing resembling the real flames that once incinerated the paper.

It had vanished.

"I'm going with you," I decided promptly.

Harry shook his head, "Kingsley wanted me."

"You're not going to do this alone!"

"Hermione, you're not going." He said this unusually cool.

"I'm coming with you to the Ministry whether you like it or not! We're going to take these on as a team. Remember? A team!"

Harry's green eyes grew dark as he looked at me. "…You're staying out of this. You will not be put in danger anymore. This is what I've decided."

"Tell me then!" I was frantic. I was scared. Death Eaters, Dark Marks… I couldn't believe Harry would shut me out like this. He never shut me out. I held up the engagement ring on my finger. "What does this mean?!"

"It means I love you."

"It means we'll be by each other's sides!" I threw my hand back down and sized Harry aggressively. "I'm going!"

"…In another world we'd go together. But now," He stared straight into me. "You are my future wife. You will be protected. I will protect you no matter what."

"Then I'll be damned if I'll be you wife!" I took the ring off and threw it across the room. I heard the soft metal hit the wall, the clink echo in our sudden silence, and it drop to the floor with a thud.

I gasped.

I couldn't believe what I had done.

Harry had turned his head to watch the ring float aimlessly in the air, as if in slow motion, and strike the wall. It chipped a piece of wood from the surface as hard as I'd thrown it. He didn't look back at me, planted where he stood. After a while of waiting for something, anything in our tensed state, he made a move-for I couldn't, ashamed of my action-and prepared to walk carefully to where the ring had fallen.

I saw him vanish beneath the dining table, and then stand back from his squat, blowing the diamond and gold loop off.

He held his gaze from me, taking my left hand quietly and slipped the ring back on my finger.

A lone tear trickled down my cheek.

I wished I'd never done it.

It felt like I'd shot my own heart, the strings detached, bleeding profusely from an open wound.

When his eyesight finally clicked with mine, I threw myself on him. I hugged him, embracing him tight and sobbed uncontrollably into apology after apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…"

In his silence he ran his hand along my back.

But, I needed more.

I felt like I'd disappointed him.

"Please, say something!" My embraced tightened, wallowing at his neck.

"…I'm going to the Ministry tomorrow…"

"Let me come with you, please…!"

"I can't… I will not endanger you any longer. You will no longer be shredded to bloody bits for the sake of galleons anymore. I will not have it."

I stepped away, but only to see him, our distance centimetres.

"Please," I pleaded at a whispering breath. "Please… A team… I can research… I can help you! You know I can!"

His plain gaze stood stationary. He wasn't really looking at me, but he was looking at me. I knew his mind raced in rapid thoughts, and I wished I could hear them, see them, understand why he insisted on me staying behind. He loved me, yes; but, he loved me in school, caring about me till this day and that was a fact. I started guessing in that noiseless moment about how our new level of life encroached on the past, now his lover, his forthcoming wife, the mother of his future children…

I didn't want to give any of those up, but I wanted to give those up to help the one I most loved.

His release of me interrupted my thoughts.

Rummaging in his pocket, he pulled out his wand.

He took me back tight and asked me to, "Hang on."

I clung to him, embraced him once more, and heard him chant "Accio broom!"

Then, we vanished.

***

By broom, Harry had taken us to the mountains, somewhere far away from the reaches of London. I clasped to him snug, holding on from behind while he directed flight. I used to fear flying. I used to close my eyes. I remember our ride on Buckbeak and how scared I was, eyes closed, shutting out the scream. But now, with Harry, I knew no longer that fear. I kept my eyes open.

My cheek to his back, I watched the sun rise with us. I watched the automobiles become ants, their trails the pavement, the motorways of mid-morning traffic. I saw Big Ben in the distance, the bridges over water, and the water's sparkling ripples. The air grew colder, and as we left the city the atmosphere grew clearer. He pushed through the fog and the earth instantly disappeared, a sea of white cloud beneath us, the sky the bluest of blues.

He descended to land atop a plateau jutting outward. When his feet hit the craggy foundation, he slowed the speed, touching earth. He turned to motion he was about to withdraw his broom. I slipped away, grabbing his hand and held onto it. I wasn't about to let go.

We sat together on a cliff looking out across a lake, and at the English hillside spruced with dense trees. We watched the fog roll off the mountain and down in the valley, a sheet of the purest white tumbling through the trees. England's somber weather drew with its overcast, darkening the sky and squashing any penetrating light. Where the sunlight did try and break through, parts in clouds abstractly cut at odd angles as if what was above was flesh ridden with hundreds of lacerations.

Placing my chin on his left shoulder, my eyes upon him, I didn't look away. Harry kept his eyes on what matured below. The wind blew at us, blowing my hair everywhere. I had to move, to keep my eyes from drying, but Harry remained still behind his glasses. With his lips firm together, I knew he continued to think, almost oblivious from his surroundings. If it weren't for the occasional stroke of my hand, I'd think he was gone.

"You've been quiet for some time," I whispered to him. "Please, tell me what you're thinking…"

He stayed to himself, eventually revealing through words of certainty, "…Circumventing is a must. She'll try and pull a fast one, I'm sure of it. There's no other way around. I won't have it become a sideshow."

"Have Kingsley take care of Rita and her attention-seeking ways."

"Kingsley already has enough to worry about. Squashing cockroaches is a full-time job."

"I'm sure he's aware of what's happening," I spoke, but Harry never turned towards me. His only acknowledgement came from his aural sense. "He'll do something to shut her off. He has to."

"I'm sure he is well aware of Rita's plot, but I'm not going to run to him. I'm over scurrying for help. I chose what I chose, and I'll never think to change what I did. I'll take my dues if dues are given."

I squeezed his hand.

"I'm scared Harry…," I put my forehead to his shoulder and ran my cheek along the rounded edge, nuzzling him, and then kissed softly the spot before laying my chin back where it had rested.

"Scared? What for?" Harry made a cold chuckle, the side of his lip attempting to curl but didn't make quite it. "Everything will be all right. I have everything under control."

"I don't want you to be in the same room as a Death Eater, be it one or one hundred…"

"I'll only be in there for one reason and one reason only. If anything, I'm dreading Rita's face than the trial of a Death Eater," He laughed, but it encompassed a sigh. "I'm not sure if I'd want to laugh in her face or take a swing."

I shook his hand, my right clasping palm-to-palm while my left held above, "Even if it's so difficult not to hit her, don't."

"That was a joke…"

"We vowed to give up this way of life after the War… Why must we be constantly sucked back in? It's like we're right back in the tent…"

The only sound amongst us for a while was the howl of the wind. I had laced my fingers from underneath and would open and close them as I held tight his hand. I'd rub his arm, tracing downward to that hand in essence to soothe, do something, anything at all. If I didn't, I think I'd scream. I had to close my eyes, and did so, thunder rumbling in the distance.

Harry leaned into me, the side of his head tapping the top of mine alerted me out of the mood.

It was difficult, but I smiled however gently.

"Let's run away," I suggested in the difficult smile. "Let's just run far, far away, as far away from London and everyone, everything."

"If only it were that easy," He smirked. "If only…"

The whistling winds took again within the absence of sound.

I didn't know what else to say.

What was there to say?

I felt as if our very lives were being taken away…

I kept quiet in our moment, gazing out over the valley as the rolling fog strolled casually passed the lake and onto the other side. I could see in the distance the troubling weather of blackened clouds; though, I squeezed his hand and wasn't stirred by what I considered now frivolity. My mind was riddled with, What if's.

"Guess I'll be packing when we get back…," He breathed, shattering the silent glass.

"How long do you think they'll keep you?"

"I'm sure Rita's showcase will wrap up quick. I don't see the court having their precious time spent essentially on a freak carnival," A strong gust blew some of his hair about his face, my own in disastrous chaos, attaching haphazardly on Harry's jacket. "Kingsley's call, however, might hold me there for a while. To be honest, I don't know."

"What of your birthday?"

He stroked the inside of my hand, alongside the palm, with his thumb, "I'll be back."

He nodded, "I promise."

"Don't make promises that you may not be able to keep…," I kissed his shoulder and held the caress. I said while there on him, "I don't know what I'll do without you by me. It feels like I've been punched in the stomach. It hurts…"

"Have lunch with Luna. Write a letter back to Viktor that we'll be there for his game," He squeezed my hand, having to close his eyes slightly in another strong gust of on-coming wind. "Contact Gin and be with her. Don't stay alone. Promise me that you won't."

"Again," I made a laugh through my nose. "Don't know if promises will be kept."

He smirked, but I watched it fall soon afterward, "Just stay away from that world. They're not allowed to cross."

I nodded, letting him know that's something I would utmost follow. I had no intentions in getting anywhere near the magical world unless he needed me there.

"Still want to marry me?" He turned to me when he said this, the first time he set his eyes on me while we were here.

He had a bit of smirk on him.

Inside, I knew it wasn't because he thought what he said was humourous.

I just shook my head and hugged his arm.

"Perfect opportunity, and I'll understand"

"Harry…," I exclaimed tersely; though, the silence that linger spoke wonders of truth in his statements.

He truly believed I'd leave him.

"…'Til death do us part." I said softly in one breath, eyes closed, my cheek again on his shoulder.

***

The very second we were back at Number Twelve the telephone rang. Harry hadn't even closed the door behind. I wasn't but in the middle of the entrance hallway. I tucked pieces of loose hair behind my ears, hanging a right in the kitchen where I took the telephone from the hook, the closest of the few in our home. I heard Harry approaching, appearing under the frame, his side tilted just inside the dining area.

He watched me, my backside against the countertop, my right hand holding the telephone to my ear while its partner was folded across my abdomen.

"Hello?" I wasn't exactly in the correct mindset for the call, my mind working with the objective of packing for Harry's trip to the Ministry…and, so much more. But, when I heard the voice on the other end, magically some of that sadness washed away.

"Cupcake! You're back!"

"Mummy!" I put my hand on the receiver and turned to Harry who was smiling at me.

"It's mum," I mouthed to him, going back to the telephone call.

From my peripherals I saw Harry with his Firebolt disappear from view and ascend up the stairs, each footstep heard.

"When did you get in, love? You sound tired for having been on holiday."

I made a snort and rolled my eyes at the irony of her comment, "We got back a little while ago, maybe a few hours. We've been resting, going over mail, you know how it is when you just get back from a week-long holiday. Seems like everyone wants a piece of you."

"Lots of bills, eh?"

"Mhmm." I couldn't just tell her, `Hey, we're getting sued by a maniac out for our blood and oh, yeah, Harry will be witnessing a trail of an accomplice from the mass genocide that nearly happened two years ago!' Besides, they were obliviated for a reason.

"Do the two of you have enough to pay them?"

"Of course, mummy. Of course."

"Just checking, love. You know we love you and Harry dearly. You two are always on our minds."

"Aw… Mummy…," I began to pour the cold tea from the kettle that had sat on the stove, dump the dried out biscuits in the rubbish bin. I'd start fresh, put a new bag in. I reached for those bags in the cupboards above.

"Well, it's true, dear."

I smiled, flicking the faucet on for water.

"How tired are you and Harry?" She asked which tugged at my curiosity.

"Why do you ask?"

"Your father and I made prior arrangements for dinner and we were wondering if you two would like to join us. It's been weeks since we last saw you. But, if you're tired…"

"Would it be a bother?"

"Never a bother, dear. A simple call to the restaurant and a table for two will become a table for four. Does Harry eat Mongolian?"

I laughed into the phone, "I'm not sure if Harry's tried Mongolian, but he'll eat practically anything. That I know with certainty."

"Fantastic! Will seven-thirty be all right?"

"Well, Harry's packing for a trip out right now-"

There was my cover if anything came up.

"He's leaving again already? That was quick."

"Business trip for the school. A mandatory educational class," I improvised on the fly. "He'll be back. I'll go ask him and I'll call you back, okay?"

"Sounds good, love."

"All right, mummy. I love you."

"I love you too, Cupcake."

Hanging the telephone up, I bounded up the staircase. I must have made a ruckus enough to shake Harry for he was coming out of our bedroom. He grasped the side of the door when we met in the hallway, eyes ablaze.

"What's wrong?" He was concerned, his brows bunched together. He was looking me over.

"How would you like to go to dinner?"

"Uh," Thrown off-guard, he stood dumbfounded, scratching his head. "What? Yeah, I mean-what?"

"With my parents. They've asked if we wanted to go, and I was thinking it would be good to go…you know…"

"Absolutely," Harry nodded, patting the doorframe he had grabbed. "We need a little diversion from all this pessimistic baggage."

He thumbed towards the bedroom where I presumed he'd begun to pack. Sure enough, walking around him to get the phone in the bedroom, I saw the luggage sprawled over the floor. I had to turn away from the image; the image utterly churning my stomach uneasily.

I did a bounce on the bedside, taking the phone to hold it to my ear.

As I went to dial, I felt a similar bounce beside me. Harry, shifting so we touched, caressed my arm when it was free, my shoulder, my neck until he roused me with laughter by his scruffy beard. I fell to the bed, dropping the telephone back on the hook on the way, and giggled as Harry snuggled into me. He kissed my lips, my hands cradling his face.

***

We held hands, and tightly, even as we made our way to the table with mum and dad. Harry pulled the chair out for me, to which I furtively grinned, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and slipped into the table. He proceeded to sit down beside me, the men facing each other like the women.

It was nice not to know we had several thousand eyes on our every move. Actually, the people around us couldn't have cared less, being in their own universe within the confines of their tables. We didn't have escorts. We didn't discuss the horrible activities of what may or may not come. We merely spoke of our holiday, what our flat was like, the weather, what we did, what we saw, everything about our tiny island.

Thankfully, I let Harry know about his cover beforehand. My father asked about his educational trip in passing discussion, so Harry was ready to talk all about it. All the while, our hands hadn't left each other beneath the white, draping tablecloth. Slowly, I'd work the tips of my fingers inside the slight webbing between Harry's fingers. He'd slowly encircle the centre of my palm, so far as to give me a shiver which he saw. I smiled at him when I did, my chin in my left hand, the lights of the candles frolicking in our eyes.

The bruise, which had gotten lighter in its purple colour, was an obvious point. Harry told them he'd been hit by a ball while assisting the sports team at the school, the truth without every, single detail. After the War, I tended to keep much more of our world from my parent's view. Before I'd probably have come out and say Quidditch, or the terms derived from the sport, but now I wanted things to remain elementary.

Deep into our meal, in-between the main entree and dessert, Harry's hand had pretty much covered the entirety of my strapless satin cocktail dress. Dark maroon hue, a black satin ribbon restrained my middle. Harry hooked his fingers in the strip of fabric, wriggling them around, rubbing where my sides curved. A bit of intimacy, I grinned in the candle-light. I took advantage to lean in and kiss Harry while my parent's discussed something amongst themselves.

He smiled in return.

I adjusted his black tie, and the maroon vest under his jacket matching what I wore.

We'd been mulling over ideas about our wedding through wine and dessert. Harry and I hadn't really put ourselves forward in that category. We really felt we didn't have time for ourselves to think about our wedding. We always had some problem to face or something which stole our mind. Maybe we had an appointment, or maybe we just wanted to mingle together in silence. I guess that's why we found ourselves in bed; at least we knew our privacy would be interrupted less behind bedroom doors.

"If you do not want to do it there, why not have it on the lawn, baby girl?"

"In front of the house?" My eyes were on my father who had his right arm wrapped around mum.

I turned towards Harry to get his input, our faces close together. We hadn't but a few centimetres in distance the whole night.

Harry shrugged, "That actually isn't a bad idea."

I flicked back to daddy, my curled tassels swaying in tune, "But, would we have enough room to accommodate everyone?"

"Oh, we'll make room for everything and it would be easier on everyone, in our opinion."

I cocked a brow, "You two have been thinking this over?"

Harry's hand massaged my back.

I set my fork down on the now empty plate where once a slice of cinnamon apple crumble cake sat. One could actually see the triangular outline of the crumbs.

"Your father's already scouted the lawn, love. Where the chairs would go, where the catering would be, even so far as where the dove archways would sit."

Daddy smiled from his laid back posture beside mum, his own suit jacket open to reveal his starched collar shirt.

I smiled warmly at their caring initiative for our future.

I turned back to Harry who stopped a second to take my pleased expression in, his hand continuing then as he smiled, too. "Sounds exceptionally well. I like it, and it wouldn't put a strain on your family coming over."

I made a bit of a squeal from my throat, sheer happiness coursing the length of my body from my heeled-toes to the blackened bow atop my tamed brunette hair.

I leaned into Harry and kissed him again.

***

Having kicked off my heels, I stood in front of Harry at the end of our bed. We'd had a fabulous night with my parents, at times forgetting the inevitable that awaited us. But, when we were home, back in this environment, the gravity of emotion clung sickly to our skin. I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want him away from me. I didn't want him gone for a week, or another, or another, not knowing how he really faired, how he was really doing.

I was between his knees, his legs open enough to fit mine which were together. He was looking up at me, my hand rising to pull the black bow from my hair. When taken away, the long curls it held back fell forward onto my shoulders. I took his hand and led it to the zipper on the left side of my dress. Carefully, our eyes never leaving, I had him zip me down until I felt the dress begin to slip away. Detaching, I knew once I'd taken his hand to the lowest point my dress would fall-and, it did so-around my feet. Left in my black corset slip, a portion of my pale skin exposed a slight breadth between the brim and my tights. I led his hand to my thigh, to feel me.

I closed my eyes as Harry slid his hands up, unveiling more of my thigh, my knickers, my stomach where he kissed my navel.

I had my hands in his hair and lightly pulled on him.

I tilted my head back and allowed him to kiss my stomach twice, again, one caress on either side of the button.

My head fallen back, I pushed him to the bed and crawled between him. I flipped my hair, it draped towards the mattress and him as I traced by lips up a trouser leg, to his belt buckle, and pulled his tucked-in shirt out to caress his skin.

I sat on him, unfastening his shirt and prying it from his shoulders when he rolled us over. My back hit the bedding softly. He pushed my legs to bend at my knees, his body slithering between them, against them, and had them encompass his form.

My fingers gently combed his hair, tossing his glasses aside and kissed him.

He found my hands, gripped them, intertwined his fingers tightly with mine and responded roughly by coercion of my eager mouth.

{Inspiration for the chapter: Nick Cave's O' Children; the more I hear the words of the piece, the tangible but depressed beats of its ambience, the power of the work trying to be up-lifting but struggles to get there, I can't but be frightened at how well the song fits; also, the mountain scene is inspired by the promotional Deathly Hallows: Part I photograph of Harry and Hermione overlooking a craggy cliffside}

{Other notes - I didn't want to put this in before the chapter. Using the dance scene analogically, the threads between Harry and Hermione are those Harry wants to protect. Through Hermione's thoughts, I hoped to give insights into why Harry demands to be alone in his fights (lover, wife, future mother). From cherished friend to life-long companion is quite a leap and these two already have enough psychological baggage.

They also speak as if Harry will be gone for a while. In short, as trials of Undesirables would be kept extremely closed, Harry could be held from Hermione for days, weeks, and possibly more. Having them state these terms wouldn't be quite realistic as they would have known. I hinted during their dialogue but wanted to clarify what might be confusing.}

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