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.

…Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end - Luna Lovegood

***

Chapter Sixty-Six - Prelude

***

Diagon Alley

The Vaults, Gringotts Bank

"Mister Nolpho's patience is wearing thin…," One goblin created a hologram, magicks sparking from the tips of his hands. An image of a Death Eater, a spokesperson for the Minister, demanded answers from the team of goblins struggling to open vault 687. "It's your magic, these are your depositories! Why haven't you been able to open it?!"

"It's been charmed, it has, sir," says one goblin apologetically, its head in a submissive bow. "The key-his key we managed to take-it's been tampered with and-"

"You good for nothing maggots! You've let mudblood and half-breeds do as they please beneath your crooked noses! Shave out your hair-ridden ears and listen to me closely…," The Death Eater kept a beat, his face, his gnashers snapping at the air. One could see the image of him look as if to crawl from the void they had created and strangle the goblin. "Mister Nolpho has informed me that, in case you haven't opened his vault by midnight, he will provide invitation to your deaths-every last one of you worthless maggots!"

"We own you!" Belted the Death Eater. "Your very lives hang in the balance-respect that right or have it be broken!"

"Steelknuckles, sir!" shouted a goblin from the vault door. Its hands, like the dozen plus at the enchanted metal, worked the magicks defending the latches. With one latch undone, a fire would belch, squelching the fingers of the goblin currently reworking their own measures of security.

Fortunately for Steelknuckles, the goblin in front of the speaking void, a cold sweat dripping from his forehead, the goblin who shouted gave good news. "We've almost got it, sir!"

"You can say nothing as to why it has taken you so long to open one, little vault!"

"My apologies, again, sir… But, it is Harry Potter's. This isn't an ordinary vault. We should have seen this coming and-"

"Worthless! We will kill a goblin for your insolence and sheer stupidity!"

A sharp zapping noise, followed by a yelp and a KABOOM! shortly after felt the very crags they stood upon tremble. Steelknuckles looked over, and as he did, a flashing, blinding light appearing in the form of a serpent came goblins in flight. On fire, and in midair, the few who made it out alive fell to the rocky surface; those who didn't plummeted off the supported railways, and into the darkness below.

"What was that?! What was that noise, you witless goblin!!?"

"Get back to it, men!" Steelknuckles spoke, and when speaking again yelled in gobbledygook, pointing towards the single latch waiting to be reworked.

The survivors, severely burned and blackened by the explosion, crawled their way back to the vault, and-

"We've done it, sir!"

"You've done it?!" reiterated the Overseer, wringing his hands as the Death Eater listened intently, and stared ever-quietly into the hairy goblin. "You say, you've done it?!"

"The vault-it's open, sir!"

"About bloody time, fools!" spat the Death Eater's head. "Its contents are the sole property of Mister Nolpho and the Ministry-if we catch a slimy handprint on the gold and whatever else lie inside, your heads we will-"

A gasp overcame the cheerful ambience, and Steelknuckles, taking heat, glanced over at his kin and the freed vault 687.

"What is it?!"

"What is it?!" repeated Steelknuckles, stepping away a moment from the void only to be rung in again.

"Don't you go away from my sight, goblin-tell me what has happened now, you maggot!"

"I don't know-"

"Tell me!"

The Overseer spoke in Gobbledygook once more, having gone back by the Death Eater's will, and the workers, injured so deeply by burns that the very skin of their faces had begun to peel in layers, returned in Gobbledygook, and then common speak:

"The fortune! It's not here!"

"What do you mean, "it's not here"?! The Potter fortune is greatly-"

"I swear, Steelknuckles, if this is goblin trickery at work, your spewing lies… You all will die by our hands! If we find not one single galleon in that sea of galleons Potter had-"

The Overseer's ears perked up at the sound of what sounded like a pin drop, so subtle. He realized at that moment…

His eyes darted back to his workers, his face flicking to his left. The vault had been rigged on the inside as well! A trap! The fools, they'd gone inside! "You fools! Get out of there-NOW!"

"Sir-?!"

The sheer force of the explosion rocked within the vault knocked both the Overseer and his warlock cohort off their feet. The mirror into the realm of the Ministry vanished without the warlock's catalyst, his vision and the Overseer's taken by a light of an engulfing flame, a visage of a phoenix. The Overseer could have prayed that the phoenix didn't catch him, his body flung from the rock on which he stood like a limp doll, but realized soon after how far he had traveled…now falling into the unknown depths of the carved out chasm, and into the darkness below.

***

Sofia, Bulgaria

The Krum Estate

When I appeared, baggage in-hand and a restless kitty in my grasps, I was at beginning of his winding pathway. As I shushed Crookshanks, the orange fur ball not enjoying the apparation trip at all and giving such a fit, I trekked the lengthy track. Ascending, encircling upwards, I passed fountains, statues of fauns pouring buckets of water in intricate lines, hopping from one pool to the next, gardens of flowers and coloured vegetation, creeping vines on graying cobblestone walls, until I found the oversized doors just big enough to fit the burly owner.

Steps lined the walkway as I trekked ever-increasingly up between ionic columns, and between them, large half-oval, half-rectangle wood-framed windows. Looking to my left, I could see a field cleared out, hoops constructed at its ends lifted high in the sky. His personal practicing field, a broom which had seen better days lay propped at the doors. Bludgers and quaffles of different hues lay at its end, arranged so that visitors-or he-wouldn't trip over the equipment.

I could hear voices through the doors before I even aligned myself with the knocker. I had to finally set Crookshanks down, the stinker in such discontent. He stretched at my feet, and I made sure with the point of my finger that he stayed in my sight.

When I began to reach for the knocker, an impish-resembling head holding the actual brass ring in its mouth, I stopped. In that second, I could feel myself break down. I scolded myself, demanded I got myself together-but, the hopping, the grieving, the finding my place, the destruction, and now, I'd face that true friend…

I held a breath, straightened up, and took hold of the ring.

I knocked once, and another, the sounds behind the door quickly halting and the fixture being relieved. In my midst I saw a lady I hadn't seen in a gown of black with an apron of white. She had her hair tied back in a bun, and she looked more like a mother, much older than the person I searched for behind her.

She said something in Romanian, and I just stood there like a lump on a log.

"Va pot ajuta, domnisoara?" [Can I help you, miss?]

"…Pardon?"

"Ce doriti?" [What is it?]

I heard mumbling, and then voices, crystal clear voices approaching, but still in Romanian.

"Cine este la usa?" [Who is at the door?]

"O frica fie ele satene, se pare…" [A frightened brunette, by the looks of it…] She answered, retreating from view when the warm bear of a man became visible. He looked so much like last time, so much like our fourth year-right down to his shaved, black hair and that bit of sculpted beard on his chin. He glanced from what I guessed was a maid from her wardrobe to Viktor, his eyes alit when he saw me standing there looking… I assumed in the most dreadful of states by my wrought emotion so on the brink.

I could feel the tears so readily on the horizon when I saw him, his smile which grew increasingly concerned when I stood, stoic in the archway.

"'Ermione! How I have worried sick about you! The papers-" He halted all but his breath, and reproached, stating with that familiar kindness. "…Hermione?"

I broke down, and I began apologizing, feeling like an utter fool with a damn overgrown handbag, sobbing profusely.

He wrapped his gigantic arms around me and gave me the warmest, tightest hug I'd had in a while. He called out to the maid, "Spune-le celorlalti sa faca mai mult spatiu!" [Tell the others to make more room!]

"What iz it, Viktor?" I heard the distinguished, sweet tone of a woman, Zuzanna, traipsing down the grand staircase, red velvet carpeting from the entryway leading to her bounding toes. "Who iz there?"

"Hermione," he replied, taking me inside and telling the butler to close the door behind him. I looked up to see Zuzanna, bright-eyed and happy fall for the same sort of concern which had crept on Viktor's face so suddenly.

She reached for me and my puffy-eyed face, and cradled me to her form. She gave my forehead a caress and gently stroked my hair. "Ze poor thing-and what they've done to her! Ze monsters!"

I could feel someone rubbing my back, my spine, and I knew it was Viktor. "What shall we do? We were packing and-"

"Packing…?" My voice came out muffled, and higher-pitched. I realized I barged my way into people's lives-friends or not. I started to back away, only for Zuzanna to pull me back into her arms.

"We're taking you vith us vether you `ike it or not!"

"We were packing to go to my villa in Athens for holiday-I wish for you to join us `Ermione. Please?"

"I didn't-," Zuzanna's stroking felt so very comforting, maternal, something I would have done…have done…her similarity strikingly real. Though, my brain made excuses, and my mouth followed. "I didn't mean to come in and-what I mean is-"

"You're coming!" Zuzanna kept me close. "No more talking!"

"Vhen Zuzanna means it…," chuckled Viktor a bit from aside me and his mate. He shouted, as he pivoted to the maid, "Ia lucrurile si le-a pus cu ale noastre!" [Take her things and put them with ours!]

The maid gave a nod and took my one suitcase from my hand. I had no feeling in my fingers; so, from bag to bag-less, I never felt a thing. And, I didn't have to-Viktor and Zuzanna were sincere. I let them do what they did without argument. I was done thinking about the pros and cons, the outcomes of every, little detail. I wanted to be with that unbiased, no strings attached support-and that's what I was getting in droves.

"Viktor's on holiday and I am on holiday. We are going to his villa in Greece and you are coming along vit us."

I hesitated a nod and stuttered a breath.

"Ve will give you all time needed and privacy. But, we want you with us. You need a holiday, too, vhat with the pigs, the swine!"

She spat. "Monsters!"

"Okay?" she took me beneath the chin by fingertip, and wiped away a tear streak on my cheek with her other. She gave a smile when I looked at her, and I hesitated that nod again, being brought back to her shoulder when I gave the affirmation.

"Good!" My body, with its lack of sleep, its distraught nature, and Zuzanna's rhythmic stroking…I could have fallen asleep in her arms. I think I was, her voice like an echo. "Now let us give your face a wash and be on our way then!"

***

The Vatican, Vatican City

"They've taken the Piazza! They've broken our defensive barriers!" One Auror yelled at his sister-in-arms, a stretch away.

Both had dodged in-coming fire, literally, with shots of green light. With each hit, the columns they had fled behind chipped more and more away, the marble crumbling to dust before it hit the mosaics. The female, her cloak scorched, her skin burned horribly in places, shook a glance at her brother-in-arms, his wand at his side as he fought the reply back with his own magicks in the fight.

Both could hear wails and screams at the Vatican's busted doors. The team destined to secure the defense were surely taken, and with each abrupt shout, and the light, came silence as its conclusion. The whole building shook, the ancient archways crumbling as the conflict pressed on.

She glanced, or tried, being pushed back by light-a bolt of violet zipping by her nose, singeing the sculpted rock she sheltered herself with. Her eyes, her vision saw over the Son, his halo of thorns, crucified to the cross. And in that moment, she knew…

"Are you a religious man, Leighton?"

The male Auror, his face hidden behind his hood, looked across the blown-to-bits room, parts of who knows what displaced between their distances. His cerulean-coloured irises met hers a brief moment, and he smiled of which she saw. "Devoted Catholic, you?"

She smiled, her own cerulean irises leaving him as if to edge around the corner. Her sight went back to him, and she nodded. "Ready for one last hurrah?"

He nodded. "What better way to end it all?"

The blonde woman, her hair slightly breached from her hood, her strands flittering whenever a blow of magic would hit the sanctuary, shimmied her white-clothed hand inside her cloak to retrieve…a cross dangling from a silver chain. She gave a kiss, giving her brother-in-arms a smile. "I'll be seeing you."

"We'll go for a drink-I'm sure they'll give allowance just this once. On me."

Her grin left as her eyes went to peek around, giving the male Auror a finger, and then two, and when her ring digit joined her index and middle did they both withdraw from their shelter…

…Only to see a swarm of black without much light.

Never the bother, they took aim, and with their lessened brothers and sister took one, two, a third before the male was hit by a flash of green…and then the blonde, watching her brother-in-arms go down aside her, succumb, too, to the green. She dropped immediately, dead, to the rubble of what once was a beautifully coloured floor.

***

Athens, Greece

My life now fit around two things: the betterment of myself, and long nights in the Krum study. When we first got to Athens, I couldn't believe how large Viktor's library was-or his parent's as this was their previous holiday manor until they built another off the coast of the Pacific in Spain. The library was enumerable and vast with Krum's father being a magical physicist. Loads of medical books, past and present, and some more devious collections in which I became more aware of…the closer I looked, and the longer I stayed in the study.

I had seen manuscripts like these in Hogwarts's Forbidden section. Surely, though, as I read through them, finely combing every word, every detail in pyjamas and a single lamp for light, I found them thematically speculation with hints of amateurism. Especially, the studies of transmutation, and the thought of bringing a soul back from the death. I sat one night, in silence but for a clock somewhere hidden behind the aisles of bookshelves, reading Paracelsus documents, spiritual alchemy to cure disease and to retain one's soul. And, Newton's descriptions of deviate mathematics bearing on the process of unattainable means and attainable means. And, of course, the reoccurring equations of Nicolas Flamel, a man I'd grown to know greatly. If by means of the philosopher's stone he could live, surely, I thought, immortality could be formed to return that from the dead.

Honestly, it was all a pipe-dream. Any chance of getting my hands on something so rare as the philosopher's stone or that of magicks creating life were… I mean, Dumbledore had seen to it the destruction of the stone so many years ago. Too worrisome, he had said. In the wrong hands the tool could be used for evil. I kept hearing Dumbledore, and seeing him. I swore one time I saw him in the study-but, it was also my seventeenth hour awake, and without caffeine, and the fact that I kept myself busy when I hadn't locked myself in the library for hours on end.

Between events with Viktor and Zuzanna, outings, rendezvous of the sites-especially the history of Greek culture surrounding the venue, disheveled heaps of the ancients our skyline-and books, I exercised. Exercise kept my body busy alongside my mind; and, I'd intentionally push the past, and the current past aside for some sort of flashing statistical number on my elliptical machine or treadmill. Or, maybe I counted the number of times I did pushups or situps-something just so mind-numbingly boring. On the treadmill now, and in a light sweat-going on a half hour now of constant jogging-I took up the bottle of water from its holder latched onto the side of the machine and quenched my thirst while seeing I had burned a few hundred calories represented by the red digital numeric screen.

Slowing the treadmill down to a stop, I rested my left hand on the support beam on that side when drinking. I closed my eyes, classical music near-blaring in my ears. Two small speakers set in my ears so I wouldn't offend the quietness of the manor, and that of the two, Viktor and Zuzanna, sleeping this morning. I hadn't slept, gazing out over my room when I reopened my cinnamon irises. High, vaulted windows grew vertical with the vaulted ceiling, golden-brown curtains pulled back and drawn to let the sunrise in. Wooden floors, without a hint of scratch or wear and decorative walls, ornately sculpted Victorian-style mimicked the overall architecture of Krum manor. The guest bed itself, or mine, was done so similarly, four-posts and tall with hanging drapery for privacy if I needed it.

I closed my eyes again, feeling when I stopped the pressure and stress building back into my mind. That left hand gripped the beam, and I shook my head, hanging it down with my shoulders slightly slumped. I had all these…definitions and solutions, these combinations, these theories…theories, and that's what had me at a standstill, and angry. Stubborn, I'd continue to find some way…

I could feel the subtle sweat I'd achieved begin to chill as I stood there inactive. I remember standing back up and seeing that bit of me drip down my fit stomach, bare between two pieces of goldenrod-and-pink striped exercise gear. I took my hand, and with a swipe, wiped that bit of me off, feeling the slight ridges of my abdominals. I scrunched my nose, and knew I needed a shower. To plan ahead also got my mind off…

When I turned I saw the bedroom door open and the maid standing there. She looked to have been standing there a while, a hand on her hip, and I guessed she had to have called for me. But, with the ear pieces drowning everything out…

I pulled the left one out, and then the right. "Yes?"

"Master Krum is awake and wishes you attend breakfast with him and the Mistress," she annunciated the words, trying in a thick Romanian accent to control the English language.

I smiled at her accommodations for me for I knew portions of other languages…just not Romanian. "Please tell Viktor that I accept his invitation."

"The Master wishes you meet him on the east balcony at nine o'clock."

"I'll be there," I nodded, my tied-back ponytail swaying with the acceptance.

***

Neville's flat, London

What had been considered a typically "normal" day immediately came to a halt when a pitch owl, tiny it was, flew through an open window and dropped a piece of rolled parchment on Ginevra's handbag. Amidst removing heels from her day of work at the Quibbler, she wasn't so startled, but surprised, when the owl came and went, the imprinted wax seal of "Delta" in red with a flittering red ribbon holding the paper together.

It was but a slip, nothing more in length than an inch or two.

Neville had seen the owl hover in and take off again, coming from the dining area where the window lay open. He had a cup of tea, having put a pot on for relaxation from transcribing Muggle to Magic for his job, or that of introducing Muggle technology within the status of Quibbler media. With the forwarding of the Internet, he became in-charge of instating the tool necessary for international Quibbler consumption…after the Ministry threw him out.

He still had on his dress attire, shoes off and black socks padding the floor as he watched on at his on-again, off-again, woman of desire plucked the rolled parchment from the counter she balanced upon with a hand in removing those heels. She didn't care to look at him, or acknowledge him-of that surprise… Ronald hadn't written in weeks, and now this appeared out of nowhere. To think, to dwell on the situation, imagination running wild, Gin's heart leapt when she saw his insignia, and the information of which was scribbled in short inside:

37' 58' N

23' 43' E

Parthenon.

• Delta

She examined and re-examined the numbers…the hint: Parthenon? She knew she heard this "Parthenon" somewhere…something in Hogwarts… Magical studies? Muggle studies? Some "studies" she probably dozed off in, and now fully regretted not paying attention in class. She wracked her brain, biting a nail in habit, as she read, and read, and read the numbers…coordinates?

What is he saying… Did he get my message of how worried sick I'd become being kept so much in the dark? He must have…

"What is it this time?" piped Neville.

He'd come around to read the note from behind Gin, resting a hand on her waist, securing a grasp to her curve. She brushed his hand away and walked forward, only to swiftly turn about and ask, "What do these numbers mean…?"

Neville shrugged. "Who'd know? It's a bit cryptic-runes, maybe? I haven't the foggiest, but-"

"What is `Parthenon'?"

Neville hesitated, and took a sip of his tea. "Why," he began with an incredible sigh. "Why do you have to worry about what she's doing all the bloody time? We-us-this is what we should be worrying about, and-"

"You're right," she said with confidence, and sarcasm. "It's about to get worrisome if you don't tell me what it means-or, I'll just find the answers to myself if you're so much of a bastard to leave the known unknown to your `lover'."

"Promise me, Gin-"

"After that little stunt there-I'm not promising I won't relieve you of what you so very much enjoy."

"The Parthenon is in Athens. It's practically the most notable place from ancient Greece-didn't you listen in school?"

"I'm going." She declared, taking up her bag.

"Excuse me?" Neville coughed in his tea, watching Gin breeze passed him.

"I'm going," she reiterated. "I'm packing some things and I'm going to find her. It's been far too long without seeing her face and I miss her dearly-horrifically so."

She was up the stairs and in the bedroom, clothes flying haphazardly from the closet and wardrobe and onto the bed by the time Neville caught up with her actions. He stood there a moment, but then took initiative. He took those things so carefully flying towards an open suitcase and folding neatly by themselves. He took them and started to put them back, her shirts, her trousers, her knickers-everything in a mishmash in his arms.

"The Hell do you think you're doing?"

"You're not leaving me anymore!"

She pushed him, snatching what she could from his arms. "You don't own me!"

"I love you too much to let you go again-you're staying and that's final."

"You realize," she said cautiously and cold, her eyes narrowing as she saw him opening and close shelves to place her things back. "That I don't need any of this, right? That I can go right now if I pleased and never came back?"

"Your threats don't faze me any longer, Gin. I'm willing to take that consequence. If you truly wanted to leave you would have already left by now. That said-"

"The only reason we have sex-"

"It's not only about the sex, Gin," he played the part of the adult, and her the child. He continued removing those articles of clothing, a shirt of hers in his hand and shifted a hanger back inside to then hang the blouse back in the closet. "I can do without the sex-what I can't do is be without you."

She stopped.

All the anger, the resentment, the pain… It left her but for a second, to come crashing down when she saw Hermione, and Harry, and all the rest in her life that had died, or gone away and left her. She gritted her teeth, took out her wand, and…

"You've left me no choice, then."

Neville stopped, too, a handful of socks being sorted in at his fingertips. "Which is?"

"Goodbye, Neville."

POP!

And, Neville was left in his stance, now looking at a spot where the flaming ginger once stood. He closed his eyes, sifted a hand through the front of his hair and said aloud, "…What the Hell did I just do?"

***

Athens, Greece

"That was lovely, Hermione."

The night had settled. In the den, a spacious sweep, imitating the Victorian-style alongside and complementary expansive hearth. The orange flames crackled, the bluish embers burning as the logs burned to ash. I'd been sitting in a violet jumper, a grey undershirt and jeans, playing a tune, my fingers on ivory keys of their grand, antique piano. We'd had a bit of tea, a talk, relaxing after an eventful day of sightseeing and hiking the countryside. The weather a lovely twenty-four centigrade, staying inside was for the unfortunate.

And namely, Viktor and his adventurous ways lured me out with Zuzanna with tales of the magical properties of Greek culture, ancient and modern, a spoil so fit for my craving mind. It helped me that tiny centimeter more, laughing and joking, breathing in fresh, crisp air with none, not one chain keeping me down. We even stopped off at a "little place" Viktor knew, a gorgeous dinner on a veranda overlooking the sites strung on the sunset horizon.

Growing ever later, and the silence but of our breaths and sighs, a possible tidbit of low chatter amongst the two lovebirds on the sofa… I knew it be time for them to get to bed. But, I played on-even when I felt a caress upon my head, a stroke of my hair. I glanced up, though I didn't have too. The similarly-coloured mahogany tassels fell over my own, and I knew the person of choice.

"Sweet dreams, love," Her comfort was inviting, and so very familiar… To say we weren't alike in so many ways would be an absolute lie. And, it never bothered me. Viktor found his, and I-

"Breakfast on the balcony, Hermione?"

Viktor had asked, and I stopped my play to see Zuzanna peering from the door and Viktor still within the lounge. "Of course," I answered with a smile so genuine.

"See you in the morning."

"Good night."

I didn't stop playing, even when the fire dulled and smothered to but a tenth of the light it had shown. The shadows in the room evolved, enlarged, that silhouette of me still on the piano seat. I played Beethoven, thanking but in my head my parents for opening up these experiences for me to create, and love. My mind wandered, and I led it this time, in control. I thought about the manuscripts, the literature I had read until I had every sentence, every word as concrete. I couldn't stop thinking… Magical could do anything, but magic couldn't do everything… I tried cross-examining the notes photographed and cataloged in my brain about any minute detail, a tangent I could follow which led me to some new…

Any, and every, summation I totaled led to an assumption, an assumption that this of what I dabbled in found itself in the…darker of the magical arts…and if I wanted to truly throw myself into that web. Could I find myself once more after that investment? I'd lose something… If not, again, Harry. And that, that fell like an anvil to the bottom of my gut. I'd surely give myself for him, and alike… I knew he had done what he did for me.

"Miss Granger," called the butler at one time. My mind and vision so focused on those ivory keys and the devoted harmony, I had not heard him. "You've a visitor let in by Master Krum."

Until…

I felt a warmth, enveloping and akin to…my life…

I closed my eyes when I felt soft hands on my shoulders, and a gentle squeeze. I wanted them to be…but, I knew it illogical. It couldn't be Harry as much as I wanted those hands to be, and that kiss to my temple, the embrace I now felt as she wrapped herself around me.

"I've missed you so much, `Mi…"

I smiled within those closed eyes, and said after a beat, "I've missed you, too."

My fingers broke from the piano and rested on those arms which hugged me.

***

Just outside the Weasley Residence

"Get off my property or I'll call the Ministry!"

The matriarch of the Weasley household, with all her furor and might, bore holes from the entryway of an opened door looking out into their fields. Above the Burrow, thunderous clouds loomed in the distance, the smell of humidity in the hot air. She had her hands deep into her hips, those claws. The saber-tooth look-a-like puckered into a scowl. Her shawl hung over her shoulders and blew easily in the growing howls, the vegetation surrounding the home lying to its side.

The blonde hobbled on his cane, gently saying to his attentive mate's grasp to let go. He moved forward when Pansy let slip her fingers, clinging on to him as far as her hands could reach until she no longer felt him. She stood silent in the cleared brush before the Burrow, the wind blowing her straw-like, thin dark hair into her eyes.

"One more step and they'll have to look for another leg for you!" Molly had her wand out, pointed directly at the business-clad man's shined shoes.

The blonde stopped, his grey eyes studying her. "Where's Arthur?"

"That is none of your business!"

The shallow skinned man propped his head in his free hand, giving a tilt to his cane as his fingers filed through his hair. His brows furrowed. "Look, you need to pack and leave the country. It's not safe-"

"Stow your words, you vile scum! You and your parents-the whole lot of you are evil, evil people! You've done no more than taint our lives! Why should anyone believe your lies and slander now?! I'm counting to ten, and if you're not off my property by then I'm sending up the signal-you are a criminal, an Undesirable! The only reason why I haven't is because Harry found sympathy in-"

"You insolent fool!" The blonde shouted, his anger rising, red in his pale cheeks. She knew nothing but what the newspaper told her… After all these years, and now she believe them. "Come off it! You believe the same lies you fought against!"

"Five seconds!" She raised her wand towards the churning skies.

With a grunt, a struggle to get his jacket and shirtsleeve down, he showed her the scar-his tattoo-it writhing, emboldened on his arm. "Look-you mindless witch-you know as well as I do what this means! Pray you leave tomorrow-leave! Rationalize why I would put myself here in your presence if I were some criminal asking you to save yourself and your family!"

"One!"

Up shot red sparks from Molly's wand, and he knew in a matter of seconds a Ministry team would press upon them all.

His grey eyes widened, narrowing when he saw her again, "Stupid bird! What have you done?! I'm trying to save your life!"

The atmosphere around them grew terribly cold.

Pansy saw her breath, a white, visual cloud escape from her warm lips. "Love…," she uttered with a bit of a "time to go" heighted tonality. She shook, the coldness giving her a shiver through her own business jacket. She hissed, gazing up at the sky. "…Dementors."

The blonde quickly jerked his head towards Pansy, and stated, "At least tell them to save the repugnant sore they call home. When this is all over, they'll want to move back in."

Pansy nodded at his declaration, and then set her own signal: white sparks shooting from her wand.

"What was that?!" demanded Molly, rushing the cripple. "I have no choice-they'll be late as usual! Stupe-!"

The blonde, with one downward hand reflex, casted his own magicks to ward off the ignorant woman. Molly's wand shot from her hand backward, and in the same second was taken, too, from her feet. Whatever wandless power the blonde created made her rigid like stone, falling straight to the ground.

"Honestly, we could have done this the easy way…," The blonde's rough voice grunted once more as he hitched himself to flee to the disadvantaged woman, now stunned. He took light of his step, or tried, gritting his teeth when he fell down on his favored leg. He bent down in haste, as if he weren't handicapped, grunted at an inhuman pop his body made, and placed his gloved hand atop Molly's hand.

"If it weren't for Albus, and all he's done for me, I wouldn't be saving your worthless arse…," His grey eyes shot towards Pansy. "Pansy!"

He reached out for her with his other hand. "Time to go, love!"

Pansy, stilled, saw them forming in the skies, about the blackened clouds, their tattered mass flying with speed towards the Burrow. The grass had grown ice, and with each hastened step Pansy's shoes crunched down on what could only be described as gravel.

She reached out for him, and just as their fingers touched they were gone.

***

Athens, Greece

She asked everything.

I told her everything.

We stayed in the lounge for the longest time before moving into my guest bedroom. Another guest bedroom had been rolled out by the service, but she declared her right to stay with me. Which was fine, having no qualms whatsoever about Gin staying with me. It was nice, feeling the warmth of my best friend again. Donning a sleep slip nightgown, and Gin a top and shorts, something from my collection as she hadn't brought anything herself, we were in bed. After hearing that I'd come here with Viktor, she said she had a fight with Neville and up-and-left.

She noted the immersion of books piled high in every corner, upon tables and desks throughout the room. "Going back to the ol' know-it-all Granger, I see."

I had security in telling her, as she supported me and I hoped I supported her, too. "I'm researching how to bring someone back to life."

She was playing with my hair, an arm around me as I lay leveled with shoulders, but stopped at my words. "Hermione…," she issued. "That can be…disastrous… Do you know what that means? You'd be going into something only imaginable by-"

"I know quite well what I'm doing and where it could take me."

We went silent, her fingers back in my hair as I slowly opened and closed my eyes. Her combing, that playing, and the readied sleep within me gave reason to shut my eyes. But, I wouldn't…not right now. She was here: my confidant. Without Harry… I hadn't really a person I could truly rely on, and keep secret so much of my personal life. And besides, having her here and seeing her brought back times of happiness for me…a time when I could breathe normally without repercussion.

Of course, with Harry so ripe in my mind, and that of one subject still crossing the realm of me…and that betrayal I spoke of with Nathaniel, with myself, about…

"…How was it?"

I fought back the welling of tears in those ducts.

I could tell Ginny did the same when our eyes met, mine flicking to her ever-intent stare.

She had her hand, her fingers combing the brown bushiness when she finally spoke after a pause, "…It was…"

She paused, again, her focus relieving from mine to look me over, my face its features, and gave a sigh when she came back to my own gaze. "…Wonderful, `Mi. Really wonderful. I mean, without my bit of crying withholding…"

When I laughed it was a sort of snort, half in tears, half with a small portion of happiness to hear something hadn't interrupted…that he was laid to rest peacefully…but…

My vision went from her a beat, and then back, letting out an enormous breath of pent-up air. My chest heaved, curled and cuddled into the body and bosom of the fiery red-head. My hands fidgeted, and I really wanted to break, felt I could at any moment… Stubborn, like Harry-his personality with me-I fought it, and fought it hard, with difficulty. "I wish to go see him…sometime…"

Those words fell slower, and with more weight than I intended. I hid my face when I knew I'd break after the first of many tears stained my cheeks, flowing down the crevice of my nose and down, tasting the salty saline upon my lips. Gin hugged me tight, and said without restraint, "He'd like that… He'd love that very much."

"I feel so bad…" My voice went muffled, into the shirt, the pyjamas of Gin.

"Why?"

"Because…I've left him…"

"You've never left him-ever," she became fairly firm, authoritative even. "And if I were of the betting sort, I'd say he's always with you, every minute, of every hour, of every day."

"Have you seen him…?" My voice went strained, climbing just slightly from the cave I created in Gin's grip, embrace. "Is it…is he all right?"

"It's a beautiful spot, Godric's Hollow…," she wiped the tears from beneath my eyes with her thumb, and then cradled me to her. "You're not what you think you are-you've never betrayed him, `Mi. What he did-"

"I would have protected him!"

"I know-he knows…," she ran fingers down my spine, rubbing my back as my frame shook with my crying. I hadn't as much let out my remorse…other than finding ways and means of distracting myself, leaping from one disconnection to another in hopes of shadowing the inevitable. I wish I hadn't, and now…I wanted to find redemption in my actions, whether or not they were "good" or "bad". I still felt like I'd left him, with or without Gin's kind and caring words…

He'd always been there for me, his sacrifice… I wasn't stupid.

And now… I'd turned my back on him.

No more.

"You know…"

I heard a light laugh from Gin between huffs.

"…'Mi, I don't like what you've done to your hair. I can't believe you've cut it shorter!"

I knew what she was doing, and… I loved it.

"…Oh, Gin," With a half-grin, and a hug, I finally allowed that eager essence to succumb. I closed my eyes and fell asleep beside my best friend.

***

Wrapped up and bundled in the throes of mahogany curls, white silk, and porcelain skin, Ginevra continued to stroke the serene figure within her arms. She'd reached back and waved her wand, letting the lamp's light simmer until the filament went out for the night. In the glimpse of moonlight, she could not but feel the innocence she held become the butt of some cruel joke. She didn't understand, brushing loose strands from Hermione's hidden face. Hermione had instinctively attached herself to her shirt, a grasp of the material as if to know when and if Gin left her.

She wouldn't leave her.

But, she thought…as she noticed not only the silver Hippogriff feather necklace about beauty's neck, but the crucifix her Catholic mother and father gave her so long ago as a birthday present. She hadn't grown up in a family as so…but knew the framework, the causalities and consequences for doing good or doing bad-like karma, or what she believed in.

The thing was… Hermione hadn't done anything to deserve what she was going through. In fact, the complete opposite.

Darkened flames alongside her face, the golden-brown irises now blackened in the midnight room gazed upwards at the ceiling. She found it humourous at first, having a conversation with the ceiling…but…

"Hi," she began, speaking softly. "I don't know what I'm doing, or if I'm just talking to a wall here, but I don't get it. I mean, what has she done to get the short end? If this is a joke, I don't find it amusing at all."

"Look, you and I-you know I don't believe in you, and for that I'm probably going to Hell. But, Hermione-she doesn't deserve this. Me-put it all on me, I can take it. I'm the sinner. I use and abuse, hurt people… I don't mean to. And, I bet you absolutely love how I adore her."

"Hermione-she's never hurt a soul. I thought you were supposed to be the sort of person who rewards, not tortures; but if you are the opposite, then I truly wouldn't care for you ever and I'll know why my parent's never instilled the knowledge within me."

"Just-I don't know what to think. I'm saying a lot of `I don't knows' because I don't. This, here, in my arms-this is one of those golden souls you breathed life into. I swear, she's an angel-but she gets punishment, for…?"

"I get it-I do. Harry doing what he did for all of us, her… But, they're still out there, and you let them run free causing havoc. You know they're there. You could stop them-what's stopping you? You know what power they hold now. And that's with everything-the hunger, the murders, whatever entrapment some madman unfolds on his victim."

"Just-punish me, damn it. Quit taking it out on her. Not a moment's rest have I seen her smile long enough until something horrific happens. Let her go, I say. I want all her pain to go away-I want everything to go back to the way it was before Harry died. He was my friend-and you took him away, too. I don't get it… I just don't."

"Maybe this is why I have no faith. None at all. Why put yourself there when all you'll get in return is unhappiness and death?"

She turned and gave a caress to the top of Hermione's head.

"I apologize for sounding…unreasonable, and discontent. But, that's what you've made me…," she ended, closing her eyes.

***

"Don't tease me, Harry…"

Lazily, I drew by fingertip that smidgen of pectoral, his clavicle prominent from two unbuttoned buttons at the top of his white-collared shirt. His skin, so flawless and beautiful, I gazed back up when he spoke, into his healed features-the splotchy dark bruise gone and those jade green eyes dazzling in moonlight.

He had me, held me, holding me in his arms as we both lay on our sides facing each other. My height a tad lower, he had opportune to feel of my hair, my face, and he took full advantage of it. We weren't in the field, we weren't in King's Cross… We were together, in Viktor's manor, in the guest bedroom I accompanied.

"…This can be as real as you want it to be."

"But, it's not," I continued to draw on him, hiding my sight. "And, to say it will ever be-"

"Look at me, Hermione."

I did as instructed.

I did because I couldn't leave him-not ever-again.

The fact that my eyes did leave him for those seconds already struck a chord at my heart-strings. I sighed heavily in my chest when I'd come back. He never left me, waiting for me…even when I chose not to come…alcohol…

"Can you feel this?" He leaned towards me, and like magnets, our lips were as one. He kissed me so carefully, with tenderness so light that my toes literally curled. Thousands upon thousands of those jolts, that feeling when you're surrounded, utterly surrounded-encompassed-by the one you love… Such a simple feeling, but so incredibly wonderful.

When he released, my hand immediately went to his and I had him touch me, his palm placed above my heart. "…Can you feel this?"

I smiled, however tearfully.

He smiled, too, that fantastically gorgeous of smiles. His eyes never left mine, even when I moved him, his hand now flat atop my chest. "Stronger than ever before."

"My dream…"

"It doesn't have to be."

"I'm sorry…"

"Shh… Shh… It's all right, really."

I lifted with my elbow upward, pushing off the expensive Egyptian thread-count, and watched him watch me do so. He lay back, and as he did, so instinctively wound myself around him. I climbed his jungle gym, right atop his lap. He felt of me again, his hands at my hips, at my sides, until I took his hands once more and had him cradle me, hold my breasts through the white silk night gown I wore.

I closed my eyes when I felt his instant warmth, so dire to me.

When I reopened them, I grinned, a bit of curve to my lips and said in a raspy tone, "…Can you feel this?"

He pushed off the bed, too, sitting as I had but in opposition. He took my face, having left my breasts and kissed me, and kissed me hard. Taken by breath, I wrapped my arms, my hands where I could and felt him lift me from my straddle and back against the bed.

The clothes couldn't come off quicker.

We even laughed when a trouser leg wouldn't remove from his foot.

But, in the end, when I felt that part of him, on my back against the cooled sheets, my hands in his hair, my legs like a vice at his own hips…his hot breath at my throat…

…After consummation, I didn't want to shut my eyes…not yet. I knew, eventually, this would terminate…only to find him, again, whenever I shut closed my eyes and fled to dreamland. I pressed myself to stay awake, and I did…and we talked for what seemed like mortal hours, his lioness, bare to him as he was to her, only half covered by the Egyptian cotton.

"…I'm coming to see you," I said, a finger at his cheek, rubbing the smoothness of his freshly shaved jaw line. On my back, I'd twisted to tilt against him, to touch him so inadvertently, and on purpose, having wanted to remain like this.

Harry, back on his side, alongside me, feeling his nude flesh aside mine, ran the flatness of his palm in circular motions atop my stomach. He kissed my forehead, bringing closure to my eyes, my temple, the tip-top of my nose, ending with a brief, but passionate kiss to my mouth. He smiled when I purred, easing back up on his elbow as he looked down on me. His hand, rested when he took to caressing, began once more its journey along my nakedness.

"I'd love that."

I smiled, my hands, its fingers still grazing his cheek, his face, southward, and as much as I could, to his neckline. "…Someone else told me you'd say that."

He laughed through a smile, those jades in a contented gaze.

The atmosphere grew somber as I did, leaving my smile for seriousness, an abrupt stop for me…a lingering smile for Harry as he watched me, those gears in my mind a-twirling. "I'm going to get you back…"

He lowered the moment my words ended and kissed me with length. We rubbed noses, meshing them together in smiles. He nudged me, the side of my face as he outlined my cheekbone, my cheek with kisses, ending up in my hair where he breathed deeply.

"…I'm going to get you back one way or another."

***

"'Mi," They were on the balcony overlooking the vast Greek skyline dotted with all those ancient markings. In the far distance alit the Parthenon, various statues, and the rubble of what once was civilization. A breeze blew through, catching not only her Weasley-red, but that of Hermione's chocolate brown in the rising sun.

She stood side-by-side with her best friend who, even after calling her nickname, continued to gaze that bit more into the creamsicle overhead, the darkness turning to light ever-so-gradually as time passed. The winds blew again, this time Ginevra having to flick away strands catching on her features, tickling her freckled nose.

"Hm?" Hermione briefly, and only briefly, looked away from the skies. Ginevra knew she concentrated, that look of determination set in stone and so very familiar to her friend's disposition after all these years. Gin went about scratching her back lightly with a hand, her other on the balcony's barricade, one slender column after the next.

"If there is one thing you should know it's," Ginny knew, with or without the revelation of her desire for Hermione, that she wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't abandon Hermione, her sister in so many ways, even if she confined a broken heart. Her dedication to keeping Hermione sane, for the lack of a better term, far outweighed her own sanity. She voluntarily gave up the notion of ever truly knowing Hermione that way, the way she forever-longed to want to know. "I have your back one hundred percent. I'll never leave you."

Hermione's sight went from the dynamically changing nature to the Weasley, the Weasley's golden-brown irises set and focused on her every move. "Ginny…," she reached out and embraced Gin tightly about the neck, and felt Gin return in reply times two.

"Hey-" spoke from behind them, and as Ginny turned to see Zuzanna coming from the balcony's only entry so did Hermione. Even after their release did Ginny take Hermione's hand and squeezed it, an action to emphasize she was in this for the long haul.

Viktor was behind Zuzanna, the lost twin of Hermione carrying a bag wrapped in clear plastic to show a collection of goodies and things, sweets and the like. She handed it to Hermione, Gin's hand leaving hers to give her both to retrieve the welcomed package. She smiled when she saw Zuzanna hug Hermione, and say in a breath, "If you ever need us again, you know where to find us."

She released, but only to hang onto Hermione's shoulders, her upper arms, giving her a squeeze. "And never, ever, let zat rubbish get you down. You are special and talented, and a gift. You are better than them."

Zuzanna hugged her again, planting a caress on Hermione's forehead. She wiped away the print which remained on the porcelain skin, and Hermione and Zuzanna both laughed from their nose. "Sorry."

Hermione shook her head. "Thank you, both of you, for everything. Just everything, for letting me stay."

Zuzanna came in to give me a hug as well, and I heard Viktor from behind her to Hermione, "Please contact us when you've come home. We vill worry sick if you do not."

Viktor had all but lifted Hermione from the balcony floor in his embrace, stating in a firmer tone, "And, you stay safe-do you hear me? You can come back and be with us any time, any day-open doors for all of my friends."

Viktor looked towards me then, and I smiled, sifting ginger back as the winds blew at us.

"Are you ready?" I said to Hermione, reaching out a hand.

She looked to me, and within a beat, nodded. She tilted to her side and picked the one enchanted suitcase up by its handle, and then took my hand.

"Ve love you-both of you."

From Zuzanna's words, the world around us started to spin.

Zuzanna's teary wave with Viktor, and Viktor's arm around her waist was the last image of Athens before we were both ripped from that part of the world…and onto the next.

***

I didn't care that I was asleep in Gin's apartment

Well, I did-but only because I knew this bordered on reality. I could very well feel him, and smell him, and taste him; but, I knew once my eyes opened, I'd be back in that dreary world without him. The very real fact that I'd be visiting his grave soon, and for the first time… I was afraid. I didn't know how I'd react, and I believe-no, I knew-Harry came to me to stow those nerves.

We were in this grand ballroom. Tiled, the designed wooden, shiny panels below my heels drew together floral patterns. On the walls, windows with tall, hanging drapes of crimson velvet to complement the original colour and stain of the grain. One giant chandelier hung overhead giving ample light, romantic, and subtle, a yellowed-orange glow the ambience, like candlelight.

I wore this powder blue evening gown, backless with one strap over my right shoulder, revealing the paleness of my skin to him. Ruffled at the top, about the height of my hips the gown relaxed, the sheen, light silk straightening to the floor. A slit in the fabric kept one leg visible, intimate, for my one and only one. My hair, all those locks and curls were tied back and gorgeously put, arranged to accentuate the natural beauty of my frame, and the frame of my face, a few loose strands swaying gently to my trot.

And, I did trot-as best I could in heels.

Seeing Harry in the centre of the ballroom, wearing a handsome suit and jacket, his vest matching my periwinkle gown beneath the unfastened threads… I don't know what kept me from tossing aside those dastardly heels and running, jumping into his arms. But, he had this smirk…his knowing smile, his pretty jades looking up at me when those heels hit the hardwood.

He looked to have been gazing at his pocket watch, the long, golden chain he placed back into his jacket pocket…as if he knew I'd arrive, and on time.

We were alone, and at once, when Harry accepted me, retrieved my hands, and we kissed…a melody… I could hear a piano, an acoustic guitar… I couldn't make all the instruments out, but there were no words. Just the whole, the complete harmony, and us.

I slid my hands about his neck, the smoothness of my skin running against simply perfection of all man. He gave me that smirk, and bashfully, I lowered my head and set it upon his shoulder as he took my waist.

I smiled, utterly content…as much as I could, allowing the heartbreak to leave me but for that moment in his arms, swaying to the slow, harmonious pulse.

"Still feels like the first night together…"

That smile crept further, widening, a chill running down my spine.

"…Feels like the first kiss, it's getting better, baby…"

I felt him, his hands graze the lowest portion of my opened backside, along the beginnings of that indentation, my spine. Another chill of delight rode me, and I shivered.

"…No one can better this. Still holding on, you're still the one…"

By just fingertips, he traced the indent, and I swore I don't know how I could handle that and keep my footing.

"…First time our eyes met, same feeling I get… Only feels much stronger, I want to love you longer…"

My cheek left his shoulder, and I caressed him, kissed his cheek.

"Still feels like our best times are together…"

I smiled into the cheek as he continued to serenade me so sweetly, my heart leaping on every one of his words.

"…Feels like the first touch. We're still getting closer, baby-can't get close enough…"

He supported me, leaning into him to kiss that beautiful mouth a second, another, a peck-up for a follow-up, and a grin. The tips of our noses touched.

"…I'm still holding on, you're still my number one…"

I kissed him once more, never getting enough, through our smiles, so close together, less than inches, centimetres, nanometres apart.

"…I remember the smell of your skin. I remember everything. I remember all your moves… I remember the nights, you know I still do…"

"I love you, Harry…," I said this low, and raspy, trying not to break from this wondrous feeling when leaks of…everything…tried coming through. "…With all my heart."

He kissed me when he saw my bottom lip trembling, even so close. Enclosing around him, and he around me, our lips intertwined, never leaving, never escaping the truth and reality above and beyond. I could feel the warmth, the softness, the smell of his pumpkin pie scent.

When finally releasing… I lay my forehead to his, and heard him say:

"If you're feeling lonely, don't-you're the only one I ever want."

***

In the Minister's Private Limousine

"Pardon my brazenness, sir. But I must ask why we just don't kill them-they're all filth! Below our superiority!"

Nolpho looked from his pocket watch, disenchanted. His eyes flicked down at the watch again, and this time he left the gold to his coat pocket. He glanced out the window and smiled at the torrential downpour. "Isn't the weather magnificent?"

Surrounding him sat two others, a man and a woman, his most specialized team, accompanied by his Press Minister of who spoke with question about the absurdity. "Minister?"

"Montblanc," The sharpness of Nolpho's eyes settled upon him, and his Press Minister slunk in his seat. "Ask yourself this question: what would we get out of killing Muggles? You're absolutely correct-they've nothing. They are rats, and we guide them to the cheese-you see. We shape and mould them to our own desires, and this desire of mine is to keep the peace with our stupid masses… They feast on the fake, pictures for the media and poison for their minds."

"Do you know how easy it is to wipe them all out?" Nolpho leaned forward, making the seat of Montague uneasy. "Look at what we did in seconds? Look out the window-look at Trafalgar Square-remember the devastation?"

Nolpho leaned back in his seat, giving breathing space to his Press Minister. "Why place your cards on a simple bet when we can stack them against our greater foes? Look at them, Montblanc-look at them all."

"They know nothing, and will never know anything. They are like cows, they are-their ignorant smiling faces and happy thoughts, all moving as one to their designated trough…"

A mobile phone ringtone crashed the ensuing silence. As Nolpho and his Press Minister gazed onward outside the limo with smirks at the unsuspecting, Nolpho turned at the cue of vibration, halted now against his Defense Minister's ear. Strands darker than midnight draped against her white-as-snow skin. Supple lips of pure sanguine-colour spoke in hush. She said a few agreeable words into the receiver, never once looking at anything in particular and stayed course for what was said on the other end.

She shut it back just as nonchalant and placed it in her business coat's pocket, having to relieve a side to stick the device upon her breast. Her black eyes set to Quincy, and she spoke frighteningly steady. "They've obtained the Grimoire."

Nolpho's canines, perfectly white in the dark ambience, were shown clearly as he smiled. "Excellent, Sarilda. May I ask you, how does it feel to give back to our…community after your mother's charitable work?"

Sarilda grinned, her high cheek bones pointed out. "You'll also like to know they've captured some of Kingsley's men."

"Today just keeps getting better," Nolpho lifted his hand and felt of the line, the curve of Sarilda's jaw. He left her with the poke of the tiptop of her nose. "The Order doesn't know what they've let unleashed all these years. I've carved you into a fabulous creature of revenge. You'll go to the depths with me?"

Sarilda nodded. "Always."

"Your mother is very proud of you."

"May I question you?"

"Of course, my pet."

"Could we take the next step and move towards…removing…the Order now? Starting with mother Weasley…"

"Your wish comes true-we have what we need to continue the…ritual," Nolpho brushed back some of Sarilda's loose hair from her face. "Tell my men to hunt down the remains…starting with the oh-so-plump Molly Weasley."

"I want her severed head as trophy."

Nolpho smiled. "As you wish, Miss Lestrange."

"Minister!" called the limousine driver. "We've arrived! 10 Downing Street!"

"Wonderful!" Nolpho clapped with excitement. "The show continues!"

The door was opened by the security motorcade which had followed the Minister to his destination. Nolpho stepped out, and as he did, buttoned his coat and waved to the crowd of media photographers swarming his exit of the vehicle. He looked over, a black umbrella over his head to keep off the rain by a security member, and saw Prime Minister Blair greeting him with an outreached hand.

"Minister Nolpho!"

"Prime Minister Blair! It has been ages since we last spoke!"

They shook hands and stood a bit, the cavalcade of cameras bulbs popping, taking picture after picture of the staged photo event.

***

Godric's Hollow Graveyard

"I've always admired your courage…"

I lay my hand on his burial plot, his gravestone. My fingers, their pads, fell into and out of the defined, imprinted letters, words, that made up his name, his birth date and his…and, the loving description given to him, "Greater love hath no man than this that he lay down his life for his friends"…

I had smiled at the phrase…the perfect phrase.

My voice kept low, only the winds through the trees for sound.

"…You knew I'd go with you. I'd go with you to the ends of the earth, no question. You've always been difficult…"

My fingers lingered on the crystal vase, the delicate red rose petals. I wish I knew who these were from… I'd thank him or her, grateful, truly…for I'd left him with nothing, and he… He left me with life, my bastion of genuine hope that all was not lost. That, I had a chance to get him back. I knew the world changed around me for the worse…but this, this was the beacon of light in the cruel darkness ahead.

"I love you…," My tone waivered, and I could feel the tears well readily in their ducts, flooding my eyes until I blinked. My hand, still reached out, and me in my knelt position at his tomb… I let my hand rest on the cold granite and closed my eyes. A wind blew through, blew on me, and…tickled my nose…played with my hair…brought goose pimples to my exposed neck, a caress.

I knew this was him.

I knew Harry was here with me.

The wind swirled where I sat, and…that was his embrace. I smiled.

I heard the crunching of leaves from behind me, from the direction I knew Ginny stood patiently. She gave me all the time in the world, and all the privacy I needed, but kept close…in case, for whatever reason… And, when my eyes opened, glancing behind me in her direction did I see a figure in white, his hood from his head, and that head full of Weasley-red.

I smiled at him, my hand still attached to the granite.

He smiled in reply, and warmly, standing so still aside his sister who had gazed up at him when he appeared brightly from the shadows.

My head lowered once more, my fingers grazing those letters as I closed my eyes…and felt him again, licking at those loose strands, making me smile with such a small, subtle giggle.

I stayed like that for the longest time, the warm winds wrapping and re-wrapping themselves around my stilled form. I took my hand, those fingers away for just a second…to kiss, exchange the affection, and plant it back upon the granite.

"…I love you," I said in that moment, eyes opening and reopening to the twirl of leaves at my jean-clad knees. "I'll never give up loving you…and, I'll never give up on bringing you back to me…"

The winds gently dissipated as I pushed up, stood up, and brushed my knees off. Running my hand down the smooth, sloping angle of the granite's top, I said in whisper, "…I'll be back soon. I won't leave you again, never."

A wind blew along my cheek, and… I knew.

I smiled, and finally let go…

…And, back to my friends.

To Gin, first, and within her open arms. I hugged her tight, and I felt her squeeze me in our embrace.

I went to Ron, a smile he gave me. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach him, but hugged him about his neck. He all but lifted me from the ground, and I laughed a bit, smiling. I felt him kiss atop my head, cradling him to me in my hour of vulnerability. I could break as easily as fine china at a pin-drop's notice, and I swore to myself, promised, I would not. I would remain, restrain, and contain…be strong for myself, and Harry.

I had this.

Everything was here… Harry left me the best gift a person could give you.

And, I was more than willing to take full and complete advantage of his final gift.

A mist began to form within the site, now settling at our feet. As I left from Ronald's embrace, releasing my aching soul from his, I saw first the feet, then legs, followed by two torsos in tandem, and at the last, their faces. My brow perked. I stood, stunned, surprised. I mean, of all times…

"…Draco?"

The grey eyes warmly set on me. He had an arm with Pansy's as he stepped with a smidgen of caution from apparation to Mother Earth.

"Draco?" reiterated a baffled Ginevra beside me. "…Fancy seeing you here."

What she said.

"I apologise, beforehand, for making short our greeting, Granger…Weasley…," He stepped with what, I assumed, was an artificial leg and onto his good one as he approached. From what little of him I'd seen since leaving Hogwarts, this was the first time I'd seen him up-close, for all three of us.

"Have you told them, Ronald?"

"Ronald?" stated Ginny sharply.

My face swung to Ron, and then back to Draco. "Excuse me…what? What is going on?"

"Hermione, I apologise for this…"

"Apologise for what, exactly?" I'd become defensive, backing away from the so-called "Ronald," when in fact the honor of calling him a "friend" slowly subsided to "foe". I could feel my wand within my jean pocket, poking out the shape firmly on my thigh.

I was now with Gin on this, and I could feel her need, too.

My peripheral saw her edge her hand to her own pocket.

"Sleep-" and that was all that had to be said.

Ron never did go for a wand.

He merely waved a hand in front of my face, and I could feel myself falling.

Gin, with a bit more luck than I, had retrieved her wand; but alas, the quickness of the handicapped Malfoy bettered her. He, too, gave a wave from his black leather-gloved hand, leaving his cane to do so, and had Gin buckle at the knees.

Ron, who had caught Hermione with ease, let out his free arm and caught his sister with the same sort of keen prowess…as if he knew the exact motions and actions both girl's would literally tumble through.

"You've the potion…administer it by teaspoon once before you venture overseas, and then once when you're seen by the Elves. They will know what to do from there. I've also taken care to remove Harry's valuables… Granger will be set in her secure position."

Ron looked between the slumbering brunette and ginger. His eyes, one could see the dutiful pain inside them. His rigid stance, he knew… His set of ethics, he knew he had led Hermione… Gin… And, it hurt him greatly: his love for Hermione, and that of his kinship with Ginevra. Both, he hoped, grew with his redefined redemption into this other world…now, in essence, dashed…be it solely from him, as with the two…

They'd soon forget much of everything.

"Thank you for curbing your stake in obliviation, and caring for her," stated the tensed red-head. He glanced, again, between the two. "I hope they remember a bit of something, if anything, from this…"

"In time, they will remember all," Draco explained, his lean now on Pansy. "Harry saved me from my life. I am indebted to him. Hermione's utmost safety and defense is my repayment. He sought me, knowing what Albus had told him…their numbers, the rebirth of Him."

"Why didn't you tell me…?"

"Because, Ronald…your fascination of Granger would be our undoing…you would have told her, and she would have bounded off with that Savior-complex of his. The darkest conclusion being, she would have died." Draco shifted from his bad leg and winced.

Pansy saw and coerced her lover with, "You've missed your pain medication now for the umpteenth day-when will you put yourself-"

"You know how much of an obstinate git I am," he chided.

"But, you must-"

Draco left her gaze and pointed at Ron. What none could see was the lashing Draco felt beneath his right jacket and shirtsleeve, his former occupation reeling. "They're coming-time is precious!"

"I trust you, Draco…" Ronald, of "that" Ron from ages ago resumed his persona in that moment…to see his commander as that foul boy in the schoolyard. Taking all his will, and all that Draco had taught him in the Arts… He had to keep stock in the bastard, for he had nowhere else to go.

"Keep the faith," Draco affirmed, pointing, again, at Ron. "We must always keep the faith-and take care of her, and your sister. Take care of her-for Harry. I'm putting my trust in you."

In the scene, and with his words, Ronald saw Draco unguarded-human. He was lending his trust to him…he had been, with her, Hermione, all along…for Harry. His epiphany cleared his disease, the past years, the watchful query of Draco's movements…and power. Reared by Lucius, ranked by Voldemort, slain by the very hands of those when his family turned their back on them… Draco was a new man.

And what he saw, which had left him for his worried vigilance, was heart behind that stare.

Ronald cradled those two warm bodies to him and fled into the white mists, swirling and twirling amongst the winds blowing through the graveyard.

Alone now, Draco's eyes went towards the sky, and Pansy, too. She could feel them, being so close to Draco, and her family as well, former employees of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He saw them, streaks of clouded smoke impure against the virgin night. He counted but a handful, and smirked as he did.

"They will never learn."

He turned to Pansy, only to hear her utter:

"I'm ready, my love."

Draco, tilting his head to the side to crack his neck, kept his smirk on as he said as if riled up for sport, "For mother, and father."

Mists gathered, and robes of the brightest white came from them.

TO BE CONTINUED

{Author's Note: The longest chapter written to date, and an information overload! Haha. Hopefully it was well worth the read, and I hope those who have reviewed my fiction with confusion now see things a bit more clearly. And again, it certainly is a chore when you don't feel the emotions your characters feel and have to put yourself there on purpose.}

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