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 Seventy-two - Reunion

***

"Love, you've got to help me a little here…"

Drenched to the bone and bloodied, Ginny appeared with Hermione inside her apartment with a pop. Literally having to drag the sodden brunette across the floor with an arm around her, Ginny continued to plead with the heartbroken Granger.

Hermione went to fall, but Gin caught her slippery form, moving inch by inch Hermione closer to the hallway bath. Mud, water and redness dripped on her carpet. She looked in dismay at her beloved friend's affliction and tried her best not to cry herself, willing her remorse at bay, but drew tears along her cheeks.

She'd never seen Hermione in such a suffered state, her wet body limp and wanting so readily to let go. She stumbled into the bath and placed Hermione between her and the sink. "We've got to clean your hands," she said, having to prop Hermione's loose form from dropping. She pushed against her backside to keep her steady, flipping the water lukewarm and took the white bar of soap beside the faucet.

Between them both, it didn't take too long for the white to fade to an amalgamation of black, brown, and crimson. The ivory sink, too, stained. When her soap-covered hands touched the given lacerations of Hermione's hands did she scream in her cry. Ginny's heart-strings were barely holding together, and she too barely held herself whole.

"I know, love, I know, but I don't want them to get infected."

"Leave me, just leave…!" Hermione screamed again, the soap stinging, Ginny's fingers washing quickly as she could the deep cuts.

Ginny's arms tightened around Hermione and firmed her hold, "Negative-love. I'll never leave you. I love you too damn much."

Hermione went to fall head first into the sink. Gin caught her, bringing her back up, however weak-kneed she was, and ushered with some authority, "If you're going to fall, fall against me!"

Hermione's head fell to Gin's shoulder.

Her wails continued, saying into the night again and again, "Why me-why is it always me?!"

Gin, pushing the sleeves of Hermione's burgundy jumper back, noted the disappearance of Hermione's scar-"Mudblood"-had gone. Hermione's scream shook her from further examination.

"It hurts-it hurts!!"

"Hun, I know, I know-love-and I hate doing this, but I don't wish you sick," Gin reached from the medicine cupboard over the sink and found the spray and ointment she'd gotten from Diagon Alley. A tiny bit faster for closing up wounds, the ointment would still take time depending on how serious the wounds were-and Hermione had overcompensated for the ritual.

"Clinch your teeth-it's going to prick."

She made Hermione's hands face palm up and sprayed as hastily as she could, determined to disinfect the entire area before application. Hermione's screams could be heard apartments away, probably to the sound of people believing a murder was happening. That sense kept from Ginny's mind, setting the spray down and applying the oil-based ointment to her hands.

"We're almost done…," as best as she could, and with affection, her fingers massaged the ointment across Hermione's palms before reaching behind her to wipe the rest on the backside of her jeans.

"Why am I here anymore…?"

"Because people love you," retorted Gin with a rapport of emotion, attachment. Gin went for the gauze bandage still in a wrapper and tore into the plastic with her teeth. "And, because I love you."

"I don't wish to be here anymore…"

"Well, that's not going to happen anytime soon," Gin's friendly, maternal instincts kicked in. With utmost care, she bandaged first Hermione's left hand to the diagonal shape of the laceration, and then her right, all the while hearing Hermione's gentle weep in her ear. "Because I love you, I said. Now stop saying things like that."

"I'm at my ends, Gin… I don't know where else to go from here. My world has been turned upside down, inside out. I'm lost."

"You'll never be lost because I'm here with you. We'll go down this journey together, good or bad."

"The book is gone-"

"There has to be other things out there in this big world if a book like that existed-there must be," Gin set what was left of the gauze on the sink. She heard Hermione whimper, snivel, and in a frown said, "Come on, sweetie…we'll ask for help this time. Maybe someone else has ideas-there's more than one way to solve a problem."

"But, what if there isn't?"

"Then, we'll make our own solution."

"Help me here, love," Gin started to walk with Hermione towards the toilet and the shower. "I think a bath is in order. You've got mud caked in your hair and on your face, and God knows what else. Help me here because I can't carry you all the way."

With soft step, she assisted Hermione to the toilet seat where she sat her down. Gin knelt cautiously, her muscles aching, the back of her head throbbing. Somewhere behind her shoulder she knew she bled, but kept her eyes on Hermione. The dirt-ridden girl sat hunched over, precariously close to tumbling to the floor. Ginny's sight went from the trainers she undid and that of Hermione, one shoe coming off with the sock and then its twins.

"Arms up." Gin stood and waited patiently for Hermione to respond.

Hermione's arms still hung towards the floor where they had been since she sat down. Gin went about lifting the soiled jumper halfway, tugging the hoodie up to about the middle of her torso and sifted one arm out of her sleeve before surrendering the other. She went for her jeans, noticing they were already unbuttoned and the flash of the man atop Hermione so ripe in her mind… Gin had to shake out of it. She went for the front and wiggled the tight, heavily soaked bottoms down. She had to stop when Hermione began to drop with her pull to set her back straight, or straight as she could to release her legs from the navy.

She put her arm under Hermione and stood her back up, looking as she did into the cold, lifeless stare of her companion. She had to do a double-take to see if she were even breathing, seeing her chest rise and fall subtly as nothing else seemed to move on its own.

A tear left Ginny's eye and fell down the trench between her nose and cheek as she saw comatose Hermione had become. She spoke, tried the small talk avenue, but received silence. Her hand opened the door to the shower. She stepped in first and led Hermione to do the same.

"Lean back on me like that…," Gin said between closing the shower door and turning the showerhead on. She felt with the back of her hand how warm the water rushed before the water could hit Hermione, wanting some heat to revitalize her stilled form. She felt Hermione lay back, and she smiled albeit weakly. "Thank you, love."

She twisted the showerhead so it hit Hermione, but not at once. Gradually she let the warm water make contact, easing the pressure upwards and watching Hermione's bare parts go from brown to that angelic white.

She reached back and grabbed the shampoo, squirting some of the gel in her hands and lathered up. In Hermione's hair, she pulled the chunks of drying dirt from the strands, gently as some pulled at her scalp. The clump landed on the shower floor, dissolved and filtered into the drain. She then began a soothing scratch, the peach-coloured suds clouding the moistened dark curls.

"Can you put your hands out like this for me?" Ginny opened her arms wide and put her palms to the shower wall in front.

She saw Hermione try, and helped her, easing her into position where the warm water. With her head underneath, Hermione watched the shampoo having caught the grime and fall like a brackish waterfall, her hair creating this grotto between the rising steam and shower. She closed her eyes and let the flow of the water be her relief however instant the immeasurable cadence would be.

***

"You know, son, that if you go back you won't remember a thing."

Harry stood on the brick red bridge arching over the railway in Hogsmeade station. The wind blew softly on him beneath a cloudless blue sky. The sun shone brightly, the air as crisp as autumn beating upon his layered shirts and jeans, traveling wear for his trip homeward. He had a pack on his back, one so like when he was at Hogwarts, with his thumb hitched on the strap. The zephyr swished through his messy, trademarked strands and as they were flown backward did the wind reveal no lightning bolt scar, no bruise on his face.

His unhindered jade-green orbs left his dad, his mum behind him when the Hogwarts Express tooted.

"I know, dad." He said, turning back to see his father beaming at him.

"My son-" James, in a comfortable vest and trousers, stepped forward to give his son a much deserved hug.

"You've become such an adult, a man. I know you wouldn't have it any other way."

James released, and as he did Harry withdrew a pent-up breath.

"Go see your fiance," James smiled, and Harry smiled so much like his father, too. "She's waiting."

"I love you-" Harry widened his arms to hug, giving enough space so when he said, "Both of you," the embrace included his mum.

"I will miss you, Harry, as I've missed you so much…," she planted a kiss on Harry's head. She ran her hand down the backside of his head, in his hair when their emerald eyes met. She spoke quietly, "I'll be watching over you always-and Hermione-"

She looked at James, and then back to Harry. "Both of us."

"I'm proud of you." She kissed Harry's forehead. "I love you."

Harry's arms went back around his mum and he hugged with all his strength. He felt that pull, that tug of mother-and-son that was very difficult to sever. He saw behind them those who had died and those he had begun to live with here in this time:

Remus gave Harry a nod and Tonks smiled from afar.

Cedric and Seamus both were waving in their goodbyes.

Those who he had only seen in photographs waved as well.

Severus stood with Minerva and Albus, his hands on his waistcoat. He gave Harry a nod, a smile only Severus could give-halfway of grit, halfway mischievousness. Minerva winked and smiled warmly. He could see the tears in her endured eyes. Albus gave a nod and raised his hand as if to toast Harry, and Harry grinned.

"You haven't forgotten me, have you?" He heard from his right.

He left his mum to see Sirius with his arms crossed. A smirk on his lips, Harry came to him and offered a hug to be received with opened arms. Sirius gave him a pat on the back and said into his ear, "Remember…"

Harry looked at him, and Sirius pointed at his chest, his heart, "It's what is in here that counts."

The horn of Hogwarts Express tooted again.

"I believe that's last call, son." Harry saw his father with his hands in his trouser pockets behind glasses, a smile. "You don't want to miss this train ride home."

"I love you!" Harry began his descent from the platform, walking backwards to see the glimpses of his friends and family above on the bridge. He waved frantically, his arm outstretched above him, not wanting to miss a soul in saying goodbye. "I love you all-everyone!"

A tear left him when the last image he saw before getting on the train, looking back from the doors…

…The image of his mother, Lily, putting her hand to her lips to blow him a quiet caress only a loving mother could do. She kept still as the others continued their farewells, their adieus, their parting from Harry of this world to the living. Harry's sight left hers when she waved her goodbye, her long-sleeved jumper held onto by her fingers and the wind blowing back her dark red tresses.

His father put an arm around her, and the train whistled its tune, taking off with Harry its lone passenger in the direction of…

Home.

***

First the compassion of his spirit, lifting him from death, brought warmth to his cold veins. His bones, broken from when he had fallen stories high, began to mend themselves. The cartilage engaged, bringing his frame together and strong. The beat of his heart, the pulse of his mind, and the synapses in his brain fired off for the first time. The muscles, decaying away, amassed again. The reddish fibre crept along his bone, the tissues, solidifying Harry Potter. His skin spread where there was none, the colour coming back.

His hair went from finely stringy to voluminous.

His thick brows darkened.

His lips returned to pink.

His sockets formed, the nerves combining, twisting, two white balls brought to life.

His green irises, his dark pupils-he drew a breadth and gasped.

He first saw the ruffled lining of the casket, how close the casket was to his face. His mind raced, unknown to him how he had got there-he remembered Gringotts, being there, a fight broke out, and he… He started hyperventilating short breaths, pants as his hands begun to tear into the cloth to get out-his goal-ultimately claustrophobic and buried alive.

He tore the material in two, banging with his fists the casket's case.

If he could he would have kicked with his legs, but only his knees could rise.

"Let me out!" Harry shouted, looking around in haste for another way-any other way.

The sound startled him at first. A crack, wood tearing, dirt fell into his lap. He saw he was in a black suit, dress robes, and the more he thought the more his mind reeled in pain. He saw light, and more light, a blade splitting the wood in two. He saw shadows, the light in the darkness blurring for his sight hadn't recognized natural light in a while. He saw a dark-skinned man's hand, a purple robed sleeve reach in for him.

Harry took the hand and was pulled from the earth, dirt and dust scattered about him, getting in his face and hair. He had to spit, wipe his face as he was extracted. Aided in his step out, his feet hit stable land even if he wasn't stable. The plum robes caught him as Harry stumbled, looking back to see his tomb, the plot, the gravestone reading:

Harold James Potter

Greater love hath no man than this, than a man lay down his life for his friends.

31 July 1980 - 31 January 2001

Harry saw around him brilliant white cloaks of light, and then looked into the eyes of the man who had pulled him forth. Kind eyes, and with a smile, the man said, "If I didn't see you in the flesh, I'd have denied it from here to Hogwarts."

"Kingsley!" Harry caught him in tight embrace.

"Harry…"

"What happened-did I…? Has it been done?"

Kingsley held Harry's beautiful face in his hands and laughed, nodding, "I should've never left Albus's heart. He was right all along!"

Harry smiled and laughed with glee. He went to move, but toppled over on Kingsley. Kingsley caught him.

"We've got to get you to the Ministry for medical observation. All will be told there-everything."

Harry nodded with a chuckle. "Right-right, of course. A bit weak-kneed."

"She did it! A miracle! Nothing short of one!"

Hermione streaked through his mind.

Hermione.

"Hermione!" Harry's eyes shot to Kingsley from thought.

"All in good time, Harry. All in good time."

***

A light raced about the room, of bluish hue and translucent, the ethereal form of an otter plays chase with Crookshanks. Their play never disturbed a cupboard nor did they fight; a mere entertainment venue for the orange furball who so missed Hermione. They'd both hop onto the bed at times and brushed up against Gin's legs, Hermione's legs. In the end, the otter and Crookshanks ended up side-by-side in a tiny makeshift bed, both in comfort and contented doze.

Gin had redressed Hermione in some of her clothing, a large sleep shirt going passed her knees. She'd gotten Hermione in bed after getting her bathed, dried, and then her own quick wash off. She needed-wanted-to stay aside Hermione, just as she did now, so close. She cuddled Hermione's frowned figure, as a bed herself, Hermione inside the crevice she created with her body, shoulder, and arm.

She had used her wand to intricately, and with detail, make certain her brunette bestie's bandages were completely dry from the shower. Rotating Hermione's right hand, and then her left, the one on her stomach, she chanted in whisper the slightest of heating charms to relinquish any-if at all-moisture. Being Hermione and her over-compensating ways, she really had cut herself deep. But, as Gin inspected her hands was she relieved to see them looking much better from her struggles to get them cleansed.

Hermione tossed and turned against her, the evident remorse still clinging to the innocence, of the committed love Hermione gave-and gave her all. Gin saw a tear stain her beautiful cheek; even in her sleep did she sob. Gently with her thumb Gin wiped away the tear and began stroking, rubbing Hermione who clung infant-like to her.

Hermione still fought in her dreams and as much as Gin tried her best to soothe Hermione would start again.

If there was one thing she remembered about her childhood…

Mum, the Weasley thought. She'd sing me to sleep when nothing else seemed to deliver me from sadness.

Probably the only good time of my life with mum.

So she began, in what little light gave from a window by the moon, in quiet whisper to hum the first song that came to mind:

"There's a hero…if you look inside your heart; you don't have to be afraid of what you are…"

Crookshanks perked up at Gin's lovely singing, the ghostly blue otter raising its head, too, from the kitty mattress.

Gin ran her fingers through Hermione's soft hair.

"…There's an answer if you reach into your soul, and the sorrow that you know will melt away…"

Crookshanks, stretching first along with the brilliant otter, hopped up onto the bed with the lightest of bounces. Gin smiled at them in the moonlight, going in and coming out of the rays against the bed sheets. She turned back to Hermione and saw her calming, less grips of her fingers to Ginny's pyjama shirt, less fidgets of her legs.

"And then a hero comes along…with the strength to carry on, and you cast your fears aside and you know that you can survive-"

Gin brushed a loose strand from Hermione's face and saw a sigh from Hermione's lips.

"-So when you feel like hope is gone look inside you and be strong; and you'll finally see the truth-"

Gin leaned in and caressed Hermione's warm forehead.

"That a hero lies in you."

***

"Will you watch her while I go for a biscuit and some coffee?"

Gin, feeling famished, had risen bedside and pointed back at Crookshanks and her lovely's patronus. Both had curled into the pocket Hermione's form had taken shape betwixt her arms and stomach. Crookshanks, the devil, raised his head and rubbed against Hermione's hand as he looked up and blinked at Ginny's silent exit.

"I'm trusting you, and you," Ginny had fingered out the furball, and his cohort beside him. She stepped off and into slippers. She flipped back around at the opened doorway, her finger wagging. "Nothing funny-I'll be right back after I've something in me."

She heard Crookshanks purr, the otter's twinkling starlight dance against the hallway wall as it shuffled comfortably, too.

She was in the kitchen, knowing her way like the back of her hand in the darkness. The refrigerator bulb burned bright when the fiery red-head bent to take out some cream and nudged the door shut with her hip. The overhead oven light came on by a switch, Ginny's hand already in her biscuit jar, the chocolate chips seen through the glass jug.

She hadn't the time to wait for the coffee to bubble hot. With one hand she used her wand and set to tap-tap against the pot. Her other adjusted her collared sleep shirt, wide-open, the three top buttons undone. With a chocolate chip biscuit in her teeth, she saw the coffee pipe, the strong aroma of black beans breathed in. She found her favourite mug, poured and mixed the cream in the cup half-and-half.

She snuck her hand in the cookie jar for one more treat before turning about and drifting towards the living space.

She couldn't help but let her mind wander…

Hermione's scar had disappeared…

Harry's birthday gift, the Hippogriff feather necklace was gone…

Some parts of Hermione's legs were bruised…as if something had grabbed her rough…

…and that we had both woken up…

…the same way…

…and how she knew, just knew Hermione wouldn't have just left her without getting in touch…with what she had found while in the shower…

Nothing made sense, and the more she thought, tried connecting the dots, the more she gained that headache.

She hadn't seen where she was going, ending up on the sofa with her coffee to her lips. The apartment was quiet, still. She set her wand in her lap and traded it with the biscuit. She dunked the chocolate-tasting bread in the coffee, and like any other day, turned the television on. She went by habit, the telly flickering to life. She realized when she did how the channels were blocked out, "technical difficulties," when she saw an image and words streaming underneath:

AZKABAN PRISON HAS FALLEN

The image:

The enormous, disgusting three-point basalt smear crumbles brick-by-brick as smoke, dust and water billow upward in its wake.

The image repeats, Azkaban falling again and again from real-time. The image gets minimized and pushed into the top right corner when a woman in a suit appears on television. The volume is low, and before Gin could come to terms with what she saw and increase the sound did the woman leave for a handicapped man with a hobble. In Ministry dress robes, the seal of the Ministry sewn into his breast pocket, the blonde-almost-white-haired male steps up to a podium inside the Ministry's Atrium. Behind him stands the Ministry flag, a myriad of other country's flags, and the Elven battle-standard. To his immediate left stands Pansy with an arm around him in support, and to his immediate right a dark-skinned elf gazing onwards with crimson sight. Behind him a slew of other countrymen in battle gear and white cloaks, Aurors, stand at attention.

A little green bar at the bottom of the screen shows Ginny turning the volume up in haste.

The words:

INTERIM MINISTER MALFOY SPEAKING AT THE MINISTRY

"…fellow colleagues, citizens, as we transition ourselves from the horrors brought upon by Quincy Nolpho, Death Eater and his followers of Voldemort, I will do my best as interim Minister-if you allow my service-with the help of our friends overseas, Europe, and our Aurors, in rebuilding our misguided, fallen country back to its leading, former self…"

Draco, dark bags under his eyes and looking so much older, holds himself with obvious exhaustion but doesn't accept anything but confident poise.

"…the Floo network will be down for security reasons. Only registered Apparitioners will be able to travel…"

Ginevra's jaw drops the longer she listens.

***

"Why was I chosen to be the interim Minister, Kingsley?"

Draco stood with his hands on his hips. His Ministry-detailed suit stood open allowing his hands to feel of his belt and trousers. Beneath his coat wore a purplish vest with yet another Ministry symbol sewn in on his breast pocket. His robes were in Pansy's lap as she took the oversized chair in front of the Minister's First Desk which would assuredly begin to pile high with paperwork inside the reconstruction of the wizarding world. The people would need him-or whoever the Minister would come to be.

He stood aside Pansy in the chair.

A hearth, roaring with fire, kept any chill out.

Kingsley, in his familiar plum robes, mimicked Draco's stance with his own hands atop his hips as he looked in at the licking fire. "The people will need someone strong to guide them."

"You're a much better leader than I, Kingsley."

"Stronger-Draco. You've proven yourself to many of us," Kingsley turned his head to see Draco, his sight slightly darkened in the shadow. "With whatever reputation I've left I'll want to use with helping secure the Muggle world."

"Won't my family's past-?"

"No-not if you show the people what you've shown us: true courage and duty to the fellow man."

"I had so many of our men die."

"War has its consequences. It is those sacrifices that progress a greater frontier, new dialogue, and a better sense of being."

"And, you've been endorsed by not only the homeland, but of so many other homelands," Kingsley added. "A `nobody' doesn't get that type of notoriety without merit of their actions and words."

"Severus, Albus, and now you." Draco chuckled, lowering his head to chuckle at how absurd it felt to be titled "Minister of Magic".

"Your father would be-"

The two double-doors of the Minister's First Office opened abruptly ending their conversation. Draco, Kingsley, and Pansy at rest all looked towards the newly opened passage.

"Well, look at that," Draco laughed heartily. "It's the man of the hour once again! Always with an entrance!"

Harry, escorted by Aurors on either side, sauntered into the office space. Draco noted his walk as natural, reliable, and his health a reflection of his glowing skin. Harry had his coat removed, now in his vest and dress trousers and shoes. He sifted his fingers through his fringe and let each follicle drift slowly back to his forehead and ears.

"Oh, Malfoy-you have me blush."

"Haha…," Draco piped up. "So, what was the medical diagnosis? Cleared?"

"Healthy as a horse."

Harry smiled at Pansy when she did a little wave from the desk.

"Well, that's the good news," Draco nodded towards the Aurors who immediately took their leave, closing the doors behind for privacy. "Ready for the not-so-good news, Potter?"

Harry had walked to Kingsley, and Kingsley threw an arm around Harry's shoulder.

"What would that be, Minister?"

"Ha-you saw that, eh?" Draco scratched the back of his head.

"Heard the early morning conference in the medical wing."

"Tea? Biscuits?" Draco offered, swishing his hand towards the desk. "Did they feed you down there?"

Harry first refused the offer with a hand gesture, and then said, "No thanks-and yes, they did. Steak and potatoes."

"Steak and potatoes? And the `Minister' gets tea and biscuits?" Draco prodded sarcastically. "Haha…"

"Did you happen to see my father there, Potter?"

"Where?" Harry asked quizzically.

"Nevermind…," Draco shook his head. "I'm getting off track."

"After several casualties-"

"How many? Harry interjected. "Did the plan work?"

"Too many."

"Don't let that burden you, Draco," Kingsley insisted. "Take a look at my history."

"Nevertheless," Draco sighed. "We've signicantly destroyed the Death Eaters to extinction. Kingsley-you said you had found one dead in Godric's Hollow?"

"Near Harry's grave," Kingsley nodded. "The body has been taken for closer examination."

"Wasn't it identified as Xavier-?"

"Xavier?" Harry's burst into the conversation again. "He's dead?"

"He wasn't marked-anyone marked died, and according to our calculation that brings the Death Eater count down to five percent or even less."

"You're on the chase?"

"Potter-do you see me as daft?"

Harry laughed. "Sometimes, only sometimes."

Draco shook his head and laughed, too. "But more importantly Potter, the Death Eaters…Azkaban prison…Voldemort…"

"How is it that you weren't destroyed, Malfoy? Weren't you…?"

"Always the risk, Potter," Draco rolled up his sleeve to show his dark mark tattoo. The tattoo, which was once black, now looks severely white against what colour he has. Draco looks from the white shade of his dark mark and back up at Harry. "It seems as if I've been pardoned."

***

"I can't believe this…!"

Gin and I had apparated directly into the Ministry's Atrium. At first, and in awe, we glanced around at the still smoldering heart, the broken fountain, and the odor of smoke clinging to the furniture, walls.

"I shouldn't have told you anything if you were going to behave this way!"

I started in a run, running passed officials and workers repairing the infrastructure. When I would rush by them their heads would turn to catch a glimpse at the mad brunette. Some even shouted at me with some security members in follow. Gin was in pursuit behind me.

"I knew something didn't feel right! The headaches, Gin! The overall sensation of deja vu! The flashbacks! We've lost our memories! It's pointing to-!"

"We've been obliviated?" Managed Gin to remark through my rant.

We ended up in a lift. I took hold of one of the handles and turned, like Gin, to see the security officers yelling, "Hey! Hold on there a second!"

"Sorry!" I shouted at them, saying then to the lift, "The Minister's Office!"

The gates of the lift instantly shut and off we zoomed downwards.

A ministry officer held his wand to his throat and stated in haste, "To anyone who can hear me-Miss Hermione Granger and Ginevra Weasley are coming for the interim Minister! We tried to stop them…"

"What are we going to say, Hermione?" asked Gin, jostling when the lift would move backward, move diagonally, and then shift in its downward slope. "What do you expect out of Draco?"

"Answers!"

"We won't just be able to waltz right in there! He'll have back up!"

"It's not like I'm going to kill him, Ginny…," Hermione thought for a second, and then took a step back. "Or, actually, that doesn't seem half bad…"

"'Mi…" Gin gazed wearily at her in askance.

Hermione winced when the lift dropped to a halt, her grip of the handle tight.

"Watch your hands, love!" demanded Gin.

"No time for-"

Gin and I stared into the cerulean eyes of a man and woman in brilliant white cloaks.

They continued their stare until Hermione broke the silence with a, "…I don't care if you're in my way. I'm going through! I need a little `chat' with the interim Minister."

"We've been waiting for your arrival, Miss Granger," said the male Auror, his blue eyes set on her, his tone lofty.

The female Auror nodded peacefully to Gin, "And you as well, Miss Weasley."

"O-Okay…," I shook out of my defensive stance. I had been built up and ready to use even my wand if I had to in getting through. Now… The Aurors had deflated the madness. "Show the way then!"

I stepped off first, and then Gin. We traveled only a short distance on a plush roll of crimson carpet lined for royalty. On either side of the wooden walls held lamps, their flames flickering in pear-shaped glass. Paintings of previous Ministers hung between each pair of lamps, moving and watching them pass by, so much like Hogwarts.

I gave Fudge's painting a distant look, and not even Fudge could look at me without darting away.

Two Aurors stood guard at the double-doors of the Minister's office. At our escort's cue, the two guards took one handle, and then the other, and let open the door. At first I could hear the low rumblings of a serious discussion, and then they stopped at our approach. I couldn't see passed the Aurors in front of us, but could see, and then feel, the fiery warmth inside the Minister's Office.

Only until they relieved from my view did I see Draco standing near Pansy on the left. He glanced up at me, his ministry ensemble apparent on him with Pansy in her suit. She smiled at me, but I didn't respond. My look was foul, and I flew inside, waving a sturdy hand at Draco.

"I don't care what excuses you have today, Malfoy!" I gestured wildly. "You placed a Memory Charm on us and I want-!"

My sight went to Kingsley standing with another man when Draco's gaze shifted to him. I stopped as Kingsley looked around at me, his arm about the man's shoulder. I could only see the darkened silhouette in the firelight, an orange outline of a broad shouldered, toned male with the messiest of black hair.

Everything froze.

The man turned from the fire, from Draco, and then at me.

My eyes wouldn't budge, growing parched when I didn't blink.

My breathing stopped, I gasped.

My heart beat halted, I didn't know if I'd died.

The man grinned at me in his gradual turn until I saw…

Green eyes, so soft, so warm, so loving they were.

His signature, handsome smile crept on his lips.

I wondered across the room to him, and it was as if time stopped and we were alone even if we had an audience watching intently of our intimate reunion.

I was at him, close, an inch apart.

I looked at him.

His beautiful ears, nose, lips.

Felt his sweet breath.

Smelled his…pumpkin pie scent.

"This can't be real…" I spoke in whisper, my sight never leaving him. "This can't be…"

The man took my hand, warily inspecting my bandage with tender care, and had it rest softly on his cheek.

Warmth, I felt. Gorgeous, pure warmth.

Tears began to fall, wet lines crisscrossing my cheeks.

I could feel my heart beat now-fast.

I could feel my breathing increase.

I blinked, and when that second of my life was over he still stood in front of me.

"Harry…?"

He nodded, and grinned.

"…Harry?"

He nodded again, and did a tiny laugh from his nose.

"I'm home, Love," Harry breathed.

Every emotion-all emotions-could no longer be hid.

I let them spill over, crying only happy tears-tears of joy.

I leapt on him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

My lips to his, we had our first kiss-a kiss so dearly missed.

***

{Musical Inspirations: Fix You by Coldplay; Dumbledore's Farewell from HBP Soundtrack; Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx; Hard to Say I'm Sorry by Chicago; Hero by Mariah Carey; Against All Odds by Phil Collins; The Scientist by Coldplay (when Hermione and Harry reunite)}

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