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 Eighty-two - Invisible

***

Aboard a Delta flight over St. Louis, Missouri

A mother, one of the four hundred sixteen people inside the airliner, looks from her husband asleep on his fist with a smile to her two children. One, a little boy, has fallen asleep. He lies soundly on his father's side. The teenage daughter has taken to her, sleeping in embrace. She looks from them to her book she was reading when the pilot chimes in over the speaker system.

"Good morning folks," the pilot is quieted, almost in a whisper at the late hour, after midnight on the west coast from where they've left. They head towards the east, a flight to New York City. "I apologize for any interruption I may have caused, but I would like to say for those who are up still: if you look out the window you can see below the city lights of St. Louis and a very bright Gateway Arch."

The mother sits near the window and adjusts a bit to see what the pilot describes as she's never been to St. Louis, nevertheless seen the city from above.

"St. Louis's famous Gateway Arch, built in 1965, was of the architectural mind of the Finnesh-American architect, Eero Saarinen. Made up entirely of stainless steel, The Gateway Arch is the largest man-made structure in the United States. The year of the Gateway's debut nearly 700,000 visitors saw its grand design. Now millions of visitors come to St. Louis with the Gateway a top destination spot. Those visitors can take a tram up to the peak of the arch where there is an observation deck. One can see the beautiful city of St. Louis for miles and miles…"

While passengers slept and listened to the pilot's US trivia…

Precipitation fell heavily upon the shadow buzzing, zooming from cloudburst to cloudburst. Lightning would strike, and those zipping around in the skies would see its foe. The menacing glow from behind a Death Eater's mask would shine, affixed to the courageous, battled sworn heroes riding behind what could be considered as the American Auror team on broomsticks. Those on this side of the world weren't isolated from their allies, having knowledge rogue Death Eaters would be and were attacking those without the prowess they possessed.

Muffled amongst the booms of thunder were the sounds of miniature explosions, when spell would conflict with spell and created a sight only a Muggle would see as fireworks. The lightning flashes veiled those, as the multicolour blended into the mighty cirrus covering the rainbows of shots. A line of orange collided with a burst of infamous green, the Death Eaters moving farther and farther towards the airplane. The minions egged the heroes on, their trails of black shooting spiraling downward and around the belly of the plane. The broomsticks followed in posthaste, the teams check-mating the Death Eaters' moves. One would fly at them head on while another would strike the provocative monster on his side like angry wasps protecting their hive.

"Cowards!" Shouted one from the American team.

"Ci air kyl syrdas si vali!" [He is going toward the plane!]

An Elf, in the fully soaked garb of his kinsmen, pointed in the plane's direction. He hung onto his comrade-in-arms, unable to meet the height requirement alone. The American agent pulled back his acceleration, chasing after another trail, to see a wake of darkness fall fast towards the surface of the plane. From their closeness one could only see the lights on in every cabin, but they knew each light represented an innocent.

"Kaer ti tyraes!" [Get me closer!]

The American doubled backwards, looping upside-down in hot pursuit of the one Death Eater that had made his choice and finally followed up on their threats to their unfortunate realization. Other broomsticks began to do the same, leaving behind those who had been duping those to follow them away while a fragmented few broke off to attack the helpless.

"They've nothing to lose and we have everything!"

Dodging nature's wrath, the bolts of lightning became obstacles alongside the wind and the rain beating down on them.

Winks of multicoloured light glistered against the blackness surrounding them. The Death Eater's so hell-bent on directing their attacks out on the plane didn't see the flight of those coming in from the right and left, those wasps taking one right after the other out of the sky. From the dozen became the few. The trails of black smoke lessened, and those in chase seeing only the smiles of the remaining Death Eater's as they plummeted towards the top of the plane.

The Americans dropped closer, and as if with one mind, the Elves riding sidecar leapt from the backs of the brooms. Like human projectiles, they plunged as well, rolling, tossing, and turning to bend precisely enough so their bodies would fall at its fastest. And again, like hive-minds, they all reached for their belt of tricks and grabbed hold of something rope-like. With an appendage resembling a variety of suction cups, they swung the rope-like material forward to see the appendage cling quick and secure to the white metal. The lines yanked them in the direction of the plane, shortening its length on its own.

Agile and acrobatic, the Elves synchronized their actions with the rope tight to their belts, knowing well their fate. They landed when the Death Eaters did, though with much more grace than their enemies. The Death Eaters thumped hard against the steel, hanging on by finger tips as they regained balance enough to see a line of Elves, arrows at the ready.

The volley began, the Elves not only on offense, but defense. As one Death Eater would fire a spell at them, his brethren would do the same towards the plane. At just the right angle, Elven arrows would displace the magicks, and that spell, and the next, would shoot off and away from the cabin.

The Death Eaters had educated themselves on the art of defense as well. Outside of curses shattering the magic-infused arrows, they maintained a strong ward in protego, its clear, water-like absorption slowing down the momentum of the many darts.

After a while the Elves showed their strength in out-witting the magical youth, not just through aggression, but through their wisdom in dueling. A shield bearer keeping protego in check for the left side of the Death Eater flank was taken out, an arrow piercing through his mask and out the backside of his skull. The Death Eater, in obvious pain, immediately lost his equilibrium and was sucked into the void of night.

With the left vulnerable, the Elves shot through the offense with extraordinary ease. The right side tried to pick up the slack, but the shield thinned in regard to broadening the area. With less men fighting, less counter curses were able to combat the incoming missiles until one fell, and then his partner, thrown into the violent, whipping winds.

With the last Death Eater lonesome, the mask merely pointed his wand down at the airliner in one last ditch effort to destroy the plane when what was his face exploded into messy chunks. The spell, even without being casted, lasted in the Death Eaters' determined breath. What came in his undeniable tenacity shook the plane, the Elves having to plant themselves firmly until their American brothers and sisters swooped in to pluck them from the speedy craft…

Back inside the plane…

Those who slept immediately were woken.

The plane jostled, a rumble shaking the plane's insides. The mother's feet vibrated on the floor, and when she looked back up saw her husband's frantic hold of his son. Her daughter grasped her mother, but in all, the tempestuous wobble only lasted a second…

Though more than enough for everyone, including the pilot who sounded just as perturbed:

"Uh, folks-we apologize for the disturbance. Slight turbulence from the weather. We've been flying around a patch of thunderstorms atop St. Louis metro and up at this altitude even a powerful gust can project from its epicenter all the way out here…"

"Sir," the Co-pilot said after said after the captain followed up on his explanation. "The radar has us away from the most dangerous parts of the storm. How could there be any-?"

The captain turned to him in a way that suddenly shushed him. "I've been flying for twenty-five years, thousands of flights. I know, as well as you, that we're completely safe out here. But, to say that-they wouldn't understand-"

"I don't understand. Why not tell them the-"

"Because the weird and the odd scares people," the captain stated sternly. "To say `we don't know'… We might as well say outerspace creatures were frolicking on the roof!"

***

Visitor's Waiting Room, St. Mungo's

Two middle-aged witches in full wardrobe study a news broadcast via a television positioned on the centre wall for all visitors to see:

"Those poor Muggles…"

The WNN logo rotated in the bottom right corner of the headline feed: EXPLOSION ROCKS LONDON SUBURBS.

"…My, I sure hope everyone's safe… The world has certainly gone to Hell. Where is the hope anymore?"

WNN's Kelly Morgan seems to speaking to some Ministry official across a clear-glass desk, but the volume is so low Harry couldn't hear it. He sat secluded to himself on one of the walls facing a hallway of St. Mungo's seen behind windows. A spell had been placed on the visitor's waiting room to combat the noise from outside and inside, but the look on Harry's face showed displacement. He anchored himself on his elbow, his cheek in his hand as he watched the medical staff methodically wander by the room. The only stimuli he recollected, however, became his thoughts as he vacantly stared.

And, he had a lot of them racing in his mind.

He knew what Hermione had told him, the test result…that didn't really matter anyway. Ginny was here for a definitive result…not the household-kind. And, Hermione was with her all the way for support. That was why he was here, they were here somewhere down that hall in a room.

One Healer, and then the next, the time seemed to pass by so slowly, and they had been in there what felt like hours to Harry until-he leapt out of his seat, causing a stir to the two witches on the other side of the room.

Coming down the hall towards him was Ginny assisted by Hermione, her arms wrapped around her best friend. She looked to be talking to her in whisper, something that made Gin nod and continue to hide her face away from everyone…

…Especially Harry who had met them outside the visitor's room.

"Is everything okay?" I asked in a tone just above a hush.

We stood planted there a moment before Hermione glanced from Gin in her arms to speak to me in the same tone. "She needs her rest…"

She shook her brown curls. "She just needs to get home."

I nodded, knowing all too well the exhaustion we all had that was so, so similar to the exhaustion held in the not-so-distant past. "Okay…"

Hermione went from Gin who did her best to hide from looking at me, and back. I nodded again. "All right… Let's get her home."

***

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

Hermione crossed paths with me as she went for the kitchen. Jumping up from the sofa, having left Hermione to tuck Gin in and get her comfortable. I dropped the literature I was reading, moving from the den and into the kitchen behind her. She watched me for a second before leaning into the refrigerator to get a carton of juice, and then step onwards to the cupboards for a glass.

I let slip my hand along her back, slipping over the curve I so loved of her, as she went about pouring the glass. Leaning on the countertop, I posed a question in the silence, "Is she…?"

Hermione had finished pouring the glass of juice when she set the carton down on the countertop and stood staring into the stilled liquid. For a moment I had that something drop into the pit of my stomach till she looked at me with tired tears in her eyes. She shook her head, and it was as if breathing was finally easier.

And, her tears fell.

And, I embraced her, pulling her to me.

The tears weren't of the sad, wailing sort…but from the fatigue, the burnout we all felt. I didn't believe we had a chance to escape the hand of fate, or however one would name it, when an incident, one domino falling after the next, continued cropping up over and over and over again.

We didn't move from our spots, a hand cradling her head to me while its twin held around her waist. My fingertips felt of her and those subtle, hesitations of breath that came with being worn and tired. Caressing her crown drove her from the depths of the caverns my form created. She looked up at me, and I brushed those wild strands away from her face.

Her eyes steadied on me, and then I kissed her.

And, I felt together with her again after passing another obstacle in our lives.

She smiled after, and made a little laugh to my surprise.

She was looking above my eyes and at my hair. Her hands went there, and she said with that smidgen of smile, "With such a hasty-made potion, it certainly was a strong one."

"Still red-headed Harry?"

"You could pass off as one of Gin's brothers."

I kissed her.

"But much more handsome, and charming," she added once we broke form the kiss.

She gazed from my lips and back to my jade-green eyes. "…She really needs her best friend tonight, and I can't help but not leave her side. She's been through so much, and she…"

Hermione glanced back down at my lips, and then back at me.

"…She reminds me so much of…myself…back then. And, she never left me. Not once that I can remember."

"I'll move one of the chairs up to the guest bedroom," I kissed her, squeezing her to me. "I can't stand being so far from you…even the breadth between our bedroom or the den would have me mad."

"I don't ever want you to be away from me."

***

(Hermione's Perspective)

"…I don't think I could go alone."

Harry had come up eventually, citing how he didn't want to impede-or however one would put it-in this eggshell of an environment. He snuck in, and we knew he was modifying the chair he'd transfigured back into its original shape in the corner facing us by the padded footsteps on the hardwood floor. He didn't want to be a fragment of a second from me, and having him nearby I found comfort, too. Even Gin, though she hid away from him…

Meticulously I had smoothed out each and every one of Ginny's red hairs, her strands seemingly darker-a crimson colour-in the lightless guest bedroom. We could see each other in the small space between us, holding her withdrawn form in my arms. The whites of her eyes met mine, glancing up from the dark caverns of the sheets when I expressed in reply, "You'll never be alone… Harry and I will be with you every step of the way forward. We love you-I love you."

"I didn't stop thinking about you, and especially where you were when you left-not one time," I declared, staring back into those whites of hers.

Gin's voice stood on the fence between another break down. "I've been so stupid, `Mi-"

"You're not stupid."

"I am," She insisted. "I haven't done anything right-"

"It's okay," Her sight had lowered, but came back to me. When we met again, I repeated, "Everything will be okay. We're family. We see each other through, for better, for worse."

"Around every corner he tried to love me… But, never once did I accept him. And now…now…," Her voice lessened. "…It's true… What they say is true, `Mi…"

"…When you lose something, it's then that you realize what's lost and you'll never be able to get it back."

I thought of Harry, and…

"I just wish I could tell him I loved him, `Mi…," she held back an inevitable cry, tears crisscrossing her milk-white cheeks. "…I wish I hadn't have left him at the altar, and how many times I hurt him, hated him, cursed him…for what?"

"I nearly lost everything-"

"You won't lose me, and you won't lose Harry. Ever. We'll always be here."

"My insides, `Mi…," she let her forehead rest on my clavicle. My hand rubbed the backside of her head as she did. I listened…and chimed in here and there, but really… A part of me felt a bit guilty that… Well, I mean…the man sleeping in the chair loving me, loving us… He came back to life.

"My insides… I feel like mush. Like someone has ground my insides up and there's nothing left but drippings of emotions… Neville and mum, and father, and Harry, and you…and probably a whole lot more people I can't even remember right now…"

"…I'm that monster, `Mi," she gazed at me from the cavernous sheets. "I have become the product of my mother, just like you've joked about all these years-"

"You're nothing like your mother."

My words came out quicker than my brain had time to process, and then I realized…

"I mean…," I began to double-down. "What I meant was you're not-"

"I'm happy, `Mi," she broke into my stutters. "Maybe that's not the correct term, but I'm happy that you…stood up to mother like that, for me-after all that has been said, all that I've done…"

"…You're my best friend, `Mi…"

She went to hug me, and I embraced her tighter.

That's when she let go, again.

And, I followed her.

I could feel all her pain because I'd been there.

I felt for her…on so many levels, and the reiteration of what had unfolded in the recent past made the cognizance of the moment. I wished magic would surpass mortality…in the every day. I had never heard of a book which held the secret of resurrection until it literally fell in my lap. A one in a million chance. And, I wish there were a twin-to Hell with the Dark Arts taboo. To make Gin's desire a reality once more…

I didn't even know life itself anymore, one bizarre happening beyond the next. And, all I could do-really could do-was hold her…as I did. To show her, I hoped, that I over everyone, including my beloved: I loved her, a kindred-spirit, a companion, a second-self. We had been through so much as girlfriends, things only we as women could share openly to one another… I couldn't think of a world without Ginny, or she without me.

I knew she felt the same way, too.

Grazing with the sides of my thumbs her cheeks, wiping away her tears, she looked at me within a winded breath and said so quietly, "…I don't want to be who I am anymore. I want to change. I can't be this way-I can't live my life like this, one precarious step towards Hell after the next-"

"I'll be there," I said, tucking loose Weasley-red back behind her exposed ear. "I'll help you anyway I can. Harry will, too. We love you."

"…I don't want to be a Weasley anymore…"

My eyes dropped back to her as they were so set in combing back Gin's locks with perfectionism. "…I don't-?"

The way she said it…sounded so sincere, like a promise more than a statement.

"Do you think you're mum and dad have room for me in your family, `Mi…?"

My heartstrings pulled.

This was a cry for help…or at least a resolution.

"Ginny, I don't-"

"Your mum and dad have known me for so long. Sleepovers and birthdays…," She petitioned a case I hadn't a clue of… And even so, to change her surname…? I understood the premise behind such an amendment, but…

"…It would only be superficial, I know-I know. I'm a grown adult. But nevertheless, `Mi, it would mean so much to leave the Hell I endured behind. All of it."

"Gin, I know-but your mum and-"

Gin made a gasp.

The moment became suddenly sullen all over again.

"…Must I travel down the road? You know firsthand how she treated me…"

I'd become silent in thought, calculating the next words of which would slip off my tongue, bidding enough time to think before speaking out like that again when she said in the stillness:

"…I'll just ask Harry, or I'll change my surname to Longbottom-somehow…"

"Gin, you know of everyone in the whole world that I'd want as a legitimate sister that I'd chose you…," Her golden-brown irises descended away from my own, but when then lit back up when I offered, "…We'll talk to my mum and dad as soon as possible."

Lying down as we were, the feat would have been a bit awkward to do for any other person than her, but Gin wasn't like any other person. From her right side, she somehow leapt off the bed while simultaneously moving every bone, every muscle, every appendage, and fastened herself so firm around me I thought I'd lose breath.

"I want to change," she recapitulated over and over. "I do-I do-starting now, not later…"

"I want to be different, `Mi-on all fronts."

"Just not too, too different," I began to assert how change could blow overboard. "I still want the Gin I grew up with."

"I want to be happy, happier… Happy like you and Harry."

I gave her a hug. She needed the embrace and a dozen others. "I'll be behind you one hundred percent, like always."

***

At the Minister's Chair, Ministry of Magic

"The hell were you thinking, Ronald?! Just what were you thinking when you did it?!" An irate Kingsley Shacklebolt would throw his arms up in the air, his plum robes twisting in tangles with his furious language. He glanced over at Gregory and offered his hand before sizing Ronald back up. "Hand me a parchment, Gregory!"

Ronald stood tight-lipped just inside, and had been since beckoned. His Weasley manner, or that of the steadfast conviction kept him silent. He watched them all poker-faced, and only when Kingsley had the parchment and rolled it up did something of him move.

Hoodless, when Kingsley swatted the backside of his head did a few strands of his Weasley-red mane sway.

Kingsley asserted his rage by pointing the rolled parchment in Ronald's face. "We are just one tiny slip up from the Order not maintaining the Ministry, and now we have this Cormac shouting to the hills about how you-Ronald Weasley-not only physically assaulted him, but destroyed his house in Sheffield!"

"I'd do it again." Ronald kept the Weasley manner. His eyes, which were set on the backside of Draco, shifted only slightly to peer at Kingsley. He blinked his crystal-clear blue sight and said once more, and with authority. "If anything I held back-I should've killed him."

Kingsley swatted the back of Ronald's head without much of any response again from Ronald. "I should forbid you from casting magicks indefinitely for your poor choices! Any bloody person against us-and there are those who still want us gone-can grab this and run with it!"

"But, I'm in Romania with my brother Charlie, remember?"

Kingsley smacked Ronald's shoulder with the parchment, and then pointed it back at him. "Insubordination, Weasley?! After all that we've given you?! The only reason why you've been able to do what you've done is through the Order, and me, all these years!"

Incensed, Kingsley shouted, "You're dismi-!"

"That's enough!"

The vehement shout came from Draco. He had chosen to isolate himself from the rabble until now. He stood with his hands on his hips looking away, thinking, when he stepped in after his thoughts played catch up to what happened behind him. With a flourish of his Ministry-emblazoned coat, and just the slightest of wobbles on his father's cane, he declared loudly, "That is enough-I won't have this sort of infighting amongst us! We must hold together, regardless of any bone-headed actions one may or may not do!"

Kingsley had turned to Draco's booming voice and said with just the same vigor, "We're already on pins and needles with the public! I am addressed not from within the Ministry-but from the Prime Minister-that one of ours is to blame for creating havoc in the Muggle world? This is a travesty and there must be consequence! We can't have our men, Aurors or not, causing relation conflicts!"

"I understand the provocations, Kingsley; but, I also understand the confession Ronald gave us."

"Draco, this shouldn't-!"

"Kingsley!" Draco shouted down his equal, stepping to his desk. He placed a gloved hand upon the glossy sheen, the licking flames from the fire setting the patina to shine at random. "You've wished for me to step into the trousers of the Minister, and I am. Ronald will remain within our ranks until I say he is dismissed, not you. And, Kingsley-"

A quiet beat held within the Ministry's office with all eyes on Draco.

"-If you, or I, had a sister, we would have done the same."

"Gregory!" Yelled Kingsley after another long silent beat, even though his scribe was not but less than a foot from him. He looked to his scribe, and then back at Draco when he said, "We've got work to do reassuring the Muggle world we're not some barbarians doing what we damn well please!"

Kingsley's plum robes followed him in his abrupt shuffle out the door and the Auror who maintained watch merely peeked into the office a moment, shrugged their shoulders at the scuffle, and closed back the doors.

Draco's eyes narrowed towards Ronald. In that breath before beginning to speak, he was interrupted by a voice from his side, and the only other person who witnessed the tussle:

"If I may…"

Draco flicked to his left and saw his renewed Press Minister. Her blonde hair had been straightened, and that youthful glow had brightened back in her cheeks. The white hood had been lowered, and when she spoke her intrigued, lively green eyes settled on Draco.

"…Interject, that is," Her carmine-coloured lips parted only slightly in quickness. Draco now had his narrowed eyes on her. She drew a breath and began in proper etiquette only shown through her years of managing dissensions of interests, "Even if this child pushes a case, with or without…pressure, the whereabouts of Mister Weasley will show him far from the scene. He's in Romania…not in Sheffield."

Draco set his narrowed eyes back on Ronald. "You promise me this won't happen again. I get your justification of why it should've been done, but you damn well better come to us before striking out on your own like this next time. They have their own terrorism out there, and we have ours, and the Order is not that kind of organization!"

***

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

The wet weather didn't let up in the night, the pitter-patters of raindrops now striking the windowpanes at a steadier rate. The noise of the wind against Number Twelve woke me. I sat in a somewhat awkward position in the chair. Not as comfortable, and when I went to sit up from leaning into my fist, I had to stretch out a kink in my back.

I heard the pop, and the echo, and in that moment my eyes went large at just how loud the sound my body made. I grunted, and laughed a little under my breath before standing and stretching some more. Running a hand down my pyjama shirt, something old and worn, the perception of that morning lay on my beloved curled up with the Weasley-red amongst the dark guest bed's sheets.

As I grew close, instead of seeing just two sleeping bodies-or one-and-a-half as Ginny hid to her eyelids-I took note of how Hermione held her. I heard them in the middle of the night talking. I didn't know if it was supposed to be the so-called "girl talk," what with the rain as a certain curtain of privacy, but I couldn't help what with being feet away. I stood at the bed's edge, my hands on my hips, and just shook my head at how loving, maternal Hermione was-is-that whole-hearted, caring personality emphasized by this guiltless embrace.

I almost didn't want to… But did.

I hadn't remembered when her and I didn't sleep together, feeling that warm, softness she brought in my arms. Not to mention, her scent became more or less a utility to how I drifted to sleep. I didn't have the best nights…but managed, gave it the Potter-try.

I wanted to feel her… It may have been egotistical, but I'm only a man in the end wanting his soon-to-be wife.

With one hand balancing on the bed, I leaned forward and placed my hand on Hermione's shoulder.

It didn't take much corralling than that, that maternal instinct, maybe, that she thought it was Gin instead of my woken self. I saw her move beneath the sheets, and then saw her drop to my side and blink at me.

I smiled, and shifted more in my balancing act to give her the first of many good morning caresses.

She smiled when I released from her lips.

"…You're up," she said in a yawn, looking back at the drizzle on the windowpanes and then back at me.

"I am."

"What time is it?"

"Eightish," we were both in whispers, acknowledging Gin's exhaustion. I asked the question in hopes of getting the response I wanted. "Are you hungry?"

With one arm free of Gin, and her other very much not as Gin laid on it, she lay as much on the bed as she could. She sort of played with a strand of her hair subconsciously and shrugged, "Maybe some-are you? I can fix you something."

"Hermione…," she knew how I was. But, if this would get what I wanted… I pushed from the bed and crossed my arms. "You can help me fix something, yes. I'll give in that much."

I saw that eye roll, and narrowed my own in grin.

"Let me do this," she argued. "You've done…"

Her eyes, and a tilt of her head, went to Gin.

She looked back at me. "…A lot. I want to make breakfast for the man I very much love."

I sighed overdramatically. "Well… If you put it that way…"

"Wait-just let me-," She adjusted, readjusted, moved inch-by-inch and slithered just enough to slip away from Gin. In her movements, she said something in the Weasley's ear which in turn made her blink open her eyes for just a second. In that second she moved from recognizing Hermione to glancing at me…and when she did, upturned the sheets and fled further into them.

My brow rose at her expedience, and when Hermione turned back to me, sliding off the bed and standing up she drew her finger to her lips. She grabbed my hand and led me out quietly, and down the staircase even quieter.

"What was that about?"

"What?" Hermione looked back at me in her trek. How she looked…she looked as if she knew not of what I spoke.

As if she could feign ignorance…

She couldn't, and tried, failed, especially with the nervous twitch she did, tucking hair behind her ear.

"Hermione…"

We had made it into the kitchen when Hermione spun around and took both my hands in her. She backed into the countertop, before the sink, and I fully took advantage of the situation she put me in. Slipping my fingers through hers, I eagerly set them just below those perfect breasts and let them fall ever-so-gradually down to her hips where I squeezed.

I patted her hips and squeezed her again, making her at first close her eyes, and then immediately reopen them. "You know what I'm asking. Spill it."

She pointed at me. "This is just between you and me…"

I looked up at the ceiling, a tinge of frustration in my tone. "Who in the world would I tell?"

"Honestly…" My eyes set to her.

She put her hands on my pectorals, looked down at the kitchen floor, and then up again at me. "Well… It would get out between us three anyways…"

"I'm assuming eventually, sure," I kept my eyes on her. "She's very despondent of me. I haven't done anything to her. She's the one-"

"You haven't," Hermione interjected. "But, what you have done is set a precedent, a positive standard, and she's embarrassed."

"I set a positive standard…," My eyes left her, but in brief, rolling my eyes and my head at the same time. "Come on, Hermione-I'm just me. I don't call for anyone to do more than they ever wanted to. I never expect anything else, nor am I the perfect pedestal for…positivity…"

I looked at her again. "…Now say that three times fast."

She smiled and sighed. "…I guess she looks up to you in a way."

"I'm not-"

"Heaven forbid!" Hermione gave my chest a pat. "I know… Christ, who would want that on their conscience? An honorable, courageous, fearless man thought of not anything less…"

I squeezed her hips, and she smiled.

Slowly I took her into my arms, falling into that wonderful descent down to her lips all the while maintain continuous contact of her, wrapped around her, and against her. She slipped her arms around my neck in synchronization as my hands found her bum. In kiss, and like any other man in love…or like any other man, period…both palms settled on each cheek.

I gave her bum a pat of acceptance that left her with another one of her spirited grins.

Forehead to forehead, our caress complete, I said to her, "…I'd like for her to look at me. I don't bite. I have nothing against her. I told her this before, and several times before that."

"I know, I know…," Hermione breathed. "Just allow her to go at her own pace…she's terribly fragile right now, moreso than any other time."

"I would be, too," I kissed her again, bringing her to me with her vivacious bum. "Lord knows if something happened to you, or-"

I'd spoken through our kiss and was interrupted by her a finger she placed upon my lips. She shook her head. "Let me deal with one thought first…"

"She asked of me something last night that I… I don't know how to approach really," she averted the previous subject, which was for the best with our histories.

"Which was?" I asked with her fingers still on both of my lips.

I snapped at it playfully, and she pulled her finger away with a lightly laugh.

She glanced away from me, and we were silent for a bit before she turned to me and said almost unbelieving herself, "…She asked me to ask mum and daddy if they could…"

She went silent, and I didn't know if she was…processing her thoughts, or…? So, I lead on in the beat, "If they could…?"

"…Adopt her…," her brow furrowed. "Or at least, that's what I think?"

The silence hit us again, and it was Potter who always had the penchant for breaking it.

"Adopt."

Hermione just stared at me.

"…She wants to be," my brow rose. "Adopted?"

"Well, think about it…," She sighed. "I mean, her mother's a monster. Truly a horrid beast of a woman of the most ghastly sort. And her father… Best intentions, maybe, but from what she's described to me flinched to Molly."

"Who wouldn't?" I said rhetorically. "Except for you, of course. You didn't flinch. You stood your ground, and if I could go back in time-"

She kissed me, and I went quiet during the act.

She looked me in my eyes, foreheads pressed back together.

"I can't not do this for her," I watched the morning twinkles in Hermione's big brown eyes. "She's done so much for me, and for us, and… I just can't let her down. I'm going to talk to mum and daddy and maybe something can-will-happen. It's not like they don't know her, all the times we had sleepovers and parties and the letters-the letters, Harry, Gods! Even mum joked about us just living together, the poor owls!"

"But, she's an adult-"

"But, if I can explain the situation to mum, to dad, and get them to know the true reason behind this. You know Ginny can do as she pleases… But I can't let her travel the world alone. I won't. I won't have it."

"She told me she wanted to change. She said she really wanted to change this time, and never look back," Hermione's last words sounded like the drumbeat of genuine encouragement, and when Hermione said things in that way, I would follow her to the ends of the earth.

"I think it's brilliant."

"You do?"

"Yeah," I nodded, laughing a bit because she suddenly didn't have the slightest bit of faith in my honesty. "I'll help in any way I possibly can."

***

Hermione's familiar steps had me look up as she re-entered the kitchen. I'd been setting the table for breakfast, my beloved's cooking Number Twelve's distinct, enjoyable aroma. The eggs, the bacon, the toast sat in the middle with strawberry and blueberry jam in jars with spoons. Some tomatoes and cucumbers, cut by myself to Hermione's preference, also lay among the ceramic plates. I had put her empty plate down, mine, and had a third ready when I saw her wonder in.

Over my glasses I watched her, asking, "Is she joining us?"

"She was getting dressed when I knocked again."

Nodding, I placed the final plate and trekked back over to the fresh pot of tea. I felt something at my back, something warm, and something soft, when I plucked the pot from the stove by its handle. I turned, and when I did found Hermione's lips on mine.

Close, we looked at one another, gazing into those cinnamon, glittering irises under the sounds of rain falling on Number Twelve. "I love you," she said, coming down from a partial tiptoe.

We heard the creaking of the old wooden floor and turned at the noise to see Gin in blue jeans and a black hoodie. She looked loads better, having seen all but death reincarnated at Number Twelve's door, her sallow appearance appearing brighter. She had stopped, evidently coming in on our intimacy and held the frame of the kitchen entry.

Hermione broke from me when she noticed her best friend and jogged the distance. She ran into her, her arms wrapped around Gin in an embrace. Gin had to do a shuffle back, but in the end she smiled.

"If the breakfast is terrible," Both of them glanced in my direction when I started to speak. I wriggled my eyebrows at Hermione before ending the breath with, "Hermione made it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in grin at me.

I chuckled, and saw Gin grin, too.

***

Quiet through breakfast, I more or less listened to the conversation her and Gin had over tea and morning literature. The Quibbler hadn't begun re-subscribing the newspaper, therefore I kept with those that were sent after…that time period. I read about how the Death Eaters rose, about Rita's love affair with Quincy Nolpho, about this…Sarilda Lestrange? Even I had to swallow the prospect of Tom Riddle becoming intimate with anyone; but then again, Bellatrix wasn't exactly human herself. More a devil than anything else.

At one point in their conversation, having been enthralled by a piece written transcribing the point of view that the goblins were in cahoots with the Death Eaters, I felt that something warm and soft again. This time, the something insulated my cool hand, the closest one to Hermione. I thought I'd be taken back, what with Ginny by her side and in view of us. I thought I'd walk on eggshells until things blew over. I thought our open public displays of affection would be limited to secrecy or behind closed doors. So, I was happy when she took my hand, lacing her wonderfully warm fingers in mine.

She didn't stop her conversation with Ginny, but I believed that was the point. There wasn't a barrier between our relationship and Ginny. There was, but now more than ever the simplest touch was needed-like I had needed her last night, and every night, and day. We were getting married soon, and my heart beat for her. I didn't so much as make a big deal on the outside, looking at her actions as she had taken my hand and lay it with hers on the table, and then atop her thigh nearside me. But it was a big deal inside to me.

And, with just that look, I began again to meditate on the descriptions in outdated newspaper…all the while giving her thigh a light squeeze in recognition and response.

"Harry?"

I hadn't noticed I'd been called until the second or third time I was beseeched. I looked up from the paper, the cup of tea to my lips. My brows rose along with my eyes drifting from the pages of moving text to Ginevra's face sculpted behind voluminous flames of Weasley-red. Her and Hermione were seated close, and they were both looking at me when I met them, my sight going to her, too.

"Hm?"

Hermione looked back at Ginny and said, "He must've been caught up in reading."

"She's rubbed off on me." I did a bob of the head in the direction of Hermione. "Blame it all on her."

Hermione looked back over at me and smiled, giving my hand on her thigh a squeeze.

Bringing the cup down from the drink unveiled a smile, and a look at my beloved. My eyes then set back on Gin. "What's up?"

"If it's not any trouble…," Gin sat with her arms together, hands in her lap, resembling anxiousness. Some sadness dawdled on the edge of her lips, and her eyes strayed from me a few times. Hermione's free hand went for Gin and began rubbing her back as she finalized her request, "…I'd like to go see him. Neville…"

"Sure," I said without hesitation.

Her golden-brown eyes set back on me. "And, I know you won't leave Hermione's side, so…"

I looked from Hermione, and how she looked at me with a bit or nervousness herself, and then went back to Gin. "We'll be there for you."

"…I'm going to go get ready," Glancing at Hermione when Gin stood up, I saw her, too, turn to her friend's sudden reaction.

It almost felt like Gin had left, checked out from this period, by her abruptness.

Hermione's hand slid away from Gin as Ginny picked up her dirty dishes and started off to place them in the sink. She didn't get farther than putting her fork and knife in her plate and standing up when Hermione's hand went to Gin's arm and said, "Don't worry about it, love. We'll get it."

She smiled at Gin, and then looked at me and back to Hermione. She set the plate back down. "It was all lovely," she said in her exit. "Thank you for breakfast."

We watched her form leave our sight, and then listened the footsteps of Gin grow less and less as she made her way to her bedroom. I sat there a moment, not really knowing what to say…and tried not to think about how I'd react in Ginny's shoes.

I went to stand up, but before I did felt Hermione squeeze my hand and looked back at me. Leaning into me, she took gentle hold of my cheek and brought me to her. I did the same, placing a hand to her cheek, sifting throw her silken hair after. She laid her head against me and embraced in the quiet moment before eventually standing up together and continuing our life.

***

Hogwarts Memorial Gardens

A navy-and-black scarf, a coat, and dark jeans kept out the cold. Boots kept the wet earth at bay. A black umbrella kept the deluge away.

I'd look towards the lit windows of the Great Hall, the lit little windows going up the towers, and all the lights on in the windows of Headmaster Flitwick's office. Fortunately, I didn't have to put on any facade, looking like the same ol' Harry James Potter out and about. Well, except without a scar…which I still couldn't accept. Not yet, anyway.

The day resembled midnight, concealed by inky clouds, gloomy and cold. Yet, this was the middle of the day.

I stood in wait a few yards away from Gin and Hermione. Ahead of me, and in front of them, the alabaster coffin seemed so out of place. With the environment, the brightness didn't follow the pattern of darkness…just like the rest scattered around the grounds amidst the flowers. A cobblestone path worked between the garden rows, leading to one, and then another coffin containing more of the Order, more of those who died in and after the War.

In memory of Neville Thomas Longbottom, a fierce friend and brother to us all were the words written in gold script alongside the tomb of our dear friend and lover. The freezing rainwater didn't deter Ginevra from reaching out to touch the written plaque, feeling the grooves of his name beneath her frozen fingertips. The freezing rain left for tiny streams between her fingers, but I didn't think she felt anything else but what was in her warm heart.

Hermione had an umbrella over them both, and an arm around Gin. I saw her say something to Gin, and then Ginny's flames shaking in reply. I saw Hermione pull her best friend closer, and Gin turn from Neville to hide herself within my love's shoulder. By Hermione's gloved hand running itself up and down Gin's spine I knew…

I inhaled and exhaled slowly, leaving the saddened scene to look just outside the frame of my umbrella and to the skies.

I knew somewhere Neville was there watching over Ginny.

***

Department of Mysteries, Magic and Medical-Science Division

"…Jesus Christ…" Draco was exceptionally agog. He stood, leaned close to the glowing transparent rotating image of a healthy DNA strand and that of a…sickly one. The bluish tint of the holograms lit the room in earnest, the shade expressed against the pale faces of the few, classified Britons and Elves.

"This is the miasma I told you before, Draco," Rita's soft words echoed in the silence between each kin. "They're not fooling around anymore. They wish to destroy us, leaving the dense Muggles as fodder."

"Our brothers who were recovered from the deepest parts of Azkaban are already dead," issued a stifling still Balthier who had provided the image of the DNA mutation. "…Painful, it was as if their bodies consumed themselves…"

"That's because this poison seeks out Factor-M," one of the handful of high-ranking Healers pointed to the healthy DNA strand. "Those who are above the threshold of forty-percent Factor-M are considered magical. Tom Riddle was one of only a small number to exceed one hundred percent. Even at a young age you could move mountains."

"What does that mean for our dead?"

"Elves aren't innately magical-"

"And, therefore, cannot naturally embattle what they took in…," Draco ushered, his eyes set on the mutated DNA strand. "…My father left me his memories, and amongst the deluge of information he handed down…he spoke of this biological-magical weaponry. But I'd never heard of anything of the sort until now."

"…With my discussions with ranking Death Eaters, they foretold the capabilities Tom had during the First War," Rita continued, detailing her learnt history. "He set out to cause mass genocide with this…miasma, as you termed it. He wanted to begin with the Muggles and Muggle-born first, and then those who resisted."

"They never taught this at Hogwarts…"

"What exactly did they teach you about the Dark Arts, though, Draco? To combat it-"

"That is all…," Draco raised the most important question. "…Where were you with this information years ago, Rita? If you knew-!"

"The blueprint for this biological-magical weapon was hearsay after all! I didn't believe it myself! Who would dare think of such a despicable nightmare?"

"Tom." Draco voiced flatly. His eyes then lit with fire. He stumbled on his words at first, looking towards the Healer. "Does this spread?! Do we have an epidemic on our hands we know not of?!"

Before the Healer could respond to Malfoy's haste, Balthier injected, "Before we could comprehend the viability of the situation to bring you this information, our medical experts were living their lives beside those who eventually perished. We took samples and studied them when we came to this question, too, and have yet to see contamination ourselves."

Draco's wide eyes were on Balthier. "…Because I was there, too, in Azkaban, at that fateful hour, breathing in this miasma."

"It's in my men and women…," Draco repeated. "…And, it's in me. I've a wife, and a child on the way!"

Draco slammed his fist down on one of the various metal medical countertops, shaking vials and other instruments through his brunt force.

"By what the Elven Ambassador conveyed, Minister," began the high-level Healer. "There isn't suspect. You're neither sick nor fatigued, and your Factor-M levels are normalized. We must take one step at a time-"

"Haven't we learnt to synthesize Factor-M? Can't we just synthesize enough to prolong lives?"

"This is a brand new equation for us, and I can only speculate conclusions, Minister. But, I can say that the synthesization process takes a considerable amount of time. We would need time to produce enough to administer to en masse, if needed, and we've only handled enough for our top Aurors."

Draco pulled back the sleeve of his Ministry-emblazed coat, revealing his Dark Mark whitened-scar. "When was the last time my blood has been taken for this specific examination? Use my blood to begin producing cultures-that's an order!"

The Healer at first acted slowly, but started a syringe for the withdrawal.

"Draco-" Rita started. Draco jerked his head her way which subdued the Press Minister's voice. "…As your acting public relations minister, I must advise you from inciting any more outside the confines of this space-"

"My men may die, Rita!"

"There's no use in relaying this to the public! All this shouting will stoke a fire that needn't be!"

About to lash out again, Draco was interrupted not only by the pinprick of the needle going into the bend of his arm, but by Balthier. "I agree…"

He turned from Rita to the interim Minister. "…With your Press Minister."

"Cowards…," dark liquid filled the vial as Draco spoke. "…And to think, I once side-by-side with these savages-"

"As the human race puts it, Minister," the radiance from Balthier's smoldering green eyes fell on Draco. "'If you lie down with dogs, you will get up with fleas'."

Draco's attention drew to the Healer as she took away one filled vial with an empty one and began drawing the next. He looked back at the consort of Aurors who stayed by his side. "Round up all the men and women who were inside Azkaban. I want them all examined to the fullest extent."

"That may be difficult, Minister, as some are on patrol-"

"Get them here-NOW!"

The Aurors saluted Draco without another word and quickly left his side, slipping into a white, opaque fog.

"I want a full report on my desk as soon as possible, too!" He had turned back to the Healer who then nodded.

"Do you believe they are capable of doing this again, Rita?!" declared a vexed Draco.

"…Quincy is dead…," submitted a muted Rita. "…And Sarilda has perished… Do I believe a scattered group of rogue Death Eaters can redo what has been done…?"

Rita shrugged, at a loss. "I don't really know, Draco… I don't believe we're dealing with all amateurs as Ambassador Kingsley's named them."

***

The Granger's Home

Frederick and I had just come in from entertaining ourselves with his assortment of old cars when we heard Emilie say:

"Freddie."

It was the dismal, melancholy tone that had Hermione's father's smile wipe away like someone had slapped him. The facts were about to pour for we hadn't just come here for a visit, but for a needed reason. Hermione had me hold my tongue, asked me to not say anything before she had a talk with her mum. Not that Frederick wouldn't tolerate the conversation, but she would relay the terms in her translation. As if Hermione would talk to me about Gin, or another person, in our lives. I would understand better.

Frederick was immediate in his trot to the den's opening. He stopped, and almost trampling over him, I saw what he did: his wife, Hermione, and Ginny puffy-eyed with Kleenex tissues in their hands. Never mind the tea and biscuits on the den table lying forgotten, what was to be told had been told…with all of its truth and inquiries with it.

"Em?" He asked, flummoxed. The rag he had been wiping his hands off with he threw to the side somewhere and began deeper into the den, moving closer to his wife, daughter, and her best friend. "Are you all alright? What's-?"

Emilie stood up after dabbing her eyes clear of tears, halting her husband's advance at how quickly she moved. She trekked towards him, ushering with her hands back away from the den. While strolling passed him, she took his hand and said, "…We need to have a serious talk."

"What's happened?" Utterly baffled, he looked back at his child, at Gin, and then to me before looking back at his wife.

"Just come with me, love…"

When I could no longer see the Granger's, I maneuvered my way into the family space, plopped down next to Hermione on the sofa and immediately hugged her, kissed her forehead, and offered my hand to Gin on the other side. She put her hand with mine, and Hermione hugged us both with open arms.

***

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

"I can't believe he's actually allowed you to fix dinner," Gin jested, surveying Hermione going about stirring a turkey bake with breadcrumbs. "Nevertheless stand in the kitchen."

Shuffling her bare feet, she fidgeted, unaware that she fiddled with the edge of the countertop as she watched Hermione. She would cross her legs and lean into the edge, her flaming locks shifting over an eye as she would shift her weight from one hip to the next. She saw Hermione in profile smile, and she'd smile. Starting from the black socks Hermione wore, she gave her a once over to the break in the loose, uncovered bare shoulder of Hermione's top. She smiled again when she saw the smile still on Hermione's lips.

"It has been a rather exceptional day, hasn't it?"

Gin laughed into a sigh.

She shook her head. "I still cannot believe your mum and dad gave me a chance-"

"And, why wouldn't they?" Unceasing her meticulous work, Hermione glanced at Gin when she said this, and then moved across the stove over to prepare the oven. "You're an extraordinary woman that's been a great friend of mine since… Well, practically since we were born."

"Extraordinarily awful," Gin rebutted. "I haven't exactly been the best mate to anyone, especially you, for a while."

Hermione planted her feet back on the floor after perfecting the temperature of the stove. She took the turkey bake and as she slid the dish into the oven did she look over at Gin and say, "I couldn't think of a world without my best friend, and that's truly how I feel."

She let the door to the oven close and took off the oven mitts. She leaned into countertop like Gin and crossed her arms. "Honestly."

"Still…"

If there was one thing Hermione could do well it was reading people, and by Gin's squirming and how she'd avert her eyes when looking directly at her… Her brow rose. "…What's up, Ginny?"

Gin made circles by fingertip on the countertop. She quickly took a peek at Hermione, and looked back at her circling finger. "…I'm not sure what to say, if anything at all, what with the new…situation."

"My sister."

Gin shot up at the words and couldn't help but smile.

But, the smile faded into a sigh.

"Gin," Hermione insisted. "With all that we've been through, nothing you could say or do would conflict with what we had-and have now, especially now."

Gin continued with her faux preoccupation…until Hermione grabbed the hand which relentlessly made invisible circles on the countertop and held it.

At first Gin didn't look up, staring at the top of Hermione's hand. And, when she did, she turned to look back in the den.

Hermione looked over Gin's shoulder at the backside of Harry's head and the flickering Quidditch game on the telly. "He's busily engaged in Quidditch right now," Hermione coaxed. "And, it looks like the Britons are winning so until a commercial comes on his eyes will be glued."

Gin looked back at Hermione. "I'll talk quietly…"

"You don't have to, Gin," Hermione said in the same tone.

"But, I think I do…," Gin's eyes averted again from Hermione and back again in a loop. "'Mi…"

"I have to apologize, really," Gin begun, hesitatingly pulling from Hermione's clasped hand. "What I told you earlier about wanting to change, it's never been more true. But, with that change I need to confess…"

Gin crisscrossed her arms and looked at the floor. "…I mean, I don't think anyone could dismiss or say I didn't love you. I mean, genuinely love-fell in love-with you. And, I kissed you, and I made everything worse. And, now with Neville, and the circumstances moving towards these positive prospects for me and life as a whole I just-"

"Gin-"

"Hermione," Gin lingered on, looking up at her now. "I don't think I can't not ever love you in some way, shape or form. Really, I've tried not to-and now I've asked so much from you, and your family, and-"

Gin's immediate halt came from an unforeseen embrace.

Hermione tightened the embrace, and with her securely crisscrossed arms finally let go to hug back.

"You don't have to apologize, Gin, it's okay… Nothing's going to change between us. We're going to be the bestest of friends forever," Hermione took Gin by the shoulder and had her look right into her eyes. "Okay? We're family now! Right?"

Gin went to nod, and as her sight lowered from Hermione did Hermione follow her.

Gin nodded.

"And, with Neville…"

Hermione returned to the embrace, having Gin halt her words again.

Growing emotionless, Ginny's flaccid arms reciprocated, loosely hugging in return.

They stayed in embrace in silence but for the game on in the living quarters when Hermione ended the hiatus with a question:

"…This isn't turning you on right now…right?"

Gin pushed Hermione away, and they both laughed in smile.

"…I just needed to tell you that." Gin ultimately said, the air regaining the sense of seriousness after their touch of glee.

"This is still our friendship, Gin," utter Hermione, looking back into Gin's wavering sight. She grabbed onto her arms and shook them. "You can tell me anything."

***

The War and Debriefing Room, Ministry of Magic

An image of the American Consul has just detailed a dossier given to him by the United States government entailing significant information regarding a ramp up on what they consider "soft targets". Notably, the close call with flight 217 heading to JFK over St. Louis, Missouri.

A three-dimensional sketch of the world spins in the centre of the table, an assortment of classified parchment scattered about. A red line following the path of the airplane, and other soft target locations are dotted, varying from Britain, to the United States, cropping up in Eastern Europe and Asia, too. Eligible Task Force Team captains are on hand to listen with Draco who nods in acknowledge of the situation at hand and the realization of the new War.

"The sons of bitches won't meet us turf-for-turf, so they're going after Muggle civilians," Draco's grasp of the table brings white to his knuckles.

"The Muggles have their own terrorist threat on hand, and it looks as if these `Death Eaters' are another product from a collective mind," the American Consul explains, the recognition of one eerily similar to the other.

"I don't believe anyone would have expected this to happen," articulated Kingsley. He gazed moreso at the red dots displayed over the homeland. "Can we fight an invisible enemy?"

"We do our damndest to try, Kingsley," announced the interim Minister looking first at his Muggle Ambassador, and then at the American Consul. "This is not a British ordeal, this has become a worldwide plague."

Draco's sight darted back to Kingsley. "And, what do we do with plagues?"

Draco pounded a fist into the table. "We eradicate all signs of it."

***

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

With the remote control to the television, Hermione perused the television on this unusual, yet remarkable weekday night. Nothing was on really, or nothing that really mattered to myself when it came to the movies they clicked on by. I'd have rather watched another old game of Quidditch on the Sports Channel, but when Hermione flipped by Clueless did Gin make a noise. And, so that's what they laughed too, trying as we all did to move forward.

Today being one of those rare days when one could, especially for Gin. And, I was happy for her.

Hermione was thrilled.

On the sofa, I'd kicked the shoes off and comfortably slouched at an angle that felt good enough. Hermione took to my side as the night passed, leaned into me. Her hands, however, kept with Gin. Gin tilted into her, both sharing the Gryffindor quilt and Crookshanks. With an arm behind me, and with a foot propped up on the coffee table, my eyes would go to Hermione completely settled on me and with Gin. I'd smile, my sight wandering back to the television casually, and then to the roaring fireplace.

We were missing two, Ron and Luna, but…

This was family.

My extended family.

I'd found my extended family, and…

I was truly satisfied, even with all its ups-and-downs.

I dozed off, finally feeling enough to let go of everything if just for tonight…when I was bumped, woken by the shifting of Hermione. Crookshanks evidently woke all of us, leaping onto his mummy from the floor who had also dozed off herself. I looked over and saw Gin's eyes still closed when Hermione looked up from her sleep, and then in the direction I took. She smiled back at me.

"She's sleeping…" I whispered, yawning.

"She needs it…" Hermione whispered.

"…I'm awake," answered Gin. Hermione and I had a laugh. Gin peeked an eye open to look at us. "But, not quite all the way…"

She yawned, making a tiny, high-pitched noise at the end that made Crookshanks look from his mummy in curiosity. Reaching high in the air, and off Hermione, she stretched and said within the adjustment, "…I think I'm going to head to bed."

Hermione lifted from me to sit, watching Gin stretch one way and then the next. "Need me to…?"

"I'll be fine…," Gin smiled, lurching over to embrace Hermione. She brought her to her, acting as if she'd fall back into the sofa. "…Sis!"

Hermione laughed herself into a giggle at Gin's fond, affectionate hug. "It's not like this is new-we've always been! Just now it'll be-"

"Ginevra Granger-and I'm not going to let your mum and dad down on their decision."

"Our mum and dad," Hermione corrected.

"Our." Gin repeated in a great, big smile.

"They've always loved you, Gin. You don't have to be anyone but yourself with them."

"No more drinking, no more smoking… I want to make your-our-mum and dad proud of their soon-to-be new daughter. To know that I'll be in the annual Granger Christmas card photo as a Granger this year…"

"…Mum and dad always are thinking ahead. And, you'll be right beside me with Harry and Crookshanks. But it's not just because you'll be a `Granger'-"

"I know," Gin stopped pulling at Hermione. She sat up with her. "…But, it'll feel good knowing that I'm…accepted. That's all I ever wanted to feel."

Hermione took Gin's hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to-?"

Gin shook her head and gave Hermione another big hug.

"I'll see you in the morning…," she spoke just loud enough in Hermione's ear. "…Sis."

"And, Harry," she added.

"Yes, Gin?"

She stood up, opened her arms and did the motions with her hands, fingers ask for me to do the same.

Pushing off the sofa, I knew what she wanted-and gave it to her, giving her a hug, too.

Hermione, on the sofa between us, was the epitome of all smiles as she watched on.

"Thank you…," She said, hugging me tight. "For every-"

The flames within the hearth erupted, sweeping a bellow of heat atop us. In the moment, even I had to close my eyes that second. Blinking out of the bedazzlement of light, I saw a portrait of a man appear amongst the blaze. Crookshanks leapt down from his mummy's lap and hissed, fleeing from the den as the portrait came into clear view.

"Kingsley…?" Hermione shot up from the sofa.

"Now I understand why Muggles prefer phones…" declared Gin. She looked from Gin, and then to me when I proceeded towards the lively face of Kingsley. She added, "Nothing like sweltering heat to end one's night."

"Ah, Miss Granger-just the person I'd hoped to be greeted by."

"And hello to you, too, Kingsley."

His flickering sight went from Hermione to me, "Where there is Miss Granger there is certainly Harry Potter."

"Isn't that the truth." asserted Gin from behind me.

"And, Ginevra! My how your brother will enjoy knowing you're back at Number Twelve!"

"What does that mean?"

"It's nothing, Miss Weasley. Just another tiny hiccup…"

Quizzically, Hermione swiftly looked back at Gin, her long locks swaying back and forth when she renewed her watchful eye of Kingsley.

"What's wrong, Kingsley?" Hermione stood next to me, gazing as I did into the fiery silhouette of the previous Minister. Instinctively, I slid an arm around her middle as she crossed her arms, attentively listening: a similar motif and image in all our years together.

"We've begun the process of gathering those who will be speaking on behalf of Draco, and the Order," Kingsley looked at me, and then at Hermione. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something was about to burst from my chest. Words began to form on the tip of my tongue. "Miss Granger, I'll need you to come to the Ministry to receive the updates about our situation and the future starting-"

"I'm sorry to inform you, Kingsley," I finally interjected. Glancing from my beloved, and back to the fire did I continue, "But, we've decided she won't be participating in the event."

Number Twelve grew intensely quiet…and cold.

Kingsley's sight bore into me. "Or, you've decided, Harry, that she won't be helping the Order retain power!"

"I fully understand what needs to be done, but for safety-"

"Safety?!" Kingsley choked. "Safety, Harry?! Who do you believe has been providing you safety all these years?! And, your fiance's?! And, Miss Weasley watching me with her soured look back behind you?!"

"I've put my foot down on the decision."

"And," Hermione piped in aside me, leaning on me as I held her. "I'll have to agree with Harry, Kingsley."

"You're the smartest witch to have graced this planet, Miss Granger! Don't allow illogical thinking produce some reasoning behind-"

"Did you just call him stupid, Kingsley?!" Ginny's face appeared beside Hermione, lit so alike the licking flames.

"Miss Weasley, this does not concern you!"

"Minister!" gasped Hermione at Kingsley brashness. "What's gotten into you?"

"Harry's poisoned your mind in thinking we wouldn't provide the best safety-the same safety we've provided him, and you, and the rest! This is absurd! Absolutely absurd!"

"'Poisoned', Kingsley…?" I, too, was taken by Kingsley. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm not going to lose her again!"

Hermione abruptly let me go, and amongst the shouting did I turn to see her leave. In haste, she was actively searching for something.

"I never believed you'd ever disappoint me, Harry-"

"Fuck you, Kingsley!"

Kingsley jerked his head toward Gin. "Predictably uncivil."

"Says the likes of you scolding Harry after he saved all our arse's, git!"

"Gin," I don't know why I felt the need to rebuke her words, but maybe it came with the years of respect I couldn't break even after his reprisal. "That's enough!"

"Harry," she shot at me. "You deserve greater courtesy than what this fool's been mashing out of his hole!"

"You've truly disappointed me, Harry. I'll never forget-"

"Aguamenti!"

A gush of water splattered against the hearth, spraying mist back at us while drowning out any indication of fire from within. The logs sizzled and crackled under the sudden cool down.

Gin and I turned in unison to see Hermione back between us, her wand pointed at the fireplace. Her chest heaved, and she blew those loose strands of brunette from in front of her eye.

"…If I could've found my wand sooner, I would've ended this long before now. He had no right to spew what he said at any of us, especially you, love," Hermione breathed.

"Are you okay?" I approached her.

She nodded her head and when the fire had been fully extinguished did she let down her aim. "And to think he's long been the arbiter between the Muggle world and ours, entitled a grand communicator. Bollocks-he's just an old fool now!"

I shook my head and hugged her, pulling her to me. "I don't think for a second he actually believed what he said. It's just been difficult for us all."

"Well, I certainly can't find nothing to like of him now."

We both looked at Gin.

With her hands on her hips, her eyes went from us to the dark fireplace. "Mum championed Kingsley. I get it now."

"Please remember, he's done a lot for us-"

"No, Harry, you've gone and done more than anyone else. How many times did you put your life on the line to save us? And he has the gall to interrupt our lives to speak to you as he did…" I combed through her hair as she looked up at me, my reflection in her twinkling brown eyes. "Ginny's right-you definitely deserve much, much better."

***

She led me upstairs briskly after the wonderful talk with Kingsley, and shut us in as swiftly as our strides. My brow rose, seeing her turn from the door and saunter her way back over. I took a step back, feeling the edge of our bed behind my legs. She grabbed my shirt and pulled me down into an all-consuming kiss. Caught unawares, but becoming quite aware, she pushed me backwards. I landed safely with a bounce, watching my Hermione and her vividly cinnamon brown eyes look at me in such a way…as she crawled slowly onto me.

With a handful of my hair, she tilted me enough to reach the underside of my chin where she began caress my throat. I begun to speak, asking my few words-"What did I do to-?"-when she covered my mouth with her palm.

She hovered over me in her signature, knowing grin.

My shirt was off, led by her instruction and hands, pulling it above my head and tossed behind her. She teased me, leading downward by hungered caresses, passion behind each of them. I tried to watch her, but saw only wild brunette tassels. I felt things loosen, I felt coolness where there hadn't been…and then closed my eyes at the next grand sensation.

I thought she wanted to be the aggressor, and I tried to allow my submission. What she was doing only increased the male eagerness, a fistful of her hair keeping the patterned rhythm of more, and more, and more… I fought the tension, straining myself from keeping to her pace… But at once I could fight no longer.

Taken up in one swoop, I had her. She gasped as I flipped us, she now in opposition. Quarreling with this silver jewelry ensemble-something she had around her neck, I then disagreed with her white shirt. I heard her laugh at the strife, and when I had her top off came to her with one of my own and kissed her. Ironically, and with ease, as we kissed my unfastening prowess slipped away her brassiere and I took utmost pleasure in diving to one, and then her other, breast.

The clothes were ripped off, thrown haphazardly in every direction. Much like us, or me, rolling, picking up and putting her down. The sheets became the enemy, and then the bed was without. On her back, on her front, on me. At one point I sat on the ledge of the bed while she straddled me with her just knees planted at my side. I held onto her securely as she bounced, having made sounds even the Muggles would hear through Number Twelve's magicks…if not for a strong muffling charm I cast in the beginning.

I felt her go more times than I thought I ever had. And each time I'd be amazed at how tightly she'd wind around me, including her arms, legs, however our position. At one point she fell away from me in her climax as if at that second she couldn't bear the fire that overcame her. She hadn't made it to the bed when I picked her back up onto her knees and sat her down again in my lap, having her erect and in line with me. I'd slow down when she'd come down one orgasm until I knew she readied for another and go at her again.

She screamed, screaming my name more than once, which made Crookshanks drop from his perch and run into the open lavatory.

With each thrust I heard the word "mine," and all the stress left my body.

I watched her for the longest time ride atop me as I lay on the sheetless bed, rocking her hips, rolling her beautiful stomach in and out of her natural arch. I saw the beads of sweat on her, her strands wet with it. I heard her tiny little panting breaths, felt her palm my pectorals, palm my biceps, my arms, following them to my hands which held her hips. She tilted her head back, and I felt her once more. I threw her over and onto her back, driving systematically between her vice-like legs surrounding me.

I felt the inevitable, and released all that I held back.

Our heads were together, Hermione's hands inside the swath of the dampened, jet chaos.

I felt her kiss me, my cheek, the side of my mouth-anywhere she could.

Lifting to see her, I saw her tired smile and she saw mine. I tried to fix the sticking mess of what was her hair framing her face, but I laughed at the futile effort, and she did, too. She closed those gorgeous eyes when I moved up to caress her forehead, hearing her breathless. I kissed her temple, her ear, the apple of her cheek, her chin, her nose, anywhere and everywhere I could as she rested, regaining that breath.

I let myself down, and back up again, kissing along the way to her breasts, suckling what I'd already agitated during our romp. I pressed my face into her innate, feminine softness, grazing against the flawless, white skin. I took her back to me by mouth when she'd recaptured the essence and kissed her with the force of all my love for her.

***

She'd come from a hot shower and shampoo after our romp, staying longer than I had so she could do her female stuff. She hopped into crisp, clean Egyptian cotton right alongside me. Her in her adorable way did a little kick beneath the sheets, the bed linen aligned just above her lovely rump. I had my hands on her, of course, drawing a line by fingertips down and back up that indent. She lay on her stomach, her arms wrapped snugly around her pillow over top, and had been looking at me over her arm. She'd close her eyes, and reopen them as I rubbed her back. And, I knew she was tired.

"Tummy full of food, a great shag, a hot shower…," her dimples formed in her smile. "I'm spoiled."

"Rotten," I smiled, editing her statement to her continued grin. My eyes went to my hand a moment, feeling of her wonderful slope, and then gazed back at her. "You have me, and-"

"I wouldn't want it any other way," she inserted, shutting her eyes went I'd gone a bit further. I'd inched my hand enough to cover her bum, and back up again. When she reopened them she added, "You're beautiful."

"I am?" In grin, my brow rose.

She nodded against her arm.

"I guess we have more things in common, then."

"You-and all of you-turn me on completely."

"Even with my five o'clock shadow?" I noted the scruffy-look of my chin and cheeks.

"Well, that I could take or leave…"

"Oh, yeah, eh?" I went to move in to rub it against her and she jumped with a laugh.

"Harry…!"

Trapping her with an arm, she rolled to her back and I quickly stole a kiss. Bending, I introduced her fit abdomen back to my lips, and smiled when she retracted at the light touch. Dragging the tip of my nose along the groove where her ribs originated, I kissed first her right, farthest breast. I nibbled on her incited, pink nipple, and did the same to the other. I felt Hermione's hands on me, my head where she clutched my mane and my shoulder, my back where she dragged her nails across my heightened sense.

I'd pulled her to me, and she lay looking up into my eyes, having to reopen them after I explored her body.

I lay back on my fist, balancing myself still along her on my side.

She rolled her eyes, and I smiled, close enough still to give her another kiss.

"You're so aggressive sometimes…" she huffed, utterly trapped beneath my left arm. She laid her arms, and hands, upon the forearm muscle.

"And, you enjoy it."

She looked away, and then back. "…Sometimes…"

I made a laugh.

"…Maybe!" she pointed in smile. She sighed. "You're terrible."

"You're bewitching," I kissed her. "And, I love you. All of you. Allllll of you."

She did a laugh through her nose at the "Allllll" part.

"From your beautiful, smart brain to your little toes."

"I want to do everything with you."

"I want to take you out to dinner tomorrow. We haven't been in a while, and you look so good in that red cocktail dress with the black sash-belt thing," I caressed her cheek, nudged her with my nose, my lioness. "And, Ginny will come, too, if she wants…"

"…I just love you in that red dress-sash-corset dress thing."

She laughed at my ability to figure out female fashion.

"I meant," she sighed after her smile. "I can't wait to get married, and have kids, and grow and learn and-just everything with you."

"You really mean a lot to me, Harry…"

"You did give it to Kingsley in my honor."

"He deserved it after all you've done."

"We. We did."

"You-you destroyed Voldemort."

"And everyone helped."

"I'm not going to win this one am I?" she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

I shook my head and laughed at how aggravated she seemed. "Aw… Does someone need to have a good old fashion stubble-burn?"

"No! Harry!" I threw the sheets up over us and went for the attack all the while Hermione squealed and giggled in my grasp.

***

At the Minister's Chair, Ministry of Magic

"You've done what, Kingsley?!" Draco's voiced boomed, surely waking his wife from slumber. But the revelation in what Kingsley had done rose Draco from the Chair where he pointedly pronounced what was openly divulged.

"We needed Miss Granger's statements to secure us in power, or yet lose it all!" Kingsley's voice shot octaves above Draco's, his language wild and accusing as he, too, pointed out his evidence. "Harry should be the key in locking the door, but he cannot be! His successor would help our future stronghold!"

"This from a man who taught me the art of persuasion?! Harry, and equally Hermione, has every right to descend the invitation-an invitation that wasn't told to me! Were you hiding this from me for a reason, Kingsley?! What were you expecting?!"

"I was expecting rank-and-file, Draco! After all we've done, we do to-"

"They've done enough! I told you, and everyone else in the Order, including those closer to them than we'll ever be: if they wish to be left alone you will leave them be. You do not, under any circumstance, defile our relationship with them by explicating how `disappointed' you are-to anyone!"

"I'm doing this for us, Draco! Our legacy! We must retain-!"

"To Hell with our legacy if not shoulder to shoulder with those that pick us up! Harry has died for us-twice-and Hermione-Pansy sympathizes with her. The fear and hurt she would feel if I fell, especially coming off of where we were-and now in the midst of this new War!"

"I did this because for the Order, Draco! I did this because of you! YOU!"

"ENOUGH!" Rage encumbered Draco's very soul, the temper dripped thickly from of his tongue as he snapped, "Tell me why I should not confine you to your duties and forbid you from ever speaking to the Potters again?!"

"Forbid…?" Kingsley shook his head, accosted, the blood curdling in his veins. "ME?! FORBID ME-THE INDIVIDUAL WHO MADE THIS ALL HAPPEN?! YOU FORBID ME?!"

"YOU'VE STEPPED OVER THE FINAL LINE-!!"

"You!" Kingsley pointed aggressively in Draco's face. "YOU will be the one individual that unravels every bit of what we've accomplished to nothing more than a shell of once was! YOU haven't learnt what it takes to lead, and the sacrifices it takes to turn something unwelcome and have it flourish!"

"WE will be unwelcome when the public casts their ballots, Draco-just you see! And it will all be because of YOUR failed maneuvering and forfeit!"

Before Draco could negate what had been said, Kingsley apparated, leaving but the sharp-razored pop to resonate in his ears. Letting his cane go, he grasped the table, glancing down at the parchment and quills, and all the other Ministry paraphernalia scattered across the desk. In one fell brush, he knocked all of it clear off and onto the floor, making a crash over the expletives he said.

He remained standing at the uninhabited dark gloss of his desk, seeing his reflection, when he heard a creek. His head turned quickly to the entryway of the hall that led to the Minister's chambers. He saw Pansy in her pyjamas peering back at him amongst the light of the trembling flames. Her hands held the ancient doorframe put in centuries passed…and he wondered how long she'd been standing there.

***

{A/N: Last checked my first chapter hit the 101,000 mark! That's fantastic! Also, many of you through the fic series equated the fiction to a television drama which is really an enormous compliment to me (having a cinema degree with screenwriting emphasis). As the fic winds to its conclusion, and because I enjoy music so much, I've been trying to think of an overall theme song for L&T. A mate of mine suggested an OTH-like intro. Haha. I could see HHr, Gin, Ron, Luna, Draco, and the other interwoven "special guest" characters in that sepia-like tone with scenes like the supermarket buggy race scene and Harry's death paralleled}

{Music: In The End by Linkin Park, One Step Closer by Linkin Park, Zero by Smashing Pumpkins, Honey and the Moon by Joseph Arthur, Dice by Finley Quaye (Gin's theme with Hermione), We Used to Be Friends by The Dandy Warhols, Already Gone by Kelly Clarkson, Something by the Beatles, Days Go By by Dity Vegas, Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon (HHr re-consummation scene), Lily's Theme - Deathly Hallows Part 2 OST, Crossing Destiny by Audiomachine, Red Sorrow by Audiomachine, An End Once and For All - Mass Effect 3 OST, Heart of Courage by Two Steps From Hell, 1000 Ships of the Underworld by Two Steps From Hell}

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