Unofficial Portkey Archive

Well, this definitely pushed the 15k words I told you about, and went over 16k. Anyway, here the conclusion.

Ron's deal is solved, sort of, as is the whole deal with Love being the Power He knows not and the Hallows. I know, it doesn't say much, but I don't want to give the plot away.

Again, Ron's fans, you HAVE been warned.

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Title: "high treason ii"

Rating: PG-13

Words: 8,937

Characters/Pairings: Harry/Hermione, (one-sided, disturbing) Ron/Hermione, (kind of brief) James/Lily, (mentions of) Remus/Tonks

Theme/Prompt: #094 - war

Warnings/AN: dh-au, set during ch31 - the battle of Hogwarts. In which Ayumi tries to fix the disturbing feelings she gets when reading this particular chapter in a plausible way (and, really, do it like it should have been done).

Summary: In which Harry gets his happily ever after, sort of.

Disclaimer: The Usual.

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Harry played idly with a lock of brown hair, twirling it around his finger before letting it spring back to its original place.

Just over an hour ago, Hermione had pushed him onto the bed, and after a bout of passionate kissing and groping and fondling, they made love. Of course, she told him about a girl's first time, so he had made sure to help her reach her orgasm before he entered her (who would've thought, that Parseltongue would be useful in such a setting?), because after that he was pretty much lost to rational thoughts. And while their first instinct had been take a nap, they talked, or rather, she made him tell her what had happened after she left to look for the Diadem.

He'd told her, everything, every word exchanged between him and their once Headmaster.

And now, here they lay, basking in the intimacy that came with cuddling the one you loved after a perfect first time. If only the timing wasn't so screwed.

"You were looking at something when I reached the top of the Astronomy Tower," said Hermione, softly, as her hands let go of the sheets and trailed over his chest.

Harry hummed, before turning to her and giving her a searing kiss. "I found something curious inside the Snitch." His hand snapped towards their discarded clothes and something soared out from underneath. "Here," he said, handing her a small rock.

Truth was, he hadn't had the time to take a good look at it before Hermione appeared before him, so he didn't know what it was. But by her shocked expression and the little gasp that escaped her, Hermione knew and she wasn't accepting it well.

He disentangled himself from her and watched her roll onto her back as he propped up on his left elbow. "What is it?"

Hermione blinked, but turned the rock in her hand and showed it to him, pointing at some engravings in there. "The symbol of the Hallows. Harry, this is the Resurrection Stone!"

His hand trembled when he reached for it. Harry knew what the Stone meant and what to expect if he used it, but… would it be right? Would it be selfish of him? "I…"

She smiled at him tenderly, tears starting to gather in her eyes before she wiped them away. "I-I think you should do as your heart tells you, Harry. I'm in no position to understand what this means for you, how you feel, but I know you and… I think you should go for it, if only to know how they are."

Harry stared into her eyes for several seconds, and then leaned down to kiss her again, pouring as much of his love into the kiss as he possibly could. When they broke apart, he sat up and clutched the Stone to his heart. Hermione followed suit, pulling the sheets to cover her chest, and gave him a reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and wished and waited. And then, Hermione gasped.

His eyes snapped open and his breath caught in his throat.

Because lo and behold, James and Lily Potter, along with Sirius Black, were standing a few feet away from the bed, smiling and looking happy.

~

Since he was a child, every time he pictured meeting his parents, it certainly wasn't like this. Naked and in bed with his best friend (the right one, mind you) after having using a magical artefact to bring them back from the beyond-great, now he sounded like Trelawney.

"Hey, Pup! Hermione, lookin' good!"

He swallowed his tears, trying to steady his resolve for he did not want his parents to hear him stutter. Not that they would care, mind you, but still.

"I must say, Padfoot, you were right. She is lovely! You have good taste, Pronglet! But then, you are my son, so…"

Sirius laughed good-naturedly, a laugh brighter than any other before. "Yes! The Potter men's taste in women is legendary. Always the brightest and prettiest of the lot!"

In a sudden movement, the auburn-haired woman slapped both men in the back of their heads. They both looked sheepish after that. Harry felt a delicate hand slip into his own and knew Hermione was giving him the support he needed for doing this.

"M-Mum? Dad?"

Lily smiled and it took all his will-power not to break down crying.

"Yes, Harry, it's us." She, too, looked on the verge of crying as she accepted the comfort provided by the bespectacled man standing next to her. "My boy, we missed you so much…"

"Why don't you two get dressed before we talk? That way we avoid any potential embarrassment," said James, then he shared a playful smirk with his brother of pranks.

"Not that we mind. Hermione is very beautiful after all," said Sirius, wiggling his eyebrow suggestively.

On pure instinct, Harry grabbed a pillow and threw it at his laughing godfather, and watched in melancholic amusement how his mother rapped Sirius on the head again as she forced the men to turn around.

The pillow, of course, went through them.

The teens hastened to dress, as their little haven was broken and the reality that there wasn't enough time hit them hard, fumbling with their misplaced garments and trying to abate the blush climbing up their necks. Once they were done, they moved around to sit on the foot of the bed. Harry hesitated only briefly before grabbing Hermione's hand. She startled and gave him a surprised look, to which he answered with a little smile before turning his focus on the ghostly adults.

"We're done."

The adults nodded and turned back to face them.

"So, why did you summon us, son?"

It really was disconcerting how right people had been all these years, because looking at James Potter felt like looking in a mirror-except for the eyes, his father's eyes were hazel coloured instead of green. Their solemn expressions told Harry they expected some kind of answer other than wanting to see them, but-he had none.

"I really just… wanted to see you, meet you. I don't know if you're aware… but today will be the last day of the Blood War." Harry got a far-away looks on his face as he frowned. "Riddle will die today."

The ghostly adults closed some of the distance between them and the teens. His mother looked like she wanted to reach out and embrace them, but held back with a resigned sigh. The grim determination on their faces caught his attention.

"We know, Harry. One of the perks of being dead is that we're allowed to watch over our loved ones, once in a while. Because I sacrificed myself for you, it gave me the added bonus to feel whenever you were in need, so I could choose when to watch and give you as much a sense of safety as I was able." His mother paused, and averted her gaze. "I am sorry for what my sister did to you, my son."

"That's… ah." Harry swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and smiled in what he hoped was reassurance. "That's okay. It's not your fault, really. I'm fine now." And even if he truly wasn't, he was not going to say so.

His father smiled at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears and pride for him. "How you grew to be so kind, Harry, is a real wonder. A miracle. But, we're glad, and most importantly, we're proud of you."

Not being comfortable with the attention and praise, Harry blushed, much to the amusement of all those present. "I-uh. It wasn't just me, I had help growing up," he said, and smiled at the girl sitting by his side. "Honestly, I couldn't have done it alone."

Unbeknownst to him, his ghostly family shared a happy smile. But then, things turned sombre again.

"Harry, you do know what it took for the Snitch to open, right?" asked Sirius, moving the conversation to some grim matters.

Harry didn't want to spend this time with them talking about depressing things, but he supposed they must have something to say to him about the War, or else they wouldn't bother mentioning it more than in passing. "From what I gathered, what I could discern from all the shite Dumbledore told me, it was supposed to open once I accepted my upcoming death."

Not bothering to hide the scowl in his face, Sirius replied. "It's more than just you accepting death. The Snitch would only open once you were ready to die for someone else. You have to be willing to sacrifice yourself."

As soon as those words were uttered, Hermione gasped and tightened her grip on his hand. "That-that… that meddling, Old FOOL!"

"Hermione?"

"Harry," she said. "He wanted you to die willingly to give us the same protection your mother gave you." Hermione halted his attempts to talk by covering his mouth. "But, Harry, for the protection to work, there has to be some sort of ritual. It's not a simple sacrifice, because every mother in the world would do that for their child, there has to be something else!"

"She's correct, Harry," said his mother. "I performed a ritual on you, as a last resort, and good thing I did too. Without it, my sacrifice would've been meaningless. As would have been yours if you'd have gone and done what Albus wanted you to do."

"But then why would he keep insisting…?"

"Because, as we said, he's an Old Fool, that saw no more than his idea of the Greater Good," said his father. "Albus became so obsessed with Tom Riddle; he stopped caring about everyone else. He became so fixated in correcting his own mistake that he no longer saw that sacrificing the innocent to redeem the guilty is wrong."

"That, however, doesn't mean he's wrong when he says you have to die," added Sirius. "As cold as it may sound, it's necessary. You do have a piece of that monster's soul in you, and the only way to destroy it is for you to die, Harry. And it has to be Riddle himself the one to do it."

"The Prophecy," said Harry, finally realizing the meaning of those words. "Either must die at the hand of the other… Only I can kill him, and only he can kill me."

Sirius nodded.

"So…" Hermione said, paused, and tried to blink back her tears. "So there's no other way to do this. Harry has to-"

Harry swallowed again and let go of her hand to wrap his arms around her. He had hoped that his parents might have had a solution to that little problem, but it didn't seem so. So this was it, his sole purpose in this life was to die a Hero and hope to drag the Villain down with him.

"You know, if there's one thing Albus was right about, it's his theory about the Power he knows not," said his mother, smiling lightly at them. "I'm sure you're familiar with the saying: Love always triumphs in the end?" When they nodded, she continued her speech. "Well, it's true. Harry, you are a very powerful wizard. But your most powerful weapon at your disposal is Love."

As his mother said this, she looked from him to Hermione and back. His best friend turned lover didn't notice, as her face was pressed against his neck, but he did, and he couldn't help but blush, despite the severity of their situation.

"You have the Power to win this, Harry. We know. We can't tell you now, but you will find out very soon."

"Well, then, what can you tell me?"

His parents and godfather smiled mischievously. A rare sight, considering they were death and, soon, so would he.

His father smirked. "Remember what you beautiful mother just told you. Love always triumphs in the end. Now about what we can tell you…"

"You, Harry, are the master of the Hallows. The Master of Death," said Sirius, a shite-eating grin on his face.

~

All talk ceased the moment they stepped through the doors. Nobody looked too anxious, so Harry supposed they knew they weren't in danger-or rather, that they weren't in immediate danger.

Of course, the fact that they brought along the Sorting Hat may have something to do with the prolonged silence.

McGonagall recovered first, and arched an eyebrow at him. "I took the liberty of informing everyone present of what transpired with Albus, Harry. I hope you don't mind."

"Uh, not really, Professor, they were going to find out anyway. Saves me the time, actually," he said, figuring it was better this way, just to get that out of the way. "I have thought long and hard about it, all of it. And, with Hermione, we've come to the most beneficial decision for us."

"You've found a way to destroy these object without sacrificing yourself?" asked Remus, looking hopeful and fearful at the same time.

Sighing, Harry thought it was best to get that, too, out of the way so they could start focusing in the battle ahead. Oh, how he wished he had better news. "Actually, Remus, there's no way around that. I have to die so Riddle can become mortal again. But!" Harry stopped the outcries of protest with his raised hands. "But, as I said to Dumbledore, I don't pretend to go down quietly. I'll cause as much ruckus as possible."

"What Harry means, is that we plan to destroy the myth behind the so called Dark Lord, to demoralize his followers and thus allowing us to defeat them faster and with as few casualties as possible on our side," explains Hermione, her expression as blank as possible in which Harry knew to be an attempt to control her emotions.

"Hermione, how can you be okay with Harry's death?" exclaimed Ginny, taking a step forward, a seething look on her face.

Harry braced for the explosion that would sure follow. That would come from Hermione herself.

"Okay?" Her voice, as well as her whole demeanour, became icy with rage. "You, stupid little girl, think I'm okay with his death? You think I haven't gone around this issue since I found out Albus Bloody Dumbledore's PLAN? Of course I'm not okay, Ginevra! But there's no time left and Dumbledore didn't care to look for another solution and he knew more about this than anyone else in this damned world!"

Ginny cringed back as if struck, and turned her face away in clear shame.

Neville looked at him pensively for a while, and then he spoke. "So how would that work? Anyone can kill you or…?"

"Riddle himself has to do it. Anyone else, and it won't work," said Harry.

"It's the way fate works, Harry," said Luna, drawing everyone's attention to her dreamy smile. "If he's immortal, so are you."

"But there's still the problem of the other objects. How do we destroy those?" asked McGonagall, and blinked in surprise when Harry simply lifted the Sorting Hat and placed it in his head.

We meet again, Harry Potter. I still stand by my words, you know, you would have been great in Slytherin.

I doubt it, your decision was influenced by Riddle's piece of soul in me.

No, you are mistaken. When I first sorted you, I was measuring you up. Not Tom Riddle's soul. Just you and your ambitions and potential to be extremely cunning. As it is, I do not regret choosing Gryffindor in the end. You did well there.

Er, thank you. But, I didn't bring you here to chat, I-

You need assistance.

Well, yeah. The first time you helped me, you brought the Sword of Gryffindor to me. I was wondering if you could tell me how you did that.

Ah, foolish boy, do you not hear when people talk to you? Did the Headmaster not tell you that help will always be found in Hogwarts for those who need it?

I'm not quite inclined to trust his words now.

Ah, yes. Most unfortunate, that. But it is true. You only need to ask.

Okay, then, he thought with finality. "Hogwarts, I need your help."

As soon as his words passed his lips, he felt a heavy object hit his head with a loud thunk! sound. Harry yelped and yanked the Hat off his head, it fell to the floor with a clatter while he rubbed the soreness off. And there, handle glistening under the candle light, lay the Sword of Gryffindor.

"That's…"

Someone said something, but he could only focus on the Sword. Hermione bent to retrieve it, and gave him a disbelieving smile.

He smiled back. "Told you it would work."

While everyone marvelled at the sight of the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry thought this was just one-step closer to ending it all. He'd taken measures to take the Elder Wand from Voldemort and prevent him from becoming its master once he died by the wanker's hand. And also had a plan in motion to utterly destroy his army. Now all that was left to do was to wait for the Dark Wanker to arrive and hope his parents and Sirius were right when they said that Love always triumphs in the end.

~~~

Hermione watched the sneer on Voldemort's face turn into a look of horror as the Elder Wand flew out of his hand.

Right into hers.

Silence reigned over the yard of Hogwarts' Castle as people stared the scene unfold itself in shock. For several eternal seconds, nothing happened. Then her hand snapped up and a white beam shot forward, going through the chest of a shocked Antonin Dolohov-and leaving only a fist-wide whole in its wake. The Death Eater hit the ground with a dull thud.

Then all hell broke loose.

It felt good to know her idea of keeping the battle out in the open was a success, this way, the Castle remained relatively unharmed. This way, they had an escape route and could lock themselves in should the worst happen. What made it better, however, was the fact that Harry's idea to ask the Sorting Hat for a way to help them keep the magical creatures on Voldemort's side off the Hogwarts grounds was paying off.

She had no idea Hogwarts possessed such powerful wards. It made sense though, the times in which the School was founded… And considering all the centuries of powerful witches and wizards coming and going through its halls, obviously, this place was impenetrable under the right command. It showed, in the way the Giants and the Acromantulas and the few Werewolves that were unfortunate enough to be on the frontlines were simply disintegrated before their eyes.

The battle raged on.

Off to her right, Hermione caught sight of Bellatrix casting the Killing Curse. She didn't stop to think who the victim was going to be, as making good use of the Elder Wand, Hermione casted what could possibly be the most powerful Shielding charm ever seen in the last century. The Curse rebounded and Neville Longbottom rushed forward and stabbed the crazy bitch with the Sword of Gryffindor.

So much power; Hermione felt intimidated, but it was the lesser evil, compared to the notion of Voldemort holding this power. Besides, it would only last twenty-four hours. That had been one stipulation she'd insisted when Harry said he would relinquish the Hallows to her, and after much glaring, Harry had agreed.

Sirius and the Potters had spent the better part of an hour explaining to them how the Hallows worked and, upon reconsidering the Tale of the Three Brothers, assuming it was true and James had said it was, Hermione came to the startling conclusion that they were right. There could only be one true Master of the Hallows, the one in possession of the Invisibility Cloak.

"The Wand can be obtained by conquest. The Stone by simply finding it," said James. "But the Cloak, it can only be obtained by heritage, it will only change hands within one family. The family of the youngest brother: Ignotus Peverell. You visited Godric's Hollow, so you must know what I mean."

Of course, she'd known. It had taken Harry a few minutes to suss it out, but Hermione had caught on right away. Harry possessed the Invisibility Cloak, before him, it had belonged to his father, and before that-Harry had figured it out by then, while she sat stunned, he voiced the single thought running through their heads.

The Potters were the last descendant of Ignotus Peverell; Harry was his last descendant and the rightful Master of the Hallows.

"However, due to the necessity of your expected death, you must take measures to prevent Voldemort from attaining full ownership of the Elder Wand," said Lily, continuing where her husband had left off. "You must relinquish the power to someone else, temporarily. That way, when Voldemort k-kills you, the Hallows will be safe, and you will have a chance to defeat him for good."

"But if I am the Master, can't I just stop Riddle from using the Wand?"

"If he kills you, the Wand will answer to him until you claim it back. It will not be as powerful as it is when in possession of its rightful Master, but still powerful enough to best anyone in a duel or fight," explained Sirius.

She'd had to intervene by then so Harry would understand the need to keep such a powerful weapon out of Voldemort's hands, but then he surprised her saying he'd relinquish the Hallows to her. After seconds deliberating, she'd agreed, on the condition that it only be for twenty-four hours.

"After all," she'd said, "it's more than enough time to end this."

After that, Lily had guided them through a simple ritual to transfer the ownership of the Hallows to her, condition included, and seconds later, the three ghosts had vanished from sight. Harry stood next to her for several long and silent seconds, before turning to her and saying they would need a plan. She nodded, gave him her wand, telling him she expected it back in a day's time, and then put her brilliant mind to work.

Now, the time had come.

Voldemort let out an enraged scream upon seeing his most avid follower fall in bloody mess, like a common muggle, and casted the Killing Curse at her. Even though she knew she could block it, she never had time to react as Harry leaped in front of her and took it square in the chest.

Time stood still.

And she watched the boy she fell in love with hit the floor with a soft thud, for a fraction of a second his eyes lit up with an inexplicable blaze and then it was gone, his vacant gaze locked on hers. Vaguely, Hermione noticed someone yell that the Dark Lord had fallen as well. Her focus, however, remained on Harry, urging him to blink, to stand up, smile his boyish smile and tell her it was all right.

Only a few seconds passed, but it certainly felt like ages. She thought she'd be prepared for this, but she never expected it to-to hurt this bloody much.

Hermione heard another enraged scream, and someone yell to surrender now that the Dark Lord had finally killed Potter. She heard the response of those who stood by Harry in the form of lethal curses, much to the surprise of the Death Eaters.

Then, suddenly, Hermione was brought back to the present when the tip of a wand pressed against her temple. She blinked away her tears as her eyes refused to leave the still form of Harry and his dull green eyes. In the darkest corner of her mind, where her usual logic had no command, there was a muted murmur, like a praying. She could feel herself praying silently, but for what exactly? With the praying came a slight, weak tugging in her chest, like her heart calling out to someone and-oh, she knew who that someone was. The tugging became stronger with every second, the murmuring prayers louder, and Hermione could almost feel it-feel him.

The hissing, cold voice of Voldemort broke through her desperate hope and filled her with dread. "Filthy mudblood, you shall join him soon."

But what happened next, no one saw it coming.

~~~

Regardless of everything he'd been told, of the Wand's power, Harry couldn't really stop his body from reacting when he saw the green light rushing towards Hermione. It was an act of instinct, really, jumping in front of it. He didn't think until the very instant before the Curse hit him.

And then everything went blank. Ha, so much for going down in a blaze of glory.

He'd thought, for a moment, that when people died they stopped feeling. But he certainly felt the hard floor when he impacted it. He also felt the cold at finding himself completely nude. The darkness surrounding him was the only clue that he was no longer in Hogwarts, but where he was, exactly, he didn't know.

Until the lights went on… everywhere, and he realized he was sitting in the floor of Platform Nine and Three-quarters.

"Erm…"

Out of nowhere, a lump of clothes fell into his laps, and there, standing in front of him with highly amused looks on their faces, were his parents and godfather.

"Erm…"

"Eloquently put, Harry. Now dress, I doubt you want us to see you naked," said James, as he motioned for the clothes on his lap.

Harry nodded quickly and waited for them to turn around before rushing to get dressed. Minutes later, they were all sitting on a bench, looking at the steam puffing out of the Hogwarts Express' engine. Harry was tempted to ask why they were at Kings' Cross, well, he was going to ask, but in the sense of knowing if he was there because he was there or not.

"So, I died?" he said at last, cringing at the tactless way it came out.

Still, his parents and Sirius simply laughed.

"No, Harry, you're not dead," said his mother, scooting closer to him and pulling him into an embrace. "My son, the last time I held you, you were but a babe."

He had to bite back the onslaught of tears.

His father rested a hand on his shoulder. "We're sorry to have you worried, Harry, but it's been so long since we last held you… I simply couldn't deny Lily, or myself, the opportunity to spend a few moments with you."

Harry smiled at his father, feeling relieved, if not a bit confused still. "So, I'm not dead?"

"No, Pup," said Sirius, sounding somewhat grim while ruffling his hair. "This situation is complicated enough as it is. But if you wish to go with us to the next great adventure, all you have to do is board that train."

He really didn't need to answer that, his parents and Padfoot knew the answer, if his regretful smile said anything. However, even though their claims assured him of his not-death status, there was a underlying feeling of unease. Harry resolved to broach the subject later and enjoy this time with his parents and Sirius.

"Where's the Horcrux, anyway?"

All three adults pointed at an ugly… thing writhing on the floor a few feet from them. Well, that was… interesting. Tearing his eyes away from it, he focused on his family. He wanted to know how much time he had before he did… whatever was expected of him, because he wanted to make the most of it.

His mother, though, seemed to read his mind. "We have time, Harry, enough to answer your questions and still enjoy a long overdue family time."

"Tell us, what do you want to know?" asked Sirius, his smile implying that they would answer truthfully.

"You knew I wouldn't die? And if so, why not just tell me?"

It was his father the one who answered, managing to look sheepish and troubled at the same time. "We were being selfish, Harry. At least in part. It's true that we couldn't outright tell you what would happen, but we could have implied the truth." His father made a pause, seeming to gather his thoughts before focusing his gaze on him. "The thing is, Harry, your situation is very unique. You see, the Killing Curse takes a soul and rips it out of its, let's call it container, yeah? But it has to be a complete soul, not just a fragment. So, while the Horcrux was destroyed, it's still not enough to meet the requirements of the Curse."

"Your case is unique, son, because by all means you should be death. There isn't supposed to be a way around it, not for anyone," said his mother. "But then, not anyone has the Master of Death, or should I say, Mistress of Death, willing them to go back to the world of the living."

Harry blinked slowly, then his eyes widened in comprehension. "Hermione? She's calling for me?"

"In a way, yes. But it's more like her magic, fuelled by her love for you, reaching out to get you back," said Sirius. "Can't you feel it, the tugging in your chest? We were told you would feel it."

He opened his mouth to say no, he didn't feel any tugging, when he became aware of soft buzzing sound on the outskirts of his conscience and-there, there it was, the tugging in his chest. Weak, perhaps alarmingly so, but getting stronger bit by bit. "Oh."

The two men sighed in relief while his mother smiled in what was obviously triumph. It seemed to him she had known all along he would feel it, whilst his father and Sirius had their doubts.

"What?" he asked, feeling sort of left out.

His mother laughed merrily. "Oh, nothing really. It's just these two were doubting your ability to feel her call as well as her love for you. I didn't, though, call it a woman's intuition but I knew she would love you enough to pull this off, maybe more. Just like you love her, of course."

The blush rushed up his neck, lighting up his whole face, leaving Harry completely embarrassed and yet, unexpectedly happy. At least this showed his mother approved.

"Hey, I didn't doubt her love for him, I just didn't think it would be enough," protested his father, looking as embarrassed as he felt. "I just thought they were too young to pull it off, but hey, I was wrong, which is good, so no harm done."

Sirius gave him a sheepish smile. "I never got to watch you enough to be sure, I mean, I knew you'd end up together, it's was too obvious, but, like Prongs said, I thought you were too young to pull it off."

"Oh, so, that's how I'm going to survive?"

"You have to answer her call, Harry, that's how you will survive," said his mother.

Oh, well, isn't that simple. He honestly thought he'd have to go through some crazy trial to go back to her and all, like it was the norm in his life. Maybe, among of all the craziness surrounding his life, this had ought to be simple, just to give him a respite.

"Okay, then, I get it. But, how does that make you selfish?"

"We wanted to spend some time with you, without the heart-breaking knowledge that we couldn't touch you," said his mother, pulling back only a little to give him a watery smile. "So, by not telling you how you'd survive, you would come here, and we would be able to hug our son one last time."

"Oh, well, then I'm glad you didn't," said Harry, smiling at his family and pulling them all into a hug. "I always dreamed of doing this."

When they broke apart, they were all smiling. But it was his father the first to break the silence, showing why he was recognized as one of the greatest pranksters in the history of Hogwarts.

"So, Harry, explain something to me. What is this about you falling into bed with the first girl who throws her knickers at you?"

~

The first thing he heard when he became conscious again, was the sibilant cold voice of He-Who-Must-Forever-Be-A-Torn-On-His-Side.

"Filthy mudblood, you shall join him soon."

Harry reacted accordingly.

With Hermione's wand grasped firmly in his hand, Harry felt it and understood all the hassle about his ability to Love being his most powerful weapon, because as those hateful words reached his ears, an overwhelming warmth swept through his body-his desire to banish the threat to Hermione, to his loved ones, to be able to give them a peaceful life rushed through. His hand snapped up and he felt a powerful surge of energy leaving the wand. He opened his eyes just in time to see a bright, golden beam rush at Voldemort, blasting his left shoulder away and sending him flying a few feet back.

He understood, really, now as he rose to his feet, how it all worked. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. Of course, of course. Raw power wise, they were equals. The skirmish in the Graveyard proved it as much. And it will always be like that; if Voldemort grew stronger, Harry will too. By marking him, Voldemort also gave him unintentional immortality, just like Luna said. And as Dumbledore had explained it, however he loathed to admit it now after all he'd learned, it was Voldemort inability to understand something as fundamental as Love that would give him the edge he needed to win.

But the Horcrux in him had screwed that, and he'd had to get himself killed in order to make Voldemort mortal again. Yet, it was worth it, because with his death, the Prophecy was fulfilled, even if he ultimately got lucky again. The Prophecy was fulfilled and now it was only a man against a boy. Both using someone else's wand and standing utterly exhausted.

Just a man, who had nothing else to lose but his life, against a boy who stood to lose everything, and who was ready to fight to save it all.

The silence reigned as he stood up, all fighting stopping as people watched the Boy-Who-Lived survive a second Killing Curse. The remaining Death Eaters looked scared, seeing the actual proof that their Master could simply not kill this boy, while his friends looked elated that he had, once again, cheated death.

Harry merely stood next to Hermione, and then slowly pushed her behind him, not wanting to risk her life and let someone get a lucky shot. No, now that he knew the truth about their relationship, he was fully prepared to enjoy it for as long as she wanted him. Hopefully, it would be a long many years from now on.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised you failed again, Tom," he said, but even his blatant insult went unnoticed. Maybe, he shouldn't goad him, but catching sight of Nagini lying death not far from then, he felt he could do at least this much.

Everyone watched in silence, waiting for the final duel. Voldemort did not stand, his expression a mask of terror as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. Harry could see, he'd already won, just like his parents had said. Voldemort's only hope was the Elder Wand, but with it in Hermione's possession, he was nothing. With the Prophecy fulfilled, all the greatness and power he possessed abandoned him, one piece of soul at a time, and with so many of his followers death or otherwise too weak to stand, he had nowhere to fuel his magic anymore.

It was a little disappointing, actually.

And it was time to end this. Harry levelled his wand between the monster's eyes, and all those around him held their breaths. Then he let his magic do his bidding, and another golden beam came forth, fast and blinding and devastatingly powerful.

And Lord Voldemort was no more.

There was going to be no trial, no chance of redeeming himself; the way his head exploded in a bloody mess of gore was proof of it. And when Harry turned his piercing, green eyes to the remaining Death Eaters, none of which were part of the former Inner Circle, they all dropped their wands and surrendered, not wanting to end up like their Master.

Disappointing and very, very anticlimactic.

Harry heard a sob behind him and he turned on his heels in time to receive the tightest hug Hermione had ever given him. She broke down then, arms around his shoulders as she cried her fears and doubts and relief away on his shoulder. Vaguely, he noticed the Professors and Order members secure the Death Eaters and start taking them out of the way, while the DA members and students crowded around him and Hermione giving their heartfelt gratitude.

God, he felt exhausted, he only wanted to crawl into bed and sleep until his body shouted no more. Hopefully cuddling Hermione, if-

Looking past the sea of people surrounding him, Harry caught Arthur's gaze and immediately knew what he wanted, so pushing through the well-wishers, Harry walked towards Mr Weasley, Hermione in tow.

"Mr Weasley," said Harry, as way of initiating the conversation.

Mr Weasley smiled tiredly at him, and nodded. "First of all, thank you, Harry, for saving us."

"It's nothing, really. I just did what was right."

"Yes, of course… Now, I know you probably wish to go rest, but I wanted to know where…"

-oh, well, time to face that issue like a Gryffindor.

~

Funny how, in the end, things never really went as planned.

Just take the end of this War for example.

He'd been planning to go down with a bang, and instead he did it protecting Hermione, however unnecessary that was, and probably it was for the better that way. He'd been planning a whole strategy to fight Voldemort one last time to death, even devising what to do if the bastard succeeded in killing him a second time, only to face an anticlimactic end to his life-long suffering at the hands of Voldemort. And now, he'd expected to face Ron with a clear head after a well-earned rest, but instead he was being forced to do it now.

And it wasn't that he couldn't refuse Mr Weasley request, he could, he probably should, but he thought he owned the man who'd been kind to a skinny little boy for no other reason that he was his son's friend. Because, hey, Lee Jordan was the twins' friend, had been for three years, and while not hostile, Mr Weasley had never been as kind and welcoming as he had with him.

So, yeah, he kind of owned him for that.

Harry nodded and told him to wait a moment, before turning to Hermione. She was still shedding tears, but no longer crying loudly. He pulled her into a hug and told her to go find Tonks and see if she and Remus were okay, and to wait for him with them. Hermione hesitated only just, but in the end relented and walked away, but not before giving a small kiss on the lips.

He stood motionless for a few seconds, pulling his feelings under control and leaving his face devoid of all kind of emotions before turning to Mr Weasley. The red-haired man gave him a curious look, his blue eyes shifting from him to the retreating form of Hermione and back, but said nothing. Harry motioned for him to follow and started walking back towards the Castle, and kept walking all the way to Myrtle's Bathroom. Once they got there, Harry walked to the stall at the far back of the bathroom and dragged Ron out.

Not surprising, he was awake but too weak magically and physically, to leave this place. The pain from the knee Harry broke must have taken its toll on him, because he was bordering unconsciousness. Recalling a spell Madam Pomfrey performed on him to dull the pain whenever he was in the Hospital Wing, he casted it on Ron and shook him into awareness.

Harry regretted doing it immediately.

"Come back to gloat, Potter? Did she tell you how good we shagged last summer and during the Hunt, or did she cried and said I forced her? I didn't, and she screamed like a bitch in heat every time I made her cum." Ron snarled at him, his face twisting the same way Malfoy's face did when he sneered. "Every night, Potter. Sometimes with you sleeping in the adjoining bed!"

Harry watched his former friend smile cruelly at him, completely ignoring the man standing beside him. Mr Weasley gaped, clearly having difficulties believing this-this person could be his son. Harry simply regarded Ron with a cold stare, thinking what could possibly had happened to him while in that cubicle, to say that, but ultimately not really caring. The green-eyed boy blinked and then smiled.

"How long did it take you to come up with those words? Did you really think I'd believe you, Ronald? That I would trust you enough to disregard Hermione's integrity like this?" He laughed in cold amusement, revelling a little in the shocked expression on the Weasleys' faces. Better throw them for a loop before letting them see the rage seething under the surface. "That's the first thing I asked Madam Pomfrey to do when we left you here, Weasley. After everything you've done, I wouldn't put it past you to try something like this, so I had Hermione checked. Ask your father here, he was there."

Ron snarled again, lunging forward but stumbling when ropes appeared out of nowhere and wrapped tight around him.

Harry smirked. "And even if I hadn't done that, I would still know you lie. Because a couple of hours ago, Hermione asked me to shag her and I did. Several times in fact." He didn't like to imply that such a wonderful moment was a convenient fuck, but until he could ensure Hermione's safety for good, it was better if the world thought they were just best friends looking for comfort. But assuming people suspected what they'd been doing before going back to the Great Hall (after all, he had left them the Marauders' Map and that thing just didn't lie, overlapping dots spoke for themselve), he thought it was for the best.

Nobody needed to know just what she really meant to him yet.

"So, you see, I know she was a virgin."

Ron started trashing about, completely ignoring his shattered knee, trying to get free of his bonds, but couldn't. He was fuming, glaring daggers at him. "You, son of a BITCH! You get everything I want! Why couldn't you just have DIED? Let me go! I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"

He arched an eyebrow, mildly surprised at the redhead's reaction. However, by now Mr Weasley had snapped out of his shock and advanced menacingly towards his son.

"Enough, Ronald!" he snapped, but was ignored.

"SHUT UP! IT'S ALL HIS FAULT! HERMIONE WAS MINE; SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MINE! I SAW HER FIRST! HE RUINED EVERYTHING, HE MADE HER IGNORE ME IN FAVOR OF HIM!" Ron kept trashing, twisting his body in his attempts to reach Harry, hoping to hit him. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO END UP WITH MY SISTER! BUT YOU HAD TO RUIN THAT TOO AND MAKE HER GET OVER YOU!"

That, caught his attention, and obviously Mr Weasley's too, but the older man beat him to it as he grabbed Ron first and hauled him to his feet.

"What is that supposed to mean?" said Mr Weasley, slowly, menacingly.

Ron seemed to have lost all meaning of right or wrong, he glared at his own father with unadulterated hatred. From where he stood, Harry saw, for the first time, the glint of madness in his blue eyes, madness that had reared its ugly head sporadically for the last two years, but that he had always dismissed as being something uniquely Ron.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"I had no choice! They left me no choice! Ginny stopped loving him and Hermione was all for making him fall for her, and I knew-I knew he would! I had to, I had to dose them all with Amortentia or there would be no Happy Weasley Family!"

Ron didn't get to say more, as a flash of red later and he slumped to the floor. Mr Weasley was looking down, anguish written all over his face at such revelation. He flicked his wand and levitated his bound son, nodding at Harry before stepping out of the bathroom.

Harry blinked a couple of times and then raced after them. "Mr Weasley-"

"We're going to press charges, Harry. What he did… It cannot go unpunished. Hermione has a right to seek justice, as do you. And Ginny… There's no excuse for what he did, to you and his own sister, I…"

"I know, it's just… I think-something is wrong with him. I'm not saying to spare him, pat his head and tell him not to do it again. He needs to be punished, because he committed a crime. Simple as that. But I truly believe that there is something wrong in his head. He… he didn't use to be like that…"

Mr Weasley gave him a tired smile and nodded. "I will speak with Shacklebolt about what he confessed and… I will ask Poppy to check him for anything."

That said, Mr Weasley walked away.

Harry leaned on the wall outside the bathroom and closed his eyes, feeling more exhausted than after killing Voldemort. A part of him, a tiny part, whispered that he should forgive Ron because he obviously wasn't in his right mind, hadn't been for the past two years. But then another part, a stronger part, reminded him of Fourth Year and the Triwizard Tournament, and of Third Year and how he blew out of proportions the issue with the Firebolt.

This was Ron, the real Ron. Maybe no one saw it coming, but the hints had been all there. Ron was never too mentally stable, always quick to anger and jealousy, always insecure, always complaining about being the shadows of his brothers yet doing nothing to remedy it.

A light touch on his cheek startled him, and Harry opened his eyes to find the concerned face of Hermione hovering over him. He smiled weakly at her, grasping the hand caressing his cheek. "Hey, you…"

Hermione stared at him intently for several seconds before returning his smile with one of her own. She hesitated briefly, and then settled on his lap, burrowing into him and seeking comfort. He embraced her right away, pulling her closer and sighed.

"The Weasleys want to formally apologize to you, for what happened…" she said softly.

"I told Mr Weasley there's no need, it wasn't their fault."

"I know, I told them the same, but they insist." Hermione paused, shifting until she was straddling his lap; she got comfortable against him again. "Madame Pomfrey checked Ginny, and found traces of Amortentia, very old traces, but there nonetheless. She also checked… him, but other than bruises and magical exhaustion, there was nothing wrong with him. Except for a light case of dementia. He's losing his mind, and according to Madame Pomfrey, has been for years now."

Harry sighed again. "And no one knew… Still, it explains a lot."

Hermione hums softly against his shoulder. "Kingsley was going to administer Veritaserum when I left. I just couldn't-I needed to find you. I don't think I can bear to know our friendship was faked from the start, not alone."

For a moment, he was amazed at how good it felt to have Hermione in his arms. Cuddling, just like this. Sure, with Ginny it had felt good, too, but this… this was something else. He unwrapped an arm from her and, gently, tilted her head back with one finger. Leaning in, he kissed her.

"You're not alone," he said. "You have me now, for as long as you want."

"What if I say I'll want you forever?"

He smiled and kissed her again. "Then you'll have me forever."

~~~

It was only a month later, once they had managed to sort out their most pressing business, that she and Harry finally had some free time to go find her parents.

A month in which they, with lots of help from the new Ministry of Magic, managed to settle the problem with Gringotts and the destruction they left in their wake whilst escaping. A month in which Harry finally claimed his full inheritance, from both his parents and Sirius. A month in which they became the official godparents of one Teddy Remus Lupin. In which Harry locked two of the three Hallows away, and had her erase the memory of doing it.

A month in which, after a particularly passionate bout of lovemaking, he told her that she was the reason why he survived the Killing Curse, that the love they shared had truly overcome death itself and helped him return to her. The fact that she being the current Master/Mistress of the Hallows at the time allowed it to happen was irrelevant, but Hermione liked to keep the more romanticised version of that tale as the actual memory.

And finally, a month in which they attended the trial of one Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Hermione sighed, and shakes those thoughts away, because she really didn't want to trouble herself anymore. She had enough problems of her own to keep thinking about the boy who used to be their friend.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist just as a pair of lips pressed against her neck. "You promised not to think about it, remember?"

She smiled, turning within his arms and returning his affectionate embrace. Hermione placed a kiss on his lips before nodding her head. "I know, but I can't really help it."

"Tell me about it," said Harry, giving her a disarming smirk.

Her expression turned pained, and she could tell he tried not to let the sigh escape his lips. "I-I know I shouldn't worry, but, Harry… I just want to know, was it all a game to him? Was he ever our friend at all?"

Regardless of what Luna had said merely a month ago, the doubts lingered. It was one of the reasons why they'd gone to the trial. But that question never came up, which wasn't unexpected as it wasn't really related to his crimes. They'd asked him what he'd done, what he'd planned to do. They'd asked him why he'd planned it, but never-Hermione knew Shacklebolt only did it to spare any further shame and pain to be brought upon the Weasleys, but still. All questions were too specific.

Never, they'd never asked since when.

Ronald's answers had implied both that he'd never been their friend and that he had. His answers as precise yet ambiguous as the questions. All of it pointed at the end of Fifth Year, probably after Sirius' death.

But Harry thought otherwise. So did she.

"Do you want the real answer, Hermione, or just my opinion?"

"Just give me something, Harry, please."

He sighed and remained silent. Hermione didn't push him, he would give him an answer, of that she was sure, after all, Harry had interacted with Ron longer than she had after his ultimate treason. He had talked with him, he knew more of his reasons for doing a one-eighty than her.

"I think-I truly believe he was our real friend until at least the summer before Fourth Year. Then, maybe, everything started spiralling downwards for him at the World Cup. Remember how worked up he got over the Omniculars, how he didn't want to own me nothing? Honestly, I think he had the valid reasons to deny my gifts, reasons I admire, but it's not charity if a gift comes from a friend, right? I mean, I bought you one too, how was I not going to do the same for him? From then, it was probably a slow descend into madness, jealousy and hatred, and no one caught it until it was too late."

Standing there in the kitchen of her home, Hermione sighed and then voiced her fears in regards to the one who'd been their friend. "I just can't help but think I failed him, that I should have seen the signs sooner, I…"

Harry pulled her tighter against his body, as if trying to shield her from the guilty they were both feeling. She couldn't see his face, but knew her pained expression mirrored his.

"Yeah, me too."

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms for several minutes before deciding to go to sleep. They had an early start the next day, and with the long flight ahead of them, it was better to be well rested. Calmly, they made sure to lock the doors and windows before climbing the stairs.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Hopefully the first of many in this new stage of their lives.

Together.

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The end.

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For now. I hope this didn't disappoint, I don't know I just always have trouble ending a fic, it's like my mind says "keep going lest you ruin it!" but then turns around and says "finish it now lest you screw up!" So, yeah.

I hope you all enjoyed it. And just to clarify, I said it to a reviewer, and yes, Ron using Amortentia has been thoroughly abused and it's pushing OOC for Ron, but as a HHr writer, I HAD to use this plot at least once. It's the law.

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