Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 10

"So it was a potion."

James leaned back on the headboard, handing the test results to his wife. Lily was far his superior in the subtle science and exact art, so he let her examine the letter that had just arrived.

They were currently in bed, naked as the day they'd been born. Things had been stressful since Christmas, so Lily had told him, "A mid-afternoon romp is called for." Who was he to quibble with such a provoking argument?

The owl had perfect timing, too. Ten minutes `after'. Good show Mr Tawny Owl.

"So?" he asked after a minute. Arthur and Molly had quickly assented to an in-depth medical evaluation and diagnoses. It was intrusive, unpleasant and required if they were to find out the mysterious assailant of the Weasleys.

"Well, the testing was very thorough. It looks like Arthur had a compound fracture of his leg when he was five years, three months and four days old. Do you want to know the details of all of Molly's pregnancies?" Her smile was wide.

James shivered. "That would be, `No'."

"Right…Molly had torn tendons in her hand when she was twenty five…here we go. They were both administered a massive dose of the Draught of Binding in January of Nineteen Eighty Two…oh shite."

"What?" he asked. Her bleak curse startled him and truth be told scared him a bit.

"Molly was placed under the Imperius curse on December thirty first of eighty one at ten fifteen in the evening."

"Oh God. The Ministry New Year's Eve Ball." He rolled over to his back and stared at the stone ceiling. "Why can't it be easy? Anyone could have placed her under the curse and subsequently forced her to brew and administer the potion."

"Exactly," Lily groaned.

"So it could be anyone from Dumbledore to a Death Eater like Malfoy or some unknown persons." He paused, cynicism rearing its head, he added, "Or Weasley could have hit his wife with the curse to cover their tracks."

"Yep."

"Bloody buggering shite."

"Yep."

They lay there for along minute. His mind kept coming back to a possible solution that he wanted to discard for a host of reasons. Laying there, staring at the ceiling, he fought the idea, but it wouldn't go away. Giving in to the persistent thought, he asked, "What do you think about Peter?"

"I was wondering when you'd say that."

Turning his head, he looked at her. Her auburn hair was wonderfully mussed and she still had that `recently shagged' afterglow, but the serious expression on her face drowned any lascivious ideas that surfaced for him. "Explain," he whispered.

"Peter had motive and opportunity."

James closed his eyes. For all he hated his former friend, Prongs was still besieged with memories of Peter, Wormtail of the Marauders. It was completely incongruous with the idea of Pettigrew the Death Eater. Pettigrew the betrayer. This time, as he lay next to his wife, the memories of past fun, friendship and camaraderie didn't inspire longing for a lost brother. This time it incited a fury he'd hitherto never known.

"He betrayed me."

Lily rolled into him. Wrapping her arm across his chest, she kissed his shoulder and waited.

"That fucker betrayed me. After everything,…he was my brother, LIls. He fucking sold us to that monster!" His anger pulsed in his veins like a living thing. Chest heaving, he tried to rein in his feelings. They'd surged and ebbed over the past months, but he'd never really spoken of Peter since their second day back when he, Moony and Padfoot had briefly discussed him during breakfast.

This was a conversation long delayed.

"You loved him and thought he loved you in return," Lily observed. "And in his betrayal, you see that he never loved you at all."

Wincing, he couldn't hide from the truth of her words. Like coals, the words fell on his heart, searing and burning wherever they touched. He wanted to rend and tear. Throw the bed out the window as he bellowed his brother's betrayal.

"Do you wonder if you or we did something to drive him to Voldemort?"

Shaking with emotion, he nodded. Every instance where he'd belittled Peter flashed in front of his eyes. Once again he cursed himself for a fool. His first five or so years in school he'd been the paragon of arsehole-ness. This was yet another field that he'd sown and therefore had to reap his planting.

Nestling her mouth next to his ear, she told the Truth as she saw it. "No matter what we may or may not have done, nothing can justify his behaviour. Nothing. I know that at times you and the others may have treated him as the butt of jokes, but love, you were the butt of jokes just as often and you never turned to Voldemort.

"I know for a fact that Sirius teased you relentlessly about your crush on a certain redheaded witch," her impish smile relieved a bit of tension.

"It wasn't a crush," he growled, "It was a burning passion." Kissing her hard, he rolled on top of her.

Her hands on his chest prevented him from hiding from the ghost of Peter through their love.

Sighing again, he laid his head on her shoulder. This time a tear leaked out of his eye, "He was my brother and he sold us to our deaths."

"Yes, he did," she agreed matter-of-factly.

"I'll miss him. No, I'll miss what he was," James declared in a wistful tone. Peter had been his friend, no matter what else happened. The vision of his roly-poly friend donning a black robe before placing a bone white mask over his face rose to supplant the other, more happy, memories. James' face hardened as he added, "But if I ever see Peter again, I'm going to kill him."

Rolling back to his side of the bed, he pulled her close, "But I don't think he had the ability or imagination to pull this off."

He felt Lily hesitate before she said, "He was an animagus."

"Yeah, because Padfoot and I shoved it down his throat for an entire year," Prongs scoffed. All the long nights during fifth year when Sirius and James had forced Peter to study and his incredible stupidity at not grasping the basics for so long had left James at his wit's end. So many late nights of studying and potion brewing. Sirius had brewed the Animagus Revealing Potion three times for Peter because he kept bollixing up the incantation for the spell to be cast beforehand.

"But in the end, he did it. I'm not saying he's a prodigy of magic, but you do realize that you, Remus and Sirius were the smartest boys in our year, right? To hold him up to you and the boys for comparison isn't a very accurate understanding of his abilities."

"Do you think he could have done it?" James asked. He was completely baffled. Always, he'd thought of Peter as the lovable buffoon who'd just as soon ignite his own hair as successfully brew a potion, but then again, that wasn't really true, was it?

"He was a Marauder," Lily observed. "While you three are very intelligent, I think that Peter was at least fairly smart. Remember how you treated poor Alex Smythe?"

"Yeah," James answered. "Poor guy couldn't cast a spell without hurting himself or someone else."

"That's my point. You pitied him, but never really chummed with him, did you?"

"I see what you're saying," he replied. Weighing her example, he admitted to himself that she had a point. If Peter had been a village idiot, James would've never befriended him. Defended him from bullies? Yes. However, he'd not have been friends with him.

"So it seems that old Wormy could have ensorcelled the Weasleys," Prongs admitted with more than a bit of sorrow.

"Maybe," she countered.

"Maybe," he agreed. Jesus Wept, would they ever know?

.oOo.

"Again!"

Hermione grunted as once again she cast the mass transfiguration followed by a Compulsion charm. The herd of magically created cattle began to run in the intricate pattern she'd commanded, but she didn't see it as she fell to her bum, exhausted.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she felt Harry run up to her. When his shadow lay over her, she looked up to him with a wan smile.

"Takes a lot out of me too," he commented. "Here, drink," he offered as he handed her a water bottle.

Taking a deep draught of the bottle, she conjured a towel to wipe her face. Wrinkling her nose, she cast a quick Drought charm to get rid of the sweat stains on her long sleeve T-shirt. "It's getting easier," she replied. "Still, the five times in a row part is less than pleasant."

"Yeah," he agreed as they moved over to Flitwick who was counting the herd as it cycled in the complex knot pattern Hermione had commanded. He nodded when he counted the requisite thirty long horned bulls.

"Do you see the purpose?" Flitwick squeaked.

Ignoring the silly sound of the man's voice, the teens gave a short bow at the neck as they acknowledged his mastery of the craft, "Yes sir. The level of fine control in the Compulsion allows a high fidelity of control for any activity of a conjured animal," Hermione answered.

"And it allows for us to command them to fight for us independent of our activity," Harry extrapolated.

"Good, good. Now, I want you to each conjure a dog. Then, I want you to have them attack a dummy I conjure. I want you to have your dog destroy the human shaped dummy as fast as possible."

Hermione's revulsion and horror at the thought was plain on her face as Flitwick merely raised an eyebrow. "You have something to say, Miss Granger-Black?"

In their independent studies with the short Charms master, they'd found him to be a demanding taskmaster, very different from his Hogwarts persona.

Swallowing the bile which threatened to rise, Hermione replied, "It's a bit much, isn't it sir?"

Turning to Harry, Flitwick asked, "Is it, Mr Potter?"

Harry scrubbed his face before replying, "No, it isn't. I'd conjure a tiger to kill every enemy I could if it allowed me to safely get my family through an engagement."

Nodding Flitwick turned back to the now shamefaced witch. Before he spoke, she added, "And in the end, it's only a conjured animal, not a real one."

"Good," Flitwick praised. "Now," he conjured a large pit with high walls. At the far side, a human looking dummy began to walk back and forth like a duck in a shooting gallery. "Begin." Flitwick failed to tell them that the dummy would fight back. The first two dogs were quickly dispatched with a kick to the head by the faceless automaton.

Despite the repugnance of the act, both teens did as instructed so as to learn how to create effective and efficient battlefield distractions. One by one, they learned through trial and error how to conjure and control an animal avatar to fight for them.

Hermione felt that she'd succeeded in that she vomited less often than Harry did during the `lesson'. She'd only spewed once where her boyfriend had lost it two times. Although necessary, all three agreed that it wasn't their favourite topic.

.oOo.

The eternity of spring rains had begun. Overall, the British Isles are fairly wet, but the Highlands of Scotland take that rule to the extreme.

"Dad, let's go home. I'm going bugshit here."

James smiled at his son. Harry was staring out the window at the sheeting rain. "Miss Quidditch?" he asked.

Harry turned away from the window, a scowl on his features, "God yes. I just want to get out in the sun for a bit. I think it's rained for ten days straight."

"Twelve."

"Thanks," he snarked as he flopped onto the couch next to his father. Lily and Hermione were in the library researching some topic or the other while Sirius was in London reviewing the proposed reorganization of the Blackmoor Portfolio. Remus was at Rowan Hill, reviewing the estate's accounts. He'd taken to the task with a gusto that James hadn't seen since the brief stint when Remus had dated that girl back in sixth year. What was her name…?

"I think we need a spring break," James announced. Harry turned to his Dad with an expectant expression.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. What do you think of the BVI?"

"I don't think anything of them at all."

Jabbing his son in the ribs, he rolled his eyes. "I'm thinking we take the portal to Tortola and then a quick portkey to some ultra-swanky resort to spend two weeks on the beach."

"Really?" Harry excitedly asked.

"Really, really. You and Hermione have been killing yourselves. You're two thirds of the way through your fourth year age-wise, but have completed nearly all of sixth year material for the core courses. We all need a break with lots of sex on the beach with our respective partners," James added the last just to provoke his son. He succeeded.

"Aaaahhhh! No! No! I didn't just hear that!" Jumping from the couch, Harry glared at his laughing father. "Why must you do that?"

"Cause it's fun?"

"Not funny!"

"Sure it is." Clapping Harry on the shoulder, he stood. "Come on, let's go arrange the portal time and surprise our ladies. Your Mum and I visited the Caribbean on our honeymoon. I think you were conceived there."

"I thought you said I was conceived at home?" Harry asked. Immediately, his face adopted a sour expression as he realized what he'd just said. The horror was immediate and intense.

"Well," James remarked with the most suave tone he could muster, "There were so many places and so many times."

"Aaahhhh!" Harry mock screamed as he ran from the room.

The laughing from Prongs stopped as soon as the door closed. His son was wound far too tight and so too was Hermione. He'd talked it over with Filius, Sirius and Lily the day before where all agreed that a quick vacation to the sun and sand would be very beneficial. Both teens, despite their intelligence and drive, were beginning to burn out. It was only a matter of time before they snapped and none of them wanted a repeat of Harry's confrontation with the Slytherin douche bags. He'd kill them this time.

Strolling to the door, he followed his son. James had promised he'd be there for Harry and by God, he would be even if it was only as comic relief.

.oOo.

Hestia Jones was stunned. Sitting on the divan in her fashionably decorated flat, she realized that she'd fallen in love with Sirius Black.

Oh, he wasn't the rake from their Hogwarts years that made it a quest to collect knickers from every year and house from his fourth year and on. Nor was he the immature brat who was a borderline bully in his pranking.

No, the man she'd fallen in love with was the new and some would say damaged Sirius Black. He was the one who'd survived Azkaban, preserving his sanity by a hair's breadth. The man who was devoted to his new daughter and their family. The man that she had come to love was a passionate, loyal, intelligent, funny and capable man. He made her pulse pound, her breath stutter in her chest and her brain lock.

Hestia was a very intelligent woman; a year younger than the famous Lily Potter, she was the Head Girl and first in her class. Born of a muggleborn mother and a pureblood father, she'd exploited her father's contacts to be hired into the Department of International Magical Cooperation. From there, she'd earned her position as the Area Director of British Magical Foreign Relations to the Eastern European Magical Confederation. She was a career focused witch; husbands and family were not a high priority.

Everything changed in that moment, though. Her brain was awash with the epiphany: She Loved Sirius Black.

They'd been dating fairly seriously from the beginning. There was something about the new Sirius that entranced her; pulled at her mind. He was addicting in the most wonderful way. She wanted to be near him. Hear his voice and touch him. They'd shared a bed after two months of dating. Had he not been so devoted to Hermione and the Potters, she would have insisted he move into her flat.

But love? That was new.

She'd never been in love before. Dating? Sure, many men had taken her to dinner or parties. She was an extremely attractive witch who was in high demand amongst the wizards of her age. None had captivated her like Sirius Black, though.

It was during packing for the trip to the Caribbean that it struck her. She wanted to be with him every morning when she awoke and every evening when she went to sleep. It was an incredible shock to admit that she'd finally found her wizard. After so many years of avoiding male entanglements in order to pursue her career, she'd fallen and fallen hard.

The firing of the Floo jostled her back to the present.

"Love? You here?" she heard Sirius call.

The endearment of his meant much more now. Standing, she walked quite deliberately to the fireplace.

He was standing with his back to her, peering up the stairs. "Hestia? You upstairs?"

"I'm right here," she told him, her low voice husky with emotion. He spun about in surprise, his wide smile a bright lamp in the dark. Embracing him, she savoured the feeling of his arms about her. It made her feel safe and loved.

Pulling back so she could see him, yet remain in his embrace, she studied him for a long moment.

"I love you."

His features melted into smile of genuine delight. "As I love you," he whispered through his emotion.

"Marry me," she asked.

Leaning back his head, he let loose his barking laugh. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"I'm a modern witch who doesn't need to wait for my man to get his head out of his arse. Well?" Her beautiful features were marred with trepidation.

"I shall," he whispered before kissing her deeply.

The next thing she knew, he'd scooped her up and was carrying her upstairs.

"I love you," she whispered as she rained soft kisses over his face and lips. "I need you. I want you."

"My love…" he muttered as he kicked the door open to her bedroom.

.oOo.

"Did you hear?" Hermione asked as they queued up at the portal station.

Shaking his head, Harry scanned the crowd for possible threats as he listened to his girlfriend. So far, he'd identified two reporters plus a few photographers. His Dad's glare had kept the paparazzi at bay so far.

"Hestia proposed to Sirius and he said `yes'!" Harry smiled at Hermione's excitement. Thinking about how fast Hestia and Sirius' relationship had moved, he wondered if it was a good thing. Turning around, he saw them in a loose embrace, smiling and whispering to each other. His wonderings ceased.

"Good for them," Harry replied. "Good for them."

Her mischievous smile caused him to smile in reply. As she pulled at the buttons on his polo shirt, she teased, "When do I get a ring?"

Harry snorted. Prodding the mithril bracelet which she always wore, he replied, "Soon enough, love."

Her bubbly laughter was as infectious as her smile. Soon they were both smiling and laughing at nothing, yet everything.

Things transitioned from happy to unpleasant at that point. It happened quickly. With the flash of light, Harry reacted instinctively. Diving to the ground, he pulled Hermione with him. By the time he'd rolled to his knees, both teens had their wands out and tracking for the source of the spell fire.

Only James' hand on their shoulders kept them from casting.

A white faced, shaking and wide-eyed photographer slowly set his camera - the source of the light - on the ground. "I'm sorry," he whimpered.

Glancing about, Harry saw that most everyone in the queue for the portal was staring at the family: some with awe at the teens' fluid reactions, others with annoyed mistrust. Unfortunately, the glares far outweighed the smiles.

Sighing, Harry holstered his wand, noticing Hermione doing the same from the corner of his eye. The metal coil in his guts began to unwind. Absently, he remarked to himself how quickly he reacted. There was improvement over the last scenario he'd faced; this time, he'd not hexed anyone undeservedly. Restraint and control was one of Flitwick's focus areas. In maintaining control over their actions, he was sure that the diminutive Charms professor would be satisfied with their performance.

Checking his girlfriend over, he saw her let go a deep sigh. Meeting his eye, she gave him a wan smile to show she felt the same as he. Moving to her side, he nearly stumbled when Lily pushed between the teens to get to the photographer.

She'd just raised her hand to begin telling the man off when Hestia swooped in to the rescue. "I'm sure that you understand what it's like to be startled," she cooed to the petrified wizard. The gorgeous witch turned up the `dazzle factor', tossing a bit of her honey blonde hair over her shoulder while giving the man an inviting smile.

"Yeah. Sure," he drooled. Harry nearly puked when the dick looked down Hestia's top. He didn't know the witch very well, but Sirius loved her so that was good enough for him.

"It's been a tough day all around." Harry marvelled at the woman's skilful handling of the man. She looped an arm across his back, steering the now leering wizard to the door, all the while convincing the man and any eavesdroppers - which was everyone in the queue - that Harry and Hermione were finishing their preparations to take their OWLs early and were a bit on edge.

"Oh, yeah. Sure," the idiot agreed.

"Bye now," she waved before turning back to her family.

Harry nearly laughed aloud when the smiling, flirtatious expression dropped to disgust as she wiped her hands on her skirt.

Hermione groaned.

"What?" he asked as he turned back to his intended.

"Now we've to take our OWLs soon or else the press will crucify us," she whispered into his ear.

"Crud." His eyes narrowed, "No studying on the beach."

"But..."

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"Just one little book?" she asked in a little girl voice.

"Ok, just one little book."

Her grin was infectious. Before he knew it, they were all laughing as they stepped across the portal gateway to arrive at Terrance B. Letham International Airport and Portal facility.

.oOo.

"James, the bloody boat has two hulls."

Sirius wanted to punch his cousin when Prongs rolled his eyes, replying, "It's called a catamaran, Padfoot. Shut up and get on."

"Why can't we portkey?" Sirius temporized petulantly. Why would a boat need two hulls? Is it so fucked up that they had to add another to be safe? What is that?

Hestia got on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "I won't get naked tonight if you…"

She didn't need to finish. "Ok, let's get this outstanding boat moving!" Sirius called as he hopped aboard the private charter which was to take them directly to Rosewood Little Dix Bay on Virgin Gorda.

As the teens headed to what passed for the bow of the dual hulled craft, Sirius cornered James. "Where's Moony?"

Shrugging, James let out a sigh of exasperation as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Let me guess," Sirius pre-empted, "He's being a prat and didn't want to come. Was it a lack of female company or paying his own way?"

Wrinkling his nose, James ventured, "Female company, I think."

Shaking his head, Sirius muttered, "Wanker."

"Mate," James countered, "What if you and Hestia weren't together? Wouldn't you feel a bit awkward coming with two couples even though one of the couples were teens?"

Half turning away, Sirius admitted, "I suppose."

His eyes drifted over to watch the two adult witches who were engrossed in a discussion about the resort where they were going to stay. Lily gesticulated with her hands, causing the blonde headed witch to laugh uproariously.

A soft smile blossomed on his face. Ever since he was a small boy, he'd felt different. Being an island of sanity in a sea of bigotry, dark magic and worse, Sirius had always wondered if he'd have anything resembling `normal'. The beatings from his parents didn't help, either.

Hogwarts, his cousin and the other Marauders had been a glimpse of belonging to and with a family of sorts, but even then, it wasn't completely fulfilling. The frenetic pranks had been fun and a release of a sort. To be honest, he'd enjoyed the lifestyle immensely in its juvenile way.

When James began to settle after his parents' deaths and started dating Lily, Sirius tried to keep the pace of the old raucous lifestyle. Firewhiskey, girls and pranks hadn't been the same, though. It wasn't the same not because Prongs wasn't as involved, but in comparison to what James and Lily had, the other things were about as satisfying as flat beer on a hot day.

Then came that day.

It still gave him the shivers to remember his screaming meanderings through that rental cottage. The piles of ash had caused him to throw himself up the stairs to Harry's room in hysterics.

A tear trickled down his cheek as he remembered baby Harry's screams. They echoed Sirius' own. He'd felt as if his soul was hoarse from shrieking.

Azkaban was a blur, punctuated by terror and pain. The guards had been vicious. Truncheons seemed to be de riguer as not a day passed when he wasn't at least threatened with the clubs. They appeared to be a favourite, as there was never a magical trace afterwards for anyone to detect.. The warden was the idol of idiot worshippers who never thought that a wizard would beat another wizard with his fists or a club. The Dementors weren't much fun either.

Never did Sirius have that for which his soul longed: someone who loved him more than her own life. He had his three…no…two brothers, but now he had her.

Now he had Hestia and she had him. For the first time in his life, he began to feel whole. Between Hestia and Hermione, the entire focus of his life was changing. Their happiness was paramount, his was secondary. He wanted to be of service to these women who had captured his heart in different ways. They, in their turn, placed his happiness above their own. It was love.

He didn't realize he was moving until he wrapped his arms about his fiancée's waist.

Lily gave him a knowing smile before moving off to find her man.

Leaning forward so his lips nestled in her hair next to her shell-like ear, he whispered, "I love you with all that I am, with all that I will be and all I can ever be."

He felt her close her eyes and snuggle back into his embrace.

"As I love you," she replied. Closing his eyes, he thought that might be enough.

.oOo.

Though the resort was completely mundane, none of the witches or wizards had difficulty with the experience. Applying the Sunscreen charm was done in the morning, lasting all day. After that, no magic was required to lie on the beach, sip at sweet drinks and frolic in the surf.

Rosewood Little Dix Bay resort also has a world renown spa. Lily, Hestia and Hermione were taking full advantage of it.

All three were midway through their `Sense Spa Journey'. Sirius and James had broken into fits of giggles at the names while Harry smiled as he shook his head. When Lily had casually mentioned the price per `Journey', all three collapsed in laughter that something with such a silly name was so insanely expensive.

Transitioning from the Wrap to the Seaside Meditation Massage left Hermione an extremely relaxed puddle of goo. The Luxurious Pedicure that was next would be a slice of heaven. While Hermione had never been obsessed with her looks or cosmetics like some of her sillier classmates, she was still proud of her looks.

She'd dismissed her hair's bushiness with as much casual contempt as she could, but it still hurt her that it wouldn't do what she wanted. This pampering by some of the best massage therapists in the Caribbean was in line with her thoughts of how she cared about her body and looks.

I think I may just take Harry to bed after this to have my wicked way with him, she mused to herself. Stifling her smile as much as she could, she listened to Hestia and Lily chat.

The older witches were trying to become better acquainted, but for the first time, it seemed that Lily and James' youth was a hindrance. While it allowed them to get to know their son and his intended more easily, the difference in age seemed to cause discomfort for Hestia. She'd know Lily as the slightly older witch in school whose example she tried to emulate. Now, Hestia was a dozen years older with a dozen years of experience that the Potters didn't possess. The women's relationship was like a hesitating engine. Sputtering…running smoothly…coughing…purring.

It was evident to Hermione that both women were ready to please and be pleased by the other, so she had no worries that it wouldn't work out in the end. In the meanwhile, it was interesting to hear the conversation.

"…so Malfoy's little brat spouted off `mudblood' this and that. Sirius and I put him in his place until Minerva arrived," The Smartest Witch of the Age heard Lily say.

"I know that term is especially offensive to you," Hestia hesitantly observed.

The shrug was unheard, but assumed. "After fifth year…"

Hermione's listening was interrupted as her masseuse, Inga, kneaded a troubling area in the small of the teen's back. Inga was a walking contradiction. A Swedish name for a woman who stood over six feet tall and was coal black. Her hands could have squashed a cantaloupe. At the same time, her voice was soft and delicate, like a glass flower. Contradicting still, the woman's grip was as strong as a vice; Hermione had no doubt that Inga could bend a steel bar. What conversation they mustered convinced Hermione that the woman was a sincerely sweet woman who delighted in taking care of her brother's four children from time to time.

While Inga was working this particular area of Hermione's body, it seemed her ears stopped working. A few moments later, reality returned through the sublime fog, "Minerva said that Albus gave all the kids another in school suspension for possession and use of controlled substances."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed.

Sitting up, Hermione held the towel to her front, preserving her modesty. What Harry saw was very different from what the rest of the world saw. Lily and Hestia seemed surprised by Hermione's near shout. Inga took the verbal cue, slipping out of the glass walled room without a word.

Ignoring the panoramic view of the Caribbean, Hermione focused on the older witches. "In school suspension? Again?" she objected. Hermione's entire worldview of authority figures and rules had been rocked to its foundations over the past months. Once again, she was experiencing another seismic shift.

Sighing, Lily explained, "Minerva said that Albus was adamant, the boys and girls were to be treated like any other who was caught with potions or Firewhiskey."

"Please," Hermione's scorn was a living thing. "That is such a load of rubbish; I don't know where to begin to tear that apart. It's a wealth of tripe."

Hestia then made a mistake. "Lily," she murmured, but not too soft so that Hermione didn't hear her, "Do you really think we should be discussing this with…," the head nod toward Hermione made her intention plain.

Hermione turned white with mortification. Ever since James and Lily had returned to the time stream, she'd been treated as an equal in the family. While possessing less than fifty percent of a vote, she was always included in every discussion, every debate and always was allowed to make her feelings and objections known. Many times, she'd carried the day with her logical arguments.

Now it seemed that Sirius' fiancée wasn't of the same mind.

Like children the world over, she wanted her pseudo-step-mother to approve of her but still was afraid of what Hestia's presence and wishes would do to her close relationship with Sirius.

Before the thought could continue, Lily snapped her back to reality like a cold bucket of water over her head.

"Hestia," the redheaded witch snapped, "Hermione is fully in our confidence. Even more so than you are. I have no idea what your intentions are regarding her in your family, but remember, she is nearly my daughter as well. I expect her to be treated with respect and courtesy as the future Lady Richmond."

The iciness of Lily's tone left no doubt in Hermione's mind that Lily had her white hat on and was riding to the rescue. By accepting the mithril bracelet from Harry at Christmastime, they were, in effect magically betrothed. Still, it was always shocking to remember that someday, she would be the Countess Richmond.

"I cannot tell you what you should and should not do regarding Sirius' adopted daughter, but I will tell you that she is fully in my confidence. She has earned that confidence through demonstrated loyalty, maturity and capability."

Hermione nearly burst into tears of happiness at Lily's words. Most persons thought that Hermione a logic machine. Those people didn't know her very well. True, she was an extraordinarily intelligent young woman, but she was moreover a passionate woman.

Lily's words had struck a chord within her that had never been played before by anyone. Even her birth parents had never given such an unequivocal vote of confidence and support. Lily made it very clear that she'd have words with anyone should they disrespect Hermione. To use the words the redheaded mother of her boyfriend had used those months ago: Hermione was hers. It warmed the teen's heart like hot cider on a winter's day or Harry's embrace. Either way, Hermione's respect and affection for her future mother in law ratcheted up another notch.

"Ah, well, er…of course," Hestia backpedalled in the face of Lily's cool fury. "I just don't' know…"

The rules yet, Hermione thought to herself, finishing the sentence. Giving the blonde witch the benefit of the doubt, she extended the olive branch. "I understand. We should probably sit down with Sirius to talk this out."

She'd really wanted to say, You need to have Sirius set you straight, but chose the more inoffensive phrasing.

"Yes, yes of course, we will." Hermione's heart went out to the beautiful blonde witch when she said, "I'm so sorry Hermione, I just want so badly to make this work and now I've made a mess of our beginning together." Her face fell, "I'm sorry that I offended you." Turning to Lily, she added, "The both of you."

To her credit, Hermione was a fairly honest young woman; even with herself. She admitted the truth that she'd not spent much time with the blonde witch during her and Sirius' courtship. Padfoot was as much to blame for this hubbub as Hestia. What an experienced father would have known instinctively, Sirius had been oblivious to; he needed to get his daughter's buy in for his new wife. He'd not done that, so Hermione and Hestia were near strangers to one another.

"I accept your apology," Hermione replied with a soft smile to lessen the harshness of the words. Hestia's relieved expression told her that her goal had been achieved.

"Harry's going to go crazy when he finds out what their punishment was," Hermione observed to change the subject and avoid an awkward silence.

"Forget Harry," Lily interjected as she reached for her clothes. "James, Sirius and Remus are going to string the man up by his thumbs." Hermione got dressed as well. They would finish the `Journey' another day or perhaps indulge in one of the other extremely expensive treatments. The turquoise bikini and pareo wrap were sufficient covering for where she was headed to find her man. Harry, Sirius and James were to snorkel the bay at the foot of the hill below the spa.

Leading the way down the tropical trail to the beach, Hermione shook her head. They were a family. They loved, laughed, cried and fought with each other. There were miscommunications alongside heartfelt declarations. She'd never felt more `a part of' a group or family in her whole life.

Breaking out of the trees, she saw a trio of wet dark heads bent over something on the beach. Her mouth widening to a grin, she made her way unerringly to the youngest of the group. Wrapping her arms about him from behind, she intentionally pressed her breasts against his wet naked back.

"H-hey," he stuttered.

Her grin became predatory. "I need to talk to you about something very important back in the villa," she told him once he turned around.

Not breaking eye contact, he smiled in return, "Lead the way, my love."

.oOo.

Lily watched her son and Hermione head back up the hill to the villa. Hestia hooked her arm in Sirius' as she began to lead him down the beach. She caught Hestia say, "I'm afraid I've made a mess of things," before they got out of earshot.

James' silent caress of her back gave her the shivers. They'd only been married a few years, so they still qualified as newlyweds despite their parental status. She wanted to give the teens a significant head start to set up Silencing charms and the like before she thought about heading up to their shared villa.

"How'd this morning go?" he asked. "Did you all enjoy your `Journey'?" His supressed laughter inspired her massive eye-roll.

"There were a few hiccoughs," she began before explaining Hestia's massive faux pas. James pursed his lips before nodding his agreement to Lily's proposed, "Let Sirius and his almost-bride work it out on their own."

"We had a moment down here," James began. Expecting a ludicrous situation involving a juvenile prank, she was brought up standing when James told her in a surprisingly serious tone, "Sirius and I had to have a talk with Harry about the scars on his back."

Closing her eyes in impotent rage, she let it build and swell in her breast. She'd never forgive her sister for the years of torment and torture of her baby boy. Never. The scars that crossed Harry's back like white ropes were significant, though. Guilt and shame for all the Potters were invoked for various reasons whenever they were bared. Seeing the damage in her mind's eye deflated her anger. Being angry wouldn't help Harry any.

"Long term, he can have the procedure where the healers remove the entire affected area re-growing the skin via potion; just like a snake sloughing off its skin. That will remove the scars entirely. In the short term…" James sighed as he stopped.

Pushing her own anger and regret to the side, she sidled up to her husband. Wrapping her arm about his waist shot a jet of spurious desire through her belly. Shoving it aside, she gave him a squeeze with an understanding expression to match. It was evident that James was feeling much the same as Lily; the regret and anger was plain on his face for those with the eyes to see.

Nodding to her in understanding, he finished, "In the short term, we talked about Notice-Me-Not charms or the like." He shook his head, "Our son is such a Gryffindor. He looked me in the eye before he asked, `Do the scars embarrass you, Dad?' I almost wept. How could I ever be embarrassed because of that?

"When I told him `No' he turned to Sirius. Padfoot shook his head `No' also. I thought the old man was going to either start crying or go break back into Azkaban to kill your sister. Harry looked out the windows over the bay for a long minute, just thinking. Turning back to us, he told us, `Hermione said they don't bother her. They don't bother you so I won't let them bother me. If I do, then the Dursleys win and I'll be damned if I do that'."

Lily's eyes brimmed over with pride and love.

James sniffled in his emotion. "He's such a good lad. Brave, courageous and just a good lad…"

"A man," Lily corrected. Anyone capable of such maturity in the face of adversity of this kind had earned the title of `Man'.

Again, James nodded his concurrence with his wife. "Man, you're right."

Sighing explosively, he continued, "So we came down here and had fun. Harry's not so good at swimming, so Padfoot and I showed him how. Once he got the basics down, he was like a frog out there," he jabbed his thumb into the bay. "He saw someone going by on this little sailboat thing that you stand on so now he's keen to do that."

"Is it what you've dreamed?" she asked. Long ago when they were first dating, James had told Lily that he imagined having a son with whom he could participate in his growing up. James' father had been very old during James formative years. Despite his near reverence for Charlus Potter, James had missed playing Quidditch or just having a hike in the woods around Rowan Hill with his Dad.

Now, Prongs was being allowed to do that he wished for with his own son. Lily could nearly see the deep satisfaction welling up within her husband. His firm nod told volumes. Holding out her hand, she nodded up the beach the opposite direction Sirius and Hestia had gone. "Walk with me?"

She was surprised but gratified at the seriousness of his expression when he told her, "Always."

.oOo.

"I'm so sorry."

Sirius scrunched up his face, so Hestia couldn't get a read on his emotions. Assailed by nerves, she belatedly realized that Sirius and Hermione were a package deal. For that matter, so too were the Potters and Remus Lupin. Was she prepared to have an immediate family?

Too late now for second thoughts, she chastised herself. Closing her eyes, she let Sirius guide her down the strand as he considered the situation.

His deep sigh brought her round. "I love you," he began, "But you must understand that for all intents and purposes Hermione is my daughter - will be our daughter. She and Harry have been through some extraordinary circumstances. Some of which you are aware, much you are not. When they become more secure with you and trust you, I'm sure they will tell you their stories."

Taken aback, she wanted to blurt out a query as to why these two mid-teens were accorded the respect and liberties of adults. Fortunately, her long discipline in the political sphere paid off. His statement, "much you are not" came back to her. Whatever had occurred of which she was unaware must be significant. His parents and hers allowed them to share a bed whilst here in the islands and accorded them much respect and autonomy.

The situation kept revolving around trust. James and Lily trust Harry and Hermione. Sirius trusts Hermione and Harry. Harry and Hermione need to trust Hestia. It occurred to her that she needed to trust Sirius. Trust that he would not lead her astray nor allow the teens to go astray as well.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

His question jolted her from her musings. Horrified, she stared at him blankly for a long minute. Her beautiful features distorted in shock and dismay at his question, she gazed at him fixedly.

The knife twisted in her gut when his face fell. "I'm sorry I can't be the man you want, the man you deserve," he whispered. Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips before turning away.

Now that she had him, the concept of life without him was abhorrence. Hurting him was a dagger in her heart. Dammit, her body wouldn't respond! He was leaving. He was leaving her forever. Walking right out of her life. "No…" she croaked.

Confused, he turned back.

"No…don't go. I love you. I need you. I'm sorry, please don't go."

His confusion melted to resigned humour. Gathering her into his arms, he gave a weak chuckle. Ignoring his mood for the moment, she burrowed into his arms. Nestling her cheek against his hairy chest, she savoured the experience. Why would he ever think that she didn't want him? His parents' treatment of him? Damage from Azkaban? The apparent loss of the Potters along with the actual loss of Peter? All the above?

"Let's get something straight," she began. Pulling back, she looked him in the eye. "We may quarrel, but I'll always want you." Poking him on the sternum, she rebuked him, "I'm actually disappointed that you gave up on us so easily." The more she thought about it, the more she understood his issues. While a bit disappointed, she said that more to make a point than anything.

His face fell again. Damn! she exclaimed to herself. She kept stepping in it no matter how hard she tried. "Look, let's move forward. I'll trust you, James and Lily on the Hermione and Harry situation, while you trust me to never leave you." Grabbing his chin, Hestia forced him to look her in the eye. "Never," she repeated.

They resumed their walk. Tenderly, she wrapped her arm back into his. Laying her head on his shoulder, she apologized, "I'm sorry I'm bollixing all this up. I'm not very good at this relationship thing." Sirius was her second lover and only serious adult relationship.

He puffed his chest a bit. Flinging his free hand out in a dramatic pose, he boomed, "Fortunately for you, my delectable Miss Jones, you are affianced to the massively competent and capable Sirius Black. Padfoot of the Marauders, Leader of Men, Lover of Women, Beloved by One and All; He who slays dragons with naught but a feather…"

She couldn't help but burst into a fit of the giggles. Leaning on him, she squeaked, "I love you, you maniac."

.oOo.

Dinner that evening started with a slightly tense atmosphere. After a passionate lovemaking, Hermione told Harry of the `dispute' with Hestia. To his credit, he was more upset by the situation than she was.

"Don't worry about it, love," she cooed as they exited the shower. "Your Mum was great." When Hermione told him of Lily's defence of her, Harry's heart warmed. No matter how many times his parents demonstrated their love for him and those that he held dear, it was a surprise every time. It seemed reflexive for him to expect to be let down or even maliciously trampled underfoot at every opportunity.

For his Mum to stand up for his girlfriend so forcefully and definitively was just one more sign to him that life was entirely different from the Dursley days.

Shaking his head as he buttoned the ivory coloured linen shirt his girlfriend and Mum had purchased for him, he admired Hermione as she dressed.

"Damn," he muttered in admiration.

Hermione shot him a curious expression over her shoulder. Seeing where his eyes were focused, she wagged her naked bum at him before slipping her lacy knickers up to her waist.

Smiling, he pulled his tan trousers on before belting up. He loved the sexy give and take with his girlfriend. Granted, the bedplay was beyond fantastic, but the intimate play between them out of the bed was just as important to him.

Shoeless, he sidled up behind her after she pulled her dress over her head. After she straightened the top, he wrapped his arms about her waist. She laid her head back on his shoulder without prompting. Smiling, he breathed deeply of her. Her subtle perfume accentuated that natural scent which was wholly Hermione.

He was realizing that he was a romantic. Maybe it was due to his emotionally starved upbringing, but regardless of the cause, Harry revelled in their relationship. Nothing could replace her in his life, nor did he want a replacement. Most persons don't realize contentment in their lives. Some do at a later age, but Harry Potter, at age fourteen and one half was content. He had the young woman who was his best friend, his lover and the woman of his world. His parents had returned from the dead, his godfather from the brink of insanity and prison and his uncle from exile.

"I love you."

"As I love you," she replied in a low, serious voice. Turning her in his arms, he saw that she was near tears.

"Why?"

His simple word caused a ribbon of wetness down her left cheek. As he tenderly wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, she answered in a near whisper. "I've never imagined being so happy, so…content." Framing his face with her delicate hands, she leaned forward as she earnestly told him, "You make it all possible, Harry. All you."

He smiled at the simultaneity of their contemplations before kissing her. "Come on; let's go have dinner with our family." They slipped their naked feet into shoes before heading to the door.

Laughing for the sheer joy of life, she threw back her head. Her tight curls loose, it was a glorious riot of chestnut, brown and steaks of blonde. Her face the personification of happiness and joy, she radiated bliss. An enthusiastic kiss was the prelude to her skipping from the villa down the path to the Sugar Mill Restaurant.

Hestia was waiting outside the restaurant for the teens. Harry saw her wave to them as the teens approached. Moving to the side of the path, the three magicals had a bit of privacy. Hestia didn't waste time. Facing The Smartest Witch of the Age, she reiterated to Hermione, "I'm sorry for earlier. As I'm sure you've figured, I'm still working out how this family interacts. I was an only child with no extended family, so I've little experience in these matters."

"And I'm sure that Sirius didn't do you any favours by not explaining our family dynamic," Hermione graciously conceded. It was evident that Hestia sincerely felt remorse over her earlier attitude.

"True," Hestia replied. Hesitantly, she told the teens, "He said that you two have extraordinary stories and have earned the right to be treated as adults. Whenever you're ready, I'm more than willing to listen."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. While not very happy with the blonde witch, he had to admit that there seemed to be no malice in her intent. Maybe someday soon he'd be willing to tell her a story or two. Making the first step, he smiled, "I hear from Dad and Mum that this restaurant is pretty good." Holding the door for the ladies, they trooped inside in much lighter spirits than they'd had not five minutes earlier.

The four star restaurant, complemented by the spa and coupled with the luxurious setting and lodgings earned Rosewood Little Dix Bay's four diamond rating. The Sugar Mill lived up to its billing that evening. The three couples laughed and told stories the night though as they feasted on miso glazed grouper, five-spiced pork belly and Mediterranean sea bass with soba noodles. Wine flowed as spirits soared.

Harry met his father's gaze across the candlelit table as the sun set. Raising his glass, Harry toasted his hero.

James smiled broadly, toasting his son in return.

Hermione's hand wormed into his own, giving him a squeeze. Glancing about the table, he felt a pang for Remus' absence, but was nonetheless surrounded by love and family. Could it get any better?

.oOo.

Harry lay on his back, soaking up the Caribbean sun. Next to him, Hermione lay on her stomach, reading a book. Earlier, he'd told her, "You know, I think I should spread this suntan lotion on you to keep up appearances. Don't want the muggles to think anything's out of the ordinary."

She grinned as her eyes narrowed. "You just want an excuse to grope me in public."

"Yup."

Laughing, she lay down on her stomach, untying the strings of her top as she did so. Neither complained too much about Harry's ministrations, though. Strangely enough, soon James and Sirius began to apply lotion to their witches as well.

"How's it going?" he asked. Hermione was reading a book about magical combat and tactics.

"It's fascinating," she commented causing him to smile. Had she ever read anything that wasn't fascinating?

"You really need to read this. The author does a very good job at breaking down the types of engagements from skirmishes, duel type combat, massed forces in a meeting engagement and asymmetrical warfare. Very interesting. There's a whole science to the approach."

"Really?" Harry commented, rolling over to his stomach to read over her shoulder.

Tilting the book toward her man, she showed him a moving diagram showing how to infiltrate a magically defiladed position using a combination of charms and transfiguration. The noise most magicals cause when Apparating ruled that form of travel out for scouting purposes.

"Hunh," he commented as he reached for the book. Smacking his hand, Hermione tutted.

"You'll get your turn." Smiling impishly, she told him, "My back needs more suntan lotion. Be a dear and take care of that for me?"

"As you wish," he replied, meaning far more than he said.

.oOo.

The sweat poured off him as he sat bolt upright in their bed. Chest heaving and eyes wide, he panted like a racehorse. The terror of the dream still about him like a stench, he looked this way and that trying to find his pursuer. His pulse throbbing in his ears like the war drums of old, Harry forcefully swallowed the scream that was forcing its way up his throat.

"Harry?" she asked.

Slim hands took him in an embrace. His body was taut as steel cords as he resisted the comfort and security offered. Nearly snarling, he pulled away.

"Harry?" she asked again, but this time it was an entirely different question.

"He's coming."

Dimly, as if through a dirty pool of water, he saw her eyes widen. "Now? Did you have another dream?"

Swallowing another snarl, he jerkily shook his head.

"Love…" she began. He knew she was trying to offer him comfort and sanctuary. In her arms he'd always felt secure, but right then, he didn't want to be safe. The sharp edge of danger beckoned and a part of him responded with a will. The beast that lives within us all bellowed and raged to be let loose.

"I want this over. I want him dead. I want to be free."

Her arms surrounded him. Intellectually, he knew that he loved her with all his being. This knowledge did nothing to either assuage his high emotion or allow him to take refuge in her arms. Shaking her off as gently as he could, Harry turned on her. "Don't you get it? He'll never stop. Never." His voice was a harsh bark; not nasty but very far from friendly nonetheless. He couldn't explain his emotional state, but he was angry. Angry and even furious in reaction to what he was feeling.

Harry had always been a survivor. As a survivor, he'd fought back as best he could in any and all situations where he was in danger. Many times, he was overpowered, but he always fought back never submitting to his opponent. At the Dursleys', he fought back in his meekness and subservience. Beat him they would. Belittle and attempt to degrade him they did. Never did he submit. Never did he give in to them.

This evening, though, it was a wave of despair surrounding and engulfing him. During the long years in Surrey, there were many nights when he lay curled up in a ball inside the cupboard under the stairs nursing wounds and hurts. The pain - both physical and emotional - drove him to despondency. Wondering if he'd ever be loved, ever be happy, Harry nearly gave up on more than one occasion. There was always a glimmer of hope, though. He knew that someday he'd be free of them. The three times he ran away, but returned by the police, hadn't daunted him in the least.

Tonight, though, he didn't have that glimmer of hope. Voldemort was a psychopath who was relentless and remorseless. Never forgetting, never forgiving, the wizard born Tom Riddle would always want the body of Harry Potter broken and dead at his feet. The man could conquer all of Britain and still pursue Harry for he knew Harry could be his death.

And so he was angry. The survivor in him shrieked defiance against the inevitability of his murder. He bucked and screamed against the night. He'd read Dylan Thomas' famous poem in primary school and immediately comprehended and consumed by the spirit of the piece: Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night.

It seemed that the violence of his emotions was heightened because he'd pushed Voldemort to the side for a few days. For a few days, he'd forgotten. "He'll never stop," Harry repeated in a harsh muted scream.

Harry flinched when he saw Hermione's expression. Eyes steely, she glared at him, "I completely understand that fact, my love. I also understand what you're feeling right now, so I'm not too upset. However, if you keep shouting at me, I don't think I'll be so understanding for much longer."

Deflating, he turned to the large open window. The warm tropical breeze wafted through the room, billowing the voile curtains. He knew that she was trying to shock him out of his panic with her words, that she wasn't upset with him. It worked to an extent.

The rage and frustration that was mixed with fear peaked before burning out, leaving only the fear behind.

Gripping the windowpane, he leaned forward as he began to weep.

Once again, slim hands encircled him. This time, he welcomed the comfort. This time, he turned to his best friend and beloved, not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. Muffled as it was in her hair, he was fairly sure she heard him.

"I understand. Don't worry about it, love." Her embrace was a promise of better days, a testimony to the joy of their present and a demonstration of all they'd come through. Despite the inexorable monster that was Voldemort, with Hermione he had hope. Wiping his face, he calmed in her arms.

"Now I understand," he told her.

Nodding, she concurred, "Neither can live while the other survives."

He was silent in his agreement. Leaning back on the windowpane, he pulled her close. "For you," he pledged. For her he would scale the mountains and swim the seas. For her he would walk through fire and battle the darkness. For her, he would face and kill the most powerful Dark Wizard that Britain had seen in a score of centuries.

Hermione Granger-Black was a very determined witch. On many occasions, Harry had seen her display what some called stubbornness, others wilfulness. Whatever one called it, she possessed a force of human will that Harry found to be impressive. When she looked up into his face that early morning in the moonlight, it took the dark haired young man's breath away.

In this moment, she was beyond persistent or even headstrong. The set of her mouth, the slight narrowing of her eyes coupled with a slight flaring of her nostrils conveyed an unshakable truth to which she gave word a moment later.

"You will triumph. You will beat him and you will live."

At that moment, Harry felt that he could not only defeat Voldemort, but he could complete the tasks of Heracles should he only have this slip of a woman at his side. With Hermione, he could do anything.

Forcefully pulling him to her, he kissed her passionately. She gave as good as she got, dragging him down to her, raking her hands down his back. Hiking her legs about his waist, he carried her to the bed. In the haze of their passion and emotion, they joined in determination; as a promise to each other. Neither would let the other go on alone. Neither would let the other go gently into that good night.

.oOo.

Sirius watched Harry from the parlour. His godson was on the patio that overlooked the bay. Staring out to the sea, Harry had the look of preoccupation mixed with a seriousness that was becoming a far too familiar expression on the teenaged Potter.

Intellectually, Sirius understood that Harry was buried underneath the implications of the horrible Prophecy. Over time, he was digging out from the horror that it portended. Sirius was not a patient man so he was sick of Harry suffering from his demons.

Opening the sliding door, the fresh breeze swirled about him. The linen shirt flapped in the breeze as Sirius padded barefoot out to stand next to Harry. Silent, he stood next to his godson, waiting.

Finally, he gave in to his curiosity. "Bad night?"

"Yeah."

The tone of the one word spoke volumes. After another long pause, Sirius asked, "Want to talk about it?"

Shrugging, Harry muttered, "Not really."

Exasperated, Sirius abandoned the tactful and delicate path. It'd never worked for him before so he wasn't surprised that it failed now. "Let me rephrase. Tell me what happened."

The wry grin on Harry's face gave Sirius a jolt. It couldn't be that bad if he could smile about it.

Then the grin disappeared.

Crap.

"Just a bad dream about Voldemort."

Sirius cocked an eyebrow in disbelief that he'd been told the entire truth. After another long pause - Sirius was becoming quite annoyed by these pauses but smothered it - he prompted, "And?"

"And nothing. Just a bad dream."

Sighing, Sirius laid a hand on his godson's shoulder, "Kiddo, you've got to realize that we're here for you in the bad times as well as the good. I'm your godfather; James is your Dad and so on. We want to help you through these times. Anyone would be raving should they find themselves in your shoes. It's completely understandable for you to be upset about this situation." Pulling a face, he added, "In fact, I'd think you mad as a hatter if you weren't upset by this."

Harry stared out to sea again. Like a sliver of light at sunrise, Sirius heard Harry say, "I talked with Hermione about it, but I…" Shaking his head, he looked down. "I need help, Padfoot."

Sirius was surprised. He'd never heard of Harry asking for help before. "How can I help? Name it."

"I don't know. Kill Voldemort for me?" he mused with weak humour.

"I wish I could," and he meant it. If Sirius could take the cup from his godson, he would in a minute even if it would be his own death. Sirius loved with a fierce passion and he loved his godson as his own blood. Related to this love for Harry was Sirius' love for Hermione. Harry had brought the young woman who Sirius considered his daughter. Padfoot could never repay the gift.

Squeezing Harry's shoulder again, he told him, "I'll be here at your side the entire time. I'll fight with you, bleed with you and kill with you." When Harry turned to face Sirius, the older man was surprised that he'd shed a tear. "I'll die with you should it come to that."

"I hope it doesn't."

"So do I." He stared into Harry's eyes for along moment, "But I would."

His words had the impact he desired for Harry's expression lifted a bit. Not only Hermione, but also Sirius would stand by his side until the end. Sirius knew that James and Lily were there as well and it seemed that Harry knew this also.

When he was dying inch by inch in the cold wet dungeons of Azkaban, the worst part had been the crushing loneliness. The pervading sense of aloneness had nearly murdered Sirius during more than one long night. Knowing that he wasn't alone -nor would he ever be so - must have been an enormous relief to The Boy-Who-Lived.

"I love you, Sirius."

It was the first time that Harry had ever said the words. He'd shown it many times, but it was the first time he'd ever said it. Roughly embracing each other, Sirius muttered into Harry's hair, "I love you too, Harry. Very much."

.oOo.

Harry was windsurfing and having the time of his life. Much harder than riding a broom, it still inspired that free feeling that his old Nimbus or the Firebolt created. It had taken him a few days to get the hang of it. Figuring out how to balance his weight to drive the board through the waves coupled with working the wind wasn't easy. Harry decided windsurfing was a close second to riding his broom. He had just cleared the top of a wave and was suspended in mid-air as if God Himself was supporting him when the Communication charm sounded in his ear.

"Come in now. We need to go home."

Harry's wipe out was of near epic proportions. Surfacing, he spit out what seemed like a litre of saltwater as he glared at the beach. His Dad was standing on the sand, fully dressed and all alone. Narrowing his eyes, Harry re mounted his board before hurriedly riding it ashore. Striding through the surf, he called out to James, "What's going on?"

James glanced up and down the beach. Seeing no one observing them, he shrunk the windsurfer. "I'll take this back, you head up to the Villa to get cleaned up and pack. I'll explain when I get back."

Frowning, Harry trotted up the path, his board shorts slapping against his bronze skin. They were due to leave the next day anyway, so their vacation wasn't cut too short, but his Dad's sombre expression set Harry on guard.

The Villa seemed to be the headquarters of pandemonium. Sirius was hollering from his and Hestia's room about where the gift was that he'd bought Remus at the local shopping area in Spanish Town. Lily was shouting back at him that he was a "bloody fool who'd lose his bloody head if it weren't stapled to his bloody neck."

Ignoring the adults, he scurried up to his and Hermione's room. Opening the door, he ducked as flying clothes leapt from the drawers to land in their shared suitcase. Hermione's mumbled, "Sorry about that," went unheeded as their shoes jumped out of the closet, shrinking as they went. The miniature footwear landed in the suitcase with a soft clatter.

She pointed to a pile of cold weather clothes on the chair. "Right," he said in understanding. Scooping them up, he headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. By the time he was clean, dry and dressed the family was all packed and gathered in the hallway. Scampering down the steps, he saw Sirius enchant a portkey as James Apparated into the hallway from wherever he'd gone.

"Come on," James encouraged.

"Wait a bloody minute," Harry exclaimed. Putting his foot down literally and figuratively, he demanded, "What is going on?"

Without blinking, James replied, "The Death Eater contingent in the Wizengamot is making a push on some legislation."

Frowning, Harry asked, "Like?"

"Like legalizing hunting sentient magical creatures."

"What? Centaurs and whatnot?"

Sirius nodded, holding up a multi-page letter. "And with the way the law is written, that would also include Werewolves, Goblins and even Unicorns. Moony says that it's a rider to the DMLE appropriations bill. The vote is tomorrow."

Without further comment or question, Harry reached for the portkey.

"Activate," Sirius incanted. The magical vortex whirled the six people to the Terrance B. Letham International Airport and Portal facility

.oOo.

Another OMAKE from Bob. This time, it's the teens' response to Neville's selection as Harry's hostage. Enjoy…

"Mr Potter, please! Can't you talk to him?" pleaded Minerva.

James looked at her critically. "Minerva," he said with a sigh. "We've tried talking to him, and he refuses to budge."

"What about Hermione? Surely she can make him give in," pressed the haggard Deputy.

Lily barked a laugh. "Give in? Minerva if I know Hermione, she probably helped."

Minerva collapsed in her chair and waved the note that read. "What was good for my God brother is good for meddling arseholes."

"It's been two weeks and we've checked every lake within fifty miles of the school and we still can't find Dumbledore!" she exclaimed. "Longbottom and your son refuse to say what they did with him!"

James shrugged. "I'm sorry Minerva but you can't honestly expect me to care much about what happens to Albus Dumbledore."

She sighed and nodded unhappily. "I'll go tell the board that it looks like he's taking an extended leave."

Lily smiled sympathetically at her as she left the room. A moment later Harry walked in followed by Neville, Susan and Hermione.

"Harry," Lily said in a pained tone, "Please tell me that Dumbledore is alive and safe?"

"And where is he?" pressed James, "They've checked every lake and river for miles."

Neville grinned. "Oh he's due to wake up in about an hour. I'm surprised that no one found him since technically he never left the castle grounds."

All four teens broke out in laughter.

"Where is he?" pressed James.

Harry buffed his nails. "Well if it was ok to put Neville into the lake we figured it was ok to put him someplace wet too."

Hermione collapsed on to a chair in a fit of giggles.

"But where is he?" James repeated.

"The castle septic tank," replied Harry. "Up to his neck and enchanted with a flotation charm to keep his head above the mess."

"Mischief Managed," Neville said calmly.

A/N

1. I own nothing. Thanks to all who reviewed the first nine chapters. Story status, as always, can be found on my Author's page on FanFiction(dot)net.

2. Recommendation for the chapter is …you tell me. I'm too tired to find one, so give me your recommendations.

3. I wrote nearly the entire spa scene while listening to `In My Time of Dying' but Led Zeppelin followed by `Cygnus X-1' by Rush. It's not too hard considering the songs' length, plus they're incredibly good tunes.

4. Yes, I really meant to use the word `defiladed', not defended. No inane comments about word choice. There's an amazing new invention called a `Dictionary'. Just out. Try it before making a absurd suggestion.

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