Four Weddings & A Funeral

The next morning, Harry woke and automatically reached for Hermione. She wasn't there. Then he realised he was still wearing yesterday's jeans and shirt and that he wasn't even under the duvet - he'd fallen asleep on top of the covers. It was then that the memory of the events of the previous night slammed into him and he groaned. He was alone.

Hermione!

He felt a physical pain clenching and twisting at his insides as her name echoed in his head. He rolled onto his back and pushed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, wishing he hadn't woken up - not wanting to face the day with the knowledge that she'd gone. And it's my fault!

He'd been so certain that he'd done the right thing, for the right reasons. Hermione was more precious to him than literally anyone or anything else in the world - he would never risk anything happening to her again. Wasn't that good enough reason? Wasn't it?

Dumbledore's voice came back to haunt him.

'Harry, you need to think very carefully about this. Very carefully. I don't believe you are doing the right thing in not telling Miss Granger.'

'Of course it's the right thing!' was his vehement reply. 'How can it not be right to protect someone you love? How can it not be right to do everything you can to make sure they're not hurt -' his voice took on an even deeper tone, edged with desperation '- and that they're not taken away from you!'

'I didn't say what you want to do is wrong, just the fact that you don't intend to inform Miss Granger.'

Damn the old man to hell - he'd been right! He had known it at some level but he'd ignored it. Because she wouldn't have wanted him to do it. That's why. She would have said no. And he couldn't have that. It had to be done!

Hermione! Again her name reverberated inside his head.

And Neville. How easy it would be to blame all this on him because he'd let the kneazle out of the bag.

But Neville had been right, too, he thought bitterly. On the morning, a few days before Dean and Ginny's engagement party at the Burrow, he'd gone to his friend's office having decided to tell him, their conversation still clear in his memory...

'The Cautus Contego Charm? What's that? I haven't heard of such a spell before...' Neville frowned in puzzlement at his friend who had turned up unexpectedly and told him a rather startling tale.

'It's probably easier to think of it just as the Safe Keeping Charm - I do. Because it keeps Hermione safe. You haven't heard of it before because Dumbledore and I created it - it's based on some very old magic, which Dumbledore's more familiar with than any wizard alive. He helped me tailor it specifically for me and Hermione.'

'To do what exactly?' asked, Neville, still perplexed.

'To keep Hermione safe by alerting me instantly if she's ever in serious danger.'

'How?'

'Well, if anyone within "striking" distance of Hermione - physical or magical - intends or moves to harm her in any way, the spell will detect it and while Hermione will notice nothing, I will be alerted by, well, for the want of a better word, a "sense" of light - a glow - around me which will last for a minute or so during which time I'll be able to Apparate to Hermione's precise location, without actually knowing where she is.'

Neville shook his head in amazement. Only Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter between them could come up with such a spell.

'And without knowing the full repercussions of this never-before-used and untried spell, Hermione was fine with it?'

Dead silence. Harry looked down at his hands which he began rubbing nervously along his jean clad thighs.

'Holy Mother of Merlin, Harry! You haven't told her? Are you mad? It's an untried spell - what if it goes wrong or doesn't work, at least not the way it's intended?' Neville gaped at Harry. Not being raised in Wizarding ways, Harry wouldn't be ingrained with the knowledge that "good and decent" adult witches or wizards would NEVER place a spell or charm on another without their knowledge or consent, certainly not one with unknown consequences! There would be total chaos if everyone in the Wizarding world went around casting any spell they liked on anyone they wanted to. And Dumbledore had agreed to this? Harry must've pushed a lot of the old man's buttons, he thought.

Harry shook his head. 'Dumbledore wouldn't make a mistake with magic and Hermione doesn't need to know, does she? I mean, if it's ever activated she won't be aware of it. But I'll be able to get her.' And that's all that matters. The unexpected occurrence at the Burrow had caused him to temporarily question the veracity of the charm despite his confidence in his own abilities and even more so in Dumbledore's knowledge. Even so, his belief in Dumbledore's abilities was deeply ingrained... He lifted his head then and looked squarely at Neville. Neville became aware of that sense of power that Harry sometimes radiated without being aware of it. His voice dropped and sounded more forceful as he continued, 'No one will be able to even think about harming her in any way without my knowledge. I'll be able to protect her. She can't be taken away from me.' Not again! The unspoken words echoed in his head. What happened before would not happen again - ever!

Neville shook his head sadly. 'Despite that, you're wrong not to tell her Harry and you know it.'

The words echoed in Harry's head as he returned to the present and realised he felt cold, the bed creaking slightly as he rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself, drawing his knees up, his eyes still closed. Neville's words from their conversation a few weeks ago lingered insistently in his mind. "You're wrong, Harry...you know it"... He groaned. That had been before the party at the Burrow...before he'd used the memory charm out of sheer, unthinking desperation...he needed no one to tell him now how wrong that had been... but he'd lifted it as soon as she'd asked...he chose in that moment to ignore the thought trying to surface, "It shouldn't have been placed on her to begin with."

As the memory faded, he kept his eyes closed, despite being fully awake. He didn't want to open his eyes to a day without her. I'll just stay here until she comes back! he thought wildly. But she mightn't come back. She mightn't forgive me. It was as though the mere thought that she mightn't ever be here with him again turned to a river of pain that coursed through him and he groaned under his breath. What will I do if she doesn't come back? Living without her was incomprehensible. I'll go and see her, that's what I'll do! Explain why I did it - ask her to forgive me - beg her to forgive me! I'll tell her she can trust me never to do such a thing again. Surely I can make her understand... surely...

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione woke and wondered why the morning light was coming from the wrong side of the room. As she rolled onto her back and looked at the window she remembered with an awful sinking feeling that she wasn't at home with Harry - she was in her old bedroom at her parents' home.

Her mum and dad had been very happy to see her, although somewhat shocked at her sudden arrival. When she'd finally owled them from the Burrow about her engagement to Harry, they'd rung her at home the next day, excited and full of congratulations, begging her to come and visit and to bring Harry, too, of course. Last night, however, when she told them she needed to be away from Harry for a little while, but couldn't yet talk about why, they'd looked a little confused. Despite being deeply concerned, they knew they would have to wait until Hermione was ready to talk to them to find out more.

Harry! Why? She turned onto her side and buried her face in her pillow. What had possessed him to do such a thing without asking her? And it was a totally new, unused and untried charm! And the memory charm - she could hardly believe he'd done it, no matter how desperate! How could he? An anguished question. How could he! An angry accusation. And having this charm hanging over her head waiting to be activated, without her being able to do anything about it, made her feel, somehow, like a marked woman. She knew it was ridiculous, and yet the feeling persisted. She knew now it was connected with what had happened at Dean and Ginny's party - but why? How? So many unanswered questions...

A maelstrom of emotions was at war inside her. She was furious at Harry. She felt hurt and betrayed. Yet still she felt as though half of her had been ripped away because she wasn't with him. She wanted him here, his arms around her, telling her it was all right - that everything was all right... but it wasn't all right. Never once, in all the years she'd known him, had she ever doubted she could trust him. Never. Not once. And now? Her world had been turned upside down, by the one person she'd always thought would be her anchor. Had always been her anchor. She had no idea what to do. None. And there was no one to help her... no Harry... and then the tears came. She cried for a long time.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Harry did try to see her that day, but she wouldn't see him - she was still too confused and afraid that if she did see him, she'd throw herself into his arms and while she wanted to do that more than anything else, she also knew she needed to think this whole incident through without Harry - she needed to come to terms with this unknown magical charm that was now part of her and over which she had no control. She could hear her mother's soft, sorrowful voice as she explained to Harry that Hermione couldn't see him today but that she'd contact him soon.

Harry had returned to their flat and magically sealed it - he didn't want to risk someone coming by - he didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. Except Hermione. He just wanted Hermione.

After Harry left she managed to tell her parents what had happened and then retreated to her room - to cry again. They were a little bewildered by it all, not being so familiar with the Wizarding world, but they did know that their daughter was both terribly hurt and angry.

That night, Harry did something he'd never done before in his life. He drank to forget.

He tried to see her the next day, too. She still refused. So that night he drank again.

After his third attempt to see her failed, he gave up. He began to drink every night because it would guarantee him eight to ten hours of unconsciousness. Eight to ten hours without pain. Or memories. He felt as though he was existing inside a nightmare that only Hermione could wake him from.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione woke on what was to be the first day Harry didn't attempt to see her and realised she needed to go back to work, that she couldn't stay away indefinitely. So saying, she Flooed directly into her office (remembering to correctly bypass the Protector Charms) to avoid seeing anyone (not to mention avoiding a visit from a very irate Neville) and buried herself in her beloved books, staying shut away in her office. Priscilla, who, on walking in to what she had expected to be an empty office, got quite a fright when she found Hermione sitting there, pouring over some parchments. However, after several attempts, Priscilla stopped trying to talk about whatever it was that was wrong finding that Hermione steadfastly refused to be drawn beyond saying she'd "been under the weather".

Priscilla, of course, mentioned all this to Neville who was very aware of his girlfriend's concern for Hermione. When he'd received Hermione's note cancelling his scheduled visit with her and Harry and in which she'd said she was going to visit her parents, he was certain that she'd confronted Harry with what he'd told her over lunch and that it hadn't gone well. Not surprising, knowing Hermione, he thought. However, he felt his two long time friends deserved their privacy and he didn't tell Priscilla what he knew although he hoped fervently that Hermione and Harry would find a way to sort out their problems very soon. He admitted to himself that it was because he felt partly responsible for the current situation that he'd feel better when they did resolve it. He maintained his faith that it would turn out for the best in the long run.

Hermione spent the minimum time possible at work. At home, she spent her time mostly thinking or crying, and evenings talking with her mum or dad. Her father had simply said one night that while it may be seen as having been the wrong thing to do, he thought Harry's reasons were valid. He'd said it very kindly, of course, but Hermione couldn't help but feel that he was somehow taking Harry's side. Her mother had said later that it was an intrinsic male trait to want to protect those they loved. 'Women have that too!' she'd cried indignantly. 'I would do anything to protect Harry!'

Her mother had nodded, then said quietly, 'Hermione, yours is a special and rare case because the man you love has never really known real love. Harry has never had anyone to love the way he does you and certainly no one ever loved him in his life the way you do. And he's already once suffered the torture of thinking he'd lost you forever. I think he's just not prepared to consider the possibility of it ever happening again. I'd be terrified of that if I was him - I'm terrified of it as your mother!' She smiled ruefully at her daughter. 'And I don't doubt he knows, as I do, that you wouldn't have agreed to such measures being the independent and pragmatic person you are, so he obviously felt he had to go about it the way he did. Trust his love for you and look to your heart, it will tell you the truth.' In some far flung corner of her mind, Hermione knew this to be true although it still took her some days before she would allow the thought entry into her conscious mind.

Not long afterwards, there came the night Hermione knew it was time. She was sitting on her bed, her legs curled under her and a book open beside her; Crookshanks was curled up next to her and Hedwig was on the perch Hermione had conjured for her. She'd returned to Hermione after delivering her note to Neville and stayed for a couple of days. She'd left one morning but had returned that evening although Hermione had no way of knowing why she hadn't stayed with Harry. She spoke softly, both animals looking at her, 'I think it's time to go home.' She swore they both looked at her with tacit agreement in their eyes.

***** ***** ***** **** ***** *****

It had been about ten days since Hermione had left and Harry was standing at his bedroom window, staring out unseeingly having only woken a few minutes before, his head feeling heavy and thick from the previous night's dose of Ogden's. When Hedwig unexpectedly landed on the window sill, looking rather crossly at him, Harry immediately opened the window to let her in, realising that she wouldn't have been able to penetrate the seal he'd placed on the flat and must've been with Hermione this whole time. He felt a sharp stab of guilt that he hadn't given her one thought since Hermione left as he took her down to the kitchen to give her some food and water, apologising softly on the way and stroking her gently. He sat down at the kitchen table with the note Hedwig had brought, his hands shaking as he unrolled it. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the familiar handwriting. She was coming home! Tonight! His head dropped onto his arms, the piece of parchment still in his grip and he did something he'd only ever done a handful of times in his life: he cried.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ginny Flooed into Dean's flat that afternoon and dropping all her purchases, threw herself on the large, soft couch facing the fireplace, kicking her shoes off and sighing happily at the soothing comfort that spread to every bone in her shopped-out body. Putting her hands behind her head, she crossed her ankles and lay there, smiling at the ceiling, enjoying her own happiness. It was only three weeks until her wedding day! She felt that knot of excitement form in her stomach that always made its presence felt when she thought of Sunday, the 14^th of September: her wedding day. Her dress was all ready - it was at the Burrow where she would, of course, be getting ready. Visions of herself and her bridesmaids - Hermione, Luna and Priscilla - danced through her head. They all looked wonderful of course...and there was Dean, looking positively edible! She smiled as her daydream whirled around in her head - Dean, waiting for her, Harry next to him, then Ron and Neville, all smiling at her as she walked towards them...

Today, she'd gone shopping for clothes for her honeymoon with her Mum who'd been in particularly high spirits. The bridesmaids' dresses had been chosen, all the flowers ordered, their hairstyles decided upon and the honeymoon arranged; the venue was set and now it was just a matter of waiting. Her eyelids closed gently and against their backdrop she saw not more visions of her wedding but for the first time in almost two weeks, she dreamt once more of him...

She was in her old flat... in bed...she'd heard footsteps echoing along the hallway and had gotten up to see who it was. When she saw him walking towards her she froze, her heart pounding...his black robes rippled as his long legs brought him closer and closer...she was unable to speak, to move - to think! He spoke her name, his voice a cold echo in her stricken mind. Get out! she cried, but she made no sound. He stood before her, looking down at her, smiling a little as his eyes quickly travelled over her - all of her and that's when she realised she was wearing only her bra and panties and she felt panic rise within her and still she couldn't move! Then his voice throbbed with longing as he spoke her name and now she felt herself melt, her head falling back and her eyes closing as his lips found the soft, sensitive skin of her neck and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. She could feel the soft silk of his robes against her bare skin. He lifted his head and those grey eyes looked into hers. His were full of love and desire - hers looked back at him with unseen anguish. Then he was kissing her, his tongue demanding entrance. She was powerless to resist. While part of her screamed "No!" her arms wound themselves around his neck and pushed her hips into his searching for that hardness she wanted him to plunge into her...she was moaning softly...

'Christ! Ginny! Ginny! Wake up!'

...she was walking backwards, still in his embrace; he was saying her name over and over, his voice hoarse with desire, his hands travelling over her whole body, greedy for her softness. Merlin how she wanted him! She felt the bed against the back of her legs and slowly fell back, taking him with her...

'Oh Christ, Ginny, please, Ginny, wake up!'

She pushed her hands through his thick, blonde locks, her touch seeming to incense him. He renewed his assault on her lips, kissing her deeply, his tongue claiming hers... 'You're mine,' he whispered between kisses, 'mine!'

'I'm yours!' she whispered back.

'GINNY!' He shook her so hard he was afraid he'd break her neck. Why wouldn't she wake up?!

'Dean! Shit! What the fuck are you doing?!'

Dean lifted horrified, glazed eyes to the fireplace as Ron stepped out of it. Ginny must've approved him with the Floo network, he thought wildly.

Ron was pulling Ginny's limp body from his grasp. He stood there, his little sister's unconscious form in his arms, his friend and future brother-in-law collapsing onto the couch, his head in his hands.

Ron took Ginny to the bedroom, laying her carefully on the bed and then sitting beside her, gently stroking her hair off her face. Dean stumbled into the room behind him, almost falling onto the other side of the bed, his gaze fixed on Ginny's pale face in the sea of red hair.

'What happened?' asked Ron, not taking his eyes off Ginny.

Dean shook his head, his voice low and unsteady.

'I don't know! I got home - I Flooed home - and there she was on the couch - she was moaning and thrashing around - I knew she was having another one of those bloody nightmares, only this time I couldn't wake her up! I was frantic! I yelled and yelled and shook her and -' Dean dropped his head into his hands, his anguish overcoming him.

'Mate,' said Ron, 'I'm sorry - I just freaked out when I saw you shaking her and yelling like that - it was dead scary! Merlin's beard - what's going on? I thought all these nightmares had stopped a couple of weeks ago?'

'They had!' replied Dean, 'this is the first time since - well, the last time...' He took Ginny's limp hand in his and found himself fiddling with her engagement ring...

'Ron, what should we do? She seemed to be fine! It seemed to be all over and now...'

Ron grasped Dean's forearm across the bed. 'She needs a Healer. Or something. There's a reason for this mate, there has to be. You just have to find it.'

Ginny moaned softly. 'Dean?'

'I'm here sweetheart!'

Ron stood up. 'I'll leave you to it mate - we can sort out the details of your stag party another night, I think.' He gave Dean a crooked smile as he left.

Dean gave him an abstracted nod and then focused on Ginny once again.

'Sweetheart, what happened? Do you remember?'

Ginny felt tears slowly leaking from her eyes. She felt weak and distressed although she didn't know why.

She shook her head as she gazed up at Dean. 'What's happening to me?' she whispered.

He gathered her up in his arms and kissed every part of her face he could reach.

'I'm not sure, my darling, but we'll find out, I promise you.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ron Flooed home again but when he found Luna wasn't yet there he Apparated to Harry and Hermione's. He hadn't seen them for well over a week and he desperately needed to talk over what was going on with Ginny.

He knocked on their front door, expecting a cheerful, 'Come in!' from either or both of them. Instead he got a rather flat, morose, 'Who is it?' from Harry.

'It's Ron, mate,' he called.

The door swung open. 'In the kitchen,' came Harry's voice from that direction. Ron's gaze followed the door as it closed itself again. Harry was full of nifty little tricks like that...

As he walked into the kitchen he was struck by the empty feeling of the place. He stopped in the doorway and looked around seeing Harry was sitting at the kitchen table with a half full glass of what looked like firewhiskey, staring into it as he swirled it around. Walking over and pulling out a chair. Ron sat down and looked at his friend, waiting, wondering what on earth had happened to make his best mate look so bloody awful.

Harry finally raised his head and looked at him. 'What's up?'

'Think I should be the one asking that,' he replied. 'Where's Hermione?'

Harry dropped his gaze. 'Hermione's - been away. She went to stay with her mum and dad.' A long shuddering sigh forced its way from him. 'I did something that made her very angry. She's coming home tonight but she Flooed me a short while ago and said she was going to go and see Dumbledore first. I'm just waiting.'

Harry sounded more forlorn than he'd ever done before in Ron's memory and he felt a sharp stab of guilt. He'd been so busy with the organisation for the upcoming World Cup he hadn't had time for anything except work and Luna - while Harry had been having a hard time unnoticed by the bloke who was supposed to be his best friend. He sighed heavily. 'I'm really sorry I haven't been around sooner, mate -'

'Don't be sorry, Ron - I had this place sealed - I wasn't seeing anyone - you wouldn't have gotten in.'

Ron didn't voice his surprise at hearing this, instead, he said, 'So, what'd you do?'

Harry gave a short, harsh laugh. 'I screwed up, that's what I did!'

'You? Screw up? With Hermione? Find that hard to believe mate.' Everything had just been going too bloody well! Ron thought bitterly. The bottom had to fall out of the bloody cauldron some time! First Ginny and those bloody nightmares and now Harry and Hermione! Why the hell did this have to happen?

Harry looked at him. 'I did, Ron, this time, I really did.'

'Got another glass?' Ron made a mental note to owl or Floo Luna very soon that he didn't think he'd be home for dinner tonight.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

'So,' said Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes gazing gently at Hermione over his half-moon spectacles, 'he finally told you. I was sure he would get around to it eventually.'

Hermione pushed herself out of the comfortable armchair before the fire - the same armchair she'd sat in with Harry a few months earlier. She went to stand in front of the fire, staring into the flames. She'd Flooed here from her parents' place after letting Harry know she was coming here first. She'd been shaken at the sight of Harry when she'd Flooed him. He'd been sitting on the couch, waiting for her to Apparate home. He looked awful, despite obviously having showered, shaved and dressed not long before. He looked pale and he had dark smudges under his eyes. Ironically, if she'd taken the time to look in a mirror, she would've seen that she didn't look much different.

'Professor, I'm still struggling to fully understand why he'd do such a thing without asking me or at the very least, telling me after he'd done it! Aside from not being etiquette, it's not ethical! How on earth could either of you know for certain that the charm would work? That nothing would go wrong?'

'My only explanation is his deep and desperate need to keep you safe, my dear,' came the reply. And my desperate desire to ensure Harry's happiness. He didn't elaborate on the fact that he'd argued long and hard with Harry about this very matter. He'd told Harry he was wrong not to ask Hermione's permission. In the end, however, Harry won him over as Harry always did. The fact that Harry's happiness depended almost entirely on Hermione and with Harry's happiness being paramount to him, he too wanted to ensure her safety and although he'd always had a soft spot for both of Harry's best friends, it was really because of Harry he'd agreed. 'I suppose, too, that we're both of us guilty of over-confidence in our abilities,' he finished. In truth, neither he nor Harry had given serious consideration to the spell not working as each was indeed sure of the other's abilities.

Hermione's shoulders slumped. 'I haven't been able to think about anything else! I can understand his motive in wanting to do it but - but not his failure to at least tell me! Especially after what happened at the Burrow! And then to actually use a memory charm on me...' her voice drifted off as she wrapped her arms around herself as though trying to console herself. She got a horrible empty feeling every time she remembered those last moments in the kitchen with Harry before she'd Apparated to her parents'.

'Remove the memory charm.' Her voice had been expressionless and she hadn't looked at him while he'd done as she'd ordered. She'd felt a slight tingling behind her eyes and then said, 'I'm going to my parents'. I'm not sure for how long. I need to think. I'll owl you.' And she'd left, Apparating to her parents' home.

She shivered. It suddenly hit her that a wizard as powerful as Harry could easily have Obliviated her memory at that point and she wouldn't have been any the wiser. She felt a rush of some unnamed emotion. At least she was sure Harry would never do that.

'I can't excuse what he did, or my part in it, Hermione and I won't try,' replied Dumbledore. 'As for what happened at the Burrow, Harry wouldn't've known that was possible when I didn't know myself. We never came up with a satisfactory explanation for that ourselves.' The Professor decided that he would leave it to Harry to explain that the only reason they'd managed to think of for the strange effect that had occurred at the Burrow was that there was someone present on the night who represented danger to Hermione. The problem was, given the nature and location of the party, that didn't seem feasible and yet it had happened...it worried him.

He continued, 'And of course, the Charm was never intended, or expected, to be activated when the two of you were together. The fact that Harry was standing beside you at the time was undoubtedly responsible for what happened.' Also a matter of concern. They'd assumed that if Harry was with her, she wouldn't be in danger. Perhaps the Charm did have an inherent fault or weakness they hadn't considered. He would need to look into this further. He hadn't told Harry that perhaps the Charm may also have been adversely affected by what had happened.

'Perhaps,' she conceded, 'but to turn around later and use a memory charm on me! I wish -' she couldn't continue.

Dumbledore gazed up at her. 'Wish what, my dear? That he loved you less? Desired your safety less? Didn't want to protect you above all else?'

Hermione span around and glared at the old man, stung by is words.

'Of course you'd defend him!' Then her head dropped back as she closed her eyes. I'm usually the one defending him, she thought randomly and somehow the thought hurt. 'But it doesn't excuse what he did,' she continued, looking once more at the Professor, 'even though he didn't Obliviate me, he still meddled with my memory to ensure I wouldn't dwell on that event, including the little exchange between he and Neville which he knew damn well I would've gotten to the bottom of if I'd remembered it!' She pushed her hands through her long, brown hair in exasperation. 'Isn't it illegal to do such a thing?' she demanded.

'Not illegal, as such,' Dumbledore replied. 'This isn't exactly one of the Unforgivable Curses we're talking about.'

She'd never really understood the meaning of being "torn". But now she did - she was torn between anger and love. There was still a knot of anger coiled within her, caused by what Harry had done - without her knowledge, without her permission. But she loved him - so much it consumed her! Even now, she wanted more than anything to have him right here, his arms around her...Oh Harry! She smiled weakly as two tears trickled down her cheeks. It's his bloody saving people thing again, she thought bitterly. He can't help himself and it always seems to lead trouble of one sort or another! She felt the knot of anger she'd been carrying inside loosen.

She was brought back to herself by a soft voice saying, 'Put yourself in his place, my dear.' The Professor was watching her from his own armchair.

Hermione glanced at the old man once more. If the situation were reversed, somehow...what, honestly, would she have done? She was sure her mother was right and that Harry had probably known she wouldn't agree and so he'd just done it. Because he needed above everything else to protect her. And she knew, in his place, she'd've very probably done the same. And she knew something else. That he'd been wrong, he'd made a mistake. But...she loved him. Still. Always. And she'd forgive him. She had already - because she loved him. Because he'd done this out of his love for her. He needed and wanted her as much as she did him and above all else...he'd done it out of fear - of losing her. How could she ever forget the look on his face the night he'd found her after she'd been kidnapped by those wretched Death Eaters? How could she continue to be angry now, for this? That knot of anger was rapidly unravelling. Could she contemplate not being with him? NO! She didn't even want to...a bitterly amused smile curled the corners of her mouth...he'd sure as hell never do anything like this again though!

Her head had dropped, her eyes closed as she thought this through. Then she lifted her head and looked at the Professor. The anger was gone - worn down, used up and burnt out. She just wanted to go home. To Harry. 'I forgive you, too,' she said softly.

He nodded slowly. 'Thank you. And I know your anguish, my dear, I know. I love him, too. The only person to do so longer than you have, I think.'

'Time to go home,' said Hermione, feeling wrung out, walking towards Dumbledore with her hands outstretched. The Headmaster rose from his chair and took her hands in his.

'You know if you ever need anything, you only need ask.'

'Of course,' she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him gently on the cheek. 'And thank you.'

As she left, the old man whispered a reply she didn't hear. 'Thank you, my dear. Very much.'

Harry would be all right now.

To be continued...