Love is a Crime

LOVE IS A CRIME, CHAPTER TWO -- THE LETTERS

You don't wanna hurt me

But see how deep the bullet lies

Unaware I'm tearing you asunder

There is thunder in our hearts

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?

Running Up That Hill, Kate Bush.

---

After Harry and Hermione celebrated their engagement with lots of champagne and even more of each other, they returned to work the next day. They decided to share their happy news with Elias and Nancy, both of whom were thrilled for them but not overly surprised. After a mid-morning coffee break full of hugs with Tabitha, Hermione had returned to her office, quite happy to keep the news within their small circle of friends.

However, neither Hermione nor Harry had taken into consideration a certain pair of eagle-eyed twins. Drawn to the sparkle on Hermione's left hand like a niffler to gold, the two had ensured that this delectable piece of gossip was heard by every employee by Monday afternoon. Once they'd discovered their engagement was no longer a secret, the subjects of the gossip in question speculated that they would be on the front page of the next day's Daily Prophet. They were proven correct.

Harry yawned as he unrolled the paper Tuesday morning to see the headline POTTER, GRANGER TO WED in large bold letters. He didn't bother reading the article, but watched bemusedly as his photographic self kissed Hermione over and over as light bulbs flashed, making him blink a few times. He tried to remember when the photo was taken, but his still half-asleep brain refused to co-operate.

Hermione kissed his temple as she walked past him to grab the milk for her cereal from the fridge. Sitting down at the table next to him, she sighed and grabbed the paper to read. A few huffs and "Oh, honestly!"s later, she'd finished the article.

"That's funny," she said, pointing to a particular line with her fingernail. "You never told me we were marrying next April in Spain."

"Oh, didn't I?" Harry played along. "Sorry 'bout that, must have slipped my mind." He ate his toast as he scanned his financial newspaper.

Hermione folded the paper over in disgust and pushed it away. "I don't know why I bother reading that trash."

"I don't either, love. You know they never get it right."

"Harry, they didn't even ask us!"

"No doubt to be remedied today."

Hermione groaned at the thought of the avalanche of owls they were bound to receive from the media. Harry patted her hand absently as he finished his breakfast.

---

Lymon E. Carrington was an orderly, even-tempered man. He had routines he rarely deviated from. He was thorough, fastidious, and intelligent. There was only one person who was able to turn Lymon's world upside down within a matter of seconds.

Hermione Granger.

He had been in love with her for so many years he couldn't remember what his life had been like before he loved her. There wasn't anything he didn't know about her. He knew her hopes and dreams; her likes and dislikes; what made her happy, what annoyed her, what made her tick. He'd been watching her closely for the last two years. He had photos of her with every conceivable expression. He knew what it was like to touch her.

So when he opened his copy of The Daily Prophet that Tuesday morning, juice in hand, to have the headline scream that the love of his life was going to marry Harry Potter, Lymon was surprised he hadn't spontaneously combusted from anger on the spot.

How could that slut betray him in so public a manner? How on earth was he going to explain it to anyone? He'd tried so hard to rationalise it all. She was being enthralled; she didn't understand the power Potter had over her. Potter couldn't really make her happy; he didn't complete her. And then she had to go and do something stupid like this. What was she thinking?

He hadn't realised the glass he was holding had shattered until he looked at the table to see shards of glass tinted with drops of blood on it.

Wiping up the mess with barely contained disgust on his face, he healed his bloody hand and went over every line of the article. He made himself read it; he stared at the picture of his love kissing Potter in public for a good ten minutes. He picked up his wand and neatly sliced the article out, then pulled out scrapbook #237 and found the next spare page, waving his wand over it to seal it in.

Lymon had always known he would get a sign when it was time to put his plan into action. He was an extremely patient man; he'd already been waiting two years. He would have waited two more, and two more after that.

Now, it looked as if his sign had finally been given to him. It was now time to rid Hermione of her ridiculous notions of marrying Potter and help her see the light. Make her understand that she was ruining her life.

He couldn't let that happen.

With a smile, he went into his study and took out the large leather bound book gilded with gold. This book held all his meticulously researched plans. He flipped through the pages, his eyes poring over the words, and a small part of him wished it wasn't necessary to use it now.

But it was of no matter. It had to be done. With that, he sat down at his desk, dipped the end of his quill in the bottle of black ink, pulled out his specially purchased cream parchment, and wrote.

---

By lunch time Tuesday, Harry was pondering whether they would have to rename the company PGW Owleries based on the dozens of owls that had arrived for he and Hermione. Missives of all different shapes and sizes poured in for them, in equal measures congratulations from their friends and acquaintances and requests from media outlets around the world for exclusive interviews.

Hermione walked into his office, envelopes in hand. "The latest batch," she said, placing them on Harry's desk with the rest. "I can't believe how many there are."

"I can," Harry said dryly. "Half of them are media requests."

Hermione's brow wrinkled in thought. "I suppose they're not going to leave us alone until we say something."

"Probably not."

Hermione moved over to stand in front of him and waited until he pushed his chair back, then settled on his lap, one hand around his shoulders and the other holding one of his, their fingers weaved together. She rested her forehead against his, taking a moment to unwind and let her mind clear. "I guess we could make a short statement to keep them happy and hope they leave us alone," she finally ventured, pushing back a lock of hair off Harry's forehead and pressing her lips to it.

Harry's grip on her waist tightened. "We could go out right now and take care of it so we don't have to think about it anymore."

"No time like the present?"

"Precisely."

"It's a thought," Hermione said in a serious tone. "However, I have another." She got up off his lap and sat on his desk, lifting a hand up to his face and running her finger down his jaw. "We could just stay here and make out."

Harry swallowed, the room suddenly feeling hot. Hermione's dress had risen to mid-thigh and the look she was giving him was positively wicked. He rose out of his chair and stood in front of her, pulling her hips closer and placing his hands on her thighs, dragging the hem of her dress a little higher as he caressed her skin.

"I think I like your idea better," he murmured as he closed the distance between them and kissed her. A low moan escaped her and she slid her tongue into his mouth, her arms going around his neck. He gave her a slow, lingering kiss, then released her, moving his mouth down her neck as he rained kisses on her skin, marvelling at its softness. She was wearing her favourite perfume, a musky fragrance he'd bought her in Paris, and it never failed to drive him wild.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before Hermione lifted his head up and kissed him again, then bit down on his bottom lip softly as she pulled away, breathing hard. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Have I ever told you how much I love the way you think?"

Hermione laughed, and he could feel her chest move against his. "I have to be useful for something." She removed her arms from behind his neck and slid them down his body, squeezing his butt. "Your idea is a good one too, though. Let's go sort out the media vultures and then maybe we can come back and pick up where we left off." There was no disguising the suggestive look on her face, and Harry's temperature shot up a few degrees. He gathered up the strength to move away from her and waited until she got off his desk, offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"

---

By the time they got home on Tuesday night, they were both extremely tired. Their short statement to the media turned into a twenty minute Q&A session in which they had very little answers to give anyone. They hadn't really even begun to discuss wedding plans, happy to just enjoy the fact they were engaged. The media had not been shy in expressing their disappointment that there was nothing much they could print. After that, they'd both had a full afternoon with various work projects, so it was close to 7pm before they'd left the building.

Harry tossed off his robes and threw himself onto the couch, stretching out and yawning. "What do you fancy for dinner?"

Hermione said nothing as she, too, shed her robes and moved to the couch, waiting for Harry to silently scoot back so she could lie in front of him. She lay down and smiled as his arm instantly went around her, then closed her eyes. "Why don't we just owl out for something? I don't think either of us has enough energy to cook."

"Sounds like a plan."

"What do you want?"

"Whatever you order is fine with me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up before she drifted into the state where she couldn't. "I'll be right back."

After writing out an order for some curry and giving Hedwig a pat as she placed the order and the money in a small bag she tied to the owl's leg, she watched Hedwig disappear into the night.

While she was up, she fed a cranky Crookshanks, who'd seemed determined to drive her insane until she fed him by rubbing up against her leg as she attempted to walk, and then went back into the lounge room to rest until the curry arrived.

Hermione stopped in front of the couch, suddenly breathless at the sight of Harry. The only light in the room came from the fireplace, and as she looked at him, his glasses in one hand and his eyes closed, his body relaxed and his chest rising up and down steadily as he breathed, Hermione was suddenly struck by the almost overwhelming depth of the love she felt for him. She thought she'd been in love with both of her previous exes, but what she'd felt for Derek and Worth didn't even come close to what she felt for Harry.

Carefully kneeling in front of the couch and taking the glasses out of his hand, Hermione smiled as she studied his features. Harry had long, ebony eyelashes, the kind that made a person stop and stare at just how long they were. His skin was flawless, marked only by the lightening bolt scar that sat on the right of his forehead and a small crescent shaped scar on his left cheek. She gently reached up a hand to brush her fingertips over his face, gliding over his skin like a ghost.

This face, the face of the man she was hopelessly in love with, was the last thing she saw every night when she went to sleep and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again. She was the only one who saw Harry unmasked, in every mood that took him. Sometimes when she looked at him, she could see the eleven year old child he'd once been, who'd saved her from a troll. The child who had been thrust into a world alien to him, the child who'd befriended her when the others wouldn't because he'd understood how it felt to be an outsider. A child who was different.

Harry's eyelids fluttered and he opened them, turning his head groggily towards her. "Is the food here yet?" he asked.

"No, not yet," Hermione whispered, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. "I was just thinking."

Harry smiled and reached for his glasses, then slid them on his nose and sat up as Hermione got up off her knees and perched herself on the edge of the couch. "I thought I heard something." Hermione smacked his arm and he screwed his face up in mock pain. "You love me so much you have to hurt me to prove it?"

"Shall I kiss you better?" Hermione answered, batting her eyelashes.

Harry grinned at her, the lopsided grin that made her insides melt. "It seems we have some spare time on our hands." He lifted a finger up to her chin and tilted it towards him, then leaned in and brushed his lips against hers a few times, slow and gentle. Hermione felt a shiver go up her spine and shuffled closer, allowing Harry to take the lead. She just closed her eyes and surrendered to him.

---

It took Lymon three days and seventeen drafts before he was happy with the letter to Hermione. He realised the importance of making sure it was just right; he didn't want it to sound like a soppy love letter she would laugh at, but he wanted it to be clear enough that she took it seriously and was able to comprehend the level of his commitment to and love for her.

Once he was happy with it, he took out the quill he'd purchased specially and cast the spell which made the quill scan the entire parchment, then move across to the blank one which sat to the right of it and copy down what he'd written word for word. Lymon kept a copy of everything; it was part of his nature and he wanted to be able to relish the words later, a not-so-small amount of satisfaction washing over him in the knowledge that Hermione would soon be reading the same words.

After giving the letter one last read through, he sealed it in the red envelope -- red was, of course, the colour of love --and then sealed it with a flick of his wand. The small gold heart on the back provided just enough of an elegant touch, he thought. After all, if you were going to do something, you should take the time to do it right.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the front door. He quickly tucked the letter away out of sight and went to answer it, hoping it wasn't the tart from PGW. He wasn't in the mood for a night of her incessant chattering.

Swinging the door open, he was surprised to find April Richardson standing on his door step.

"Hello, darling," she said, one arm braced on the door and her body curved just so. "I was in the area and thought I'd drop in to say hello."

Lymon stood aside and allowed her to enter. "You usually owl."

"I know, but surprises can be fun sometimes, don't you agree?"

Lymon shrugged. "Perhaps. What if I'd been busy?"

April laughed. "You're never too busy to entertain me, darling. I know your little tart isn't here." She swept into his house and threw off the fur coat she wore. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Why, April," Lymon said. "I didn't know you cared. You only ever come here to fuck."

"True," April agreed cheerfully. "It isn't like you have anything better to do, other than pine over Hermione Granger." The last two words were accompanied by April wrinkling her nose distastefully. "I've yet to figure out what you see in that slut."

Lymon's hand came out of nowhere to pin April to the nearest wall by her throat. "Don't you ever call my love that!"

April's face crumpled for just a moment before she stared at him, her gaze piercing his and her usual cool façade coming back into place. "Let me go... now," she growled in a low voice, "or you'll regret it." He let her go and she sagged slightly, her hand coming up to her neck. "If you so much as lay another finger on me in anger again, it will be the last you ever see of me, do you understand?"

Lymon realised he'd done the wrong thing. Apart from his source at PGW, April was the only other person with a wealth of information about his beloved Hermione, and information was what kept him going. "I'm sorry, April," he said quietly. "I don't know what came over me."

April continued to stare at him, which he found unnerving. "Just remember you have a lot more to lose than me," she hissed at him. "There's only one reason I do this, and it certainly isn't for you!"

Lymon froze. Not once, in all the time he'd known April Richardson, had he ever thought to question her motives. Now, he was genuinely curious. "Why are you doing this?"

April smiled at him, the kind of smile that would have brought any normal man to his knees. "Because I want Harry Potter, of course."

"Why do you want Harry Potter?" His brain couldn't quite compute why someone like April Richardson would want a man like Harry Potter.

"Why do you want Hermione Granger?" she countered, stepping towards him and crossing her arms.

"Because I love her," he said simply. "Because she's my soulmate."

April rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She stood her ground and tapped her foot. "I think you deserved to be punished after that little incident." Lymon didn't answer, dropping his eyes to the ground and muttering something under his breath. "What did you say? Speak up, I can't hear you."

"Yes, Mistress." When he was bad, April punished him. He had no right to take his anger and frustration out on her, so he knew it was exactly what he deserved. He needed to be taught a lesson, and the whip he kept in his basement would be all the lesson required.

---

His hand slid up her bare thigh and he revelled in the low moan that came deep from her throat. Hermione's eyelids fluttered closed as his hand moved higher, caressing her sensitive skin with his fingers. He enjoyed watching her face as his fingers swirled around, relishing the way she writhed underneath him.

He slid a finger inside her to stroke her gently, then watched as she cried out when he removed it. "Shhhh," he whispered, rising up to take her lips in a fierce kiss. She kissed him back, her tongue sliding into his mouth, and he smiled against her lips. There was nothing better than having a naked Hermione under him, their bare skin sliding against each other.

He moved into position and pulled her hips up, then groaned as she guided him into place. Staring intently into the brown eyes that had captured his heart a long time ago, he pushed into her and breathed deeply as she cried out and arched beneath him, taking all of him in.

"Oh God, Hermione," he said through gritted teeth. "You feel so damn good."

"Lymon," she whispered softly as a moan burst out of her. "I--"

"Shhhh," he said again. "Don't think, just feel." With that, he increased his pace, and her little moans and whimpers as he moved in and out of her pushed him over the edge long before he was ready to go. He groaned and said her name, continuing to move until she screamed in ecstasy and arched her body against his.

He held her tightly as she shuddered underneath him and watched her face as she climaxed. Deeply satisfied, he collapsed on top of her, and she shifted her body to accommodate his weight, her arms wrapped around him tightly.

He stroked her hair, her forehead covered in beads of sweat from their lovemaking, and looked into her eyes, her love for him obvious. "I love you, Lymon," she whispered.

He brought his face down to hers and kissed her passionately. "I love you too, Hermione Carrington," he said. "I'll love you forever." He withdrew from the warmth of her body and rolled onto his back, gathering his wife into his arms.

She ran her fingertips over his chest, playing idly with the hairs that covered it. "There's something I have to tell you," she said playfully, nipping at his skin.

Lymon propped himself up on one elbow to look at her properly. "What's that?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she gazed up at him in adoration. "We're having a baby."

Lymon felt as if all the breath had been knocked from him. "A baby?" he whispered. He felt the tears well in his eyes, and he didn't try to brush them away. "You're having my baby?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a grin. "A baby. Our baby."

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed. "I love you." He paused and stared at his beautiful wife. "I love you. I love you. I love you..."

A sharp elbow to his side penetrated through his dream and the vision of Hermione faded from his mind. He blinked rapidly and reluctantly opened his eyes. It was still pitch black outside.

"Will you shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep." The voice was unmistakable, and it certainly wasn't Hermione's.

"April," he said dully. "Sorry. I was dreaming."

"Obviously," she grumbled, turning over. "You were saying 'I love you' over and over again. No need to ask who you were dreaming of." Her disdain was apparent. "However, it does sometimes have its advantages." Without preamble, she slid her hand underneath the sheets until she found what she was looking for. Not saying a word, she threw back the covers and straddled him.

---

Ginny was amazed to find her husband had beaten her home when she walked into the penthouse. She'd made it home at a fairly decent hour in order to make a romantic dinner as a surprise, but it seemed that Draco was the one doing the surprising.

She leaned over the couch where he was sprawled and kissed him. "You're not supposed to be home yet! I was going to make us a nice, romantic dinner," she chided gently, rubbing his nose with hers. "I thought you were going to be late with the fittings."

Draco didn't answer, sitting up and looking at her. "I need you to come sit down here with me, beautiful."

"Uh oh," Ginny said, "this sounds serious." She put her bag and the album she was carrying down on the table and sat next to him, turning her body to face him. She reached up and brushed his hair back with a smile. "Are you about to tell me something I'm not going to want to hear?"

Draco smiled for the first time since her arrival home and took hold of her hand, brushing a kiss on her knuckles. "Not at all." Here he paused and took a deep breath. "I want to quit modelling."

Ginny's mouth fell open in surprise. That was Draco for you; he just came out and said whatever he had to say. He didn't dress it up or hint, he just said it. "But... but I thought you loved modelling."

"I do," he responded. "But I love you more." He kissed her hand again before continuing. "I don't want to be away from you while you're pregnant and once the baby arrives, our family will be my priority. We don't need the money; I'm a lot older than most models these days. I think it's high time I retired and thought about doing something worthwhile for a change."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you thought modelling was worthless."

"It's hardly brain surgery."

"This is true," she conceded. She stared at him thoughtfully. "Are you sure about this, Draco? You don't have to give it up on my behalf. Of course, if you aren't with me for the labour I'll have your head on a silver platter."

"I'm sure," Draco said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "I've already talked to Michel. Since I don't have a formal contract, I can pretty much retire tomorrow. He did ask me to do the Christmas shoot for him, so I'm going to honour that. But otherwise, I'm now officially retired."

"Oh, Draco," Ginny said softly. "I just... I don't want you to regret this later. And what are you doing to do with yourself now?"

"I haven't thought that far, Gin. I just want something different, something that actually allows me to think."

Ginny's lips curled up in a smile. "Oh, come on," she said teasingly. "You mean you didn't have to think about which direction to pout in while strutting down the catwalk?"

"That's it, woman," Draco pounced on her and started tickling her. Ginny squirmed underneath him, laughing so hard she couldn't breathe properly. She was extremely ticklish and this wasn't the first time he'd used that fact to his advantage. Her laughter was infectious and it wasn't long before both husband and wife were wriggling about.

"Draco, stop. Stop!" Ginny wheezed breathlessly. "I can't breathe."

He sat up and pulled her up, and she took a few moments to compose herself, breathing deeply. Once she was calm, she brought her hands up and waited until Draco had intertwined his fingers with hers. "Are you really sure?"

"I'm sure," he said with a nod.

"Okay," she replied. "It's just going to be a little weird to think you won't be doing it anymore. But I must admit it's going to be wonderful to have you here all the time." Ginny grinned at the thought that there would be no more shoots overseas dragging him away for days and weeks at a time. "I can have you all to myself," she purred.

Draco's lips curled up into a self-satisfied smirk. "Thousands of witches will hate you."

"I don't care," Ginny said airily. "I'm the one who wears your ring."

Draco inched forward, closing the distance. "Yes, you are," he breathed as his lips brushed over hers. Ginny's grip on his fingers tightened as their lips moved against each other in light, teasing kisses. "I love you," he whispered.

Ginny smiled, the smile that she reserved for him and him only. "I know," she answered before sealing her mouth over his.

---

Ginny blew a bubble out of her face as she reclined against Draco. After dinner, they'd brought a bottle of wine and two glasses into their bathroom and run a hot bath. The scent of jasmine permeated the air as they drank slowly, exchanging slow, sweet kisses. She had one hand wrapped around his knee while he kept his free hand on her thigh, caressing it gently underwater.

"You know, I'm sure Ron could give you a job at the shop," Ginny said thoughtfully. She cackled as Draco almost choked on his wine.

"I'd rather shag Potter," he said haughtily, "than work for your brother. You have got to be kidding."

Ginny giggled. "Well, it was a thought."

"And not a very good one at that."

"Fine," she pouted. She sipped her wine as her brow creased, deep in thought of suggestions for Draco's new career. He took advantage of her silence by kissing her neck, which was thankfully uncovered since she'd pinned her hair up. "What about working at PGW Industries?"

Here Draco stopped his sensual assault and raised an eyebrow. "So now we've moved from working for your brother to working for Harry and Hermione. This is a step up how?"

"Oh, Draco, don't be ridiculous," she said, squeezing his knee almost painfully. "You said you wanted to do something worthwhile."

Draco chose to drain the rest of his wine before answering. "Perhaps," he said non-committedly.

"And you do know the owners," Ginny pointed out. "I know Hermione would be keen to have you on board. And you're very good at lots of things, so I'm sure they could find you something."

"I'll give it some thought," Draco said. "However, there's something else I'd much rather be thinking about, given the fact we're both naked." To demonstrate exactly what was on his mind -- although it wasn't as if Ginny couldn't have guessed -- he trailed his hand up her thigh and over her stomach to cup a breast and squeeze it gently. "I believe we have a date to make junior Malfoys tonight."

"Plural?" Ginny smiled. "You want twins?"

Draco opened his mouth to say yes, but then he thought of Fred and George and closed it again. "No. No twins."

Ginny just laughed and stood up, turning around to face him, her body covered in nothing but bubbles. She smiled lasciviously at him. "Are you waiting for an invitation?" she purred.

Draco didn't answer, instead rising up and out of the bath and grabbing a towel. He slung it around his waist, then took a second one and lifted his wife out of the tub. Without saying a word, he carried her into the bedroom and threw her onto the bed, making her laugh loudly.

But her laughter soon ceased as he removed his towel and proceeded to lick every last drop of water from her body.

---

The man sat hunched over his desk, his quill gliding over the cream parchment as he took measured strokes, stopping to occasionally dip the quill in the bottle of expensive black ink that sat near his right hand. Sirius Black held his breath until he wrote the last word, then lay down his quill and flexed his hand, trying to get rid of the cramp. He could have stopped hours ago, but he was on the home stretch and was determined to keep going.

His book was finally done.

He piled the sheets of parchment neatly in front of him. He'd spent hours and hours every day writing his tale, and it was finally finished. Looking at the timepiece he had sitting on the mantle in his study, he saw it was just after midnight. He wanted to tell Harry, but didn't want to risk interrupting him so late in case his godson was already sleeping.

Sirius stood and transformed into his Animagus form, stretching out the kinks in his body and barking his happiness at having completed his project. He trotted through the cottage and nudged the door open with his nose, then went out into the pitch blackness of his backyard and set off on a run, the wind through his hair making him feel more alive than ever.

When he got back to the house, he transformed back and had a shower. As he dried himself, Sirius glanced outside the window to see the full moon, which he'd noticed on his run. It reminded him, as it always did, of his old friend. He may not be able to tell Harry straight away, but he could definitely send Remus an owl.

He put on his pyjamas and wrote a note, then sent his owl off and made a cup of tea, feeling wide awake. It wasn't often that Sirius felt terribly lonely because he enjoyed the solitude and his own company, but he did now, having no one to share his news with. Finally, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he told someone, so he went to the fireplace and called Harry. As luck would have it, his godson was still awake.

"Sirius!" Harry's head was floating in the fireplace. "Everything okay?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late, Harry."

"Not at all. I was just going over some paperwork. Hermione's in bed, and I'm not that far off it myself." Sirius watched as Harry placed his hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. "So what's up?"

"I finished the book."

Harry was silent for a few seconds. "Wow, Sirius. That's great! I didn't think you'd have it done so soon."

"Neither did I, thought it would take years. But it's done."

"Well, congratulations. I'm really pleased for you." Here, Harry paused, and Sirius could tell he was choosing his next words very carefully. "You going to try and publish it?"

Sirius opened his mouth to say no, but something made him hesitate. "I don't think so. I don't know. I just needed to get it all out."

Harry nodded. "Hermione thought it would be cathartic for you."

Sirius smiled. "Smart woman you have there."

"And beautiful." Harry's grin was wide and Sirius could not mistake the joy in his voice. It warmed his heart to see his godson in love and happy. He only wished James and Lily were there to see it, too.

"Anyway, that's all I wanted you for. I'll let you go so you can sleep."

"Good idea. You want to come over for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate?"

"I'd like that."

"We'll see you at seven."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Sirius. And congratulations."

"Thank you." He waited until Harry's head was gone, then made himself another cup of tea, this time adding some Ogden's Firewhiskey to it.

---

It was a dark Friday night when Hermione and Harry got down on the lounge room floor to begin planning their wedding, Ginny's trunk of albums within reach. Hermione had made various lists of things that needed to be discussed, so clutching her parchments in one hand and her quill in the other, she and Harry cleared a space on the floor near the trunk and began to plan one of the most important days of their lives.

"Right," Hermione said. "I've made up some lists of things we're going to need to decide upon -- what we're going to wear; the cake; the flowers; attendants; the menu; locations for the wedding; our honeymoon... " As she ticked off each item, she held up the relevant parchment, which had been neatly titled.

Harry, who was lying sprawled on the floor and propped up on one elbow, noticed there was one extra parchment she had not brandished in his face. "What's on the last parchment?"

Hermione blinked a few times and glanced at him. "It's the master list."

Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitching in the beginnings of a smile. "What does the master list contain, exactly?"

It was only then that Hermione looked a bit uncomfortable. She crossed her legs and sat up straight, looking him squarely in the eye. "It's a list of all the lists I've made."

"A list of all the lists?" Harry repeated. "Good idea, sweetheart." He tried desperately to curb his mirth but couldn't help himself, bursting into loud laughter.

"Harry Potter!" Hermione admonished. "Why are you laughing at me? If I don't take note of the lists I'm keeping and one goes astray, then--"

"Hermione," Harry interjected. "I'm not laughing at you."

"You're certainly not laughing with me," Hermione countered, giving him the evil eye. "I'm not laughing!"

Harry sat up and pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes. "Hermione," he said. "Only you would make a list of lists. Oh, how I love you."

Hermione glared at him, still annoyed, but found herself promptly melting as Harry, realising he was in trouble, got on his hands and knees, leaned over and began to rain tiny kisses on her neck. "No, Harry," she said a little breathlessly, "you are not forgiven." But she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access, and when his lips brushed over a sensitive spot underneath her ear she couldn't contain a small moan.

He pulled back to look at her, a small, triumphant grin on his face, then sobered and leaned in again, rubbing his nose against hers. "Guess I'll have to try something else, then." With that, he took her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that soon had Hermione urging him closer, her arms around his neck.

Harry eased her backwards until she was lying flat on her back. His body covered the length of hers, with Harry shifting some of his weight onto his arms so he wasn't too heavy on top of her. Hermione didn't seem to mind, though, running her hands up and down his back and weaving her fingers through his hair as they kissed.

Hermione's hands had a will of their own and they left Harry's hair to drift down his back, pulling his shirt out of his jeans and caressing his bare skin. When Harry let go of her lips for a breather, she placed her hands on his butt and squeezed, grinning cheekily up at him.

"Are you quite right there?"

"Yes," she purred. "I think I'm allowed to feel the fine Potter arse."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think I can allow it. Only because you're making an honest man of me, you realise."

Hermione laughed. "Am I? Lucky me." While her tone was light, Harry couldn't mistake the look in her eyes. Hermione Granger did indeed think she was the luckiest woman alive.

"I think it's me who's the lucky one somehow."

They looked at each other, any hint of a smile wiped from their faces. The mood had turned from playful to serious; their joy at being in love had become so intense they couldn't speak.

Her hands came up to frame her fiancé's face, her thumbs gently running over his cheeks, and pulled his head down until their lips met in a surprisingly gentle kiss. "I love you," she whispered against Harry's lips.

"I love you, too," he whispered back, and with one final kiss, he pulled himself up and held out a hand to Hermione. Once they'd taken a few moments to compose themselves, they sat opposite each other and spread Hermione's lists out around them.

Harry opened Ginny's trunk and began to pull out a few albums. "This thing looks bottomless," he exclaimed. "How can one person have so many albums?"

"She's been doing this for years and years, Harry," Hermione pointed out. "Plenty of time to build up a nice collection. But I really think the first thing we need to do is set a date, don't you?"

"Yes, let's set the date," Harry agreed cheerfully. "How's Sunday looking for you?"

"Sunday? What, this Sunday? That's two days away!"

Harry feigned ignorance. "Well, it's not going to take that long to pull this thing together, is it?" Hermione's wide-eyed look of surprise caused him to snicker. "I'm joking, love. I know we have to plan everything right down to the very last detail."

"This is going to be one of the most important days of our lives, Harry," she said quietly. "I don't intend on doing this again, so I want to get it right."

"What? You won't marry me more than once?"

Hermione chuckled. "Of course I will. I'll marry you as many times as you like."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Miss Granger. So, a date. Where's the calendar?"

Hermione scrabbled through parchments and albums to find the calendar, and she looked it over. "We're probably going to need at least six months to organise everything, because they're always booked so far in advance, and... "

When her voice trailed off and she let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like an 'awwww', Harry looked up from the album he was flicking through. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Oh, Harry, I've had the most wonderful idea!" Hermione's eyes shone brightly as she looked up at him. "The thirty first of July is a Saturday next year." She bit her lip before proceeding. "Why don't we marry on your thirtieth?"

"My birthday?" Harry said the words slowly, as if they were new and foreign to him and he was trying them out for size. "You want to get married on my birthday?"

"I couldn't think of a more perfect date," Hermione said with a nod. "You'd never forget our anniversary."

"And it would be the most incredible birthday present I've ever received." Harry's voice was quiet and sincere, and Hermione could almost see the words forming in his head. "You as my wife on my birthday... I'd never ask for anything again."

Hermione smiled at him mistily. "So it's a date?"

"It's a date." Harry reached out and took her hand in his, lifting it up to kiss her fingers. "Now we have that sorted, let's talk about everything else." They spent some time going through the seemingly endless albums, laughing at some pictures and book marking others to consider.

"What are we going to wear? Robes or Muggle outfits?"

Hermione raised her gaze slowly. Harry could tell by the look on her face that this was something she'd given a great deal of thought. "I do understand that wizarding culture is a very big part of our lives, Harry," she began thoughtfully. "If it wasn't for this world, we would never have met." They smiled at each other as she continued on. "Some of the robes in here are beautiful, but--"

"But you'd like to wear a wedding dress?"

Hermione nodded with a smile. "I would."

"Right, then," Harry said, stretching his legs out and sorting through the albums that sat around him. "I know there were a few albums here with Muggle dresses. That's you sorted, now me. I suppose a suit is in order, but I think I'd rather it be more smart casual than formal. No bow tie. Maybe just a plain one?"

"Sounds good to me. You always look rather handsome in a nice suit."

"As opposed to looking ugly when I'm not in one?" Harry teased.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "You know I always think you're handsome, regardless of what you're wearing." She gave him a sly glance. "And especially when you're not wearing anything."

Harry somehow managed to laugh and blush at the same time, and Hermione absolutely adored it when she was able to get that reaction out of him. Harry had retained some of his shyness, although it had abated over the years. She reached over to pinch his cheeks and he growled and pulled her into his lap, planting kisses all over her face as she squirmed to be released.

Their playful banter soon turned into hot kisses as Hermione wiggled around in his lap, deliberately and successfully getting a reaction out of Harry. He groaned and took her mouth in a searing kiss, and when they separated, Hermione managed to pant out, "Planning's over?"

"Planning's over," Harry confirmed with a nod. All thoughts of planning vanished from their minds as Harry laid her back onto the carpet.

---

When Ron hadn't responded to her owl by lunch time, Ginny decided to take a walk during her lunch break to see him at the shop. When she got there, she was greeted by someone new behind the counter.

"Can I help you?" the young blonde witch behind the counter said in a tone that indicated she'd rather do anything but.

"Hi, is Ron here?"

The witch, whose nametag proclaimed her name to be Odessa, raised an eyebrow. "Mr Weasley is in the storeroom. Do you have an appointment with him?"

Something in the girl's tone raised Ginny's hackles, so she took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't need an appointment to see him. Just tell Mr Weasley to get his arse out here now, please."

Odessa drew herself up to her full height, which was a good four inches shorter than Ginny, and folded her arms over her chest. "And who might you be?"

Ginny opened her mouth to say, "I'm his sister, you twit! Can't you tell by the hair?" but she stopped and her mouth curved into a sly smile. Making a big show of looking around the shop for eavesdroppers, she leaned over the counter and whispered conspiratorially, "I'm his mistress."

Odessa jumped back as if her feet were on fire. "What?" she said disbelievingly. "But he's... his wife... "

"Oh, don't worry," Ginny said, waving a hand airily. "Kellie and I are good friends. She knows all about me."

Odessa backed away from the counter, the look of sheer horror unmistakable on her face, and hightailed it to the office out the back. Ginny waited and listened, and was rewarded a few seconds later with Ron's rather loud, "My what?" His head appeared around the corner to look at the mistress in question, and he burst into loud laughter, coming out of the room with Odessa scrambling behind him. "Oh, that mistress," he said with a chuckle. "Thanks, Odessa."

It took all Ginny had not to lose it completely at the sight of Odessa's face when Ron reached her and kissed her cheek. "Making trouble again, woman? It's not nice to tease the hired help." He turned back to his assistant, who was still giving Ginny the evil eye. "Odessa, this is my sister, Ginny Malfoy. I'm afraid she's been hanging around her prat of a husband too long and seems to have picked up his sense of humour. Gin, this is Odessa Whiting, our new assistant here."

"Nice to meet you, Odessa," Ginny said, her face a picture of innocence.

Odessa could only manage a slight nod. Ron took his sister's hand and dragged her into the first aisle, away from the counter. "To what do I owe the pleasure, besides your wanting to stir up trouble?"

Ginny responded maturely, sticking her tongue out. "She all but inferred I needed an appointment to see you without even asking who I was. She needs to lighten up."

"She's just new and eager to make a good impression," Ron explained gently. "You really have been hanging around Malfoy too long."

Ginny swatted his arm as he laughed. "Shut up. Anyway, you didn't respond to my owl so I thought I'd swing by."

"I haven't had time to even read it yet, sorry Gin." He pulled her over to the shelves that held the newest stock. "Here, try one of these. One of Fred and George's newest creations. You just tell it what flavour you want it to have." He picked up a small, galleon-shaped chocolate and placed it in her hand.

"Pineapple," Ginny said, tossing it into her mouth. She bit into the chocolate, only to find it had a delicious pineapple centre. "Good!" she declared. "These should sell well."

"They are," Ron confirmed. "We've only had them out for two days, but we've already gone through five boxes. So what was the owl about, then?"

"Nothing urgent, I just wanted to talk to you about Dad's present, I've had some ideas which I put in the owl."

Ron nodded. He and Ginny had already decided to go halves in a present for their father's upcoming birthday. "I should get a chance to look over it this afternoon, then. You and Draco want to come over for dinner to discuss it?"

Ginny nodded. "Sure. I'd like to decide on what we're getting so we don't leave it too late." She paused and turned back to the chocolates, Ron standing behind her.

She felt his arms go around her waist, his chin resting gently on her shoulder. "Am I an uncle yet?" he asked softly.

"No," Ginny answered with a small sigh. "I know it's only been four weeks, but I thought there might be a chance I'd have been pregnant by now." She took comfort in his presence, thankful that she'd confided in him.

"It doesn't always happen right away, Gin," Ron said comfortingly. "There's no hard and fast rule about how long it takes."

Ginny turned in his embrace to look at him, his arms still loosely draped around her. "How long did it take you and Kellie once you'd decided to try?"

Ron shifted slightly, the tips of his ears turning red. "Er," he said, hedging an answer.

"How long?"

Knowing she wouldn't be happy until she got an answer, he sighed. "Less than a week."

Ginny gaped at him. "You suck."

"You are welcome to take Gemma home with you for a night if you're that keen, you know," Ron offered with a grin.

"Nice try," Ginny said wryly, grinning back. "I know it won't happen straight away." Her voice was soft and calm. "We'll just keep trying until we're successful."

"You will be," Ron said with a nod, as if that confirmed everything. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his sister's forehead, lingering there for a few seconds. "I'd better get back to it. See you tonight?"

"Okay," Ginny said, squeezing his hand as he left her standing in the aisle. She glanced over at Odessa, who had been able to see the entire encounter because the middle aisle shelves were not that high. Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion, so Ginny tossed her a jaunty wave and left the shop, her heart a little lighter than it had been when she'd gone in.

---

"Cheating on me?" Kellie asked as Ron re-entered the office. She smiled as her husband stared disbelievingly at her.

"I'm going to forget you said that, woman," he huffed. "It was Ginny."

"I know that, you prat. I was teasing." Her eyes flicked over to their daughter, who was amusing herself with some toys.

"'You prat'?" Ron teased. "How very British of you."

Kellie got up and put her arms around Ron's waist, kissing his neck. "What can I say? You're a bad influence."

Ron grinned and kissed her nose. "You love me anyway."

"Yes, I do."

Ron leaned in and had just brushed his lips against his wife's when a loud clapping sound interrupted them. They looked down to find Gemma sitting at their feet, waving her hands about. Ron swooped down and gathered his baby into his arms, placing a smacking kiss on her cheek. "What is it with women all wanting my attention?" Gemma cooed and grabbed Ron's hair, pulling it. "Ow!"

"Gem," Kellie chided gently, trying to hide her laughter. "Don't pull Daddy's hair."

"Dada!" Gemma said, tugging hard. "Dada! Dada!"

"Yes, we know who I am," Ron said as Kellie took Gemma out of his arms. "You keep doing that and I'll have no hair left for you to pull." Kellie watched as he kissed their daughter's cheek again. "I guess I'd best get back to it, Fred and George want the order by the end of today. Oh, I invited Ginny and Draco over for dinner to discuss Dad's present. Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay. I'm almost done with the books, so I'll take Gemma home and start dinner, then. Fancy anything in particular?"

"Not really," he said with a sly smile. "I do know what I want for dessert, though."

Kellie laughed and shook her head. "You're insatiable."

"That's what all my girlfriends say." He kissed her and then went back out to the front of the store.

Kellie watched him until he left, then sat down and bounced her daughter on her knee. She'd only planned to be in England for six months to visit a cousin; she hadn't planned on falling in love with a lanky red-headed Englishman. While it hadn't been love at first sight, she'd certainly grown to love Ron Weasley over time. Of course, it had been hard at first to adapt; not only did she have to get used to living in a new country, she had also felt somewhat of an outsider when it came to Ron and his best friends. The closeness of the trio was well known and easy to see; although she'd never told anyone but Ron, Kellie had been jealous of Hermione and her place in Ron's life when she'd first started dating him.

It hadn't taken all that long to warm to Hermione once she'd gotten to know her, however. The younger witch had done her best to make it clear she respected Kellie as Ron's chosen partner and that all she wanted was Ron's happiness. Kellie had wondered if Ron and Hermione had ever dated in the past, and although Ron had confessed he'd had a crush on her in school, nothing had ever happened between them. Kellie knew that while he loved Hermione Granger, he was in love with her.

Still, she missed her family and friends back in the US, and sometimes she missed her home country and the traditions that were distinctly American. However, when Kellie Weasley looked at her husband and their baby, she knew it was all worth it.

---

The pub was loud and crowded, and the three men who sat in a back booth were well on their way to becoming hideously drunk.

"Whose idea was this, anyway?" Ron asked, his voice slurred.

"Yours, Weasel," Draco said, thumping him hard on the back. "I think the beer is rotting away what few brain cells you have left." Harry sat there and watched his friends while nursing his bottle, grinning like a maniac. "What are you grinning at, Potty?"

"Nothing a few spells wouldn't fix, Ferret." As was always the case on such occasions, the insults flew thick and fast, but unlike when they had been students, the barbs were all good-natured.

Draco chugged down an almost full bottle of beer in one gulp, then belched loudly. He lifted up the bottle and stared at it in amazement. "It's all gone!"

"Of course it's all gone, Malfoy," Ron said, waving a finger about. "You drank it all."

"Oh." Draco clapped his hands twice and a new bottle materialised in front of him. "I like this being a wizard lark sometimes."

Ron snorted loud laughter and tried to punch Draco, missing his arm and getting the back of the booth instead. "You're not a wizard, you're a ferret!" he declared, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I saw Mad Eye change you right before my very eyes."

"Bloody teachers," Draco muttered.

"You deserved it, Malfoy," Harry interjected. "And don't you forget it."

"Shut up, Potter, and have another drink."

The three men drank in silence for a few moments. "What time is it?" Ron asked, peering through the darkness in vain search of a timepiece.

"Time to go home and shag my wife," Draco answered. "Your sister." His smirk was so wide Harry thought it made his face look like it was splitting.

"Oi," Ron said, waving his bottle dangerously close to Draco's face. "Don't talk about my sister like that." He stopped, his face screwed up in almost comical thought as he wondered whether Draco had, in fact, insulted Ginny or not. Finally, it appeared he'd decided it didn't matter. "You say that about my sister again and I'll kill you."

"I didn't say anything about your sister," Draco said. "And she's my wife first, so sod off. I'll shag her if I want to."

Harry, who'd been watching them quietly, suddenly burst into loud laughter. "You're both mad!" he declared.

"Shut up," they said simultaneously.

Harry communicated with them non-verbally, allowing his finger to talk for him, and Ron picked up a peanut out of the dish on the table and flicked it at him.

"Speaking of shagging," Draco said, turning towards Harry. "How long did it take the bookworm to put out for you?"

Harry blinked rapidly. "How long did Ginny make you wait?" he threw back at the former Slytherin.

Draco didn't bat an eyelid. "We went out for dinner on our first date and I walked her home. I didn't leave until six the next morning, and that was only to get a change of clothes."

Ron's jaw gaped as Harry said, "Sounds like you did more than just walk her home."

"I'm not hearing this," Ron declared, covering up his ears with his hands. "The mental picture is detrimental to my health."

"I'm surprised you can even say 'detrimental', let alone know what it means, Weasel," Draco said silkily.

"Fuck off, Ferret."

"Well, Harry?" Draco turned his attention back to the man sitting opposite him. "How long?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, Malfoy. Longer than yours, at any rate."

Draco flapped an impatient hand. "I was asking how long it took you to shag Granger."

"Oh." Harry picked up a few peanuts and ate them slowly, then chugged down some more beer. By the time he answered, both his companions had fastened their gazes on him. "We got home from our first date and... let's just say we didn't make it to the bedroom the first time."

Draco raised his beer and clinked it against Harry's. "Good job."

"Thank you, thank you. Don't applaud, just throw money."

"So, Weasel, how about you? Are you joining us in the First Date Club?"

Ron's face flushed red, his ears twitching. "I think it's time I went home, it's getting late."

"Oh no," Draco said, grabbing his collar. "You are not going anywhere until you answer the question. How long did Kellie make you wait?"

"What makes you think Kellie had to make me wait?"

Draco snorted. "Please, you're male. Don't sit there and tell me you didn't want to bang her on the first date." Harry snickered and raised an eyebrow at Ron, who sighed.

"It wasn't the first date, okay?"

This time, it was Draco who raised an eyebrow. "Second?"

"No."

Harry and Draco exchanged amused glances. "Third?" Harry asked.

"No! Can we please just change the subject?"

"No, we can't. Cough it up, Weasel, or I'll put Veritaserum in your beer."

"Fine!" Ron exploded. "We'd dated for six months before we had sex, okay? Happy now?"

Harry stared at his best friend, open-mouthed. "Did he just say six months?" Draco asked him, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"I think he did." Harry drained his beer, his mind wondering hazily how he could have coped waiting six months with Hermione. "Ouch."

"Six months? Six months?" Draco was positively crowing by now. "You loser."

Ron raised his hand to give Draco the finger, but instead he slumped forward, knocking his empty bottle over.

Harry and Draco sat in companionable silence while Draco finished his beer. "I knew I liked Kellie for some reason," Draco said with a grin.

---

Hermione was dreaming of flowers when a hand unceremoniously shook her from sleep.

"Wha--" She looked over sleepily at the clock to see it was almost half past two in the morning.

"Mione," a low voice purred behind her. "I'm ho-ome!" Hermione groaned and turned over to face her fiancé. "I've been thinking about you all night."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm sure you have while downing endless pints of lager."

"I have," Harry said. Hermione could just imagine his pout.

"It's two thirty in the morning. Get undressed and come to bed. To sleep," she added.

"But Hermione," his voice had taken on a somewhat whiny quality. "I'm randy."

"Funny, I thought you were Harry."

Harry snorted out loud laughter, slapping his thigh as if this was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard. "Let me finish getting undressed." He pressed a kiss to her ear and groped in the general vicinity of her chest, but Hermione swatted him away like a rather annoying fly.

"Forget it. You're drunk and it's late. If you're that desperate, you've got two hands. Go use one of them." With that, she rolled back over and pretended to ignore him as he grumbled something about women loudly under his breath, knowing full well she could hear him. If he hadn't been so smashed, she'd have pressed the matter further, but knowing Harry as well as Hermione did, she knew he was most likely close to collapse anyway and in no state to push it.

She heard him climb clumsily out of his clothes, then curse when he couldn't find his pyjamas. In the end, she heard him exclaim, "Fuck it" and promptly slump half on top of her in a dead sleep. Blowing air through her teeth in exasperation, she turned back and tried to push him over, but he was too heavy. She elbowed him and hissed his name a few times without success.

Sighing loudly, Hermione climbed out of bed and went around to Harry's side, activating the small orange flame that worked like a Muggle lamp so she could see and pulling him onto his side of the bed. She noted he was completely naked except for a sock half hanging off his foot. If she wasn't so irritated at having been woken, she'd have found it adorable.

Once she got him as far over as she was going to get him, she tucked him in and went back to bed, lying on her side facing away from him. She listened to his deep breathing, tinged with the occasional snore. He was usually a fairly quiet sleeper, but when he was drunk, he was prone to snore if asleep in certain positions.

Rolling over to elbow him into silence one more, she lay quietly in the dark for long minutes, then smiled as Harry turned towards her and threw an arm haphazardly over her. Hermione cuddled into him and kissed his brow, smoothing his hair down and allowing her body to surrender to her fatigue.

---

Hermione was already showered and dressed when Harry stumbled down the steps the next morning.

"It should be against the law to have to get up before midday on a Sunday," he grumbled in greeting as he headed for coffee. "Any chance I can beg off today?"

"None whatsoever," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You should have thought about that before you went out and got smashed."

Harry poured his coffee and went over to the breakfast bar, perching himself on the stool next to her. "You mad at me?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

She looked up from her newspaper. "Of course I'm not mad at you, you're not a child. If you want to go out every night and get drunk, I can hardly stop you. But you knew we've had this lined up for weeks and you promised Mum you'd help her."

"I feel like shit."

"You get no sympathy from me. You did this to yourself." She watched him as he became slightly green around the gills. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry. Take a sobering potion!"

"I can't," he replied, sticking his bottom lip out like a small child. "There's none left."

"Why didn't you tell me that yesterday?" Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "You are so exasperating sometimes. Fine, stay home. But you can ring Mum and tell her why you're not coming."

Harry was silent for a few moments as he drank his coffee. "I won't let your mother down, Hermione. Please make me a potion."

Hermione sighed. "Okay. But only because you're helping Mum." She got up and put her mug in the sink and then went to walk out of the kitchen, but Harry caught her as she went past him and put his arm around her waist. He said nothing, just held her close, and it didn't take long for all her annoyance to fade and her arms to go around his neck. "I'm sorry you don't feel well, love," she said softly. "The potion will fix you up." She kissed his forehead and held him close for a few moments, then released him and disappeared into her lab.

When she returned ten minutes later, Hermione found Harry lying on the couch, a pillow over his head. "Here you go," she said, making him sit up to drink it. She'd increased its potency so it would only take a few minutes for the ill-effects of his night out to disappear completely.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was feeling sober and ready to face the day, so they checked on their pets and headed off to spend the day cleaning the Granger household attic.

---

Hermione coughed a little as Harry magicked yet another trunk out from a corner for them to go through. Judy Granger gave it a quick wipe down with a cloth to get rid of the dust, then hoisted the lid up.

"How many more trunks do you have hidden up here, Mum?" she asked, peering at the contents.

Judy stood up straight and counted silently. "Another five, I think."

Hermione suppressed the bubble of laughter that rose in her throat at the expression on Harry's face. They'd been here at the Granger household since eleven that morning; it was now nearing dusk and they'd only stopped for lunch.

It was just the three of them standing in the attic on the cold autumn day; Vincent was away in Edinburgh at a business conference. Judy had confessed to her daughter that she had been waiting until he was gone, otherwise nothing would have been thrown out. Vincent Granger was a notorious packrat who had forty years worth of items stocked up in the attic.

They'd already thrown out at least ten garbage bags worth of stuff; Hermione had a few bags neatly packed with things from her childhood she'd forgotten existed but wanted to keep.

Judy was going through the trunk, making piles of its contents, when she stopped and looked at her daughter, smiling. "I was going to wait until we'd finished... but Hermione, I have a wonderful surprise for you!"

Judy put down the box as Hermione exchanged glances with Harry. Already, she had a bad feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. With baited breath, she watched and waited as Judy took a rectangular box off the top shelf of a cupboard. "I was thinking about the wedding," she said, giving them both a wide smile, "when I remembered you saying you wanted to wear my wedding dress. So I've had it dry cleaned for you!"

Hermione watched in horror as her mother lifted the lid and pulled out the dress. It was cream and almost covered entirely in lace. A perfectly nice dress, but not one Hermione would be caught dead wearing. "Mum, I was six years old when I said that."

"I know," Judy said with a chuckle. "But wouldn't it be lovely to carry on a family tradition? You do know your grandmother wore it before me."

"Yes, how lovely," Harry said with a smirk, leaning back against a particularly large trunk and crossing his arms across his chest.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as Judy held the dress up. "Try it on, Hermione," she urged.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione mustered the strength for a small smile and began to tug at the bottom of her top.

"Harry, turn around please," Judy said pleasantly.

"Mum! Harry doesn't have to turn around, for goodness sake. It's not as if he hasn't seen me in my underwear before."

Judy's cheeks reddened slightly. "Be that as it may, he's not really supposed to see you in your wedding dress, so he can turn around until you at least have it on."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at Harry, who was doing his best to stop himself from exploding into laughter. He dutifully turned around and Hermione quickly stripped to her underwear. With her mother's help, she slid the dress on and smoothed it down.

It was tight, as Hermione had known it would be. She and her mother were completely different builds; Hermione was not only taller, but a lot curvier than her mother. She held her breath as her mother smoothed it down.

"It's a bit tight," Judy said with a frown.

"Can I turn around now?" Harry asked.

"Of course, dear," Judy answered.

"We have different builds, Mum. Of course it's tight; you're much more petite than I am."

Hermione glanced over at Harry, and the expression on his face made her melt. He was looking at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He reached out for her hand and she clasped his fingers tightly. He lifted her hand up and kissed her fingers gently.

"Well, nothing we can't fix," Judy interrupted cheerfully. "I don't know if we'll be able to alter it, given its age. You'll just need to lose a few pounds."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as Harry stared at his future mother-in-law bewilderingly. "You think I'm fat?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No, darling," Judy carried on, completely oblivious to the hurt her words had shaped. "But it is a bit tight, so you'll just have to lose weight until it fits properly. You don't want to look enormous on your wedding day." She fussed over the lace absently.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as Harry's grip on her hand tightened. "Judy," he said in a flat, almost cold voice. "Hermione does not need to lose weight, especially just to fit into a dress." Hermione could hear the anger his words were laced with.

"Harry, it's okay," she said softly. Turning to her mother, she put on a bright smile as the last thing she wanted was to get into an argument about it. "I really do appreciate you doing this for me, Mum. I'll have a think about it, okay?"

"Okay, darling," Judy said. "It's here whenever you want it. We can see if it can be altered, of course."

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "Let's take it off so I don't do any damage to it." As tempted as she was to rip the bloody thing off, she let go of Harry's hand and carefully allowed her mother to help pull it up over her head. She saw Harry's gaze firmly trained on her as she redressed and blinked back hurt tears. "Shall we finish this up? It's getting late." With that, she pushed her mother's words into the back of her mind and helped finished sorting out the attic.

---

Hoisting the last of the bags into the car, Hermione hugged her mother goodbye and watched as Harry gave Judy a peck on the cheek. Hermione could tell from his slightly stilted actions that Harry was still angry about the scene in the attic, and she squeezed his hand briefly as he opened her door. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, never taking his eyes off her, and the love she could see there was enough to make her eyes mist over again, this time for a good reason.

They drove home in silence, Hermione lost in her thoughts as she replayed her mother's words in her head over and over. The logical part of her brain told her she was being ridiculous to even give it a second thought; Hermione had always watched her weight, but had never been anxious about it. However, she couldn't stop thinking about it and was annoyed with herself that she'd taken it to heart.

As he always did, Harry had been able to sense just how upset she was about it, and he took his hand off the gear stick to curl his fingers around hers. "Hermione, you know you don't need to lose any weight," he said, breaking the silence. "I hope you're not going to listen to her. You should have just told her you didn't want to wear it."

"It's not that easy, Harry," she responded, squeezing his fingers gently. "She thought she was doing something nice, as a surprise."

"I realise that," he said patiently. There was a small pause. "I'm still a little stunned she said it, though."

"That makes two of us." Hermione gazed out the window at the blackness. "She didn't mean it."

"I wish she had just thought before she'd spoken. We're already under enough pressure with organising everything."

"Harry, can we just drop it, please?" she asked, releasing his hand. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Harry brought his spare hand up to the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as they approached their house. "So you're just going to brood silently about it and let it fester until you start to believe her."

He pulled into their driveway and deftly manoeuvred the car into the garage. Hermione was silent as they carried the bags into the house, dumping them in the kitchen. She put the kettle on to make some tea.

"I don't believe her," she said quietly with conviction. "Tomorrow, I will have forgotten about it."

But as Harry came up behind her and placed his arms around her, Hermione knew she was lying.

---

Sirius had just settled down one stormy Friday night with a good book in one hand and a gin and tonic in the other when a loud banging at the door made him half jump out of his seat. The clear liquid sloshed onto the floor as he let out a small curse.

Picking up his wand, he went to the front door and pointed it, but the tip did not glow purple as it would have if the person standing on the other side of it meant him harm. As he reached for the door knob, the hairs on the back of his head stood up, and Sirius knew before he swung the door open who his visitor was.

"Hello, Moony," he said.

Remus Lupin gave him a weary smile. "Padfoot, my old friend. How the hell are you?"

---

Hermione sighed tiredly and sipped her tea as she waved her wand at the ever-growing piles of letters that sat on her desk. The spell she'd just cast had been one to open them all so she could sift through them.

Taking the top one, she scanned it to see if it was congratulations from a friend or requests from the media. Seeing it was from an old friend she'd worked with previously, she read the short missive with a smile and put it back in the envelope, then placed it to her right.

She adopted this method as she went along. Hermione scanned each letter. If it was from a friend, she read it and placed it to her right; if it was from the media, she put it back in its envelope and put it on her left. After a good twenty minutes, she became tired of reading and pushed the remainder aside, deciding to leave them for another day.

A red envelope towards the bottom of the nearest pile caught her eye, so she picked it up. Her first name was engraved neatly on the front, and when she flipped it over, she saw the gold heart-shaped seal on the back. Hermione studied the front once again, not recognising the writing, then shrugged and pulled the parchment out, unfolding it.

Her eyes scanned the words and at first, she thought it was a joke, but as she read on, she realised that the author of this letter seemed deadly serious. When she got to the end, it was simply signed, "L". Searching her mind, she thought of all the people she knew whose names began with the letter L, and immediately she thought of Luna Lovegood and Lavender Brown from Hogwarts; Lois Emery, with whom she'd worked at the Radson Company, her job before PGW; and Lucas Sheffield, who worked in the Herbology division in the East Wing. She couldn't imagine any of them sending her this, even as a joke.

Hermione took another mouthful of tea and made herself read the letter again, carefully going over each word. Once she reached the end, she decided that indeed it was a joke, albeit a rather poor one. She could attempt to trace the author, but her chances of finding out who it was were slim to none.

Putting the parchment back in the envelope, she opened her bottom left hand drawer to place it in storage with all of the other letters they'd received over the last four weeks when a thought occurred to her. The first line had alluded to the fact she had not responded to him... which meant that this couldn't have been the first letter sent. Picking up her wand and casting a summoning spell, Hermione watched as three more red envelopes came flying out of the drawer and into her free hand.

With a heavy heart, she looked at the front of them and saw her first name on all of them in the same cursive script as the one she'd just read. None of these had been opened; half the ones sitting in her drawer were still sealed. There simply hadn't been time to read them all. She opened one of the three she'd just pulled out of the drawer and scanned it, her heart leaping into her throat as she realised it took on the same tone as the first one. Slitting the other two open, she skimmed them too, noting that they had all been dated by the author.

Putting them into order, she read through them. The first letter sent was calm in tone. The author had clearly put a lot of effort and thought into what had been written. As she moved onto the next one, she could sense a small amount of anxiety in the words; by letter number four, the person who had written the letters was not attempting to hide their annoyance at her lack of response. Hermione saw they were all dated exactly a week apart.

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was afraid of words. Whoever had written these clearly knew something of her; there had been marked references to her appearance and her personality. Something about the entire nature of them made her shiver, and she felt extremely unsettled.

Hermione needed to show them to someone, to get a second opinion. She immediately thought of Harry, but he was hardly a neutral party and she didn't want to unnecessarily worry him. She pondered going to Ron, but she knew that he would most likely tell Harry about them and would probably laugh them off as a sick joke. Which was exactly what she wanted to do, laugh them off. But if they were serious, then she needed to know.

Hermione thought for a while, then put the letters back in their respective envelopes. She stood and grabbed her robes, slipping the letters inside, and left her office, telling Nancy she had to duck out and would be back shortly if anyone was looking for her. She knew exactly who to go to.

---

The knock on the door made Draco look at it in surprise, as he hadn't been expecting any visitors. He got up and opened it, only to find Hermione standing there. What surprised him more was the nervousness that she exuded.

"Hermione," he said. "Come in." Holding open the door for her, he moved to let her in and watched as she sat down on the couch, then stood up again almost immediately and began to absently pace. "Something on your mind?"

"I wondered if you'd mind looking at something for me and giving me your honest opinion."

"Sure." He watched as she stood still and reached inside her robes, and the look on her face unsettled him. "You okay?"

Hermione laughed nervously. "Yes. I mean, I'm okay, I'm just... anyway, just look at these and tell me what you think." She thrust four red envelopes at him and bit her lip.

His curiosity piqued, Draco leaned back against the arm of the couch and pulled one of the letters out to read it. His eyes scanned the words as his brain took them in, analysing and trying to make sense of them.

He finished the letter he held and looked up at the woman who had, at various times of his life, been his enemy, his lover, and his friend. "Are these for real?"

"They seem to be." Her eyes were wide with worry and something else Draco couldn't quite put his finger on. "What do you think about the person who wrote them?"

"Other than the fact he's obviously a couple of sickles short of a galleon?" His attempt at light humour went down like a lead balloon when he saw he didn't even get a smile from Hermione. "Come on, Hermione. You can't think this bloke is serious. He's obviously some sort of nutter. I don't need to read the others, do I?"

Hermione shook her head. "They're all the same." She folded her arms over her chest, although Draco wondered if she wasn't in fact trying to comfort herself.

"Have you shown these to Harry?"

Here, Hermione hesitated and averted her eyes. "No, not yet. I didn't... I mean, I don't know whether to take them seriously or not. They're dated exactly a week apart. One a week for the last four weeks."

"And number five is due soon then."

"If he -- I assume it's a he -- keeps to pattern, yes. I could have dismissed one, maybe two... but not four."

Draco put the letters down and fixed his gaze on his friend. "Are you worried?"

Hermione met his eyes, and he hoped she could see the concern he felt for her in them. "Should I be?" she asked in a soft voice.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Not necessarily. Like I said, it could just be some nutter getting his kicks. If you are worried, Hermione, then you need to tell Harry. It can't hurt to take a few extra precautions. Perhaps if he sees you're taking it seriously and are taking measures to do something about it, it might scare him off."

"You're right," Hermione breathed. They said nothing for a few moments, moving their conversation to non-verbal.

"If you're truly worried about this, you have to tell him."

"I know, but I feel a bit silly about being worried over a few letters."

"No one would blame you, they're not exactly light and fluffy. If this bloke is serious, then you need to watch your back. And Harry will be angry if you don't tell him and they continue to arrive."

"I know. I just needed someone to tell me I wasn't crazy."

"You're not crazy. You have every right to be worried."

"I'm scared," she burst out loud.

Draco rose up off the arm of the couch and closed the distance between them, placing a hand on her arm reassuringly. "Go back to the office and take them straight to Harry. The two of you can work out what the next step is, but you can't keep something like this from him, Hermione. Especially if it continues on."

"I know," Hermione said softly. She closed her eyes briefly and opened them again, his gaze firmly trained on her, steady and calm. He held up his free hand and summoned the letters, then handed them back to her.

Tucking them away, she leaned up to kiss his cheek and left without speaking another word.

---

Harry bit off another piece of apple as he read over the report Nancy had just given him. He was tired and his mind wandered a bit, but he made himself focus on the task at hand.

When Hermione walked in, he looked up... and the look on her face sent a spark of fear straight through him. Something was terribly wrong. Putting down his apple and rising out of his chair, he met her halfway and opened his arms to her, and she didn't hesitate to step into them and let him hold her.

Harry could feel her trembling slightly in his arms, and he was torn between not wanting to ever let her go and demanding she tell him immediately what was upsetting her. He pulled away and brushed his lips against her forehead. "What's wrong?"

Her face changed and became blank. "There's something I need to show you."

---

Dedication: This chapter is for Sarea and Jade Okelani, because I love them, and for Jacy Evans and Annibug, because it's their birthday.

Thank you: to Libbie, Melissa, Sue, Clare and Renee for pulling out their red beta quills and going through the chapter. Their suggestions and comments are always appreciated. Thank you to Lori for her friendship, support and encouragement.

Thanks also to: to the talented artists who drew for me! Menthe drew Ginny leaning over the counter and Hermione in the wedding dress; Ash Jay drew Draco and Ginny in the bath and Hermione on the floor with Harry hovering over her surrounded by lists; Yasmin drew Harry and Hermione sitting on the lounge room floor, and Wicked Witch drew Draco and Hermione. Thanks also to Mel who did me a beautiful pic of Hermione that you can see here. It doesn't fit anywhere particular in the chapter but deserves to be shared.

Please join me: at PGW Industries. All chapters are posted there first (this chapter was posted on December 10) and you'll find cookies and extras as well. If you can't, for whatever reason, join a yahoo group, please email me and I'll be happy to email the chapters to you as they are done.