Love is a Crime

LIAC 3 -- The Fall

You don't remember me but I remember you

I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you

But who can decide what they dream?

And dream I do

I believe in you

I'd give up everything just to find you

I have to be with you to live, to breathe

You're taking over me

Taking Me Over, Evanescence

---

Harry had to concentrate with everything he had to stop his fingers shaking as he pulled the most recent letter out of its red envelope. Hermione was standing in front of his desk, her arms wrapped around herself for comfort, and neither of them had looked at the other while he'd been reading.

It was hard for Harry to tell which emotion felt strongest of the ones currently coursing through him -- disbelief, anger, astonishment, even a little fear. His brain was trying to comprehend the words leaping off the parchments, but it was as if the rational part of it refused to accept that anyone was nutters enough to Hermione such letters. Sucking in air, he unfolded the last of the letters and read.

22^nd October, 2009

My love,

I am now firmly convinced that Potter has you under some sort of spell that renders you incapable of responding to me. What other reason could you have for not answering? I have long suspected him capable of such crimes, and now I have the proof.

I honestly believed that my love and respect for you would be enough to make you open your beautiful brown eyes and see that you are ruining your life being with him. Surely you can see him for what he really is? He is nothing more than a leech, sucking the life blood from you. I did not intervene before now, as much as my need to protect you and keep you safe almost overwhelms me, because you are a grown woman. Sensible, trustworthy, loyal and the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I thought that my previous letters would help you to see the light, but I know now how wrong I was in my assumption.

But do not be afraid, my beautiful Hermione. I have spent long hours thinking of ways to bring us together. He will not be able to enthrall you for much longer. I understand you are a prisoner of sorts, being held captive by his spell. I will soon free you from your prison, my love, so that you can soar free and take your place by my side.

Never forget how much I love you, Hermione. Let my love guide you to salvation.

L

Harry fought the urge to be sick as he dropped the letter onto his desk, not wanting to touch it a second longer. At long last, he looked at Hermione. She had given up all pretence and was simply staring at him, her eyes wide and clouded with fear.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

Her voice was soft and matter-of-fact, but Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Some deluded nutter was in love with his wife-to-be and was making thinly veiled threats towards him. And Harry hadn't the slightest clue what to do about it.

He got out of his chair and went to her, feeling nothing but the urge to hold her in his arms and never let her go. In his arms, she was safe, because he could feel her skin and hear her breathe. In his arms, he could reassure himself that she loved him and no other, and could tell her without words that she meant the world to him. In his arms, she was his.

He pulled back to look at her, her arms still around his neck, and when he opened his mouth to speak, to reassure her that nothing would happen and that this person would simply go away, he couldn't find the words. Harry was out of his element. He could deal with proclamations of love and declarations of marriage from witches and wizards he had never met. Hell, he even found the occasional pair of black lace knickers in the owl post a passing amusement. But this; this sick and twisted travesty of love floored him. No matter how high their media profiles were, neither he nor Hermione had ever dealt with something so downright perverse. As he searched her eyes, hoping to find an answer, he found he was at a complete loss to know what to say to his fiancée.

So he kissed her. He pressed his lips against hers and kissed her, hard. He kissed her possessively. He poured everything he wanted to say -- everything he couldn't say -- into that kiss... and his heart skipped a beat when he realised Hermione was responding the same way.

There were no sounds in the room over the next five minutes, bar the noise of lips touching, tasting, comforting, and the moans that rose almost unbidden from their throats. Eventually they pulled back, enough to talk, but did not let go of each other.

"It will be okay," Harry said breathlessly, breaking the silence. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Hermione closed her eyes and kissed Harry's face, placing kisses on whatever part of his skin her lips happened to find. "I'm scared," she confessed between kisses. "I don't know what to do."

"We'll work it out," he said in his best we'll-be-fine voice. "We'll find out who this nutter is and we'll turn him over to the Aurors and have him charged for harassment. I'll go talk to someone at the Ministry tomorrow about the letters." Harry kissed her again and tightened his arms around her. "Has anyone else seen these?" A darker thought occurred to him, and he couldn't help but ask. "How long have you had these?"

At this question, Hermione pulled back and placed a hand on his face, caressing his cheek. "I only found them earlier today. I took them to Draco." She held up a hand when she saw the look on his face. "I wanted a neutral opinion, to know I was reading them correctly. I wanted someone to tell me I wasn't insane for being worried."

"You're not insane, and I'd be surprised if you weren't worried," Harry answered automatically. "The person who wrote these -- and I guess we can safely assume it's a man -- isn't exactly stable. Although I will say one thing for him... he has great taste in women." A ghost of a smile curved his lips, and all Hermione could manage was a wan smile to match.

"It's not funny, Harry," she said, swiping his arm.

"I know it's not, Hermione," he replied, his face once again blank. "And I'm not treating it as a joke." Hermione didn't answer, resting her forehead against his. "Come on, let's have an early mark and go home." He took her hand in his and picked up the red envelopes still sitting on his desk, then stuffed them into his bag. Best not to leave them lying around.

---

The next few days were some of the tensest Harry could ever remember experiencing, despite their best intentions to keep them calm and stress-free. As October twenty ninth drew closer, both his and Hermione's dread at the prospect of receiving another letter was palpable. Instead, Harry forced himself to think of the thirty first, the day when they would celebrate their first anniversary as a couple.

Harry and Elias had a meeting in Paris on the thirtieth with the French company PGW worked alongside. It had already been rescheduled once, so it couldn't be missed again. As he skimmed some files, his mind wandering, an idea began to form. They had planned for Harry to come back from Paris on Friday night so they could celebrate their anniversary, but something much better and more romantic struck him. He'd already purchased a gift for her; a matching set of necklace and earrings with pink diamonds to go with her engagement ring. With the first genuine smile he'd had in days, Harry scribbled a few notes and asked Nancy to owl them off for him.

Ascertaining Hermione's whereabouts and discovering she was down in her lab, he strode down to the West Wing, whistling as he walked. Upon his arrival at the lab, Harry found Hermione alone.

"Hey, beautiful. Whatcha doing?"

Hermione looked up, startled. "Harry! I'm just trying to find an old spell I used last year for Connie Yang; she's trying to write a counter curse for her current project and thinks it might help." She tilted her head and gave him a half smile. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, love, but what are you doing here?"

"I have a proposition for you." He grinned and went over to her, holding his hand palm up for her to take.

"That sounds dangerous," Hermione answered, taking his hand anyway. She laughed as he twirled her around, pulling her close and kissing her. "So what's this proposition all about, then?"

Harry kissed her again. "Elias and I have the meeting in Paris on Friday. I know our plan was for me to come back Friday night, but how about we spend our anniversary there instead? I'm told they have some great bridal shops there. We can just hang out in the City of Love."

Hermione wound her arms around his neck and grinned. "Paris is the City of Lights, sweetheart, not the City of Love. But it sounds like a wonderful idea!"

"I thought you might like it. I've owled the hotel to reserve the big company suite." Since Harry and Elias went to Paris so often, the company kept a number of suites at d'Hotel de Lion Ecarlate on retainer for use when needed. "We'll go to a nice fancy restaurant on Saturday night."

"Oh, really," Hermione said, kissing his neck. "I had other plans for us on Saturday night and they don't include eating out in public."

Harry smirked. "Tell me more, Dr. Granger."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and put her lips to his ear, whispering exactly what plans she had made. By the time she was done, Harry was positive the room temperature had risen a few degrees. "You are an evil, evil woman. You tell me this five days before it's going to happen and expect me to make it through the week?"

"Absolutely." She kissed him briefly and smiled innocently. "I've got to find this spell for Connie." Giving him one last kiss, she went back to her search.

Harry stood and watched her silently. Sometimes he had moments where he was simply amazed that this beautiful, intelligent and incredible woman loved him. She was in love with him and had agreed to marry him. He could trust her. He could tell her anything and know that she wouldn't exploit it. She knew the real him; he wasn't just some face on a magazine cover or The Boy Who Lived. To her, he was simply Harry. Her best friend and the man she was going to marry. And sometimes Harry wished he could find to words to express how much that -- and her -- meant to him.

---

Sirius and Remus spent some time catching up on news and each other's lives. Remus told him about his recent trip through Eastern Europe; Sirius brought him up to speed on Harry and Hermione, and general gossip about mutual friends. They were happy to spend some time together as their paths didn't cross half as often as they would have liked them to these days, even though they did keep in contact via owl and fireplace when Remus could get to one.

It wasn't until Remus had been there for a little while that Sirius found the courage to tell him about the book. They were sitting in the den, sipping on some very expensive brandy that Remus had picked up during his journeys, chatting about nothing in particular. There was a small lull in the conversation, and Sirius took the opportunity to bring the subject up.

"You have impeccable timing, Moony," Sirius began. "Do you remember about a year ago I owled you that I was going to write a book?"

Remus swirled the brandy around in the snifter he held in his hand. "Yes, although you were rather vague about its contents."

"I finished it a few weeks ago." Here Sirius paused, taking a mouthful of brandy for courage. "It's about a wizard who is framed for the murder of his best friends and spends twelve years in Azkaban."

Remus' face betrayed no emotion, although there was a good few seconds worth of silence before he spoke. "First person?"

"Third. I couldn't do it any other way."

Remus nodded and there was another pause. "What are you planning to do with it?"

"I honestly don't know." Sirius sighed thoughtfully. "I don't know if I should publish it, or even if I could." If anyone would understand the anguish Sirius would have had to go through to write his story, it would be the greying, fair-haired wizard who sat opposite him.

"Has anyone read it?" Remus' purposely general question did not fool Sirius; what he was asking was if Harry had read it.

"No. I don't know that I want Harry to read it. I can't see it serving any purpose other than to upset him."

"He deserves to know the truth, Sirius. He deserves to know what happened to you. He deserves to know what happened to his parents."

"Harry has already suffered more than one man should have to suffer, Remus. He's now in a place where he's happy with his lot in life and I refuse to do anything to jeopardise that."

Remus said nothing, getting up and filling his snifter with more brandy. "Ah yes, his forthcoming wedding. I must say, when you first told me he was dating Hermione, you could have knocked me over with a feather."

"I know. I didn't expect it either. I had no idea he'd fall for her, of all people. They'd been friends for so long I'd believed any chance they might have had was long gone."

"Hermione is a lot like Lily was. At least, she was, anyway."

"She still is. She's settled him a lot. They very much remind me of James and Lily when they were courting."

"When's the wedding?"

"Next year. July thirty first, actually."

At this, Remus smiled, his gaze still firmly trained on his one remaining best friend. "Harry's birthday? That had to be Hermione's doing."

Sirius nodded. "I think she wants to make up for all the birthdays he missed as a child."

"She couldn't do much better than that. You won't be able to wipe the grin off his face."

"It'll certainly be a sight to behold," Sirius laughed. "He's positively giddy now."

"That's nice to hear, Sirius. Harry deserves every happiness. He was always such a good kid, despite his upbringing."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "A good kid? Are we talking about the same Harry who always seemed to be getting himself into trouble at Hogwarts?"

Remus waved a hand. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." A comfortable silence fell over the room. "You'll see them in action so to speak on Thursday night for yourself."

"Ah, that's right, dinner. Are you sure they don't mind my tagging along?"

"Of course not. As soon as they heard you were here, the invitation was extended. They're looking forward to seeing you again."

Remus smiled. "And I them." He glanced over at the clock. "It's getting late, I think I'll turn in."

"Good night, Moony."

"Night, Padfoot. Are you staying?"

"Just for a bit. I'll see you in the morning." He watched as Remus rose from his seat and headed for the guest bedroom before going over to the bookcase and pulling out a small photo album.

---

Thursday, 29 October 2009

It was mid afternoon when Hermione breezed into Harry's office without knocking, back earlier from her meeting than she expected to be. The smile was soon wiped off her face when she took in Harry's appearance; his face was pale and drawn and his fingers shook slightly as he read a piece of parchment. He was gripping with such force his knuckles were as white as snow. She didn't need to ask him what he was reading.

"How bad is it?" she asked softly. Startled, Harry's head snapped up and he scrambled to put the missive away. "Harry, it's okay. I know it's from him."

Harry put the parchment back in the familiar red envelope and threw it in his desk drawer, then rose out of his chair and came to stand in front of Hermione. They gazed at each other for a long moment, their love and fear and anger evident in their eyes. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into Harry, and his arms went around her shoulders, holding her close. She breathed in and out slowly, both comforted by Harry's presence and upset that her hopes of no more letters had been dashed.

When she was ready, Hermione pulled back a little to look at Harry again, tracing his lips with her fingers and then placing her hand on his cheek. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know what we're going to do," Harry answered, making sure she understood they were in this together. He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. "I wish I had some answers, but I just don't know." He sighed loudly, his frustration evident. "I'm going to see Auror Simeon Jacobi first thing in the morning, let him look at these and see what he can do to help."

Hermione caressed his cheek, hoping that if she gave Harry strength, then she could draw it from him herself. "We'll find the answers." She paused, then repeated her earlier question. "How bad is it?"

Harry hesitated before answering, and Hermione knew he wasn't telling the whole truth. "Same as the others, no worse." For reasons she couldn't define, she didn't push the issue or ask to see the letter just then. "Do you want to call dinner off tonight?"

"No. I've been looking forward to seeing Remus since Sirius told us he was back in the UK. I'm not having this... whomever he is spoiling our lives, Harry." She pulled back from him and held her chin high, Harry recognising this pose as one she used when she was being determined or stubborn, or both. "We'll find out who he is and have the authorities deal with him, but I won't allow him to ruin even one more second of our lives. We'll just go on like he doesn't exist."

Harry didn't respond, just pulled her back into his embrace... and all the while, he wondered if that was going to be easy as they thought.

---

Hermione stood at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for the meatloaf she was making while Harry, Sirius and Remus sat at the large mahogany dining table, drinking beer and trading stories. They'd spent a wonderful couple of hours in the lounge room catching up, listening to the travel tales of their old professor and sharing in turn all the highlights of the last couple of years since they'd seen him. Hermione joined in the conversation every now and then as it was directed her way, preferring to just listen to the men as she cooked. It was nice to hear the sound of Harry laughing and joking about with two of the few men he seemed truly comfortable around; after the seriousness of the day, a bit of light-hearted conversation was sorely needed.

"So, Hermione, you've done very well for yourself," Remus commented.

She turned and smiled at him. "I certainly have. Wonderful job, wonderful fiancé, wonderful friends. I'm very lucky."

"Notice she mentioned the job first, lads?" Sirius commented dryly.

"Yes, why is that, Hermione?" Harry asked with a mock pout.

She rolled her eyes. "Make yourself useful, Potter, and chop these onions for me."

Harry rose out of his seat and scooted across to where she stood. "You just like making me cry, don't you?"

She picked up the tea towel on the counter next to her and whipped his butt with it. "I haven't got all night, you know. Unless you want to eat at 10pm."

"Okay, okay." He picked up a knife and peeled the onions, then chopped them neatly. "Some things never change, eh?" He threw over his shoulder at Sirius and Remus. "She's still a bossy boots."

Hermione looked at him, her mouth agape. "I heard that!"

Harry grinned smugly. "You were meant to."

"Right, that's it. You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Ouch," Remus said.

"Somebody's in trouble," Sirius chimed in a singsong voice.

Hermione fixed them both with a mock glare as Harry burst into laughter. "You're so sexy when you're angry," he told her.

"You're not scoring any brownie points and you're still on the couch, Potter, so forget it." But as he looked sideways at her, he could see the smile curling her lips. Leaning over, he kissed her temple and watched as her smile got wider.

Over at the table, Remus turned to Sirius and lowered his voice so their conversation would not be overheard. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Of course they do," Sirius answered sotto voce. "Harry is so much like James, although he doesn't have his cockiness."

"No, he doesn't. Harry's a lot more sure of himself. He seems happy, comfortable."

"He is. A large part of that is thanks to Hermione. Since they got together, he's settled down a lot."

"He did seem somewhat restless last time I saw him."

"That's because he didn't know what he wanted out of life, what the future held. Now, he has clear definitions."

Remus smiled. "Are they planning to make you a grandfather any time soon?"

Sirius shook his head. "Harry said they haven't really discussed it. I think they want to enjoy being married before they start a family. Hermione is also working on a cure for Jobin's disease and I don't think she wants to give up working just yet. Besides, running the company keeps them both busy."

"Jobin's?" Remus raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the woman they were talking about. "Well, if anyone could do it, it's Hermione. She always was a very clever witch."

Sirius followed his line of sight. "Still is, Remus. She still is."

---

The flickering light of the candles set the mood as Lymon unrolled parchment after parchment. His little witch from PGW had once again come through with his request and he'd been eager to go over the information since it had started to trickle through, but he had made himself wait until he had all the information before he opened it.

He sat on the floor of his bedroom, his photos of Hermione gazing down at him, and examined the nine pieces of parchment carefully. Before him were the profiles of nine PGW employees; ones carefully picked as they had met his specific requirements. After obtaining a list of every employee working at PGW Industries, Lymon had whittled away until he had nine people to focus on; people who did not have close family ties with anyone or friends who would be concerned if they didn't hear from them. He needed a loner; someone who didn't stand out in a crowd.

He spent the better part of an hour reading over the information before setting on Winston Reinhold. Winston worked in a special section of the Charms Division and reported directly to Hermione, and he worked alone. He wasn't married, had no close friends that anyone knew about. He was fastidious in his routines and stuck to them without fail. He preferred the solitude of his own company and was dedicated to PGW Industries and the work he did there. Employed by Elias at the inception of the company, he was one of the longest standing employees and was highly regarded for his thoroughness and genius.

In short, he was perfect. Lymon would be able to Polyjuice into him and cast the spell he'd been working on to absorb Winston's memory, and nobody would notice he was missing. Therefore, Lymon would have access to PGW Industries... and Hermione.

Rubbing his hands together with glee, he burned the other eight profiles and enlarged the one of Winston and stuck it to his wall. He would absorb as much information as possible, then use various sources to find out about his private life. Once he was ready, all he would need was the wizard himself.

---

Friday, 30^th October 2009

Hermione looked over the information carefully with a blank face, not willing to give away her thoughts. She could feel the gazes of four pairs of eyes boring into her, but she would not be rushed. The small team seated in front of her were anxiously awaiting her decision, and since they had requested a sum of ten thousand galleons, Hermione was not going to make said decision lightly. As one of the heads of the company, all applications for grants over five thousand galleons had to be presented directly to her and Hermione was the sole decision maker. She'd already seen the initial proposal; this meeting was to hear about it in person and let them know of her final decision.

She raised her head and addressed the team leader. "How long do you think it will take to see a positive result?"

Brian Carter met her eyes, his confidence in himself and his team -- and his eagerness to display that to Hermione -- evident. "We're looking at three to six months, tops."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Good. I can see from your presentation that you know exactly where you've gone wrong in the past and I'm confident you can rectify it. I'll have Elias organise the grant for you immediately."

The team let out cheers and whoops of happiness, and Hermione hid a smile as they high-fived each other. "Brian, I'd like a weekly progress report owled, please. Thank you all for your hard work. If you can create this potion successfully, we can get it on the market."

The team rose and shook hands with Hermione one by one. She waited until they'd left the meeting room before gathering up their report and heading back to her office. When she got there, Harry and Elias were in the waiting area, slinging their cloaks on, ready to leave for their meeting in Paris.

"Hey," Harry said quietly as she went over to him. "How did the meeting go?"

"Wonderfully," Hermione answered, freeing up one of her hands to wrap her fingers around his and squeezing. "I'm sure they'll have a potion for us within six months."

"That's great," Harry smiled. "Elias and I need to go. We've got this meeting in half an hour. I'll see you tonight." He leaned in and lowered his voice so only she could hear. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Hermione closed her eyes as Harry kissed her gently, then opened them again and bid them both goodbye. Once they were gone, she perched herself on the corner of Nancy's desk, the latter having watched the entire scene with an amused smirk.

"Heading to Paris for a hot weekend, eh?" she teased Hermione, who blushed slightly in response.

"It's our anniversary tomorrow," Hermione confided. "Harry was going to come back here tonight, but he thought it might be nicer if we stay in Paris for the weekend. We're going to have a look in a few bridal shops while we're there."

Nancy smiled. "Sounds wonderful!"

"What have you got planned this weekend?"

"It's going to be a quiet one, actually. Just me and some movies and some good wine."

"Sounds peaceful," Hermione said, letting out a long sigh. "I can't remember the last time we had a quiet weekend."

Nancy raised her eyebrows. "Quit complaining. Your man is taking you to Paris for a romantic weekend away."

"You're right," Hermione said, unable to hide a grin. "I'm going to have a great weekend."

---

Hermione portkeyed across to Paris around six and was disappointed to find the suite empty when she got there. She shrugged her robes off, then helped herself to a drink from the fridge. As she looked around, she spotted a single red rose and a note propped up on the pillows. Smiling, she picked up the rose and brought it up to her nose, inhaling its fragrance, then grabbed the note.

Have been delayed in the meeting. Shouldn't be any later than seven. Put on a nice dress, we're going out.

Love you,

Harry

Hermione got a glass of water for the rose. Placing it down on the table, she noticed that Harry had not yet unpacked the bags that he'd brought across with him that morning. So, without further ado, Hermione cast a spell that soon had the clothes unpacked and either hanging up in the wardrobe or tucked away neatly in various drawers. Once that was done, she took out the two Muggle dresses she'd brought with her and tried to decide which one to wear. Settling on the black one, she had a quick shower and dressed.

As she was securing the last strand of hair in place, the suite door opened and Harry entered. "Hi, sweetheart," she said, rising to meet him. Giving him a lingering kiss, she drew back but didn't release him.

"You look beautiful," he told her, his eyes flicking up and down her body. "You're definitely a welcome sight for tired eyes."

"Long day?" Hermione asked, stroking his hair soothingly. "You're later than I expected."

"We've hit a speed bump of sorts with a few of the suppliers." Hermione looked at him questioningly, but Harry didn't elaborate. "Nothing you need to worry about. The working week is over and I'm looking forward to indulging in more pleasing activities." He gave her bottom a quick squeeze and kissed her again. "I need to shower and change. I won't take long."

Hermione settled down on the couch and pulled out her current book, taking the rare opportunity to read. Harry was ready fifteen minutes later and they headed out into Muggle Paris, enjoying a quiet dinner then a long stroll around the city, breathing in the cool night air and taking in the brightness of the lights. Hermione wrapped her black shawl closer around her shoulders. Even though she'd cast a warming charm, the wind was still cool on her skin. But she was very much caught up in the romanticism of Paris and couldn't think of anywhere else she would rather have been than here with the man she loved.

---

Hermione rose quietly out of the unfamiliar bed and went over to the window which made up an entire wall of their suite. Below her lay the city of Paris, the lights brightly shining in the midnight hour and the sky alight with stars. She didn't bother with a robe as the room was kept at a constant warm temperature thanks to the appropriate charm, and she knew that nobody could see in the window, even if they had been hovering outside the penthouse suite.

Hermione loved Paris; having been fortunate enough to visit it quite a few times as a child, she had fallen in love with the city on her first visit and time had done nothing to dissipate that feeling. Looking down, her eyes roamed the entire area visible from her window, and she couldn't help but smile.

Strong arms embraced her, arms covered by a blanket, and she leaned back against Harry, turning her face towards him to favour him with a kiss. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"The bed was empty," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "I never sleep properly when you're not next to me." He placed a gentle kiss on her nose and tightened his arms around her, pulling the blanket around them.

Hermione snuggled closer to him and they stood together for a few silent minutes as they looked at the panoramic view. "It's so beautiful here," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "I think I could easily live here."

"What, and risk being seduced by some Frenchman? Absolutely not."

Hermione smiled and turned around in Harry's arms, slipping hers around his waist and holding him tightly. "You're so sexy when you're jealous," she said teasingly, rubbing her nose against his.

Harry gave her a rueful grin. "Best not to tempt fate. I lucked out on getting the most beautiful woman in the world to agree to marry me; besides, it wouldn't be nice to tease the French with knowing what they've missed out on."

Hermione moved her arms up Harry's back, caressing his bare skin with her fingertips, and raised herself up on her toes so she could give him a slow, lingering kiss. She kissed him until her toes began to ache, then kissed his shoulder as he hugged her to him, transferring his grip on the blanket to one hand and bringing the other up to stroke her hair. They were content to stay that way for a lengthy amount of time, just enjoying the solitude of their situation and the fact their naked bodies were pressed tightly together.

Hermione was about to ask Harry what he was thinking when he spoke, his fingers slowly stroking her bare skin underneath the blanket. "I didn't think it would ever be possible to love someone as much as I love you, Hermione," he said, his voice quiet. "I would have suffered a thousand years with them if it meant I'd have the life I have with you now."

Hermione didn't need to ask who Harry meant by 'them' and she smiled through her tears, bringing her hands up to cup his face. She pulled his head down to her lips and placed soft kisses over the length of the scar that had made him so famous in their world. "I'm so desperately in love with you," she whispered. Harry found himself lost for words. A lifetime ago, when he'd been just a boy who lived in a cupboard, he could never in his wildest dreams have imagined that any one person would love him that much, and that he would share that love, the kind of love that is deep and binding and so very rare. He searched for the words to say how he felt but found them lacking, so instead he lowered his mouth to hers, their lips pressing against each other, his tongue caressing hers softly at first, then increasing in ardor.

Without a word, he dropped the blanket that covered them and picked her up, carrying her back to bed. He laid her down and slowly kissed her body, the body that she bared only for him. He worshipped her with his lips and his hands and their naked skin slid against each other as they made love almost reverently, holding each other as though they might never again.

And when they stopped moving together, Harry rolled onto his back and gathered Hermione into his arms, not yet ready to let her go. She rested her head on his chest, which was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, and closed her eyes as she listened to the thumping of his heartbeat. Her fingers reached out for his and weaved them together as they lay in the darkness, the only light coming from the illumination of the city below them.

Hermione had thought Harry had drifted off to sleep when he raised himself up, glancing over her shoulder. She looked up at him questioningly and he kissed her. "Hey," he murmured against her lips. "It's after midnight. Happy Anniversary, my love."

---

Hermione was fast asleep when Harry awoke the next day, surprisingly early for a weekend. Usually, they both enjoyed lying in late and indulging in a leisurely session of lovemaking to start their day. Because it was still so early, however, and because they had been up half the night, Harry was loathe to wake her.

He owled an order for a large breakfast to be delivered to their suite at ten, then eased back into bed. Hermione was lying on her side, facing him, and he couldn't help but reach out a hand to smooth back her hair and stroke her cheek gently. He was careful not to wake her, and when he could stay still no more, he got up and showered, then put on one of the opulent robes the hotel had provided.

Picking up the small bundle of newspapers left by owl on the balcony, Harry came back in and transfigured a mug of water into coffee, then sat back and read through the papers, some in English and some in French.

Around nine-thirty, Hermione began to stir, and Harry looked over to the bed to see her reaching out for something, presumably him. "Harry?" she said sleepily.

"I'm here, love." He put down his coffee and went over to the bed, sitting down on it and leaning over her. "Good morning."

She blinked a few times, then reached her hands up to place them behind his head, pulling him down for a slow, lingering kiss. "Happy Anniversary," she whispered against his lips.

"I love you so much," he whispered back. Hermione stroked his cheek for a few moments and they shared a smile. "You want some coffee?"

"I'd love some coffee."

"Then you have to get up, lazybones. Breakfast will be here soon." He half-pulled, half-dragged her out of bed, and she slipped on a robe and followed him over to the dining table. He transfigured some coffee up for her and she perched herself on his lap as she sipped it, her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed. Harry turned his head every so often to kiss whatever part of her face his lips came into contact with.

They sat quietly together, enjoying the closeness and solitude, and waited until breakfast arrived. Once they'd eaten their fill and Hermione had managed to convince Harry into taking another shower -- with her volunteering most graciously to scrub his back, amongst other places -- they got organised to hit the bridal shops, deciding to leave their gifts until that night.

Hermione had already retrieved a list of all the Muggle shops that sat within a small radius of their hotel, and it was with much enthusiasm that she pulled Harry from shop to shop. They'd vetoed venturing into wizarding Paris this time round as Hermione had chosen to wear a Muggle gown rather than robes.

The novelty of dress shopping had worn off for Harry as they entered the seventh shop on Hermione's list and Hermione began yet another search. She hadn't even tried one on yet, declaring all the dresses she had looked at thus far to be in equal parts too frilly, too gauche, too plain or just too ugly. Harry was beginning to despair that a dress Hermione would find suitable even existed when she let out an excited cry. "Harry, look at this dress!" Pushing the garments on either side of the dress in question aside, Hermione pulled out the gown. "Isn't this just beautiful?" Harry stared at the gown and didn't honestly see much difference between it and ten other gowns she'd looked at, but he didn't want to curb her enthusiasm.

"Yes, love, it is." He nodded dutifully. "Why don't you try it on?"

"Yes, I rather think I might." She draped the dress over a nearby chair and looked around for a shop assistant.

"Bon jour Monsieur, Madame," a grey-haired, older lady said, appearing out of nowhere. "You are English?"

"Oui, Madame," Harry answered, switching to flawless French. "Alors que je peux parlér français sans difficulté, ma fiancée ne peut malheureusement pas."

"It is no problem, I speak English well enough," the lady said back in heavily accented English. "You are getting married, oui?"

"Oui," Hermione said with a nervous smile.

"I am Madame Oulette. Welcome to my shop." She favoured both of them with a smile and took Hermione's left hand in her own. "Ah, it is a beautiful ring. You are a lucky girl, oui?"

"Oui," Hermione answered. "Very lucky." She reached out with her free hand and weaved her fingers through Harry's, squeezing gently.

"So, you wish to get a dress? I see you have picked one out already." She gestured towards the chair. "Let me take you to a fitting room and you can see what it looks like on. Please follow me." She led them to a private room within the shop, away from the door and the windows so they could not be seen. "I shall be out the back as I have much to do, but you call for me if you need help." Closing the door behind her, she left them alone.

Hermione picked up the dress. "No time like the present," she said with a grin, disappearing into the fitting room. Harry waited as she changed, taking the opportunity to look through the racks of dresses that adorned the walls of the room. "Ready?" Hermione called out.

Harry smiled and moved to stand in front of the fitting room door. "Ready."

The door opened and Hermione stepped out, and Harry's breath was taken away. Somehow, the sight of Hermione in the dress made their forthcoming marriage suddenly seem so incredibly real. She was going to be his wife. Mrs. Harry Potter. He couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread across his face. "You look amazing."

Hermione twirled around, the lower half of the dress flaring out around her. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"No," Harry corrected gently. "You're beautiful." He moved closer to her and took her hands in his, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles. "I think I just might be the luckiest man alive."

Hermione looked at him with such love in her eyes that it almost brought him to his knees. "I love you, Harry Potter," she said, squeezing his hands. "I can't wait to be your wife."

"And I can't wait to be your husband," he replied hoarsely. He dropped her hands and cupped her face, tilting it up for his kiss. Hermione's arms went around his waist as she slid her tongue into his mouth, melting against him. They were so engrossed in each other that they didn't notice the shop owner had returned to the room until she cleared her throat loudly and chuckled.

"There must be some sort of spell on this room," she said, not noticing the look of slight alarm Hermione and Harry exchanged. "It seems to have the same effect on all the couples who come in here."

They relaxed slightly. "This is a very beautiful dress, Madame, but I have just begun my search."

"Of course, of course," she said, waving her hand as if swatting a fly away. "But you will keep me in mind, oui?"

"Oui. Of course. Merci beaucoup, Madame."

She bid them goodbye and Harry gave Hermione one last kiss before letting her get changed again.

---

Ginny sighed as she packed up her samples and cast a shrinking charm on them, stuffing them into her handbag. It had been a long, trying week and she was glad it was drawing to a close. Hermione had once told her of the Muggle superstition that Friday the 13^th was unlucky and it had amused her, but the way Ginny's day had gone she could almost believe it. A wedding her company had been hired to do was taking place the next day and the caterer Ginny had hired had owled her that morning to tell her the rare and hard-to-get ingredients the bride and groom had insisted be used for their cake had somehow been misplaced and there was no time to get more. Ginny had been loathe to face the bride, who had already been extremely difficult about the entire wedding, but in the end she'd managed to smooth it over.

However, it had left her in the crankiest of dispositions and the last thing she'd wanted was an amorous Draco draped all over her at home, but that was what she'd gotten. He'd obviously missed her and didn't seem to want to let her go, and Ginny simply wasn't in the mood. He'd been oblivious to her crankiness until she'd literally pushed him away from her and locked herself in her study, casting a locking spell on the door he wouldn't be able to break.

While she was in there, however, she'd glanced over at her calendar and noticed that the following Thursday had a huge heart around it. November nineteenth heralded their tenth anniversary as a couple and their first as husband and wife. It was an anniversary Ginny had doubted many times they'd ever reach, and it was with a smile that she pulled out one of the numerous photo albums she'd created over the years.

This one was from the early days of their courtship and Ginny stared at their younger selves, watching as they kissed and cuddled in some pictures, lay together in a hammock asleep in another, and simply sat side by side in a different one again. What struck Ginny most was how casual and comfortable they'd looked together. She hadn't ever been really sure they'd stay together, but somehow she wondered if she'd always known deep down that Draco was it; that he was the only man capable of getting under her skin, pushing her to be what she wanted to be even when she didn't believe herself that she could do it, being the one who had always been in the shadows, supporting her in whatever endeavour she'd put her mind to. Looking back, Ginny realised that Draco had never failed to be there for her when it had mattered, even through the rockiest times of their relationship. The boy he'd once been was now but a mere ghost of the man he'd become.

And she loved him with all her heart and soul.

---

Hermione pulled her car into the drive of her parents' home and got out, making sure to lock up and grab the small bag of items she had for her mother. Greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, she followed her mother inside and waited as some tea was made.

Once they had settled in the lounge room, Judy smiled at her daughter. "Where's Harry? I thought he was coming with you."

"He'll be here soon, he's still at work."

Hermione gave her mother the bag of items she had brought with her and Judy filled her in about the neighbours' most recent holiday. Hermione had known Mr. and Mrs. Urbanski since childhood and they had always been very fond of her, having no children of their own.

"I have a present for you, dear." Judy picked up a wrapped gift off the coffee table and handed it to Hermione, who thanked her mother and put down the tea cup. Unwrapping it, she found a wedding journal inside. Hermione flipped through it, taking it all in. It was a lovely, thoughtful gift. There was space for Hermione to record all aspects of the wedding, starting from the engagement to the honeymoon. It was something she could treasure for many years to come.

"Oh Mum, it's just wonderful. Thank you!" Hermione got up and kissed her mother's cheek. "I don't have one of these."

"I know, I checked with Harry before I bought it."

Hermione smiled and went to reply but her answer was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. "Speak of the devil. That's probably him now."

"Why don't you let him in and I'll make him a cup of tea?"

Hermione nodded and the women rose, Judy to get the tea and Hermione to get the door. As she'd predicted, Harry was standing on the other side, a small bunch of flowers in hand.

"Hi," she said, standing aside to let him in. "Are they for me?"

"Nope," he said with a smile, leaning in to kiss her. "They're for your mother."

Hermione smiled back, touched by his thoughtfulness. Harry was generally a typical male, not the most thoughtful of creatures, but he did surprise her occasionally with sweet gestures such as this. "Awww, that's sweet. Mum will love them."

"Gotta keep in good with her," Harry said as Hermione shut the door, "because I'm sure at some stage in the future we'll need her to babysit."

They went into the lounge room together and Judy was already there, pouring out some tea. Harry kissed her cheek and presented her with the flowers, and she looked suitably touched by the gesture. "They're lovely, Harry, thank you. Let me get a vase for them."

Once she returned and the flowers were placed on the coffee table, Judy sat opposite them. "So, fill me in. How are the wedding plans going?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, then Hermione brought her mother up to speed, which took little time as Judy was pretty much on top of things anyway. "I'm glad you mentioned a guest list," she said, "because I have something I wanted to give you."

Hermione heard Harry mutter an "Uh oh," under his breath and she nudged him gently with her thigh. "What is it, Mum?" Judy handed her a piece of paper and she unfolded it to find a list of names. "What's this?"

"Your father and I have discussed it and these are the people we would like to invite to the wedding."

Hermione gaped at her mother while Harry shifted uncomfortably, pulling on his tie to loosen it. "There must be fifty people on this list!" Hermione said.

"There's forty four," Judy said pleasantly. "We had many more, but we managed to bring it down to a reasonable number."

"Mum," Hermione began in an exasperated tone. "We've already told you, we've decided to have a small, intimate wedding. We're not planning on having more than fifty people in total." She scanned the list quickly, looking at the names. "I don't even know who half these people are! Who are the Ingrahams, for heaven's sake?"

"They are two of our best clients, Hermione," Judy said patiently, as if speaking to a five year old. "I understand you want to keep it small, which is why we whittled our list down."

"Mum, I am not inviting any of these people to my wedding. I am certainly not inviting total strangers, no matter how important you believe they are." Seeing the hurt look on her mother's face, Hermione took a deep breath and softened her tone. "I know you're excited about this and want to share your happiness, but this is our special day, Mum. Mine and Harry's. It's about celebrating our love and starting our new life together, and we only want to share this with the people who matter to us. People we love." She went over and sat next to her mother, taking her hand. "Please understand, Mum. I'm not trying to upset you, but Harry and I have talked it over and we know what we want for our wedding, and having a room full of strangers is not one of them."

Judy sighed and nodded. "I guess you're right, Hermione. I'm sorry. But this is a special day and I do want to share it with people."

Hermione smiled and squeezed her mother's hand. "I know, Mum. Listen, why don't we do something else to include these people? I don't know..." She trailed off and paused, thinking. Her eyes glanced over and Harry and he shrugged uselessly. "How about we have some sort of party when we get back from our honeymoon? That way you can invite whomever you like and they can still celebrate with us. We can make it a family gathering." Hermione ignored the look Harry was giving her; he'd been to a few of the Granger family gatherings and some of Hermione's family were a little on the eccentric side. "What do you think about that?"

"I think that's a lovely idea. Your Uncle Bernard will be very happy to hear that."

"Oh no," Harry breathed. "Not Bernard!"

Hermione and Judy just laughed.

---

Thunder clapped around the cottage and the wind howled as Remus Lupin sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly but couldn't bring himself to put the manuscript down. After days of wearing Sirius down, his best friend had finally agreed to let him read the book he had written, and Remus had spent every night since curled up in bed, engrossed in it. Myriad emotions had coursed through him as he'd read; anger, sadness, betrayal, fear. He'd had no idea how much Sirius had suffered. Sirius had been innocent all along, and a small part of Remus had always believed that, even when confronted with evidence that had suggested otherwise. But the guilt of having believed the worst of his friend had been slowly eating away at Remus for many years, and reading Sirius' story only made the guilt gnaw harder.

He read the last page and then shut the book, wiping away the tear he hadn't felt slowly trickling down his cheek. Remus felt compelled to go to Sirius, even though it was late and he was most likely asleep. Quickly weighing his options, he got out of bed and put on his slippers, then moved quietly through the cottage.

He didn't expect to find Sirius sitting in the study, a glass of firewhiskey in one hand and a fire burning brightly in the small fireplace. "Remus," Sirius greeted him in surprise. "I thought you'd gone to bed hours ago."

"I finished," Remus said without preamble. He absently ran a hand through his greying hair. "I wanted to... I mean, I needed to... " He trailed off as he struggled to find the right words to say, but as he looked into Sirius's eyes, he knew his best friend understood. Of course he did. Sirius rose out of his chair, putting his glass down, and went over to Remus, pulling him into an embrace.

"I'm so sorry," Remus said, holding his friend tightly, unable to stop the tears he was shedding for the first time in many years. "I had no idea how much you'd suffered."

"It's not your fault, Remus," Sirius said. "It wasn't your doing."

"But I should have known."

"You had evidence to the contrary. I can't say I wouldn't have thought the same thing had our positions been reversed."

Remus drew in a sharp breath and released Sirius, pulling back to look at him. "You would have believed I killed them?"

"I wouldn't have wanted to. But if I'd been told what you had... I couldn't say one hundred percent I wouldn't have thought what you did."

"You were innocent, Sirius. All along, you were innocent."

"And I think a part of you knew that. What do you think kept me going all those years in Azkaban? The thought of seeing Harry, and being able to tell you... " His words hung heavily in the air as each man gathered his thoughts.

"I'm sorry." Remus felt the words just weren't enough. He'd lost his friends all those years ago, gradually coming to believe the man in front of him had been responsible for their demise. Now he knew the truth, he wanted to apologise for even thinking for a second that Sirius could have been capable of such betrayal, but he couldn't express his feelings adequately.

"Don't do this to yourself, Moony," Sirius said gently. "It's in the past."

"How can you be so calm about it?"

"It's either that or go mad."

"But I-- "

"I know."

And just like that, Remus let his guilt melt away. He clutched his friend close again, unable to articulate any more words. For, in his own way, Remus Lupin had also suffered; the twelve years of loneliness had almost been too much to bear.

---

Ron flipped onto his back and breathed deeply, both he and Kellie silent as they cuddled up together. She ran her fingers over his chest, playing with the fine hair that lightly covered it, and kissed his shoulder.

"Mmmm," Kellie hummed softly. "That was good."

"Yes, it was," Ron agreed. Their sex life had altered dramatically since Gemma's arrival; between raising their child and ensuring their shop continued to profit, Ron and Kellie had found themselves in a cycle where making love as often as they might have wanted to simply didn't happen. Sometimes they were interrupted by Gemma, who Ron was sure somehow possessed an inbuilt sensor that sounded the second he touched her mother, and sometimes they were simply too tired and not as enthusiastic as they should be so they'd give up and get some much needed sleep instead.

They fell into a comfortable lull of not speaking, just stroking and caressing each other softly, and they'd almost fallen asleep when a noisy cry rang out. They both sighed and waited, listening to see if their daughter would go back to sleep, but when it was clear she wouldn't, Ron moved out of his wife's embrace.

"I'll get her, you get some sleep." He kissed her softly and slid out of bed, pulling on some boxers, and his robe and slippers. He went next door and retrieved his daughter, who was standing up in her cot, waving her arms about. "What are you doing awake, young lady?" He picked Gemma up and she stopped crying, patting his face and making cooing noises.

Ron went over to the dressing table where they kept an assortment of ointments and creams and picked up a small purple jar containing the ointment they were using to soothe Gemma's gums while her teeth broke through, then sat down in the rocking chair. "Do your gums hurt, piglet?" he asked her softly, and Gemma seemed to understand, her face red even in the soft glow of the nightlight they left burning in her room. She gave a little cry and stared up at her father, willing him to understand.

He stuck his finger in the jar and then rubbed the willing Gemma's gums gently, hoping the ointment would soothe them enough for her to go back to sleep. Once he was done, he cradled his little girl in his arms and sang to her softly as he rocked, enjoying moments such as these when they were spending some time alone together. He watched her close her big brown eyes sleepily, and she reached out a hand to pat his face. He took her hand and kissed the palm. "I love you, Gemma," he said as her eyelids fluttered as she fell asleep.

He stayed in the chair for another five minutes, wanting to make sure she wasn't going to wake up... and a small part of him wanting to preserve this moment in time forever. Ron Weasley could never have known how much he would love his child until she was there, and he cuddled her close, kissing her forehead and watching her breathe, and somehow he never wanted to let her go.

---

"He's driving me insane," Ginny declared as she lifted her fork to her mouth.

Hermione tried not to laugh as she sipped her wine. "I thought you would like having Draco around all the time."

"I do! But he's constantly in my face, Hermione. You have no idea. He comes down to the office and is quite happy to lay on the couch for hours, but then I can't do any work because he's always whining about being bored."

Hermione didn't bother to stifle her laugh. She should have known Draco would dominate the lunch time conversation after Ginny's harassed and urgent you-must-have-lunch-with-me-today-or-I-will-spontaneously-combust owl. "So tell him to get a job, then. Surely there must be something he could do with his time. Volunteer work?"

Ginny scowled. "Don't you think I've tried that? I certainly don't mind him taking a break, but I just wish he'd leave me alone for some of the time." She sighed. "Trouble is, he has no idea what he wants to do now." Hermione cocked her head. "What? I know that look, Hermione Granger. You're up to something. All three of you used to get that look when you were doing something you shouldn't."

"Do you think he might come and work at PGW?"

Ginny's hand paused halfway to her mouth. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well," Hermione began tentatively. "I've wanted to restructure the company for some time. Presently, each division has its own Potions section, but I'd like to merge them all together into a completely new division. If I do that, I need a Potions Head."

"The head of an entire division?" Ginny sounded surprised.

"You don't think he could do it?"

"Of course I do. It's just such a big change from modelling, I guess." Ginny shrugged. "You're welcome to bring it up with him. I don't see why he'd say no. But don't mention you talked to me first, because that will only annoy him."

"Why?"

"Because he'll think it was some big conspiracy between us that we thought up to get rid of him." Hermione just looked at Ginny mutely. "Okay, so it is! But he doesn't need to know that."

---

"Draco?"

"Why not?" Hermione shifted slightly, having perched herself on the edge of Harry's desk. She'd just told him about the conversation with Ginny, and her idea to amalgamate all the potion sections into a separate division and offer Draco the position of Head Professor of Potions.

"Where do you brew up these ideas, woman? You've never mentioned wanting to do this before."

"I've been thinking about it for awhile, Harry. I think it would make it much more sense to streamline all the potions for various projects in the same area. Draco would oversee it all and help out where necessary. He always was very good at Potions in school."

"He was also good at being an arrogant, cruel prat in school," Harry pointed out. "Besides, do you really think he'll want to work for us?"

"He won't be working for us, Harry, he'll be working with us. He needs something different to do with his life and this is just what he needs. Of course, he'll need to brush up on his Potion making. I know a few books I can get from the library for him to read--"

"There goes the first six months then," Harry quipped. Hermione gave him a withering glance and he grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. "Fine, if you want to ask him, go ahead."

"Good. I'm having lunch with him tomorrow."

Harry raised his eyebrows, wanting to be surprised but finding he wasn't. "So you've already organised it all?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, knowing she'd been caught out. "I knew you'd say yes, sweetheart," she said calmly, smiling at him.

"And if I hadn't?"

Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully. "Then I'd have found a way to persuade you." There was no mistaking the tone of her voice or the glint in her eye.

"Damn. Guess I should have said no, then."

Hermione laughed. "I'll have to thank you instead." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the curve where his neck and shoulder met.

Before she knew it, Hermione found herself pinned between the desk and Harry, whose face hovered mere centimetres from hers. "Right now?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Down, boy," Hermione said with a laugh, pushing him off her. "Now is not the time or place."

"You say that as if we've never had sex on the desk before."

Hermione had the good grace to blush slightly as she remembered the previous time. "That's not the point and you know it."

"Isn't it?" Harry answered teasingly, reaching out to lift her hair and kiss the side of her neck. Hermione shivered and moaned quietly, his warm lips trailing up her skin as she broke out in goosebumps. She sighed as she surrendered, a small part of her annoyed with herself that she was able to give into him so easily. But as he kissed her lips, it didn't matter.

---

Hermione sat up straighter in her chair and Draco gazed at her, his cool grey eyes betraying nothing. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to come and work for you and Harry."

"No, Draco," Hermione said patiently as if talking to a child. "Not for us, with us." Hermione had felt it necessary to emphasize the difference between the two. "Just think of how much good we do for the community. We try to find cures, we get out there and create potions to help those who suffer. Wouldn't you like to be a part of that?"

Draco studied her carefully, dragging out a response by sipping his spritzer. "What was Harry's response to that when you practiced your little speech on him last night?"

Damn, Hermione thought. How did he know that? This was not going the way she'd anticipated. "Come on, Draco. Stop being difficult." She picked up her glass of wine and had a drink, then squared off at him. "It's not a hard question. Either you're interested or not. I'm not going to beg you."

"Okay, fine," Draco responded. "I'll do it."

"You should also -- what did you say?" Hermione had not been prepared for Draco to give in so easily.

"You heard me. I'll do it. When do you want me to start?"

Hermione blinked rapidly. "You mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it. It will give me something constructive to do with my time. I'm glad I'm not travelling anymore, but I am getting bored." Here Draco paused and raised an eyebrow. "Why, did you expect me to say no?"

"No, of course not, I... " She trailed off when she realised by the smirk on his face that he was teasing her. "Tomorrow okay for you?"

"Tomorrow's fine." Their lunches arrive and they ate for a few minutes in silence.

"I'm really pleased you said yes, Draco. Thank you."

"Thank you for your faith in me, Hermione. I know it's an important job you've offered."

"If I hadn't thought you capable, I wouldn't have asked."

"I know that." He paused. "Will anyone object to an outsider taking such an important job?"

Hermione moved uncomfortably in her chair. "I'm sure there'll be a few ruffled feathers, but nothing I can't smooth over. I honestly do believe you're the best person for the job, Draco. You always did very well with Potions in school."

Draco stared at her for so long that Hermione felt a slow blush rise. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome. I'm sure you'll have quite a few questions about how it will all work, so we'll take a few days to go through it all starting tomorrow, then you can ease yourself into the role."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Draco brought his fork up to his mouth and chewed, then looked at his companion. "Has Harry been practising for the game?" Harry and Draco had been invited months ago to participate in a celebrity Quidditch match for charity in which England was playing France. All money raised from it was being divided up amongst various funds, one for Jobin's disease being among them. Given that it was something close to Hermione's heart, both of them had agreed to play. Hermione had expressed surprise that Ron had also not been asked, but he'd laughed it off, saying that while he'd gotten better in his last few years at Hogwarts, he was nowhere near being good enough to play against professionals, which the rest of the English team were. Harry and Draco were the only two non-professional players amongst them.

"Like crazy. He and Ron are out the back almost every night. I think he's worried about looking bad compared to the others."

Draco let out an undignified snort. "He's The Boy Who Lived, Hermione. It wouldn't matter how badly he played." He gave her a smile. "He can hold his own. It's not everyone who becomes a seeker in their first year, after all."

---

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Hermione knew she shouldn't have been shocked to see the hundreds of thousands of people who had showed up from all over the world to watch the biggest Quidditch match outside of a World Cup match, but she couldn't help gaping a little at the sheer number of witches and wizards that had flooded into the stadium. Hermione had been here before, having taken in her first Quidditch match at the beginning of fourth year there to see Ireland play Bulgaria, and she coloured slightly as she remembered it was also the first time she'd ever laid eyes on Viktor Krum.

The crowd was a lively one, chanting and waving and generally making as much noise as possible. There were to be a few smaller matches before the big one, so Harry and Draco were able to join Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Kellie, and Arthur Weasley in the special box reserved for them to be able to watch the game out of the public eye (Molly had decided she'd rather babysit her granddaughter and had stayed home). They sat and watched the entertainment at the beginning, then the current Irish and Scottish Quidditch teams came on to play a friendly game, timed to go for no more than an hour with the winner being declared as whomever had the most points if the Snitch hadn't been caught. The Scots managed to end it in just thirty three minutes, their Seeker performing a rather tricky move to catch it, much to the delight of the crowd.

There was more entertainment, then another friendly between Spain and Wales, the Welsh doing the gathered fans proud by also coming in under the allotted timeframe. It was during the break that followed that a representative of the charity board overseeing the event arrived to collect Harry and Draco. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, it's time to get ready for your game."

Hermione hadn't realised how nervous she was about Harry playing until he stood to leave, and she rose with him, taking his hand. "Be careful out there, Harry. Don't get hurt." She tried to keep the worry out of her voice, but the look in Harry's eyes told her he'd caught it anyway.

"I won't, promise. Don't worry, it'll be fine. We'll play a good game and raise some money for charity." He leaned in and kissed her, oblivious to the presence of the others. "I love you," he said quietly.

"I love you too," Hermione said. "Good luck." He kissed her again and stepped away as Draco said goodbye to Ginny in a similar fashion. They accepted wishes of good luck from the rest of the Weasleys and trotted off to get changed.

Hermione bit the inside of her lip as she sat and waited for the game to begin.

---

Lymon picked up his specially adapted omnioculars and pointed them in the direction of the French mascots, hundreds of rather attractive can-can dancers who looked to be part Veela in most cases. The stadium was packed, all of the tickets selling out quickly. Through various means, Lymon had not only gotten himself a seat, but had scored a seat that was both unobtrusive and in a perfect vantage point. He'd be able to move into phase two of his plan without any trouble, and the thought pleased him.

He'd sent his beloved Hermione five letters and the bitch hadn't even acknowledged them. The owl he'd sent with the letters had been trained to wait for a response, but had returned empty handed every time. While he hadn't necessarily believed she'd have come running into his arms, he had fully expected she'd at least have answered them, let him know in some fashion that she'd read them. But no, nothing. Not a word. It had to be Potter's doing. The thought of that four-eyed prat was enough to make Lymon angry and he took a few deep breaths to cool down. He needed to be calm to do what was necessary. He couldn't let his rage get the better of him.

Besides, Lymon had always loved a good game of Quidditch, even if Potter was playing in it. Even he had to grudgingly admit his enemy was one of the best Seekers out there and Lymon was man enough to acknowledge Harry's prowess as a player. However, Lymon smiled as he fingered his wand hidden in a pocket of his robe, by the time he was through with Harry Potter, the black haired hero of the wizarding world wouldn't be playing Quidditch for a very long time.

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The game had begun and the players were merely blurs to Hermione as she watched the first ten minutes. She'd spotted Harry and Draco straight away, and had smiled as Oliver Wood had moved to the Keeper position. Draco had agreed to play Chaser for this game as Harry was the Seeker, so he was active on the field, working well with the other Chasers to score some early points. England took the lead early, much to the delight of the noisy crowd.

Harry stayed up and above the rest of the players, moving around slowly and keeping his eyes peeled for the Snitch. Hermione trained her omnioculars on Harry and she could see the total concentration on his face. It was clear he was completely focused on the task at hand and was blocking out the roar of the crowd and any other distractions.

Lee Jordan, who had gone onto announcing professionally for the Department of Games and Sports, was doing the honours at this game and Hermione kept her ears open as she watched Harry play. Ron and Arthur were conversing heartily about the moves the players were making and the likelihood of France winning the game (which wasn't very likely at all, in their humble opinions). Ginny and Kellie didn't pay quite as close attention as the men were and talked quietly about a vast number of topics, with Hermione occasionally joining in.

About two hours into the game, after several drinks and a bite to eat, a very strange sense of foreboding washed over Hermione and she almost anxiously sought Harry out. He showed little signs of fatigue and apparently appeared to be biding his time inconspicuously. She then moved her gaze to the crowd, going up and down the stands, trying to find out what was making her so uncomfortable.

"Gin," she said to her friend, who was sitting next to her. "I'm going to--" But what Hermione was going to say Ginny never found out, because Ron cried out Harry's name, and it wasn't a cheer. Hermione stood and looked quickly, only to watch in horror as Harry arched his back, as though in pain, then fell off his broomstick and plummeted towards the ground.

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Notes and thank yous: A huge thank you to my wonderful betas Sue, Libbie and Melissa, whose contributions are invaluable. Renee took a break for this chapter, but she'll be back for the next one.

Thanks also go to Menthe, who not only drew the picture of Harry and Hermione that I linked in the story, but also drew this picture of Ginny in her wedding dress from LIAB 10. Menthe and Dana translated Harry's French for me. For those interested, he told Madame Oulette, "While I can speak French without any difficulty, my fiancée, regrettably, cannot." My thanks go to both of them for their help.