Love is a Crime

Chapter Five - Sea of Waking Dreams

Into this night I wander

It's morning that I dread

Another day of knowing of

The path I fear to treat

Into the sea of waking dreams

I follow without pride

'Cause nothing stands between us here

And I won't be denied

"Possession" by Sarah McLachlan

~*~

And so, they waited.

The spell worked; Harry's skeleton re-formed, the bones regaining their normal density. Once he appeared to be out of danger, Healer Logan granted Hermione's request to have him moved out of stasis and into the suite she'd practically been living in. Here she could actually touch him and sleep in the same room as him, both of which brought her more comfort and hope than she'd had since the accident. Family and friends came and went, peppering the stay with visits to both check on Harry and bolster Hermione's spirits. Ron, Sirius and Remus kept Hermione company for most of the day; she indulged Ron in numerous games of chess and spent hours chatting with the two remaining Marauders on a variety of subjects.

It was in the early evening of the second day of December that he began to wake from his coma. Hermione was alone in the room with him, thumbing through one of the books she'd brought over to read when she was by herself, when she heard a soft moan. Frowning, she looked over to where Harry lay, but there was no sign of movement. After a few seconds, Hermione got up, her heart in her throat, and went over to Harry's bed, perching herself on it carefully. She took his hand in hers.

"Harry?"

Nothing. She repeated his name softly and was rewarded with another moan. Suddenly, she could feel his fingers moving against hers, and she studied his face carefully as his eyelids fluttered open.

"Harry!"

The door to the suite opened and Healer Logan stepped through with half a dozen of his staff and various pieces of equipment floating above them. "We've noted a fluctuation in his readings."

"I think he's waking up. He's moaning and moving his fingers."

Logan smiled. "Excellent. I'm going to have to ask you to step outside for a little while, Hermione, so my team and I can do a full body scan and find out if Harry's rejoining us or not."

Hermione nodded and did as she was asked, stepping outside the room and shutting the door behind her. Myriad emotions coursed through her body, and she had to sit and put her head between her knees, taking slow, deep breaths. Harry was waking up. He was going to be all right.

She was so caught up in the moment that she didn't hear her name being called. It was only when she felt a hand pressing gently on the back of her neck that she looked up to find Ron squatting in front of her.

"Hermione, what's happened? What's wrong?"

"I-It's Harry. He's--"

Ron stared at her, his face paling as the blood drained from it. "He's dead?" he whispered.

Hermione shook her head fiercely. "No, Ron. He's waking up!"

"Waking up?" Ron appeared dumbfounded.

"Yes! He's going to be okay!" The joy finally burst through, stronger than any other emotion. Ron got to his feet and pulled Hermione up with him, taking her into his arms and spinning her around while they both laughed. By the time he put her down again, they both had tears streaming down their faces.

"Hermione?"

They both turned to see Healer Logan standing in the doorway. "I'm happy to report that Harry is awake and apparently feeling no ill-effects of the accident. We've done some scans and he appears to have fully healed, although he's going to have to be careful for the next few weeks. His memory seems a bit patchy about the accident, but I expect it will come back in time.

"I'd prefer to keep him here for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours, but he's adamant that he wishes to return home as soon as possible. I'll keep him here overnight and if there are no further complications, I'll release him tomorrow morning. However, I want him to come back daily for the next week for check ups." Logan paused and smiled at them both. "Right now, he's having a shower and getting into some clean pyjamas, so perhaps you have some people you might want to owl?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said with a nod.

"I'll take care of it," Ron said. "I'll owl Sirius and Mum, and I'm sure they'll pass the word along. We can have visitors tonight, can't we?"

"Yes, but only a few at a time," Logan replied. "I think Harry is likely to feel a little overwhelmed, so let's not crowd him."

"Can we stay with him tonight?" Hermione asked, the plea in her eyes unmistakeable.

"I have no objection to a few of you, but do keep the numbers to a minimum."

"We will," she responded. "Thank you so much for everything, Healer Logan."

Logan smiled and patted Hermione's hand. "I think it's you whom Harry will be thanking, somehow. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Ron and Hermione watched as Logan left the room, and then they looked at each other. Hermione leaned forward and rested her head on Ron's chest, her eyes closed as she breathed. He put his arms around her and squeezed tightly, his relief evident. "Listen, you go in first and spend a few minutes with him while I go send the owls."

He kissed her cheek and trotted off to the owlery on the other side of the hospital, and she made her way back to the suite. She found Harry, clad in clean pyjamas with his wet hair slicked back, standing at the window, his arms crossed.

"Harry," she said softly, not wanting to startle him. He spun around and stared as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked a few times and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I feel fine. It's like I've just woken up from a really good sleep."

"It's about time you woke up," Hermione said, her voice breaking. Harry smiled at her, the smile she knew so well, and opened his arms. She bounded into them and started to cry, and he rocked her slowly, murmuring comforting noises in her ear. Eventually she pulled back to look up at him, and it was only then that it truly hit her - Harry was alive. Her Harry was alive and awake, and he would be just fine.

"I love you," he said softly, his arms tight around her, as he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth gently. Hermione closed her eyes and stood still his lips travelled over her skin. He kissed her forehead, her eyes; he kissed away the tears that slid down her cheeks. When he reached her lips, she was more than ready, and she poured everything she had into that kiss, infusing her joy and happiness and her love for him into it. By the time they separated, they'd barely noticed a third person had joined them in the room.

"Harry!" Ron traversed the path over to where they stood in as few steps as possible and threw his arms around his best friend, embracing him as tightly as he dared. When Harry laughed out such words as "crushing" and "can't breathe", Ron let him go and sat on the nearby bed, glancing at Hermione, who still held one of Harry's hands in her own. "It's so good to see you awake again, mate. How are you feeling?"

Harry curled his free hand around Ron's and squeezed. "It's weird, actually. I feel like I've just woken up from a really long sleep that I needed. I feel almost refreshed, like I needed that rest to recharge." He dropped their hands and clambered back onto the bed, propping himself up against the pillows. Hermione sat down next to him, in front of Ron, and took his hand again, unwilling to break contact after so many days apart. "So, what happened? What day is it?"

"It's Wednesday, December 2," she answered. "You've been in a coma for four days."

"Four days." Harry mulled over the words carefully, as if pondering a complex spell. "I don't remember much. I was flying, looking for the Snitch, and then... and then..." he trailed off and shrugged. "I don't know what happened after that."

Hermione and Ron were about to explain what had happened when Sirius and Remus arrived, so they stood back to allow Harry's godfather and friend to greet him. Sirius wiped tears from his eyes as Remus spoke to Harry, then unabashedly embraced his godson once more as Ron hugged Hermione to him excitedly, causing her to cry out and laugh in surprise. The joyful atmosphere in the room was renewed when Ginny and Draco arrived, followed by Hermione's parents and Molly and Arthur Weasley. Elias also popped in for a quick visit but did not stay, sensing that his employer and friend had more than enough company for one night.

Healer Logan stepped in an hour later and ushered everyone home, telling them he would only release Harry the next morning if he was allowed to rest that night. So, after another round of hugs, all but three left the room. Sirius promptly disappeared in search of dinner, and arrived back ten minutes later deftly balancing three enormous trays. A ravenous Harry ate everything Sirius had brought him, but Hermione was too excited and nervous to do more than pick at her food. Her eyes never left her fiancé, as though she feared if she closed them and opened them again, he'd be back in his coma.

After dinner, the three of them sat on Harry's bed and he listened while they took turns explaining exactly what had happened over the last four days. By the time they were done, his face was pale and his demeanour quiet. He digested everything he'd been told, silent for a few long minutes, putting together his thoughts before speaking.

"Any idea who did this to me?"

Sirius eyed him thoughtfully. "Simeon Jacobi has a small team of Aurors investigating, but they've been unable to find any good leads as far as we know. I'm sure he'll come talk to you once he finds out you're awake."

Harry turned his gaze to Hermione. "So you went to Prague without me, huh?" he said teasingly, eliciting a small smile from her.

She squeezed his fingers. "It was dark, I didn't get to see all that much. I wasn't on a sightseeing tour anyway."

"I should owl this vampire friend of Draco's, say thank you. Remind me to do that."

"I will."

Harry yawned, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. "I can't believe I can still be so tired after having slept for so long.'

"Your body is still adjusting to everything that's happened," Sirius said soothingly. "If you need to rest, rest. Hermione and I will be here when you wake."

"I'm okay for a little while. Let's go for a walk, I want to stretch my legs for a bit."

The three of them went out into the small courtyard located near Harry's suite. The night air was cold, the wind blowing right through them, but Harry didn't mind it - feeling the cold reminded him that he really was alive and awake. He squeezed Hermione's hand and continued to walk slowly as she and Sirius talked, bringing him up to speed with the goings-on while he was in the coma.

By the time they got back to the suite, Harry was exhausted, and he barely felt the kiss Hermione placed on his forehead before he fell asleep.

~*~

Harry was examined by Healer Logan early the next morning and declared fit enough to be allowed home, so he left the hospital from a private side entrance to avoid the swelling crowd of media waiting outside for him. He wasn't up to facing an endless barrage of questions just yet. Hermione drove them home, Sirius Apparating ahead of them, and by the time Harry got home, he found a small party awaiting his arrival. A large banner hung overhead, with "Welcome Home, Harry!" on it in ever-changing colours and sparks flying out of the letters every few seconds. Sirius and Remus, Draco and Ginny, and Ron and Kellie were there, and as soon as he clapped eyes on the little girl squirming around in her father's arms to be let down, Harry remembered that today was his goddaughter's first birthday.

"Here she is, the birthday girl! Come give Uncle Harry a hug." He took Gemma out of Ron's arms and she stopped squirming, instead beaming at him and making unsuccessful attempts to steal his glasses. "Happy Birthday, Gemma," he said, kissing her little cheek. She started to gurgle at him, talking nonsense, and he nodded periodically in agreement. "Is her party still on for Saturday?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, Mum's already started getting everything ready! You up to coming?"

"Absolutely," Harry declared. "I wouldn't miss it for the world!" He kissed Gemma's cheek again and put her down on the ground, and she crawled around happily. Everybody stayed long enough to have a cup of tea and then left, leaving Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Remus behind.

"Are you sure you don't mind us staying on for a bit?" Sirius asked over a second cup as the quartet sat in the kitchen.

"Don't be silly, of course we don't," Hermione said briskly. "We have more than enough room for you and I'm sure Harry is glad you're here." She smiled at Sirius, who grinned back.

"You can stay as long as you like, you know that," Harry chimed in. "Honestly, I don't know why you don't just move back to London, Sirius. You're forever down here and it would be great to have you closer."

Sirius studied his godson thoughtfully and then glanced over at Remus. "I just might," he said quietly. "If a certain person was thinking of staying in the UK himself, perhaps?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet, but it's something to consider," he answered, leaving it at that.

Harry smiled over the rim of his teacup and then drained the contents. "I'm going to head upstairs for a bit to sort through my post and look at some work files. You two can amuse yourselves?" he asked Sirius and Remus.

"Of course, don't worry about us." Sirius waved a dismissive hand, so Harry stood and held out his hand to Hermione, who took it and rose with him.

He led her upstairs to their bedroom, and once the door was locked behind them, turned and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I've been wanting to do this since I woke up, but we've never been truly alone."

Hermione relaxed in his arms, placing her own around his waist and closing her eyes as she nuzzled his neck. "It's so good to have you home," she murmured in his ear, kissing his cheek softly.

"It's good to be home," Harry said with a sigh. He stroked her hair gently, revelling in her scent and the feel of her arms around him. "I can't imagine what the last five days have been like for you, Hermione."

He felt her tense up slightly, but she spoke calmly. "It's certainly an experience I don't care to repeat any time soon, let's just put it that way. But it's over now."

Harry pulled back and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "I'm sorry you had to go through it. I just wish--"

Hermione placed her hand over his mouth. "It doesn't matter, Harry. It's over. You woke up, you're fine, and we're home, where we should be. That's all I care about."

He kissed her palm and then grabbed her wrist, moving her hand away. He then put his free arm around her waist and tugged her closer, dipping his head and brushing his lips against hers. She sagged against him, a lone tear drifting down her face, and once he'd kissed it away, Harry pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss that soon gave way to a more passionate one. Hermione's arms wound around his neck and she stood on her toes in order to press herself against Harry, who kissed her so deeply she could barely breathe. Eventually they pulled apart, but only enough to refill their lungs with much-needed oxygen; Hermione was happy enough to stay in Harry's embrace, the feel of his strong arms around her all the assurance she needed to be sure that this wasn't some wonderful dream but reality.

~*~

He paced the room swiftly, random items exploding or changing colour or flying out the window as the anger swelled inside him. Pinned up on the wall next to his photos of Hermione was the front page of today's Prophet, which he'd received an hour ago: HARRY POTTER LEAVES HOSPITAL. The accompanying story cheerfully told the readers that The Boy Who Lived was not only awake, but was suffering no ill-effects after the incident which had caused him to be in a coma for four days.

Lymon stared at the headline, his eyes burning with hatred. Potter should be dead. The world should be mourning his loss, his grieving fiancée planning his funeral. How could it have all gone wrong? The spell was infallible. There was no way he had cast it incorrectly; he'd tried and tested it several times over on poor, unsuspecting wizards he'd kidnapped. Each one had died in the exact same manner, the way Potter should also have expired. So why was he still alive? Why was he still breathing? There were very few wizards still alive that would have known of the spell, one of the most ancient and darkest of magic ever known to wizardkind. He knew his beloved Hermione would search, would look and look for something, anything to help him, but she should never have been able to find a solution. Even if she had, some of the ingredients for the potion to counteract the spell were hard to find. Where would they have gotten the vampire's blood from? No vampire would have willingly handed blood over to save Potter's life.

But look what she'd done, this incredible witch who insisted on wasting her life on a man who simply didn't deserve her. She'd achieved the impossible, shown intelligence and determination far beyond that of any peer... and yet, she was so bewitched by Potter that she couldn't see what he was doing to her.

A small vase exploded, spraying glass all over the place, but Lymon was too worked up to notice. Potter was a dead man walking. He may have been able to escape death once, but he wouldn't do it twice. And when he was finally gone, Lymon would slide into Hermione's life with little fanfare and take Potter's place by her side.

But for now, it was time to take this game to a whole new level.

~*~

Late the next night, Hermione cleansed her face and changed into her pyjamas, a light purple pair with books flapping from place to place. Harry was already in bed, propped up on several pillows reading a book. Hermione had been looking forward to this moment all day: a chance to lay next to Harry, curl herself up against him and hold him while she slept - things that, in her darkest moments, she'd wondered if she would ever be able to do again.

She stepped out of the bathroom and Harry looked up with a sleepy smile; he marked his page and put his book on the bedside table. Hermione went over and climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap and placing her arms around his neck. He pulled her close and she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder as they held each other.

"I'm so glad you're home," Hermione whispered as his fingers trailed up and down her arm.

Harry didn't answer, choosing instead to kiss her softly, and Hermione let herself just go with the moment. Every thought she had flew out of her head as she revelled in the feel of his lips against hers. His hands slipped underneath her pyjama top and caressed her bare back, making her shiver, but suddenly he pulled away.

"Hey! I wanted to ask you about something."

Hermione blinked, the mood interrupted. "What?" she asked, trying to keep her irritation out of her tone but failing.

"Why didn't you tell me you liked to read smut?" He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows.

"What on earth are you talking about, Harry James?"

"I'm talking about something I found this afternoon." He reached underneath her pillow where he'd obviously stashed the item in question and pulled out a book. Hermione recognised it immediately.

"Two Hearts, One Wand," Harry read the title, trying hard not to burst into laughter, then flipped it over to read aloud from the back. "The riveting tale of a lonely witch who finds herself caught up in a magical romance with the type of wizard her mother warned her about--"

"Shut up," Hermione cut him off, her face so red she was sure it matched Ron's hair. "Ginny lent it to me a few weeks ago and told me I couldn't knock such books until I'd read one."

"Hmmm, yes. I glanced through it. I was most impressed by the size of his wand."

Hermione did the only thing she could to do shut him up - kiss him. But if she thought she'd gain the upper hand she was sorely mistaken, because almost like magic, she found herself sprawled on her back across the bed, Harry hovering over her, his eyes burning with what she could only describe as lust.

"I don't know," she said breathlessly. "I think your wand is pretty impressive, too."

Harry ran a finger down her cheek, down her jaw, lightly caressing her throat, and then replaced his finger with his lips, tracing the same path. Hermione's skin burned under his touch and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of him around her. She didn't utter a sound as he undid the buttons of her top slowly, one by one, but she did let out a moan when his tongue touched her bare skin.

~*~

Saturday, 5 December, 2009

Most of the Weasleys were already at the Burrow by the time Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Remus arrived for Gemma's birthday party. Sirius and Remus had been quite pleased to be invited by Molly and had had time to go out and purchase a small gift for the guest of honour, who was currently being passed from relative to relative and showered with hugs and kisses.

Something about Draco and Ginny's body language caught Hermione's attention and piqued her natural curiosity; she observed them with some interest as the afternoon wore on and when the opportunity to catch one of them alone cropped up, she took it. Draco sat on one of the porch steps after Molly had served a delicious dinner and pudding, a butterbeer cradled in one hand as he watched his wife talk to her family.

"Mind if I sit?" Hermione asked as she stood in front of him.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, his face inscrutable. "Would it matter if I did?"

"Not really," Hermione said cheerfully as sat down on the step next to him. He shifted over to accommodate her and they watched the gathering before them in silence.

"How's Harry settling back in?" Draco finally asked.

Hermione turned her head to look at him; he was still looking straight ahead, his eyes focused on the particular redhead he was married to. "He's fine. It's almost like he was just asleep for a long time and woke up. He's not in any pain and can't really remember what happened, other than he was looking for the Snitch and woke up in hospital four days later."

"I know Jacobi and his team are still looking into what happened." He glanced briefly at Hermione, long enough to see the puzzled expression in her face. "I spoke to him yesterday morning to get an update. They really don't have any leads, but they are looking at the nutter who's been owling you. They won't give up until they have answers."

Hermione nodded; none of what Draco had told her was a surprise. She had long suspected that the person owling her was behind the attack on Harry, too, and the thought that he could do something like this to Harry scared her more than she cared to admit. What else could he do to them? She made a mental note to speak to Auror Jacobi as soon as possible, then tried to forget about it and concentrate on her current surroundings.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Draco smiled. "You've never needed an invitation to be nosy before, Granger." His comment was rewarded with a punch on the arm, and he grimaced with mock pain.

"You're such a prat sometimes, Draco."

"So I've been told. What's on your mind?"

Hermione breathed in and exhaled before continuing. "Is Ginny pregnant?" She watched as Draco stiffened slightly, then turned himself sideways to face her.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Other than the fact she keeps unconsciously touching her stomach and your eyes haven't left her all afternoon?"

He nodded once at her. "Should have realised you'd notice, if no one else did. But the answer to your question is no, she's not pregnant." Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly and inclined her head in question. "Yet. But we're trying. And you didn't hear that from me, got it?"

"Oh, Draco!" Hermione threw her arms around him excitedly, if a little awkwardly, and squashed her face against his in what Draco assumed was her way of giving him a congratulatory hug. He saw Ginny look over inquisitively and he shook Hermione off.

"Get off me, you harpy. You're not supposed to know!" But he didn't hold back a small chuckle, and Hermione beamed at him.

"This is so wonderful!" she whispered approvingly. "I have at least a dozen books at home I can lend Ginny about pregnancy and the birth, they're very interesting, and--"

"Pregnancy books?" Draco said, bemused. "Aren't you working on the marriage thing first?"

Hermione looked momentarily confused. "What? Oh, of course. I needed them for a project I worked on a few years back and once it was completed, I brought them home to read properly."

This made Draco laugh loud enough that everyone glanced over to share the joke. "You brought them home to read for the fun of it? Isn't there some law about reading books like that leisurely?"

"You may scoff, Draco Malfoy, but I bet I know a whole lot more about pregnancy and the birthing process than you do," Hermione said smugly.

"I bet you do, too," he retorted with a grin. "You kill me, Granger. Seriously." He got up and left her sitting on the porch, but not before leaning over to kiss the top of her head affectionately.

Hermione watched him go to Ginny's side, kissing her softly and wrapping an arm around her waist, and then stayed seated to observe Harry as he interacted with his extended family. She laughed along with Gemma as Harry put her in front of him on one of the twins' old Comet 260s and took her for a small ride; the birthday girl squealed with laughter as they circled the family a few feet above the ground. She then joined in as they sang Happy Birthday and cut the cake. Once presents had been opened and Gemma had been fussed over by everyone, she promptly fell asleep in her father's arms, the party now officially over. Hermione and Ginny helped Molly clear up the mess and then everyone headed home.

~*~

Monday, 7 December 2009

Harry stood under the shower, his eyes closed as the hot water streamed down his body, easing sore muscles. He'd been waiting so long for Hermione to join him that he was done, but was reluctant to get out because the heat of the water felt so good against his bare skin.

"Hermione!" he called out, not for the first time that morning. He heard a mumbled reply and grinned. "Come on, honey, the water's getting cold!"

"All right!" she yelled back. He heard her shuffling out of bed and into their bathroom, then opened the door for her as she shed her gown and stepped in with him.

"Good morning, Miss Grumpypants," he said teasingly.

"Bugger off," Hermione replied, rewarding him with a scowl worthy of Snape. "The water is not going cold, you absolute liar. We have a heating charm!"

"I know that," Harry said in a sing-song tone. "I just wanted to get you naked." If he thought his good mood was going to be contagious, he was sorely mistaken.

Hermione scowled again and reached past him. "Move," she commanded, and he complied as he squinted to see her properly without his glasses. She grabbed the shampoo and pulled back, but Harry was quicker, grabbing the bottle out of her hand.

"Wet your hair and turn around, I'll do it."

Hermione looked as though she was going to argue, but instead closed her mouth again and did as he'd asked. Harry placed a small amount of shampoo in his hand, placed the bottle back on the shelf where it belonged, and began to run his fingers through her long hair, massaging her scalp.

"Mmmm," Hermione sighed. "That feels good."

"Why are you so grouchy this morning, my love?"

There was a small pause. "I'm tired," she finally said.

Harry grinned once more. "Aw, I'm sorry."

"No you bloody well are not, so wipe that smirk off your face."

He laughed, knowing full well she couldn't see a smirk or anything else on his face since she was facing away from him and had her eyes closed. "Okay, I'm not," he whispered in her ear. "Forgive me for making you tired?"

He leaned forward enough to see her face and watched as she fought a smile. "Maybe," was all she said. He finished shampooing her hair, then stepped aside as she rinsed it. Once she opened her eyes again, he dipped his head and kissed her. "I'm going to get dressed and make breakfast while you finish up in here. Take your time."

Once he was dry and dressed, he went downstairs and started to pull what appeared to be half the fridge's contents out onto the counter.

"Cooking up a feast, are we?" Sirius said in greeting as he came in and pulled up a chair. "Anything I can help with?"

"Good morning," Harry said. "Nope, I'm fine. Want a cup of tea or coffee while your breakfast is cooking?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Make that two, please," Remus chimed in as he appeared at the doorway. "What's on the menu?"

"Hmmm," Harry pretended to think. "I think I'll do a big breakfast this morning - eggs, bacon, tomatoes, pancakes, bangers and toast."

"Outstanding!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'm starving."

Harry waved his hand and levitated the teapot and two cups over to the table, and the older men waited for the teapot to boil and then held up their cups while it poured itself. Breakfast was well on the way to being cooked by the time Hermione joined them. She greeted Sirius and Remus with a warm "Good morning" and a smile before going over to where Harry stood at the stove. Now that he could see her properly, her claims that she was tired weren't hard to believe; she had blue-grey smudges underneath her eyes and her face was paler than normal. Harry felt a wave of guilt crash over him; he'd known full well Hermione had had little sleep while he was in her coma and likely still needed to catch up.

"Stop it," she said quietly to him, breaking him out of his reverie. "I know what you're thinking."

Harry smiled. "You always do." He turned away from the pan, allowing the utensil hovering over it to mix the eggs and flip the bacon by itself, and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Early night tonight, okay?"

"Okay." She got up on her toes to kiss him. "You want some juice?"

"Yes, please." Hermione summoned two glasses out of the cupboard, poured them some pumpkin juice, and after handing Harry his, joined Sirius and Remus at the table.

When breakfast was done Hermione set the table with a few waves of her wand and the quartet tucked into a smorgasbord of delicious food. Sirius and Remus announced during the meal that they had, in fact, spent the weekend talking about sharing a place in London and were going house hunting that morning. Remus had decided to stay put in the UK for awhile after all and Sirius wanted to be closer to Harry and Hermione. The news thrilled the younger pair and they immediately offered their house as a base until suitable digs had been found.

The conversation was interrupted by a new arrival, who sniffed the air in delight. "Is that bacon I smell?" Ron asked, bounding cheerfully into the room. He summoned a plate and helped himself to a half-dozen pieces of bacon. "Excellent, I'm starving!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're always starving, Ron."

Ron grinned around a mouthful of bacon. "G'mornin', 'Mione."

"Good morning," she answered, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"

Ron finished his mouthful before responding. "Just thought I'd hitch a ride to Diagon Alley with you this morning."

"But we Apparate!"

"And your point is?"

Hermione just sighed exasperatedly and shoved another piece of bacon into Ron's mouth, causing the entire room to burst into laughter.

After breakfast, the three of them made their way to Diagon Alley. They reached Ron's shop first and, at his urging, Harry and Hermione took a minute to check out the Christmas display. They both concurred that Ron and Kellie had outdone themselves this year; each corner of the store held a different colour Christmas tree, resplendent with tinsel and baubles and what first appeared to be blinking lights but actually turned out to be clusters of fairies who giggled whenever someone got near them. Above the aisles flew dozens of the tiniest owls either of them had seen, even smaller than Pig, and they carried banners between them advertising the most popular products for the season as well as the current specials. Harry and Hermione ducked into the back office to say a quick hello to Kellie, who was currently doing an order for more merchandise, and the four friends chatted amiably for a few moments before Hermione excused herself and Harry, stating they really had to get to work.

Hermione and Harry entered the PGW Industries building and subjected themselves to the normal security checks, then hand in hand made their way to their offices. What normally was a ten minute trip turned into a forty minute venture, as scores of employees stopped them along the way to ask Harry how he was (with a few taking the opportunity to grab Hermione for her opinion about various projects).

Elias and Nancy were awaiting the arrival of their bosses with a simple pot of tea. Harry smiled, hugged them both, and the group moved into his office and shut the door in order to catch up. Elias brought them both up to speed with the goings-on at PGW and updated them on the status of several key projects. Nancy gave them all their messages, neatly sorted into three piles: those that were urgent and required immediate attention; those that should be looked at over the next few days; and those that could wait until one of them got around to it. She also gave Harry his schedule for the week and he was silently grateful there were no out-of-country trips.

Once they'd finished their cups of tea, Nancy handed Hermione a silver envelope with a smile. "This came on Friday for you," she said. "I thought I might save something good for last."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, taking the envelope and fingering it lightly. She flipped it over and saw that it was sealed with gold wax, bearing the stamp of a quill. Her eyes widened at the sight; she slit it open with Harry's letter opener and pulled out two pieces of parchment. Harry pulled his chair over and read over her shoulder as she unfolded them:

The International Organisation for Magical Research is pleased to inform

PGW Industries that the research team headed by Dr Hermione Granger

Has been nominated for a prestigious Golden Quill award

For their work on the Vextia Potion, which has proven to be a successful cure for the Bavassian curse

The awards ceremony will be held in Vienna, Austria

On Saturday, 6th February 2010, starting at 6.00 p.m.

Details provided on the accompanying parchment.

Congratulations and the best of luck!

Hermione stared at the parchment and let out a little squeal of excitement before covering her mouth with one hand as she looked at Elias and Nancy, who were beaming at her.

"Nomination for a Golden Quill award?" Elias asked.

Hermione nodded as Harry whooped excitedly and kissed her cheek. "Oh heavens," she said shakily. "What a wonderful surprise! I should go and let the team know about this -- they'll be thrilled!"

"Go, I think we were done here anyway," Harry said with a grin. Hermione merely nodded and got to her feet, leaving the office still in a daze.

"I'd better get to work, too," Nancy exclaimed, gathering up the cups and teapot onto a tray and levitating it to follow her out.

Once Harry and Elias were alone, the mood in the room changed and became more sombre. Elias didn't need prompting; he swiftly brought Harry up to speed about Auror Jacobi's investigation and told Harry that there had been no more red envelopes since his accident. Harry didn't know whether this was a good or bad sign. On the one hand, perhaps it meant the investigation into his accident had scared the man away, but on the other, perhaps it meant he was now changing tactics, and Harry was terrified that his next tactic would include Hermione somehow.

Elias ended the conversation with a tense voice. "Jacobi will be here at three o'clock to talk to you personally. I thought you might want to hear a first-hand account so you can ask questions yourself."

"Thanks, Elias," Harry said almost absently as a plethora of new questions swirled through his head. "Thanks for everything."

Elias smiled gently. "It's good to have you back, Harry. Perhaps you should give the Quidditch playing a rest for a bit."

He left Harry alone, closing the office door behind him, and Harry sank back into his chair. He could feel the stirrings of a headache coming on and closed his eyes, reaching up a hand to rub his scar absently, out of habit rather than pain.

"You okay?" Harry opened his eyes to find Hermione standing just inside the doorway, closing the door behind her. "You're rubbing your scar."

"It doesn't hurt." He gave her a warm smile and opened his arms, and Hermione came around his desk to seat herself on his lap. She ran her hand through his hair, stroking it lightly. "I bet the team were excited."

"Oh, yes! They all insisted on reading the letter for themselves." She placed the letter in question on Harry's desk. "Nancy's going to send a memo to each department head to share the good news."

"Good. They deserve it; I know they worked hard on that potion for many months. You worked hard on it, too. I know you put in many hours of overtime yourself." He kissed her softly. "I'm proud of you, Hermione. Even if you don't win."

Hermione smiled at him, a bright smile that reached her eyes. "The potion itself is reward enough, because we've been able to cure so many, but I admit that it's nice to be recognised."

They sat together silently for a few long moments, their foreheads pressed together. "No rest for the wicked," Hermione said lightly, breaking the silence. "I have a three foot stack of reports to go through, so I'd better get to it. Lunch?"

"I'll pick you up at one."

~*~

Later that afternoon, after Harry had done an initial catch up, he decided to stretch his legs and go for a wander. There was someone he had to thank for saving his life twice over. Once upon a time Harry would rather have eaten a pail full of slugs Ron had coughed up than thank Draco Malfoy for anything, but he didn't hesitate now. He chuckled to himself as he walked over to the Potions wing; it amazed him sometimes how the twin passages of time and adulthood had changed circumstances. Draco was one of his closest friends, someone he knew he could trust implicitly - a very big difference to their schoolyard relationship.

He found the blond man in one of the numerous Potions labs, surrounded by simmering cauldrons and vials of ingredients. Something green and slimy sat in a glass beaker by Draco's left hand, and as Harry watched it for a few moments he could have sworn it moved. Instinctively Draco turned his head towards the door, somehow sensing Harry's presence.

"Hey, what brings you here?" he asked genially. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all," Harry answered, moving into the room and perching himself on the stool next to Draco. "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes, but I'm glad for it." Draco got up and stretched, rubbing the aching muscles in the back of his neck caused by his being hunched over a cauldron for a few hours. "How are you settling back in at work?"

"I've spent pretty much all day sorting through a couple of hundred messages," Harry said ruefully. "You'd think I'd been gone for a few months instead of a few days."

"Always the popular one, aren't you?"

Harry laughed, although a comment such as that twenty years ago would have caused him to pull out his wand and wave it menacingly in Draco's face. "Like you have room to talk, Mr. World Famous Model."

"At least I have a pretty face and brains to go with it. Pity you can't say the same."

Harry grinned. "You're all talk, Malfoy. You keep saying you've got the brains, but I've yet to see proof of it."

"Saved your arse last week by knowing a vampire, didn't I?"

Harry sobered instantly. "Actually, that's why I'm here. I wanted to thank you, not only for that, but for trying to catch me at the game. I know I wouldn't be standing in front of you if you hadn't."

Draco stared at him, his face devoid of any emotion. "You're sitting," he finally said, and Harry burst out laughing.

"You know what I mean," he said, then paused before continuing. "Thank you, Draco. I owe you my life."

"You owe me nothing. You'd have done the same for me. You have done the same for me at one time or another, even if you don't realise it. So we're even." They stared at each other for a few moments, green eyes on grey. "I'm just glad you're okay." Harry nodded, and held out his hand. Draco ignored it, pulling Harry into an embrace. When Draco let him go, he smiled at Harry, one of his rare, genuine smiles that reached his eyes. "Now get out of here, I'm busy."

Harry tossed off a jaunty salute and scrambled out of the room after Draco picked up his wand and threatened to hex him.

~*~

It had been so easy, easier than Lymon had expected. Winston Reinhold had been a perfect choice; Lymon had been able to capture him with a minimum of ease and fuss, forcing the older wizard at wandpoint to do as he was told. Once he was set up in the basement rooms that would eventually belong to Lymon's love, ones that he'd spent months setting up to make Hermione comfortable, Lymon was able to force him to take the potion that would put him in a coma-like state for as long as Lymon pleased. His batch of Polyjuice Potion, with a few modifications that would allow the drinker to keep his chosen form for twenty-four hours as opposed to one, had been brewing for a month and had been ready to go. All Lymon needed was Winston's hair.

He'd taken advantage of Hermione and Potter's absence from PGW Industries to slip quietly into Winston Reinhold's life, showing up as Reinhold the day after Potter had come home from hospital. The first test Lymon had had to pass was getting through security, but he'd known what spell to cast in order to beat it and he'd breezed through without being questioned. After spending the day settling in, going through all of Winston's files and acquainting himself with the work on hand, he'd gotten to it. He'd wanted to have something to show Hermione upon her return to work.

On Monday morning he'd sent a courteous owl to Hermione, asking her to come to his office so he could show her the results of Winston's latest experiment. For someone who was supposed to be intelligent, Winston had proven himself to be incredibly thick; he'd been working on a charm to shield Aurors who were forced to be outdoors for great lengths of time in a thunderstorm and he'd been doing it wrong all along, which is why the charm kept fading hours before it was meant to. A few major modifications to his notes and it was perfect. Lymon was proud enough of his efforts to want to bring them to Hermione's attention. Truth be told, he just wanted to be near her, to be able to breathe in her scent, be close enough to touch her. He'd gotten a prompt note in response to his owl, informing him that she would stop by as soon as she could. It was just after lunch on Tuesday when she arrived.

She was beautiful. With her long, white robes caressing her figure like silk, her brown, bushy hair tied back neatly in a bun to keep her hair off her face, she'd knocked on the door before entering.

"Winston, are you there?"

In Lymon's haste to open the door for her, he'd knocked his leg on the edge of his desk, causing him to swear under his breath. He hit the panel that activated the door as fast as wizardly possible and watched as she swept into the room, smiling at him pleasantly.

"Welcome back, Dr. Granger. It's so good to have you here." Lymon cursed his stupidity the second the words left his mouth.

"Dr. Granger?" Hermione said with a laugh. "That's formal of you, Professor Reinhold. It's nice to be back though, thank you."

Lymon schooled his face into what he hoped was a pleasant expression. "How is P-Harry doing?"

"He's just fine," she answered, her smile instantly becoming wider. "He's glad to be back on board."

Lymon knew he should make a comment about how it was good to have Potter back, but the words just wouldn't come. Instead, he allowed his gaze to drift down her form, and it was all he could do to rein in his self-control and not pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He could feel himself harden as she brushed by him and for once, he was thankful for loose-fitting robes.

"I understand you've worked out the kinks in the Imberium Charm?"

"Oh yes, yes I have. Once I realised I'd been going about it wrong all along, it wasn't hard to readjust a few things to get it right." He scrambled to get his notes to show her, and stiffened when she laid a hand on his arm.

"Winston, are you all right? You seem a bit nervous."

"I'm sorry, Dr. - I mean, Hermione."

"Please, don't apologise." Hermione removed her hand and Lymon itched to grab it and put it elsewhere. "Let's take a look at this, shall we?"

He showed her his notes and cast the charm in question, and was thrilled to see her face light up. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she said, clapping gleefully. "We'll be able to pass this on to the Ministry so they can teach their Aurors. Excellent work, Winston. Can you please write up all the notes so I can take a good look at them?"

"Of course, Hermione." Lymon couldn't help himself; he moved closer and placed his hand on her arm, caressing it gently with his thumb. The look on Hermione's face altered and he knew he'd gone too far, but he couldn't stop himself. The feel of her skin, so soft and smooth underneath his fingertips, was driving him crazy. He longed to grab her and pull her to him, kiss her until she was breathless, and then bend her over his desk and fuck her until she was screaming his name.

"Winston." Her voice drew him back as she shook off his hand gently. "If you're not feeling well, perhaps you should visit the Hospital Wing."

"I'm fine," he snapped, and again he could tell from the look on her face that it was the wrong thing to do.

"Of course. Thank you again for your hard work." Hermione backed away and turned to leave, not seeing Lymon reach a hand out uncontrollably to grab at her robes. She left the room without glancing at him, and he was able to wait until the door had slid back into place before every glass container in the room exploded around him.

~*~

The next afternoon found Hermione in Diagon Alley with Ginny. The two witches had decided to have a rare afternoon off from work to catch up on their Christmas shopping, since Christmas was only two weeks away. Hermione usually liked to have all of her presents bought and wrapped by the end of November, but with the wedding, Harry's accident and the pile of work that had built up in their absence, she'd fallen behind, so when Ginny had owled her that morning and posed the question, Hermione had leapt at the chance.

They left Flourish and Blotts, Ginny carting her few small purchases in her handbag and Hermione empty-handed, having organised for hers to be delivered directly to her house. Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the piece of parchment she'd been periodically referring to.

"Who have you got left to get gifts for?" her redheaded companion asked.

"Hmm, let's see," Hermione said, taking out a small quill and scratching a few names off the list. "I still need to get something for Gemma, Nancy, and Tabitha. I also want to pick something up in Muggle London for your father - what do you think he'd fancy?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it won't matter what you get. As long as it's Muggle, Dad will love it."

"Why don't we go into Muggle London now? There's actually quite a few shops you might enjoy browsing through."

"Sure, why not?"

The two of them made their way through the huddled crowds into The Leaky Cauldron, and Hermione had the forethought to transfigure their warm winter robes into coats so they wouldn't stand out amongst the Muggles. Hermione led Ginny to Harrods, a shop she'd taken Ginny to a few times previously. Ginny was no less enchanted with it this time round than she had been before, and the two women spent a good hour browsing through the store, each making a few purchases.

"I thought of something I could get Arthur," Hermione said with a smile. "How about a Muggle toaster? He'd love to pull that apart to see how it cooks the bread!"

Ginny laughed. "Perfect! Can you buy one in here?" After Hermione purchased a four-slice toaster for Arthur, they found a nearby teashop and sat down at a small table in the corner, ordering tea and crumpets.

"Draco tells me you know we're trying for a baby."

Hermione looked at her friend, her brow furrowing uncertainly. "He didn't volunteer the information, Gin. I hope you're not mad, I was just curious."

"Of course I'm not mad, Hermione. We just haven't said anything because we want to have good news to share with everyone. Did you mention it to Harry?"

Hermione shook her head. "I could tell from Draco's reluctance to say anything that it wasn't public knowledge, so I've kept it quiet."

Ginny breathed out slowly. "The reason we're so edgy about it, Hermione, is because we've already lost a baby." She watched as her friend's face fell and took Hermione's hand as it reached across the table for hers. "It's okay, it was years ago now. I am nervous about getting pregnant again, though."

"Have you spoken to a Healer about any possible complications this time round?"

Ginny waited until the waitress who had brought their afternoon tea had left. "Yes. She said she'll do some tests once I'm pregnant to make sure everything is all right, and I've done some reading. There's no reason to assume this will be anything but a normal pregnancy."

Hermione nodded. "As I told Draco, I have a dozen books at home you're welcome to borrow."

"You do?" Ginny asked, eyebrows raised. "What are you doing with books on pregnancy?"

"I needed them for a project I did a few years back and kept them to read later."

Ginny laughed as she buttered a crumpet. "Of course you did." She added some jam, accepted the cup of tea Hermione had poured for her, and took a bite. "I may just take you up on that offer."

"Good!" Hermione beamed. "Are you excited, Gin?"

Ginny couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face. "Very much so. I can't wait to be a mother, Hermione. And I know Draco will make a wonderful father, even if he doesn't believe that."

Hermione was silent for a few moments, polishing off her crumpet and cup of tea. "I know he will be, too."

The two women smiled at each other and finished off their afternoon tea before heading back to Diagon Alley and the world in which they both lived. As they mingled with the ever-present Christmas crowd, Hermione was knocked sideways into Ginny by a tall wizard, not looking where he was going.

"Hey!" she said angrily, but he was gone, having melted into the throng. "How rude! Sorry, Gin."

"Tis okay, I have another foot."

"Hermione Granger?" A short witch suddenly appeared before them, one whom Hermione had never seen before. Her long hair was white, except for a streak of black right down the middle of her head, and her plump figure clad in plain, dark red robes, the colour of which, Hermione would reflect later, reminded her of blood.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The old woman thrust a piece of parchment into her hand. "Take care," she wheezed, sounding as though she was out of breath. Hermione opened her mouth to question her further, but as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone, a mere whisper on the wind. Hermione blinked rapidly a few times and looked around, only to find Ginny doing the exact same thing.

"Am I going crazy or was there an old woman just here?"

"You're not crazy," Ginny confirmed. "What the hell was that all about?"

"I have no idea," Hermione responded. She would have been happy to chalk the witch up as an apparition caused by a lack of sleep, but the parchment in her hand proved otherwise. She lifted her hand up and opened it, and they stared at the parchment for a few long moments, as though waiting for it to disintegrate into ashes.

"Are you going to open it?" Ginny finally asked.

Hermione looked around. "Yes, but not here. Come on, let's move out of the way." They moved to the side and found themselves outside Cauldrons and Cupcakes. Curiosity overcame caution, and Hermione broke the small, gold seal binding the parchment closed. She unrolled it, and with Ginny looking over her shoulder, they read it together.

Death comes soon to one from long ago. Remember the child.

Ginny gasped. "Maybe she was a Seer!"

"Nonsense," Hermione scoffed, tucking the parchment away in her bag. "It's probably just an old woman's harmless prank. It doesn't make any sense, anyway. Let's forget about it."

Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but once she saw the look on Hermione's face, the way her jaw was set firmly and her lips thinned, she decided against it. However, the words on the parchment stayed with Hermione all afternoon, and when Harry asked her later that night if something was wrong, she shook her head and kissed him, wanting to forget the witch and her premonition, if that was what it indeed was. But not even Harry's kisses could banish the words from Hermione's mind, and two days later, she found out why.

~*~

Friday, 11 December, 2009

Harry yawned and stretched, glad the week was almost over. He'd soon gotten back into the swing of things, but found he still tired more easily than normal. Healer Logan had warned him that it would likely take a good few weeks for Harry's body to completely heal, and that fatigue was a common occurrence in any major trauma so he was not to overdo it. And Harry hadn't, making sure to eat well and get enough sleep, but even so, he was still weary.

Nancy knocked on the door. "An urgent owl arrived from you. It's from Hogwarts." She brought the larger than normal envelope over to him, and Harry took it from her with murmured thanks, turning it over in his hands and finding the familiar purple seal of Hogwarts on the back. He opened it, curious as to who'd be owling, and took out the piece of parchment, which had a smaller envelope tucked inside the fold. His name was printed on the front of the second envelope in a script that looked familiar, yet he couldn't place it. He unfolded the letter and read, and by the time he reached the end, his fingers were shaking slightly. Why now, after so many years?

Harry threw the unopened envelope onto his desk as though it was poisonous. Part of him wanted to touch his wand to it and burn it immediately, but another part of him, a part he'd long buried with his childhood, wanted him to open it. What could they possibly have to say to him after so many years of silence? Could they have anything to say that he'd be interested in hearing? He stared at it for a few long moments, then moved a pile of folders he had on his desk and plonked it down on top of the envelope so it was out of view. This worked for approximately ten seconds before Harry dug it out and ripped it open, pulling out a piece of creamy, expensive-looking paper.

With fingers that were still trembling, he unfolded it and read, and once he was done, he laid it down on the desk and put his hand to his scar, his head suddenly throbbing. He called out to Nancy, intent on asking her to go to the Hospital Wing and get him a potion for his headache, but it wasn't Nancy that heeded his call; he looked up when someone uttered his name to find his two best friends standing in the doorway.

"Harry, what's wrong? You sound upset." Hermione crossed the room and crouched down by his chair, taking his hand and feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. He pulled away from her, feeling irrationally annoyed at being treated like a child. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No," he said quietly. "Well, yes, but not for the reasons you're thinking. I got an owl from Minerva McGonagall." He picked up the parchment and thrust it into Hermione's hand, and she rose as Ron shut the door to Harry's office and came over to seat himself in the chair opposite Harry as Hermione began to read aloud.

Dear Harry,

I trust this missive finds you fully recovered from your recent unfortunate accident; I was certainly pleased to hear the news that you had finally awoken.

The enclosed envelope arrived in my hands early this morning by owl; how it was given to said owl I couldn't tell you, but it is from your aunt Petunia. All she said in the accompanying note was that it was important this letter reached you and she asked that we pass it on. While I have my misgivings about doing so, I feel it best to do as she has asked, as she obviously went to some effort to ensure you received it. I do hope its contents do not cause you any undue worry.

Please give my best to Hermione and Ron.

Fond regards,
Minerva

Hermione turned the note over as if expecting there to be more. She exchanged glances with Ron, whose face had darkened at the mention of Harry's Muggle relations. "What did Petunia want?"

"See for yourself," he said, waving a hand in the general direction of his desk. He slumped in his chair and closed his eyes, listening as Hermione picked up the letter and cleared her throat to read aloud once again.

Harry,

I feel it my duty to inform you that your uncle, Vernon, passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning from a heart attack. His funeral will be held at St. Dominic's this coming Thursday, commencing at 2 p.m.

Petunia

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. She didn't know whether she was supposed to feel sorry or not for Harry's loss, or even if he actually considered it to be one. She looked over at Ron again, and he shrugged.

"Should we be sorry to hear it?" he asked, and Hermione widened her eyes in dismay at his frankness.

"I honestly don't know," Harry responded. "I don't know how I feel. I don't know why she bothered to even tell me. Does she expect me to go to the funeral?"

Hermione came over and carefully perched herself on the arm of Harry's chair, stroking his hair softly. "Do you want to go?"

Harry shrugged. He felt empty, blank. He didn't know how to put it into words, but then he found he didn't have to. He looked up at Hermione and she just nodded, and he felt a rush of love for her overwhelm him. He watched as she tucked both of the letters away and said, "We can talk about it later."

Ron looked from one best friend to the other, and just shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. I only dropped by to ask you if you wanted to have dinner with us tonight? Sirius and Remus are included in the invitation, of course."

Harry managed a smile, thankful to have friends so brilliant at knowing how to divert his thoughts to happier things. "I'm sure we'd all love to. Can we bring anything?"

Ron looked at Harry with what Hermione would have described as puppy dog eyes. "I don't suppose you have any of that wicked French wine you brought last time left, do you?"

Harry laughed. "I'll bring a bottle with me."

"Make it two and we'll see you at seven." He got to his feet and sauntered out with a grin and a wave, leaving the two of them alone. Hermione stood and opened her arms, and Harry got up wordlessly and stepped into them, relishing the feel of her warm embrace surrounding him. He sighed deeply as she stroked his hair soothingly.

"You're not under any obligation to go to the funeral, Harry. I am sorry your uncle is dead, but you don't owe him anything."

"I know," he answered, burying his face into her neck, smelling the scent of her strawberry shampoo. The familiarity comforted him. "I'll sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning."

"Excellent idea, sweetheart. If you do decide to go, you won't be alone. I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do that." Even as he said the words, Harry knew he wouldn't want to go without her by his side.

"Of course I do." Hermione pulled back and held Harry's face between her hands, kissing his lips softly. "Do you really think I'd let you go alone?" He breathed out slowly, and held her as she kissed him over and over with gentle, chaste kisses. "Think about it over the next day or two and do what you feel is right. You have my support whatever you decide."

"I know," Harry said gratefully. "Thank you."

"I love you," Hermione said, pulling him into her embrace once again. But it turned out that Harry didn't need time to think about it after all; he made his decision even as Hermione held him.

~*~

It was in the middle of dinner with Kellie and Ron that night that it hit Hermione like a curse to the chest: Death comes soon to one from long ago. Remember the child. The words on the parchment that the old woman had given her two days ago suddenly made sense: Vernon Dursley, a man Harry hadn't seen for thirteen years, someone he'd known long ago, had died. But who was the child? Neither Harry nor Dudley could be considered a child any longer.

"Hermione?" A large hand was waved in front of her face and she blinked rapidly, coming out of her reverie. Ron, who was seated next to her, placed his hand on her thigh as she noticed everyone was staring at her. "Are you okay? You look a million miles away."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm fine." She glanced over at Harry and smiled, trying to wipe the frown from his face. "Honestly, I'm fine. I just thought of something important that's been bugging me for a few days. Can I borrow your Floo for a few moments? I really need to talk to Ginny for a moment."

"Sure," Ron said, and Hermione excused herself before rising from the table and disappearing into the lounge room. After glancing over her shoulder to ensure she hadn't been followed, she got down on her knees, threw a small handful of powder into the green fire and said Ginny's name clearly. It only took a few seconds for her friend's head to appear in the fireplace, her red hair a brilliant shade of green.

"Hermione, hi! What's up?"

"Ginny, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you remember that witch from a few days ago who gave me the parchment?"

Ginny nodded, puzzlement clear on her face. "How could I forget? You just shrugged her off."

"I know I did, because Divination has always been such a woolly discipline and you know I don't buy into such things, but... do you remember what the parchment said?"

"Yes, something about someone from long ago dying and remembering a child."

"Harry got an owl today, from his Aunt Petunia. His Uncle Vernon died last Saturday."

Hermione watched as Ginny processed this information, and was both pleased and annoyed that it took her only a minute to connect the dots. "Vernon is from Harry's past, from long ago - do you think that's who she was referring to?"

"Well, it seems awfully coincidental, don't you think? But who is the child that we have to remember? Is it even me that has to remember it?"

"Does Vernon have any grandchildren? Perhaps it refers to them," Ginny suggested.

"I have no idea. I suppose it's possible that Dudley has children." The thought made Hermione shiver. The two friends stared at each other as they both wracked their brains for an answer. "What if..." Hermione started. "What if Harry is the child? What if it refers to remembering his childhood?"

Ginny cocked her head thoughtfully. "That's entirely plausible."

"Hmmm," Hermione said absently. "How did this witch know that Vernon was going to die?"

"You're not suggesting foul play, are you?"

"No, of course not. If anyone was going to punish Vernon Dursley for his sins, it would have been done long ago."

"Maybe I was right, and she really is a Seer?"

"It's possible," Hermione mused. "There have been a few genuine Seers throughout the ages. If it was indeed a premonition, though, I'm still not getting why she felt the need to share it with me. If the child in question is Harry, it's not as though I'm likely to ever forget his childhood."

Ginny couldn't miss the unmistakable sadness on Hermione's face at such thoughts; she was sure that her clever friend had spent many an hour pondering Harry's childhood and how hard it must have been for him. Ginny had had similar thoughts about her own husband, although for different reasons. Draco had never been blatantly abused as Harry had, but he hadn't grown up in the kind of family environment Ginny herself had been lucky to have.

"Try not to dwell on it too much, Hermione," she advised softly. "Harry will need your support, because this is likely to bring back old memories for him, ones we all know he's spent years trying to forget. Give him a kiss for me, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Gin. I'm sorry to have interrupted you."

"You're never an interruption. Owl me tomorrow and let me know how he's doing."

Hermione waved good night and sat silently for a few minutes after Ginny's head had disappeared and the green fire had died down once more. Ginny was right; her priority at the moment was to focus on Harry, but she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she could track the old witch down, see if she had anything else to impart. Filing that in the back of her mind, Hermione got up off her knees, brushed them off, and rejoined her family for dinner.

~*~

Thursday, 17 December, 2009

The morning of Vernon Dursley's funeral was overcast and grey; the clouds hung low in the sky and the chill of the air blanketed anyone brave enough to venture outside and face the elements.

Harry straightened his tie again and attempted to flatten his hair against his head nervously, all the while wondering why he was so anxious to look presentable. It wasn't as if Vernon had ever been pleased with his appearance anyway, regardless of how much his younger self had tried. He gave up on his hair and turned to Hermione, who was putting on some earrings.

"How do I look?"

Hermione cocked her head and he could tell she had picked up on his mood. "You look just fine, love. Everything is straight and where it should be." She came over to him, placed her arms around him and held him tightly, and Harry let out a breath and closed his eyes.

"I'm nervous."

"I know, but you don't need to be. Petunia wouldn't have bothered to even tell you about it if she hadn't wanted you there." There was something in Hermione's voice that almost sounded like disgust, but Harry dismissed it as she looked up at him. "You don't need to go, you know. You don't have to put yourself through this, Harry." Her voice was now soft and reassuring.

"But I do," he answered. "I need to see for myself."

Hermione nodded once and released him. She understood that Harry needed to know for sure that the man who had endlessly tormented him as a child was really dead; then perhaps he could bury the ghosts of the past for good. They were interrupted by a loud "Hello!" coming from downstairs, signalling the arrival of Ron, who'd insisted on accompanying them for support when he'd heard Harry was intent on attending his uncle's funeral.

They both smiled, and he leaned over to kiss her softly before picking up the black coats they would need to keep them warm while out in the cold. Ron was standing in the foyer, checking out his reflection. He was dressed in similar attire to them; both the men had on black suits with white shirts, although Ron had chosen to forego a black tie, while Hermione was clad in an ankle-length black skirt, white blouse and matching black jacket.

Hermione kissed Ron's cheek. "Where's your coat?"

"Don't need one, I've put a warming charm on the suit."

Hermione tutted. "Ron, we're going to be amongst Muggles! They'll wonder why you're not wearing a coat when it's this cold, and your suit isn't warm enough by itself. Hang on, I'll get you one of Harry's." She promptly Disapparated and reappeared moments later with coat in hand. "Here, slip this on and I'll adjust it." With a few waves of her wand, the coat had been altered to fit Ron. "There, that's much better."

Ron managed to stop himself rolling his eyes and took off both the coat and the warming charm he'd cast earlier. "Shall we go?"

The three of them made their way out to the garage and hopped into Hermione's car with Harry at the wheel. It would have been a nice drive if the weather hadn't been so bad; the road was foggy and the mist hung low in the air, making visibility poor. Harry drove carefully and, since he knew the church where the service was being held, they made it there in good time. People were already inside the church when they arrived, clumped together in small groups, while a few hardier souls milled around outside, mostly to smoke.

They had no trouble whatsoever spotting Dudley; he was by far the largest man there. Harry was both appalled and amused to see that Dudley had just gotten wider as he'd gotten older, a notion Harry would never have dreamed possible given his girth as a teenager. Although his colouring differed from that of his father, Dudley could easily have passed, with his blond moustache, as a replica of Vernon.

Harry, Hermione and Ron stood off to the side, not really wanting to engage in conversations with any of the crowd, and Harry was thankful that Dudley was too busy soaking up the attention paid him by the various mourners to notice him there. It gave Harry time to observe the two people who must have been his cousin's wife and son; they stood either side of him, each clinging to an arm. Dudley's wife was short, plump and fair-headed, although Harry couldn't see the exact colour of her hair underneath the veiled hat covering her face and hair; his son was, as Dudley had been at the same age, roughly the size of a small killer whale. Harry blinked a few times at the uncanny likeness the child had to his father at the same age.

"Is that what Dudley looked like as a child?" Hermione whispered, not wanting to be overheard. She and Ron had seen the Dursleys many years ago, of course, but almost twenty years had passed and Hermione had been too busy being surprised at Vernon's rudeness to have taken in their appearance.

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "It's like I've gotten hold of a Time-Turner and jumped back twenty years."

"He doesn't look short of a meal, poor lad," Ron murmured. "You'd think that Dudley would want his son to be healthy."

At last, the mourners began to move into the church as the service began, and Harry looked around for Petunia. He wanted to grab a few minutes alone with her, although he'd still not worked out exactly what it was he was planning to say, but he did want her to know he'd come.

The trio slipped into a pew at the back of the church, which was almost full of mourners, and Harry looked to the front... only to have his eyes meet Petunia's. He didn't think it was appropriate to smile or wave at her, so he merely inclined his head to acknowledge her, and she stared at him a moment longer before turning back to the front.

The minister began the service. Hermione and Ron had seated themselves on either side of him, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the look on Ron's face when he'd picked up one of the booklets that had been left on the pews and flicked through it, only to find it was full of pictures of and tributes to Vernon. Hermione had glanced over it, her face neutral, but her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she read over some of the words. She tutted quietly once or twice, and nudged Harry as she read the front page properly.

He turned to her and read the words she had pointed out with her finger:

In loving memory of Vernon Albert Dursley

18 March, 1953 - 12 December, 2009

Much loved and fondly remembered by all his family and friends.

Survived by his wife Petunia, son Dudley, daughter-in-law Rosemary, grandson Dudley Jr, and nephew Harry.

Harry gaped upon seeing his name in print. Why on earth had he been included there? Vernon had never even wanted to acknowledge that he had a nephew. He frowned at the page and Hermione took his hand, weaving their fingers together.

He didn't really listen to the rest of the service, which was mercifully short. At the back of the booklet it stated that a wake was being held in the hall next door to the church, where all were welcome. Once it was over, family and close friends followed the casket on its final journey to the cemetery behind the church, where Vernon was to be buried, while the rest of the mourners went straight to the hall (presumably to get out of the cold, as it had been freezing inside the church).

Harry had already decided that he didn't want to attend the wake, and so followed the smaller group to the gravesite, Hermione and Ron beside him. They stood a small distance away and watched as Dudley stood with his mother, one beefy arm around her, comforting her as she cried while her husband's casket was lowered into the ground. Once the ceremony was over, the crowd dissipated quickly for warmer surroundings, leaving only Petunia, Dudley and his family at the grave. Harry, Hermione and Ron stayed put; Harry realised that if he was ever going to get his aunt alone, it would be now.

He watched as Petunia and Dudley spoke, although he couldn't hear what they were saying. After giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, Dudley led his family away, either not noticing or completely ignoring Harry (who rather thought it was the latter).

"I won't be long," Harry said. He moved forward until he was standing by Petunia's side. Because her head was bowed and her eyes closed, he was able to observe her for a few moments; she still looked as he remembered, only much, much older. Her once blonde hair was now overrun with grey and her face was lined with wrinkles. Time had not been kind to her, and a small part of Harry was somewhat pleased about it. At least she'd lived long enough to age.

A whirlwind of emotions ravaged Harry at that moment: fear, rage, sadness, wistfulness.

"Hello, Petunia."

Her head snapped up, her pale green eyes taking in the sight of the nephew she hadn't seen for thirteen years standing before her.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, then paused before continuing. "Thank you for coming."

"I didn't come for you," he said quietly, slowly, seeing his breath visible in the cold air. "I came for me. To see for myself."

Petunia didn't speak, merely nodded as though she understood. "I thought you had the right to know."

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they both struggled to find the words they desperately wanted to say.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry eventually broke the silence, and it wasn't a lie. No matter how poorly they'd treated him, no matter how angry he was with his mother's sister for the way she'd raised him, he could understand that it was a loss for her. She had truly loved her husband and they'd been married for over thirty years, and there was no doubt she was grieving.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. She kept her eyes on him, though, meeting his gaze. Looking him up and down, she said, "You're married?"

"Engaged," he corrected.

Petunia looked over his shoulder, and Harry glanced back himself. Ron and Hermione had moved closer and were staring at them both, Ron's arm around Hermione's shoulders protectively.

"Is that her?"

"Yes, that's Hermione. Ron is our best friend."

"Is she one of yours?"

"If you're asking if she's a witch or not then yes, she is. She's Muggleborn, like Mum was."

Petunia stiffened slightly and turned her gaze back to him. "You look well."

"I am, thank you." This was one of the hardest conversations Harry had ever had in his entire life; both of them were being so pointedly polite it was absurd. He wondered for the hundredth time why, exactly, Petunia had notified him of Vernon's death and had all but invited him to attend the funeral.

He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to let it all out, demand she tell him how she could have been so callous and vicious towards her own flesh and blood. How she could have treated an innocent child, magical through no fault of his own, so badly for so many years. How could she? How could she have called herself a decent human being, have been a mother, and treated her only nephew the way she had? He wanted to ask all this, but his aunt looked so fragile, so old, so helpless, that Harry couldn't find it in his heart to do it.

Petunia gasped as a small crystal vase on a nearby grave exploded, and Harry willed himself to calm down. He heard a muttered, "No, Hermione," behind him and knew it was time for him to leave. Time to leave the past behind him, once and for all.

"I have to go," he said through gritted teeth.

Petunia merely nodded and Harry turned, beginning to walk away, when her voice halted him. "Harry, wait!"

He turned slowly and found himself surprised and dismayed to see tears swimming in her eyes. She caught up to him and hesitantly reached a hand out, grasping his own. "Are you happy?" she whispered. "Are you truly happy?"

Harry looked over at Hermione and Ron, their love for him clearly written all over their faces, looked at the ring he'd placed on Hermione's finger, and then back at Petunia.

"Yes," he said hoarsely, "more than I ever thought I would be. More than I ever thought I deserved to be."

A solitary tear slid down Petunia's cheek as she squeezed his hand, the only sign of affection she had ever bestowed upon him. "Good."

He looked at her one last time, then dropped her hand and walked away.

He was silent the entire way back to the car, Hermione and Ron struggling to keep up with him as he all but ran out of the cemetery and past the church. He didn't speak as they all got in and put their seat belts on, then pulled the car out from the curb and drove. Hermione placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed it gently, but didn't talk, understanding as she always did that sometimes he just didn't want to talk about things.

It was only when she noticed what direction they were headed in that she spoke. "Are we not going straight home, sweetheart?"

That single word, the term of endearment she used often, somehow melted his anger away. His aunt and uncle had always taken advantage of opportunities to tell the young Harry how worthless he was, but here he sat, someone's sweetheart. For the first time that day, a genuine smile crossed Harry's face. "I want to see another place one last time, and then we'll go home. Okay, Ron?"

"Fine with me, mate."

When they pulled up to a red light, Harry glanced over at his fiancée, struggling to find the words to say that would express just how much he loved her, how fortunate he felt to be the man she had chosen to spend her life with, but they simply weren't there. Saying "I love you" didn't feel like it would suffice, so he instead picked up the hand still situated on his leg and kissed the back of it, his lips lingering on the warm, soft skin. Hermione smiled mistily at him, caressing his cheek gently with her fingers, then placing her hand back on his leg as the light turned green.

The journey didn't take long; they arrived at Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, in fifteen minutes. They got out of the car, Harry glancing this way and that, before heading to the front door.

"Er, should we be here?" Ron asked, looking around uncertainly.

"Probably not," Harry said almost cheerfully. "But since we're in the neighbourhood..."

With a quick wave of his hand, the front door unlocked and swung open, and the trio bundled inside to avoid being seen. Harry shut the door behind him and closed his eyes for a moment at the familiar scents of the house assaulted him. Opening his eyes, he found he was standing alone. Ron and Hermione had disappeared into the lounge room, so he followed them in and found it was as if the house had stood still as time moved forward around it. Nothing had changed. They still had the same couches, the same furnishings that they'd had when he was a boy. The mantelpieces and walls were still plastered with photos of Dudley, and now by pictures of Dudley as an adult and numerous frames of his wife and son.

"Nothing's changed," he remarked dryly. "Anyway, what I want to see is out here." Hermione and Ron appeared behind him as he went over to the cupboard under the stairs, the small room that had been his home for many years. With a slightly shaky hand, he reached out and turned the doorknob, but it was locked. Once again, a slight wave of his hand solved the problem and this time, the door opened. Harry reached out for the chain and pulled it, the light bulb buzzing to life in front of him.

The cupboard looked exactly how he'd left it, albeit much smaller. The small bed was neatly made; various, mostly broken toys were scattered on the little shelves above the bed; and in one corner was Petunia's cleaning materials, including a broom and mop.

Harry managed to sit himself down on the bed, and it was only then that he noticed Hermione and Ron, who stood in the doorway. They both stared in what could only be described as horror, their mouths agape and their faces wan and pale.

"Hey, you two okay?"

"Oh my God, Harry," Hermione said, her body trembling in both shock and anger. "This is where you lived?"

Ron's hands were fisted by his sides. "Those... those bastards," he said with such feeling that Harry became alarmed.

"Hermione, Ron," he said, waiting until they both looked at him, Hermione's eyes shining with tears. "Please don't get upset, okay? It was a long time ago and I'm fine, really. I just wanted to grab a few things I used to keep stashed away." He reached under the bed and fumbled around for a bit, then brought his hand back up, fingers curled around a small, yellow cigar box covered with foreign writing. "Here it is. Let's go."

He didn't want to hang around any more than they did, so after making sure he locked both the cupboard door and the front door again, they made their way home. Ron embraced Harry so fiercely as his best friend thanked him for coming along that Harry was beginning to think Ron wasn't ever going to let him breathe properly again.

The dark mood that Harry had felt all day seemed to lift once he'd settled in back home, and after having put the box he'd brought home up in his bedroom, he went into the kitchen to start dinner, humming to himself as he prepared the ingredients. After ten minutes, though, a sense of uneasiness descended upon him and he went to check on Hermione; he thought she'd settled on the lounge for a short nap, but she wasn't there. He called out to her and received no answer, so he abandoned the dinner preparations and went looking for her. He found her standing outside on the porch, looking aimlessly out into the darkness.

"Hermione?" He could see her form against the dark, illuminated by the half-dozen lamps placed around the porch, and although it wasn't cold as the porch had charms on it that deflected the chill, her body was trembling. He tamped down a flare of alarm and went over to stand behind her, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her neck before turning her around. "You're trembling."

"I'm angry," she said, her voice quavering but strong. "I am so bloody angry right now I can barely see straight!"

Hermione and Ron had known that Harry had been forced to live in a cupboard by his aunt and uncle; once the three of them had become friends, he hadn't kept it from them. But knowing about it was one thing; actually seeing it with her own eyes and thinking about the terror Harry must have felt as a little boy, being locked in that small, dark cupboard with no one to hold him when he was sick or sad, no one to tell him they loved him, no one to tuck him into bed and wish him sweet dreams had been enough to make Hermione feel as though someone had ripped her heart from her chest and crushed it underneath their foot. How could they, his only relatives, have treated him like he was something distasteful they'd stepped on? How could they have not loved this innocent little boy, not shown him the slightest bit of affection? How could they have ignored him for so many years and bestowed gift after gift on their horrid son, but let Harry sit by and watch sadly, wondering why no one loved him enough to give him a present? How could they?

Two of the lamps overhead exploded, the glass making a tinkering sound as it fell to the ground, and Hermione began to cry so loudly that Harry had to grab her around the waist to support her.

"I hate them!" she half-yelled, half-sobbed. "I hate them so much for what they did to you! I'm so glad he's dead!"

It was then that Harry understood. He understood why she was so angry. He wished he'd thought about what the sight of the cupboard might do to Hermione and Ron; neither of them had spoken in the car on the way home, and now he knew why Ron had hugged him so tightly. The thought that they were hurting for the child he'd once been in turn upset him, and he could feel the tears begin to well in his eyes as Hermione continued to cry in his arms.

"I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely. "I didn't think--"

"Don't you dare apologise, Harry! Don't you dare!" Hermione pulled back far enough to look at him; her face was streaked with tears. "It wasn't your fault!" she said shrilly. "It was theirs, it was all theirs. How could they? How could they have treated you the way they did all those years?"

Harry cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears as he fought to stop his own. "Hermione," he said in as calm a voice as he could manage, keeping his tone soft. "It was a very long time ago. I am sorry I took you to the house without thinking about how it might affect you, but you can't let them make you angry like this. We can't change the past, love. It's over. They can't ever hurt me again. I'm glad I went to the funeral, spoke to Petunia. I needed to do that, to get some closure." His hands slid down to her shoulders, then down her arms as he placed his forehead against hers. "They can't hurt me anymore," he whispered. "I'm not that little boy anymore."

"Do you understand, though?" Hermione asked him. "Do you understand why I'm so angry with them? I love you so very much, Harry, and just thinking about what it must have been like for you, growing up without any love or affection, breaks my heart. It hurts so badly."

He took her hands in his and raised them up, kissing her knuckles in turn. "I do understand. It means a lot to me that you're so angry on my behalf. But you can't let that anger rule you, sweetheart. You have to let go. It would drive me insane if I didn't."

"How can you forgive them for what they did?"

"I haven't." Harry said matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing the weather. "I'll never forgive them, but I won't let it affect my life, either. They're not worth it, Hermione. The Dursleys don't deserve anything from us, whether it's anger or forgiveness. They don't deserve anything more than they gave me."

Hermione knew Harry was right, but it didn't make her want to throw a few hexes at Petunia and Dudley Dursley any less. Taking a few deep breaths and wiping her eyes, she tried to let it go, to concentrate on the here and now, and focus on what she had with Harry, which was everything she could ever have wanted.

"I love you," she said, wishing it was more, somehow.

"I love you, too," Harry whispered. "Close your eyes."

She did as he asked, tilting her face up, and was rewarded by the feel of his lips against hers.

~*~

Later that night, they sat together on their bed in their pyjamas. Harry was propped up against pillows, and Hermione sat in between his legs, resting against him. She'd drawn her knees up and cradled the small, yellow cigar box Harry had brought home with him on her lap. They were going through its contents together, Harry telling her the tale that belonged to each item. Plastic toy soldiers that had their heads and limbs broken off by a too-rough Dudley; a few coloured marbles with chunks out of them; and a small children's book that had been scribbled all over. Harry recounted how each item had come into his possession, but the last tale was the saddest of all.

He picked up the small brown plastic eye and the long piece of what was once white fur carefully, holding them in his hands as though they were fragile. "Ah," he said softly, "this is what I have left of Flopsy."

Hermione could hear the sadness in his voice, and she sensed that this particular toy had been the most important one. She turned her head slightly and kissed his cheek. "Tell me about Flopsy," she said encouragingly, and after clearing his throat, Harry obliged.

"Dudley had gotten this white rabbit with long, floppy ears for Christmas from Marge when he was four. Of course, like everything Dudley owned, it wasn't long before he'd ruined him - he ripped one eye off in anger after Vernon forbade him from doing something, I can't remember what, and one ear got torn all the way off. Dudley didn't want it after that. He'd left it lying on the floor in the hallway, so I picked up the rabbit and the ear to put in his toy room. As soon as I touched the rabbit, though, I was taken by how soft the fur was.

"So I smuggled it into my cupboard and named it Flopsy, after a character I'd seen in one of Dudley's books, and put the ear away in my treasure chest," Harry said, indicating the cigar box. "I managed to hide it away from Petunia and Vernon for years and I slept with it every night, but Petunia found it when I was eight. She took one look at it and declared it was going straight into the rubbish. I pleaded with her not to, that all he needed was a bit of a wash and his ear sown back on properly, but she refused to fix him.

"She showed Vernon at dinner what she'd found, and he made a big show afterwards of throwing it in the rubbish and taking the bag out to be collected. I lay awake all night, thinking about how cold Flopsy must have been out in the trash can. I wanted to go out and retrieve it, but Vernon would have skinned me alive if I'd left the house. So all I could do was lie there the next morning and listen as the rubbish was collected. I was heartbroken for months that Flopsy was gone."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, wiping away tears. "How could they be so cruel? Petunia could have sown his ear back on and thrown him in the washing machine."

"She could have," Harry agreed, his voice oddly detached. "But she didn't. That was the first time I ever really seriously considered running away, but I had nowhere to run to."

For the second time that day, Hermione felt her heart breaking for the child Harry had once been, and she turned towards him once again, her lips meeting his softly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that you suffered all those years with them."

Harry reached up a hand and stroked Hermione's hair soothingly. "It's in the past, Hermione, where it should be. I loved that bloody rabbit, though. I've never forgiven them for chucking it out." He managed to gather all the pieces of toys scattered on the bed and placed them back into the cigar box, his fingers touching Flopsy's ear one last time before he closed the lid and placed it on his bedside table.

They got under the covers and settled down into bed, Harry resting his head on Hermione's shoulder while she stroked his hair. They didn't speak again, other than to tell the other they loved them, and eventually Harry fell asleep in her embrace. Sleep didn't come so easily for Hermione; her thoughts about young Harry and Flopsy the rabbit wouldn't leave her alone.

By the time she was awake and dressed the next morning, however, a plan had taken seed in Hermione's brain and as the day wore on, she'd made up her mind. She called her mother later that night to confirm the location of a certain shop she wished to visit in Muggle London, and at lunch time the next day Hermione ventured through Diagon Alley and made her way to Hamleys, one of the finest toy stores in Britain. Once there, she managed to find the stuffed toy section and took the grubby white ear and plastic eye she'd removed from Harry's cigar box that morning out of her purse. She looked all the rabbits there until she was able to find one that looked similar enough to how she imagined Flopsy had; he had the same round eyes, soft white fur and long floppy ears, although the ears weren't as long as the one she held carefully in her hand. Hermione purchased him and, when she got back to the office, cast a simple spell to lengthen the rabbit's ears to match the one she already had, then tucked him away in her handbag.

When Harry stepped out of the bathroom later that night, he didn't notice the white rabbit that lay upon his pillow; he went to his wardrobe and picked out a suit and set of robes for work the next day, and made a mental list of things he wanted to do. He was alone in the bedroom, as Hermione had remained downstairs to make them both a pot of hot chocolate. When he was done, Harry lit the candles and went over to climb into bed. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what was on his pillow. In amazement and wonder, he carefully perched himself on the edge of the bed and reached out an almost hesitant hand to pick up the rabbit. While it wasn't identical to the Flopsy he'd had as a child, it was pretty damn close.

The fur was just as soft as he remembered it to be, and he found himself drawing the toy close, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him; he was a grown man clutching a white toy rabbit to his chest. However, Harry didn't care. It was the gesture that moved him the most. Hermione had done something so incredibly sweet for him, had tried to erase just a small bit of lingering pain.

"I see you've found him," Hermione said quietly from the doorway, a tray holding a teapot and two mugs hovering behind her. She levitated it to her bedside table and sat down on the bed next to Harry. "I know he's not exactly the same as Flopsy was, but I tried my best from what you described." She took hold of his free hand and squeezed.

"Hermione, I--" Harry paused, trying to find the right words to say, but they escaped him. Finally, he settled on just two words. "Thank you."

Hermione brought the hand she was holding up to her lips and kissed the back of it. "You're welcome. I thought perhaps you might like to give him to our child one day, something to pass on from your childhood that made you happy." She smiled at him, the fact that his eyes were misty not going unnoticed, and tried to keep her voice steady. "If I could undo everything they did to you, I would."

"I know," he whispered hoarsely. "And I love you more than I can put into words for it." Very gently, Harry sat Flopsy the second on his bedside table, and then pulled Hermione into his arms.

~*~

Tuesday, 22 December, 2009

Ginny closed her eyes and tried to resist the urge to throw up once again, but she was unsuccessful. Fortunately, she was already perched on the floor of the bathroom, so once she was done, she dragged herself up to the sink and rinsed her mouth out with cold water. She desperately wished Draco was home to hold her, but he'd gone out on a last minute trek to finish up some Christmas shopping. PGW Industries had closed for Christmas the previous Friday and wouldn't reopen until the New Year, as Harry had always given his employees time off to truly enjoy the Christmas season with their families, and Ginny found herself extremely grateful for Harry's thoughtfulness. For the past four or five days, she'd been overwhelmed with bouts of nausea and tiredness, and while she'd been willing to write it off as the flu that was currently sweeping through the wizarding world, she'd come to realise that perhaps her illness was being caused by something completely different.

She'd dared to hope she was pregnant.

Once the current bout of nausea was over, Ginny went into her bedroom and lay down on the bed, making herself comfortable. She hadn't wanted to cast the charm while Draco was home, as she wasn't sure she could bear to face disappointment yet again in his presence, but now that she was alone the time was right. Of course, a positive result didn't mean she was pregnant for sure; her pregnancy could only be confirmed by a Healer, but this was the way most witches checked initially.

Placing her wand on her bared stomach, she murmured two words she knew as well as her own name and held her breath as she waited. If she was pregnant, the tip of her wand would turn blue; if she wasn't, it would glow red. It always took a few seconds, so she closed her eyes and counted to five, then opened them again...

... to find the tip of her wand glowing a bright blue.

"Oh my God," she said, sitting up and staring at the slender piece of cherry wood in her hand. Placing a hand on her tummy, Ginny felt the tears well up in her eyes. She was pregnant, finally, after months of trying. She burst into happy tears as the blue faded away, and once the tears stopped, she washed her face and owled her Healer for an appointment to confirm the pregnancy.

It was two long hours before Draco got home, his arms laden with several brightly wrapped parcels, which he placed straight under their Christmas tree. "I'm home!" he called out loudly, surprised that Ginny hadn't come out to greet him.

He barely had time to straighten up before something red-haired leapt upon him, forcing him to take a step back. "Oh, Draco!" his wife cried out before bursting into noisy tears.

"Gin, what's wrong?" He managed to coax her over to the nearby lounge and pulled her onto his lap. "What's happened?"

She shifted around so she could straddle him, her arms tightly around his neck. "I did the test," she cried.

Draco breathed out, the source of her distress instantly apparent. "Oh, beautiful," he murmured softly. "I'm sorry. We'll keep trying."

"We don't have to!" Ginny pulled back and beamed at him through her tears. "We're pregnant, Draco! The wand turned blue!"

Draco stared at his wife in disbelief. "It turned blue? It's positive?"

"Yes, my love," she answered, kissing him deeply. "Oh, Draco, we're going to have a baby." They stared at each other in wonder, in amazement, and then Draco looked down at her tummy and placed his hand on it softly. His baby was growing inside her.

"Wow," was all he could say. He was going to be someone's father. A child was going to call him Daddy. Maybe Christmas was the season of miracles after all.

~*~

Author notes: I know it's been an awfully long time since chapter four, and I could give you a list of why it's taken me so long to write this chapter but I rather suspect you're just pleased to see I haven't abandoned this fic! I will finish Love is a Crime, regardless of how long it takes me.

Some of you may have noticed that I closed the PGW Industries yahoogroup; I have moved it across to livejournal. Please feel free to join us at the PGW Industries community, where I post updates, cookies and outtakes/AU scenes, and that's where you'll find the chapters are posted first. If you'd like to read fics by me not related to the LIAB/C universe, you'll find them at my personal livejournal.

And now, some thank yous to people who helped me out along the way: Libbie, Renee, Melissa, Sue and Sarah, my incredible beta team, without whom this chapter wouldn't be half as good.

Thank you to Lola for the absolutely gorgeous picture she did of Harry and Hermione.

Mitchy was the one who came up with the title of the romance novel, so thanks to her for that.

Thanks also to Sean, Dan, Debbie, Kate, Bethany, Rachael, Katie, Hannah, Rachel and the anonymous person who were gracious enough to answer questions about London for me.

And thank you most of all to you for being patient with me and still reading along. Shout outs to those who reviewed chapter four: pottergranny1949, Diamond Lily, guiltypleasure, mandrake, RickyElRey, funky faerie87, Tondo the Half-Elf, evenstar76176, angelface1282, Lunagood aka Julz, plumeria, roxy411, Sebafrin, erincc79, freakgirl555, Elise, hottstuffjr247, Brieana, Morgana1616, Lady Chancellor, Muirnin, Shellybell18, Jacy, soron sirius, LoseYourMind3216549, zuvalupa, ElleKay101, DragonWolfe, atexasphoenix, sofie elisabeth, Mione Hannah Granger, Larissa, Talia Phoenix13, Fudgie, swimchick1614, TlalGalaxia, RD Wind, fjaengaow, Sunny B, blue eyed beauty and Asukachan.