The Paradigm Of Uncertainty

HARRY POTTER AND THE PARADIGM OF UNCERTAINTY

Chapter 15: Departures and Arrivals

**********

August 21st, 2007...two months later.

**********

"Dammit," Harry muttered, fiddling with his tie in the mirror.

"It's not straight," his reflection commented.

"Hey, do you want to do this?"

"I can't, I'm two-dimensional."

"Then shut it!" The ends were still uneven. He ripped it off his neck and tried again.

Hermione came out of the walk-in closet in her slip, a dress in each hand. "Which one?" she asked.

He looked at her in the mirror. "Please don't ask me that. I won't pick the right one and you'll just be hacked off at me."

"No, seriously. Which one?" One was dark green, one was royal blue. That was about as much of a difference as he could discern. And one was a little longer.

"You'll look beautiful no matter which one you pick."

She smiled. "Now that's the right answer." She blew him a kiss and went back into the closet, which was large enough to double as a dressing room.

Hermione had moved her things into the Cloister about a week after The Allegra Thing, as they'd taken to calling it. It wasn't exactly moving in together since they'd been living together for years, and Harry had said it was pointless to put it off. There was more than enough room for two, the room was huge, had its own bathroom attached and a closet the size of a small house. Harry wasn't exactly a clothes horse, his own wardrobe took up about one quarter of the available space.

Hermione's old room was now occupied by Sorry, who was staying with them until he decided if he was going back to Greenland. Although he and Laura shared a close relationship in all other respects they didn't share a bedroom...Laura maintained that it was because she had trouble sleeping with someone else in the bed, though Hermione suspected that it was because Sorry snored like a chainsaw. She considered herself very fortunate that she and Harry were both quiet sleepers.

The knot was far too messy. Harry untied it again, grumbling. "Here, let me do that," Hermione said, coming out of the closet. She whipped the gray-and-blue flowered silk tie off his neck, smoothed it, and slipped it under his collar, her fingers quickly and expertly twisting it into a neat knot.

"How'd you get so good at that?" he said.

She sighed. "Abel always wanted me to tie his tie for him, and it always had to be perfect. I think it made him feel superior, like the Man in the Relationship."

Harry snorted. "As if he needed any encouragement to feel superior." He said nothing as she finished the knot, snugging it up to his neck. "What did you see in him?" he finally said.

"Well, imagine the first impression he gives. Well-known, amazingly wealthy, confident, suave, handsome...and at first he was flattering, attentive. I admit it made me feel special."

"Let's see...I'm well-known, I'm wealthy, I try to be confident, I'm definitely not suave, and I couldn't say if I'm handsome..."

"Oh, you're ten times as handsome as he is. Of course I'm hardly an objective judge," she said, smiling. "Besides, you're a grown-up. Abel Kilroy is still a little boy in a man's body...throwing temper tantrums and wanting his own way." She brushed down the shoulders of his jacket. "This is my favorite suit," she said.

"Mine too." It was a navy-blue gabardine with a fine white pinstripe. He had frequently worn it with suspenders, as he was tonight, for the dance contests. He smiled down at her. "You look beautiful."

She'd chosen the royal blue dress, a sleeveless tea-length with a scoop neck and a flared skirt. She'd pinned up her hair and put on a silver choker. "Thanks." She tilted her head up and kissed him. "I'm a little nervous."

"Me too." Tonight was the annual Friends and Former Pupils of Hogwarts Gala, which was held every year in late summer before the students arrived. The entire household would be attending tonight's festivities, and expected to see all their friends and former teachers as well.

Returning to Hogwarts was always a little disconcerting for Harry and Hermione, largely because of the memories of Ron that confronted them at every turn. They would be attending tonight for the first time in three years; one or the other of them had been unable to attend in the interim due to other commitments and neither wanted to go without the other. This year was unlikely to be a peaceful return, either.

News that the famous Harry Potter, whose name was from time to time mentioned in conjunction with the phrase "most eligible bachelor," was no longer quite so eligible had spread through the wizarding world like butterbeer at a Quidditch game. The fact that the other half of this illustrious couple was his almost equally well-known best friend Hermione Granger made the news even more sensational, and gave romantics the world round a nice happy sigh. Related with equal relish was the rumor that these two new lovers had vanquished the entire Circle almost entirely on their own. Estimations of Harry's heroism rose to new levels, and Hermione was elevated almost to his status in public opinion. Quinn and Draco's names were rarely mentioned, which was eminently satisfactory to them, and speculation that Harry was employed in some sort of evil-fighting profession ran rampant.

People began owling them from all over the world. Hermione was besieged at work and their housemates were peppered with questions whenever they dared go out among other wizards. Journalists showed up on the Bailicroft doorstep...Laura was famous for telling them that they were mistaken, this wasn't Harry's house, and that Bailicroft was actually a combination brothel and mortuary called "Shag 'Em and Bag 'Em."

After a few irate reporters and one very confused visit from the local health authorities, Harry and Hermione agreed to give an interview to the Daily Prophet's most reputable reporter, Davis Wilpott. They had openly acknowledged their relationship and thanked everyone for their kind interest, agreeing that it was a turn of events a long time in coming. Comments made by the interviewer about wagers being settled all around the world were laughed off. Harry had admitted that he was an employee of the Federation Enforcement Corps (though he refused to be any more specific) and that a group from their organization which had included himself and Hermione had succeeded in capturing a good number of Circle members. When asked about the fate of their leader, the villainous Allegra Blackburn-Dwyer, Harry would only say that she was unaccounted for.

Wilpott did not ask about the rumors that Harry was a previously unknown type of wizard with special powers, and Harry didn't bring it up.

And so the proverbial cat was out of the equally proverbial bag. The flurry of talk had calmed considerably...it was old news by now...but Hermione wasn't sure what sort of reception they could expect when they arrived at Hogwarts. She didn't fancy making a grand entrance like some sort of rock star, but she supposed that the people who'd be there would simply be happy for them.

"Do you ever wonder how we did it?" Harry was saying, lacing his fingers together behind the small of her back.

"Did what?"

"Lived together as friends for all those years."

She sighed. "Denial is a powerful thing."

"Not just a river in Egypt."

"Not remotely." She shrugged. "I suppose I never thought of you in that way." She grinned, her hands sliding down his back to cop a bit of a feel of his posterior. "And now I can't stop thinking of you in that way."

He chuckled. "Don't get fresh, now. I just got this tie on straight."

"You know, I do believe I'm halfway to being a bona fide sex maniac."

"How can I help you pass the halfway point? I want to be a supportive partner," he said, leaning down to nuzzle at her neck.

"I thought you just got your tie on straight," she said, her eyes falling shut as her arms slid around his neck all by themselves. "The others are waiting for us."

"Mm-hmm," he said, muffled against her skin.

"You know I never...had this problem...with Horace or Rufus or Abel..." Hermione whispered, the sentence broken into choppy phrases as she kissed him lightly every few words. "I would have been...hurrying them out the door...you know I hate being late..."

"Maybe they just weren't worth the extra time," he murmured.

She smiled mischievously at him, plucked his glasses off his face, grabbed his head in her hands and laid a deep, passionate kiss on him that lasted at least fifteen seconds. When she finally let him go he had a rather goofy dazed look on his face. "Ohuh," he sighed.

"There. That's what they weren't worth." She slid his glasses back on his face, pleased with herself. "Come, dear. We'll be late." She took his hand, grabbing their robes off their pegs, and led him out of the room.

He recovered himself as they reached the head of the stairs, pulling her hand through the crook of his elbow. "See?" she whispered. "I can be a sexy siren when I want to be."

"You'll get no argument from me. But if you don't want to be late you're going at it all wrong...you kiss me like that all it does is make me want to grab you, sling you over my shoulder, lock the bedroom door and have my way with you."

"My, how Neanderthal of you," she said, shoving her elbow into his side.

"Ow!"

They came down the main staircase; the rest of the party was waiting in the foyer. Hermione smiled to see everyone all dressed up; she was feeling beautiful tonight, this was her favorite dress and it even matched Harry's suit. She had long imagined how it would feel to sweep into the Great Hall at Hogwarts on the arm of a handsome date, she had just never imagined that it would be Harry. She smiled up at him, musing once again that he really was handsome...though when he had become so, she couldn't say. He'd hardly won any beauty contests in school, having been rather skinny and geeky, but Hermione had observed that the boys who were geeky or nerdy often turned out to be the best-looking men...in no small part because they did not consider themselves so.

Laura and Sorry stood close together by the door, talking quietly. Cho was holding the hand of her escort, one of her Minotaurs teammates they'd not yet met. Justin and George could be heard but not seen, it sounded like they were having some sort of fight involving pots and pans and cherry pie filling.

"Are we ready?" Hermione said, taking her cloak down from its peg. Harry took it from her and held it for her to slip her arms in; she smiled at this little display of chivalry.

"George and Justin are trying to cram all the cakes and pies into that basket." As Cho said this, a very large basket floated out of the kitchen followed by George and Justin. Using any excuse to try out new recipes, George had volunteered to contribute desserts to the dinner at Hogwarts. They were probably expecting him to bring one pie or perhaps two, but George wasn't one to do things halfway.

"Oh my, let me put a stabilizing charm on that," Hermione said, hurrying over. "It'll tip over...no one wants to eat Cake Mush."

Harry stepped up to meet Cho's friend. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter," he said, sticking out his hand.

The man smiled. "Um, yes, I know who you are," he said, shaking Harry's hand and chuckling a bit at the very idea that he wouldn't know. "I'm Joe McCarthy." He sounded Canadian.

"McCarthy! As in..."

"Yes, that crazy Yank, I know. If you're a Communist, I promise you that I don't give a damn."

"Well, nice to meet you, and I don't think I'm a Communist."

"Joe is one of our Beaters," Cho said.

"I know. I do watch your games on occasion," Harry said, winking at her.

"Are we all ready to go?" Justin said, clapping his hands together.

"Where's what's-his-name?" Harry said to him, waving his hand in the air as he searched for the man's name. "That guy you said you were..."

Justin made a face. "Oh, you mean Clive? He had another pressing engagement and stood me up. No matter," he said cheerfully. "I met him at the gym. Guys you meet at the gym are Sickles for dozens and worth every Knut...though he did have lovely pecs." Justin sighed wistfully at the thought of being denied appreciation of said pecs, but was not long distracted. "Shall we go?"

The party went out onto the portico, retrieving their broomsticks. Harry was loaning Sorry his Jet Stream to use as he didn't have a broomstick in the country...it wasn't as if Harry needed it to get where he was going.

They took off into the night sky, seven figures on broomsticks and one unencumbered man silhouetted briefly against the moon.

**********

To welcome back its alumni for the Gala, Hogwarts was decked out to the fullest. The road leading up from Hogsmeade Station was lined with wrought-iron arches for the occasion, each one covered with glittering white lights, so that as you came up in one of the several dozen carriages that drove back and forth it felt as though you were passing through a leafy, sparkling tunnel. The castle itself was illuminated by a thousand candles and torches, the halls and corridors bedecked with swags and ribbons in the four House colors. It was a perfect night, not too warm and not too cool. The sky was clear as crystal and a light breeze ruffled through the banners that hung from the castle turrets.

In the Great Hall, the four long House tables had been removed and replaced with round tables, grouped in clusters to keep up the feelings of House unity, the center of the room left clear for mingling and dancing. A small dance orchestra provided the music, and at one side of the room a huge buffet table stood laden down with hors d'oeuvres and drink.

In the foyer, the large French doors that gave onto the rear gardens stood open so guests could stroll out into the fragant backyard. The gardens were immaculately manicured, the trees and bushes dotted with tiny white lights.

At least five hundred people were expected for the Gala each year, and a former student was chosen to emcee the event. This year Bill Weasley had drawn that honor, though his duties would not really begin until the dinner-and-dance portion of the evening.

Harry and Hermione stood chatting with the Longbottoms near the Gryffindor tables. Their entrance had provoked a minor hubbub and a smattering of applause; Bill had hurriedly jumped up and urged the orchestra into a impromptu fanfare. An embarrassed Harry had shot him a glance that was half amused and half annoyed while he and Hermione weathered a storm of hugs, handshakes and excited greetings. Thankfully, the melee had been shortlived and they were free to enjoy the party. George had taken Sorry and Laura on a tour of the castle while Cho and her date stood in a loose group with their fellow Quidditch players, among whom Hogwarts alums were well represented.

Their conversation was soon pleasantly interrupted. "Uncle Harry!" came a chirpy little voice that shot across the floor ahead of its owner. Four-year-old Charlotte Black pounded towards them in her patent-leather shoes with her red velvet dress flying, her arms held up in a clear and irresistible entreaty. Harry reached down and seized her, tossing her in the air before settling her against his shoulder. Giggling, little Charlie hooked her arm companionably around his neck.

"Here's my favorite elf," Harry said with a grin, accepting a kiss on the cheek.

"Make me fly!" she said excitedly, pointing up towards the ceiling.

"Okay," Harry said. "Put your arms out, now." It wasn't necessary, of course, but it was part of the game. She thrust her arms out to either side. Hermione watched Harry's eyes narrow slightly in concentration as he let go of her. She stayed there floating in midair, giggling. She slowly rose a few feet above his head, his eyes following her as she turned slowly about and made little figure-eights in the air.

"Be careful," Hermione whispered. "Don't drop her."

"Have I ever before?" he whispered back. Charlotte laughed and crowed, flapping her arms as she "flew" about above the heads of the grownups; Harry did not let her get too high or too far away.

Sirius came strolling up to stand next to them, his eyes on Charlotte. "Daddy, can you see me?" Charlotte cried. "I'm flyin'!"

"I see you, honey," Sirius said.

"Uncle Harry's makin' me fly!"

"Well, Uncle Harry better not drop you if he knows what's good for him," Sirius said with a glance at Harry, a twinkle in his eye.

"Uncle Harry would be far less likely to drop her if Daddy didn't distract him," Harry said.

"Higher! Higher!"

"No, now that's enough," Harry said. Charlotte slowly sank into Hermione's waiting arms, clapping. Harry turned to Sirius, smiling. "Did you bring Ian?"

"No, he's a bit young for parties. He's home with the sitter." Cordelia Hunter, Sirius' Muggle wife, came up with two glasses of punch and handed one to her husband while she leaned forward to kiss Harry's cheek, then Hermione's.

"Sorry we didn't say hello earlier," she said with a smile. "Seemed like you had quite enough well-wishers without us barging in."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I don't know what everyone's on about."

"Oh, nothing at all, I'm sure," Sirius said. "As if you weren't famous enough before, now you've defeated the most notorious group of dark wizards in the world."

"It's not like I did it alone," Harry protested. "Besides, 'defeat' is a very strong word and not one I'm comfortable in applying to the outcome."

"It's good enough for now," Sirius said quietly. "You and I both know that with rumors flying of an heir to Voldemort rising again, any defeat we can manage is welcome."

"Mummy," said Charlotte, who'd been babbling to Hermione, "Can I show Aunt Mina my new book?" As a baby, Charlotte hadn't been able to say Hermione's name accurately and had decided that "Mina" was an acceptable alternative. Thinking it was unbearably cute and half-hoping the nickname would stick, Harry had once called her that himself...and had never done so again. Only Charlotte could get away with it.

"You didn't bring it, luv," Cordelia said.

"Oh," Charlotte said, thrusting out her lip in dismay at herself for having forgotten such an important item. Harry and Hermione were Charlotte's godparents and took the responsibility seriously, serving frequently as babysitters for her and her two-year-old brother Ian, whose own godfather pitched in with equal fervor when the phase of the moon permitted it. Charlotte had quickly learned to associate Aunt Mina with reading, and being an eager reader at a very young age she was always anxious to share her new books with Hermione. Charlotte looked around, then back at Hermione. "Where's your honey, Aunt Mina?" Harry smiled. "Honey" was the word Charlotte used to describe anyone's significant other, for this was the word she heard used the most around the house by her own parents. "He said he'd bring me some little magic people for my train set."

Hermione realized that Charlotte was talking about Gerald. The last time she had watched Charlotte had been last May just before The Allegra Thing, and Gerald had come with her. Charlotte had taken a fierce liking to him, probably because he had gotten down on the floor and played with her on her beloved train set with the same solemn gravity that she accorded the pastime. Hermione could scarcely convince herself that it had really been Draco who had done those things. "Oh, sweetie...Gerald's not my honey anymore."

Charlotte's face fell in a comic display of disappointment. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, with almost adult-like embarrassment and sympathy. "You'll need a new honey," she said, in the same tone that a mechanic might remark that a car needed a new transmission...matter-of-fact and leaving no room for alternatives.

"Well...Uncle Harry is my honey now," Hermione said, glancing at Harry. Charlotte looked from one to the other, her brow crinkling as she considered this information.

"But...I thought he was before!" she said, the idea that Aunt Mina could have more than one honey at a time not troubling her a bit. Sirius chuckled, reaching out to reclaim his daughter from Hermione's arms.

"Out of the mouths of babes, eh Harry?"

"Hermione! Harry!" came a new voice. Minerva McGonagall came hurrying up to the little group, smiling. Snape trailed along behind her, looking merely dour. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've been busy with some last-minute details, I've only just come down to the party."

Hermione embraced her old friend warmly. "You haven't missed much...just some rather overblown entrances."

Minera looked at her former students as they stood before her holding hands. "I must say...it really does seem right to see you here together. I always..."

Harry held up a hand to stop her, grinning. "No, don't say it, allow me. You always knew it, you were just waiting for us to realize it, and you knew we were just made for each other and you're sure we'll be fabulously happy." Minerva blinked a few times, unsure how to respond. "You'll forgive my interruption, it's just that we've heard that about eight thousand..."

"No, ten thousand at least," Hermione said.

"All right, ten thousand times now. Just once I'd like to hear someone say 'I never would have suspected it, I'm completely shocked and I think you're all wrong for each other.'"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Well, I never would have suspected it."

Harry nodded to him. "Thank you, Snape. I knew I could count on you."

Their conversation continued for a few moments as accounts of the recent battle were exchanged, pleas from Charlotte for more flying were deflected, and commentary about the party and its guests flowed like water. Eventually Minerva was called away on something to do with gooseberry fool, Snape drifted off to torment Bill, Sirius and Cordelia took Charlotte out to the special party room that had been set up for the children in attendance and the Longbottoms went on a pilgrimage to old childhood haunts, leaving Harry and Hermione alone for the first time since their arrival.

Hermione strolled over to the buffet table and piled a plate with small finger-foods; without even realizing she was doing it she chose items for herself and for Harry. He came up next to her and wordlessly handed her a cup of rum punch, her favorite, while he stuck to butterbeer. She looked at the cup, then at the plate she was holding, and began to chuckle as they moved to take seats at a nearby table.

"What's funny?"

"Look at this, Harry. I pick out hors d'oevres for you and you get me the appropriate drink. Do you think we're a bit used to each other?"

He smiled. "We ought to be by now. After fifteen years, I ought to to be able to predict what color knickers you're wearing."

Her eyes narrowed, sensing a challenge. "What's my favorite film?"

"'A Room with a View.'"

"What's my mother's maiden name?"

"Graves."

"What was the name of my childhood pet cat?"

"Oliver Cromwell."

"My favorite colour?"

"Blue."

"What was Horace's last name?"

"Robbins."

"When does the curse visit me?"

"Usually starts around the 12th, give or take a few days."

"Who's my favorite singer?"

"Sting."

"Which is my favorite Python?"

"Eric Idle."

"Who's my favorite person?"

"Me, I hope."

"Besides you. And Ron. And my family."

"Then I'd have to go with Dr. Rousseau from Stonehenge. Or perhaps Laura." He waited for the next question, but she just sat back and grinned. "Did I pass?"

"Oh, yes. You pass. My turn?"

"Not necessary."

"Why not?"

"Because you know me better than I do, as we're both aware. No demonstrations are required."

She smiled at him, the stamp of affection clear on her face. "Want to go for a walk?"

In lieu of an answer, he just stood up and held out his hand.

**********

They walked down the lawn past the Quidditch field, past Hagrid's old hut, now occupied by the current gamekeeper. Harry paused and looked at it for a moment.

"Lefty reminds you of Hagrid, doesn't he?"

Harry nodded. "Hagrid was the first magical person I met. I suppose I always thought of him as my personal guardian, because he came swooping in and spirited me away from the Dursleys."

Hermione sighed. "We've lost too many friends, Harry."

He said nothing for a moment. "After Cedric died I didn't know how I'd handle it if someone else met the same fate...and Cedric was only barely a friend."

"You had to grow up fast."

"We all did."

They just stood there for a few minutes, then Hermione grasped his arm and looked up into his face. "I want to go there," she said.

He nodded, not needing to ask what she meant. He slipped his arm securely around her waist and they flew off into the night sky, the dark mass of the Forbidden Forest passing silently below their feet. Hermione felt a chill shudder through her as they flew over it; she clung to Harry tightly, feeling the pulse in his throat against her cheek.

They set down in the glen, the site of a memory that dogged their nightmares and poisoned their waking thoughts. Harry stood rooted to the spot while Hermione walked forward to where she thought his body had lain, though she'd never seen it. "Did he die here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Or was he just left here?"

"He died here. His blood was on the ground."

"Where?"

"Right where you're standing."

Hermione looked down at the ground as if she could still make out the impression that his form had left in the grass. She held out her hand without looking up. Harry, with effort, walked forward and took it. She raised her eyes to his. "Tell me. Tell me what you saw."

He shook his head. "No. I didn't want you to know then, and I still don't."

"I have to know, Harry. Please, you can't protect me from this. I have to share that moment with you." He said nothing. "You asked me once if it would ever be just the two of us, or if Ron's ghost would be with us every step. I need to see what you saw, or we might never be free of it."

Harry held her gaze for a long moment, then blinked and bit his lip. Finally he nodded, his eyes shifting to stare at the ground at her feet. He grasped both of her hands tightly, almost painfully. She just waited as he searched for the words to describe it.

"I saw a flash of white...remember how bright the moon was? I saw something and I knew, I knew it was him. I came up to him...he just looked like a pile of rags on the grass," he said, his voice shaking. "I turned him onto his back and that's when you heard me scream. I ran."

"What did you see?" she persisted.

"His...his throat was cut. The blood looked black in the moonlight. His hair was all a mess and his eyes were open and staring up at the sky and I couldn't believe that I'd never see his grin again, I'd never talk to him or have lunch with him or play chess with him ever again." He hesitated and seemed loathe to continue. "And there was...on his face..." He trailed off, his throat working. Hermione waited. He met her eyes again. "On his forehead was this," he said, one hand rising to finger his scar. Hermione gasped. "It was cut into the skin."

"Oh my God, Harry."

"It was a message, for me, letting me know that this death, this blood, is on my hands. If he'd chosen another best friend he'd be working on his Arithmancy homework in the common room right now." He shut his eyes, tears squeezing out of his eyelids to run down his face. "All I could think was that you mustn't see. If you saw that mark, you might hate me."

"I could never have hated you," she said, though she wondered if that were really true.

"I heard you coming and I grabbed you and I stopped you from seeing, and I closed my eyes and all I saw in my mind was you lying on the ground with your throat cut and that mark carved into your forehead. I knew Ron was dead and that I could do nothing more for him and my heart was breaking, so all I could do was hang on to you."

Hermione's chin trembled as the image of what he'd described hung vividly before her vision. She sank to her knees and put her hands on the ground, her fingers moving through the grass. Harry just stood over her, numb, and watched as she put her hands to her face and her shoulders began to shake. The sound of her crying rose from her and was swept away by the light breeze that ruffled through his hair. It really was a beautiful night. Cruelly beautiful. How uncaring is nature, Harry thought vaguely. We stand here in the grip of horrible memories, missing our best friend, and yet it's a beautiful night.

Harry knelt slowly and drew her close; she came against him gladly and wept against his chest. He felt the tears rising in his own throat; for once, he did not attempt to stop them. He sat down heavily in the grass, pulling her with him, and let himself cry for this loss that would not go away. Time will heal it, he'd been told many times. Time had only put distance between himself and this pain, the pain itself remained unchanged and as fresh as the day it had been created.

As he felt her shaking in his arms he realized that since that night they had never mourned him together, not really. They had talked about it in remote, empirical terms. They had stood together at his funeral, but it had been stilted and false to them. They had tended to each other's lingering emotional issues...and yet they had never just wept together since that night, never just shared their grief in any meaningful way. Their common sorrow had bound them together even more tightly than before, and yet it had also driven them further into themselves. It had made them keep each other at arm's length, maintaining that air of friendship and the illusion of closeness while they kept their feelings locked away and solitary.

They stayed there for a long time. Eventually their tears abated and their sobs quieted, the breeze drying the wetness on their cheeks. Harry sat cross-legged in the grass holding her on his lap, her head on his chest and her arms around his waist. Their chests stopped hitching and they sat silently, drained and yet cleansed.

**********

Hermione walked along the edge of the lake, taking deep breaths of the fragrant night air and feeling freer and lighter than she had in years. She could hear Harry's footsteps several metres behind her and the gentle lapping of the water against the banks of the lake. The moonlight glinted off the surface, making it appear silvery and incandescent.

Their mutual catharsis in the glen had felt like the last step in a long road she'd set her feet upon years ago. No matter how happy she was with him or how strong their relationship was, still Ron's ghost had stalked them tirelessly. She was always conscious of its presence, standing not between them but all around them. Bailicroft was miles from Hogwarts but somewhere in their minds and hearts they'd never left that glen. That had been the beginning of the end, the end of their childhoods. That night for the first time she'd looked in Harry's eyes and seen an adult looking back at her, and she'd seen the strain of the burden that had been placed on his young shoulders. She'd known, really known for the first time that whatever he was destined for, she was part of it...because she couldn't bear not to be.

Sitting there on the grass they had talked about it for the first time, and discovered that they had remarkably similar perceptions of how things had changed after Ron's death. She had felt a large weight lifting from her heart as the words passed her lips...her guilt, her despair, her resignation to her own death.

She would never be able to remember who'd made the first move, but all at once they were no longer talking but kissing, first with tenderness and then with increasing ardor. Incredibly, perhaps inevitably, they'd ended up making love right there on the grass. She would never forget looking up into his eyes as his forehead rested against hers, the stars twinkling brightly above him, the grass beneath her cool against her skin. Their cries echoed through the trees that surrounded them and Hermione felt exorcised, that the very ground was exorcised of the death that had haunted it and them.

Now she walked calmly back towards the brilliantly lit castle, smiling. Harry was trailing behind her but she could feel his presence. They were both occupied by their own thoughts and emotions for the moment, and she was glad for the time to recover her composure.

She heard Harry stop walking and turned around. He was standing by the edge of the lake looking out over its surface, his hands thrust into his pockets holding back his suitjacket. His expression was thoughtful. "What is it?" she said.

He looked over at her. "Take a look at something for me, will you?" He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket, withdrew a small object, and tossed it to her.

Thinking it was some sort of magical item on which he needed her opinion, she caught it...though she wondered at his odd timing. It was a small, flat box of the sort that might hold a medal or an amulet. She opened it, and her mouth fell open.

Inside was a ring.

"Oh," she sighed, carefully withdrawing the ring and holding it up. The band was gleaming gold, and the stone was in a plain setting...just one very large diamond. She wanted to say something but seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

Harry walked slowly up to her until he could reach out and take the ring from her numb fingers. "I was in New York about a month ago on a case," he said quietly. "I was walking down 5th Avenue and I passed Tiffany's. My feet just sort of walked me in there all by themselves." As she watched, stunned, he lowered himself to one knee before her. Hermione's mind whirled as he looked up at her, holding her hand in one of his and the ring in the other.

When he spoke again his voice was rough. "Every morning when I open my eyes, I think that I can't possibly love you more," he said. "I go through my day as I always do. I go to work, I go on trips, I come home, I talk to you and hold you, I read, I eat, I sleep. And then the next day I wake up again and see you sleeping beside me and I'm amazed to find that I love you even more...and once again I think that that must surely be the limit, that now I can't possibly love you more. Then I repeat the entire process. I'm still waiting for the day that I wake up and I love you only as much as I did when I went to sleep. I don't think it'll ever come." He smiled up at her, his eyes overbright. Hermione returned the smile, her knees feeling as unsteady as a warm pudding. "When I think about my future, the only thing that's constant in it is that you're there. I can't imagine life without you."

Some sound escape Hermione's throat, a sort of half-laugh and half-sob. The tears were leaking steadily from her eyes now.

"Marry me?" he whispered, his eyes full of hope and not a little bit of nervousness. "What do you think?"

Hermione dropped to her knees, lowering herself to his level, and put her hands on either side of his face. "I think I'm the luckiest woman in the world," she said softly.

"Will you, then?"

"Yes, Harry. I will." Her smile widened into a happy grin, the tracks of the tears on her cheeks shining.

He let out a huge breath and his shoulders sagged in relief, a smile lighting up his face. They embraced tightly, exchanging warm and excited kisses. "Wow," he murmured. "I can't believe it."

She chuckled. "As if you thought I could say no."

"Let me let you in a little secret. We men put on a big show but we're very insecure. I don't think any man in the history of men has ever proposed without a big old neon light in his head flashing 'YOU IDIOT, SHE'LL NEVER SAY YES.'"

She chuckled and hugged him again, feeling as if her heart might physically burst. "Oh, Harry, you daft git. I do love you." She drew back. "And now I'll let you in on a little secret. Every woman from the time she learns of the concept of marriage dreams of the day that she'll get a proposal and how perfect it'll be. Well...that was a more beautiful and touching proposal than I ever dared to imagine I'd receive." He grinned and blushed a little. "And how long have you been practicing it?"

"Well...I started composing the first draft as I was leaving Tiffany's. Speaking of which," he said, holding up the ring, which had been a bit forgotten. He picked up her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. "There. That makes it official."

She looked down at the ring sparkling on her finger. "It really is beautiful. Not to mention extravagant." She peered more closely at the rather large rock on her finger. "Merlin's ghost, is that a real diamond?"

"I hope so, or else I've been horribly swindled."

"It must have cost a fortune."

"I can afford it. Besides, I can't think of anything I'd rather splurge on."

She shook her head. "I can't believe it."

"Don't tell me this was a surprise."

She looked up. "This was a huge surprise."

He cocked his head and regarded her with a puzzled expression. "So you thought that I was just casually dating you before I found my real soulmate?"

"No, of course not. I just never expected it this soon. It is rather...fast."

"I see. I suppose fifteen years isn't quite enough time to get to know each other..." he said airily.

"Oh, stop. You know what I mean. We've only been together a few months."

He tenderly ran his fingers over her cheek. "And it gets better every day. I'm usually unsure about a lot of things, but not about this." He stood up and offered her a hand, which she took. They resumed their walk back to the castle, arms linked about each other's waists.

**********

When they re-entered the castle, the guests were just beginning to drift towards the tables in preparation for dinner. They exchanged a brief glance, and through some tacit agreement Hermione stuck her left hand in her pocket. She was bursting to tell Laura and Ginny and everyone else, but for now she just relished keeping the knowledge to herself. She held Harry's hand tightly. Husband, husband, her mind repeated over and over again in disbelief. He's going to be my husband.

Harry nudged her. "Look."

She followed his eyes and beheld Draco, whom they hadn't been certain would attend. The wizarding world knew of his loyalty shift, but he'd been extremely shy of the limelight and had refused to speak to anyone publicly. He was wearing a severe black outfit, slacks and a turtleneck, and his braids were pulled back and gathered in a bunch. He looked downright jumpy. Quinn was whispering reassuringly into his ear but he didn't look comforted. Harry and Hermione made their way over. "Draco," Harry said, shaking his hand stiffly. "We weren't sure you'd be here."

"I almost wasn't," he said tightly.

"I had to threaten him with bodily harm," Quinn added.

"Well...we're glad you came," Harry said, not sounding very glad at all.

"Carefuly, Potter, you might sprain something," Draco said. "I don't need your companionship."

"No, but it can't hurt to be civil, can it?"

"I don't know," Draco said, looking unsure. "It might hurt."

Quinn and Hermione, chatting, preceded them into the Great Hall. Bill Weasley was setting up a podium on the stage near the orchestra; during dessert it was customary to recognize various former students for distinguished accomplishments. Quinn drifted towards the faculty grouping of tables, Draco in tow.

Harry and Hermione headed towards a table already three-quarters full of Weasleys: Molly and Arthur, Charlie and his family, Fred, George, and Ginny. Percy had been unable to attend and Bill would be sitting up front with easy access to the stage. Laura and Sorry, having apparently been adopted as honorary Gryffindors by Molly Weasley, were already installed at the table and appeared to be having a grand time. Many hugs and excited greetings ensued, and room was made for the two newcomers. Harry waved to Sirius and Cordelia, sitting nearer the front with Lupin and some wizards and witches he didn't recognize.

The talk careened around the table like pinballs, everyone carrying on three to four conversations at once while trying to scarf down rolls off the basket in the middle of the table. In the middle of it all, Harry noticed that Hermione had surreptitiously moved the ring to her right hand and turned the stone towards her palm.

Soon enough the first course appeared on their plates and everyone fell to, maintaining their chatter but now talking around mouthfuls of roast duck and potatoes. Commentary on people's dates, questions about so-and-so's supposed promotion or demotion, amazed discussions of the appearance of Draco Malfoy at this gathering, gushing over various people's children, lamentations about absent friends and speculation about the coming recognitions.

Ginny had come alone and didn't seem at all unhappy about it; she, Molly and Hermione were conducting a three-way conversation though they were all across the table from each other. Arthur quizzed Harry endlessly about the recent happenings and picked his brain about dark uprisings. Charlie had his hands full with his children, while Laura and Sorry laughed uproariously as the twins regaled them with lurid tales of their schoolday misadventures.

Harry barely spoke two words to Hermione through all of dinner, as both of them were quite caught up in other conversations, but he was always keenly aware of her presence...even more so since she kept sliding her foot up and down his leg. Once during dinner she asked him if he wanted her squash tart, as she didn't care for them. As he turned to answer he met her eyes and had to smile as he saw their shared secret lurking behind them.

Finally as the desserts were being consumed and hot spiced cocoa was filling their cups, Bill stood up and went to the podium. His magically amplified voice rolled out over the assembly. "Good evening, everyone!" he said cheerfully. "I'm Bill Weasley, Gryffindor Class of 1988, and I'd like to welcome you all to the annual Friends and Former Pupils Gala." Everyone clapped.

"First I'd like to thank Professor McGonagall for choosing me to run this show, though she must be feeling a bit nervous right now wondering what I might do." Everyone glanced at McGonagall, who didn't look the least bit nervous. Bill may have had a rebellious streak but he was a sucker for Hogwarts traditions and wouldn't dare besmirch one of them. Besides, Bill knew he probably wouldn't enjoy life as a snuffbox.

"We're going to begin tonight with some recognitions of our fellow alumni," Bill went on. "First of all, to Mildred Sterncastle, who did us all a favor when she invented the Self-Correcting Quill...especially me, I could never spell worth a jot." Everyone clapped and Mildred rose to give a little bow. Bill continued to read the list of notable achievements among the alumni...wizards who'd written books, witches who'd cured curses. Although she wasn't a Hogwart alumna per se, he mentioned Quinn's successful completion of two years as the Defense aGainst the Dark Arts professor, a Hogwarts record. He also mentioned Draco's heroics, which earned a healthy round of applause and made the man in question flush several shades of purple.

"And now," he said. "A matter of no small importance. A few words from our brand-new Minister of Magic, a chap I like to call Dad. Arthur Weasley."

Everyone applauded enthusiastically as Arthur stood and made his way up to the podium with his eldest son. "Umm...thank you all, I'm glad to be assuming this post. Minister Fudge has been very helpful to me in my career at the Ministry..." Harry had to swallow a laugh at this...Fudge was rarely helpful to anyone except Fudge. "...and I'll have some very large shoes to fill. Thank you." He left the stage to more hearty applause.

"And now," Bill went on, "A few words from our most illustrious former pupil...Deputy Chancellor Sirius Black. Sirius?"

Sirius stood and joined Bill on the stage as the assembly clapped. "Thank you, Bill. I bring everyone greetings from the Chancellor."

"The Chancellor couldn't join us tonight?" Bill said, grinning. A ripple of laughter passed over the crowd at this...because no one would have actually expected the Chancellor of the International Federation of Wizards to attend. He had never been seen. His (or her) identity was kept secret. Only Sirius, presumably, ever saw him. All business was carried out via the Deputy Chancellor, who represented the Chancellor at any functions where his presence was appropriate...in point of fact, they only had Sirius' word and the word of his predecessors in the Deputies' Office that there actually was such a person. Harry had often wondered about the point of this arrangement, but it had been in place for the entire existence of the Federation, several thousand years at least, and was therefore difficult to challenge.

"The Chancellor is very busy," Sirius said with a sardonic smile. This was the only answer he ever gave when asked why the Chancellor never attended these kinds of events, or any other kind of event for that matter. Harry wondered how busy the Chancellor could possibly be, since Sirius did all the work. Sirius looked out over his fellow alums. "Good evening, everyone. As a proud member of the Class of 1976 it's my pleasure to attend the Gala with my family. It's been an interesting year in the wizarding world. It's not usually the position of the Chancellor's office to give credence to rumors, but I see no point in ignoring them." The audience was completely quiet, hanging on Sirius' words. "We have all felt the presence of evil swirling about us again in the last few years. We tend to think of the dark forces as only rising when they are given opportunity...but in truth, they are always with us. We only feel their presence in proportion to their determination to defeat those whose task it is to oppose them. Voldemort...and I refuse to be afraid to say his name...is gone. That is certain, and you have my word on the subject. But what he represented, what he stood for, will never be gone, and there will always be those who will embrace it. These wizards who would follow darkness recently suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of those among us who tirelessly fight them, some of whom are in this room. At this time I would ask my godson, Harry Potter, to join me here to be recognized."

Harry blinked and sat up straighter, surprised. He hadn't expected anything this evening, but Sirius clearly had other plans. He glanced at Hermione and shrugged, then stood and made his way through the tables to the podium, applause washing over him punctuated with whistles, hoots and hollers.

Sirius spoke to him in a low voice as he approached. "I think a few words could help morale immensely, don't you?" Harry nodded conceding the point. "Harry has been fighting evil since before he was old enough to hold a wand," Sirius said. "I do not need to enumerate his deeds to this audience. Harry?"

Harry stepped to the podium, his heart banging away at his ribcage. Public speaking wasn't exactly his forte. "Uh, hello. I didn't prepare for this, so please bear with me. I thank you for your appreciation, but I have been far from the only person opposing the Circle and their like-minded compatriots. There are many, many brave witches and wizards who fight darkness in large and small ways every day. Some of them are sitting in this room. Some of them are still out there fighting right now. They deserve the greater part of our gratitude. I'll accept it only on their behalf. Special recognition is also due to Quinn Cashdollar, a current Hogwarts professor," he said, allowing the audience to applaud Quinn, who stood up and sat back down so quickly it looked like an odd sort of hop, "and of course Draco Malfoy, who shocked more than one person with his heroism, myself included." Draco sat stiffly as if facing a firing squad while the assembly cheered him, unable to even stand up and acknowledge it. "My friend Remus Lupin, who has taught me a great deal over the years and continues to amaze me with his bravery." More applause. "And last but certainly not least, Dr. Hermione Granger, who is not nearly as new to the evil-fighting business as you may think." Hermione stood up and nodded at the crowd's ovation. She met Harry's eyes and made a small motion with her hands, sliding her thumb over her left ring finger...he realized that she had put the ring back in its proper place. No one appeared to have noticed except him. Harry's brow crinkled, the question in his eyes. Are you sure? She nodded. Harry smiled and cleared his throat. "Now," he went on. "Most of you know that for some time now I have been happily filling the role of Hermione's boyfriend, but I think you should all be aware that that's no longer the case." A shocked hush fell over the audience. People looked around uncertainly. Hermione bit her lip to hold back the chuckles. "I do believe that I must relinquish that title now that she's agreed to marry me."

The uproar that went up at this statement made Hermione's eardrums hurt. She just stood there grinning out at them and might have done so for some time but for Harry, who upon dropping his bombshell had hopped down off the stage and strode through the tables to her side, whereupon he seized her about the waist, dipped her backwards in a dramatic lunge and kissed her like Rudolph Valentino. Hermione was struck by the absurdity of kissing Harry in the middle of the Great Hall at Hogwarts in front of hundreds of their friends and schoolmates, all of them whooping and cheering, but she didn't care. She kissed him back, and if anyone had dared mention that she was making a spectacle of herself she'd have told them to sod off.

The next ten minutes passed in a blur. They were immediately mobbed by friends and family, hugging and congratulating and demanding to see the ring. Sirius came up to Harry, his smile oddly strained, and shook his hand. "Congratulations, son," he said, a glint of moisture in his eyes. He turned abruptly and strode away, leaving Harry and Cordelia to watch him go with puzzled expressions.

"What's wrong?" Harry said to her, quietly.

Cordelia was staring after her husband, her brow furrowed. "I honestly don't know."

Hermione had her left hand out while Laura, Justin, Molly and Ginny peered at the ring and made the appropriate "ooh" and "aah" sounds. "Great honk, what a rock," Laura said. "You're going to develop a decided list to port."

Hermione blushed, grinning. "It is rather extravagant, isn't it? I feel like Grace Kelly...or at the very least Imelda Marcos."

"Isn't this ring beautiful, Sorry?" Laura said emphatically as he peered over her shoulder. "How wonderful that our friends are engaged!" she went on, over-emphasizing each word, her motive extremely transparent. Hermione chuckled, aware that Laura was just enjoying tormenting him.

Sorry arched an eyebrow. "My goodness, dear, whatever can you be implying?" he said dryly.

Laura laughed, dropped Hermione's hand and hugged her tightly. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered into her ear.

"Thanks," Hermione murmured. She watched Harry over Laura's shoulder, standing near Cordelia and having his hand shaken and his shoulder clapped by every friend who approached him. She didn't see Sirius.

Eventually the hubbub died down and everyone began gathering up their belongings so the room could be rearranged for the after-dinner festivities. Harry handed Hermione his cloak, leaning close to whisper in her ear. "I'm stepping out for a few minutes, back soon." She nodded and he turned and trotted across the floor towards the stairs. She watched him go, frowning, then shrugged and returned to the party.

**********

Harry found Sirius in the Gryffindor common room standing at the mantlepiece of the roaring fireplace, looking down into the flames with his hands behind his back. Without saying a word, Harry walked forward and stood next to him.

He waited patiently. Whatever was troubling Sirius, he would speak of it eventually.

At length, he did. "Sorry I left so abruptly," Sirius finally said.

"Oh, was it abrupt? I hadn't noticed."

"It's just..." He trailed off.

"What is, Sirius?" Harry asked as gently as he could.

"When you kissed her like that...well, at all once I just...I missed James and Lily horribly. I miss them often, of course, but I haven't had that sharp ache to see them in years, not until tonight." Sirius raised his head and looked at Harry...for the first time, Harry could see the years acting on Sirius' face. There were light crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and flecks of gray in his hair. "I look at you and I see them," he said, his voice hoarse. "You barely knew them, but they were the only family I had. I know you miss them too, but...don't take this the wrong way, but what you miss is having parents. What I miss is James and Lily. I miss his laugh, and her smile, and the way they had of speaking to each other without saying anything. I miss just sitting and talking with them, and feeling totally accepted. They loved each other very much and weren't afraid to show it. There were plenty of times when James would just grab her and kiss her, the way you kissed Hermione tonight. James would have loved that. If I close my eyes I can see him there with us tonight, laughing and clapping and crowing how that was his son there."

Harry felt his chest tightening, and suddenly the fact that the man next to him had actually known his parents was driven home with undeniable finality. He'd known it before, of course, but he hadn't really appreciated what it meant.

Sirius turned and faced him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "They would be so proud of you, Harry," he said in a choked voice, one tear trickling from the corner of his eye. "They'd be proud of what you've done, and how you live...they'd be proud of the man you are, and I know because I am." He smiled. "I'm so proud of you."

Harry grinned, more touched than he could have said. He reached out and embraced Sirius, a gesture meant as much for his parents as for Sirius, through whom they lived on in Harry's life.

The two men separated and stood there side by side, gathering their wits about them.

"Sirius...you know you're an important part of my family."

"As you are of mine."

"Then will you stand up with me?" he asked quietly. Sirius turned to look at him, a smile dawning on his face. "Will you stand with me when I marry Hermione? Be my best man?"

Sirius sighed. "Oh, Harry. I'm touched. But...I thought you'd want someone else up there. Someone with red hair, perhaps?"

"You mean, to stand in for Ron?" Sirius nodded. "I thought about it. But this day, whenever it happens, well...I'm going to be marrying my best friend in the world, the woman I love more than my own life. I want the people who matter most to me up there with me."

Sirius smiled and nodded. "In that case, it will be my honor." Harry clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Will there be anyone joining me up there?"

"I should think so. Remus, if he's willing. George, perhaps."

"You realize that you're walking into the very maws of Hell itself, don't you?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Harry, as a man who's been through it, let me warn you that the planning stages of a wedding will probably generate more arguments between you and your beloved than you've had in the entire course of your relationship. I can't tell you how many nights I slept on the couch. So don't go making a lot of plans..such as how many men you'll ask to stand up with you...without consulting Hermione first."

"Well, I just asked her an hour ago. I doubt she's started planning."

Sirius just laughed. "Oh, Harry. Your naivete is refreshing. She's been planning this since she was eight." He laughed harder atHarry's deer-in-the-headlights expression, then sobered. "Listen, while we're having deep meaningful discussions, there's something I've been wanting to ask you for some time. This seems like the right moment."

"All right."

Sirius shifted his weight and seemed hesitant before he finally spoke. "This is hard for me to say, but I must. My job is...well, it may not be as dangerous as yours, but just to give you an idea, I received a dozen death threats last week alone." He put a hand up at Harry's alarmed expression. "Very rarely is there an actual threat," he said in a reassuring tone, "but you never know. Cordelia and I aren't spring chickens, we started our family relatively late in life." He took a deep breath. "The point I'm trying to make, Harry, is that...well, Cordelia and I would like to designate you and Hermione as the guardians of our children if something happens to us."

"Oh, Sirius, nothing's going to..."

"That's what everyone thinks. No one thinks anything will happen to them. But just in case it does...if we can't do it, we would want you to raise our kids."

Harry almost couldn't find the words to reply. "I...we'd do our best. I think I can speak for Hermione, too."

Sirius looked immensely relieved. "Thanks. We've been meaning to ask you about it for some time, but the opportunity never arose. Now that you're settling down yourselves, it makes even more sense."

"Somehow I don't think that marriage to Hermione is going to qualify as 'settling down,'" Harry said with a grin.

**********

They returned to the Great Hall to find the party in full swing. The orchestra was pumping out tunes and people were dancing or chatting or sipping punch and nibbling on chocolates and tarts. As they always did, Harry's eyes sought out Hermione. She was dancing with Sorry and beaming a wide smile. She waved to him as he entered the room.

The song began to wind down and Harry crossed the dance floor to where Hermione and Sorry stood. "May I cut in?" he said, his hand out. Sorry stepped back with a half-bow. Hermione kissed his cheek warmly and he retreated to the sidelines. The orchestra swung into a slow waltz as Harry gently drew her into his arms, her head leaning against his shoulder and their clasped hands resting on his chest over his heart.

Laura and Ginny watched from the table where they sat with Justin and George. Ginny smiled as she watched her two friends dancing slowly, exuding an air of utter contentment. "They seem so in love," she said with a sigh.

"Yeah," Laura said. "Kind of makes you want to throw up, doesn't it?" Everyone laughed.

"Are they as happy as they look?" Ginny asked.

Laura rolled her eyes. "Spend a few days at Bailicroft and you'll find out."

Ginny grinned. "Noisy?"

"It's not so much that," George said. "Their room is quite isolated, which would help a lot if they'd only stay in there!"

"I caught them in the library once," Justin said. "He had her up against the bookshelves. Pretty steamy. I was really relieved they didn't see me...though I don't think they would have noticed if Armageddon had happened right then."

"I heard them up in the observatory about a week ago," Laura added. "Yikes."

"I've taken to walking into every room with one hand over my eyes just in case," George said, chuckling.

"Going at it like crazed weasels, huh?" Ginny said. "I suppose that's to be expected."

"I just wish they'd get past that can't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other having-sex-in-the-yard phase. They're starting to make me jealous," George said.

"He was never like that with me," Ginny mused. "Hmm."

"No offense, Gin, but I think it makes a difference when you're with your one true love," George said, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"No offense taken. I wasn't in love with Harry nor he with me. It didn't help that I was jealous of Hermione half the time."

"You were?" Laura said, fascinated.

"Oh, sure. It was very clear to me, and to the men that Hermione dated, I might add, that they came first in each other's lives. She got the best part of him, and whatever he had left he'd offer to me." She turned to watch them on the dance floor, moving easily in sync with each other and talking softly. "They had a bond that no one else could ever intrude upon, even back then, and so much a part of each other that they could never be separated."

No one said anything for a moment, considering this undeniable fact. The slow waltz ended and they watched as Harry raised Hermione's hand kissed it, his lips lingering over her knuckles as he met her eyes.

"Hey, no snogs on the dance floor," Bill said, standing at his podium. Everyone laughed; Hermione turned red. Harry faced Bill, one eyebrow raised.

"You have a better idea, wiseass?"

"Yes. I think it's high time you put up or shut up. We've heard extravagant tales of your skill on the dance floor, let's see it!" A chorus of agreements were voiced and people began to clear the floor, leaving Harry and Hermione standing alone.

He looked down at her. "Are you up for this?"

"If you are," she said archly, dropping a wink.

Harry stepped towards the orchestra, speaking to the bandleader. "Do you chaps know 'Switchblade 327?'" The bandleader nodded and they all shuffled through their sheet music as Harry stepped back to Hermione's side, bending to roll up the cuffs of his trousers.

She was looking at him doubtfully. "You sure? We haven't done that one since the All-Brittania finals!"

"Won it for us, didn't it?"

"Yes, but it's so hard! We're out of practice."

The bandleader raised his baton and Harry led her into the starting position. "We can handle it. Just don't think about it, it'll come back."

She shrugged, acquiescing. The music started with a fast guitar riff, and on the cue they swung into it. Hermione felt the quick drumbeats guiding her steps, her feet moved by themselves. Her jaw clenched slightly; this was a very fast, very difficult dance, but tonight it seemed easy. She was peripherally aware of people lining the dance floor and clapping along, but all she really saw was Harry as they whirled around each other. She flipped in front of him in a cartwheel over his outstretched arms, that moment of weightlessness giving her the same rush it always had. She laced her fingers behind his neck as he swung her over his left hip, then his right, then swung her high in the air as she kicked her legs towards the ceiling.

She beamed a wide grin as they flew through the steps as if they'd just done it yesterday. Loud whoops went up from the audience as they executed the impressive trick moves they'd incurred so many bruises in learning. No bruises tonight...Harry caught her out of every flip, their hands found each other unerringly, and their feet were sure on the slick dance floor.

Their friends and classmates clapped along, the band played on, and she felt like she could float away on a cloud of joy and adrenaline. Her new engagement ring flashed on her finger, and whatever worries or concerns she might have had about anything were far from her mind.

**********

The Bailicroft contingent stayed very late at the party. Harry and Hermione, once put in the mood, danced up a storm. Tango, rhumba, swing, foxtrot...dance after dance they moved amongst their friends and classmates sure and confident.

They did not return to the mansion until four o'clock in the morning. After the Hogwarts party had been declared closed, a large group of former pupils had merely relocated to the Three Broomsticks and drunk enough butterbeer to supply a small country. Making as much noise as possible, they'd stayed until they'd been almost bodily thrown out and regretfully called it a night with many hugs and bids adieu.

As soon as they got through the front door the housemates went their separate ways. George and Justin headed for the kitchen muttering something about ale, Cho and her date went to the backyard to look at the stars and probably neck, Sorry and Laura went up the back stairs to her room and Harry and Hermione raced each other up the main staircase.

She got ahead of him in the living gallery but he grabbed her about the waist and yanked her back. Hermione slapped at his hands, giggling and feeling about twelve years old, when suddenly he ducked and, as he had threatened to earlier, threw her over his shoulder. "Hey!" she cried. This position was oddly debilitating. She couldn't get up enough leverage to jump off...besides, it was sort of fun, in a swooning-damsel sort of way. He set off towards the stairs that led to the Cloister. "I'm perfectly capable of walking, you know!"

"Ha! You'll not escape me this time, brazen hussy!" he said in a deep, swashbuckling voice.

"Unhand me, you scurvy knave!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Oh, cruel fate!" Hermione cried, laying a hand theatrically over her brow. "How shall I ever go back to my quiet mountainside hamlet after the shame of my disgrace?" Harry kicked in the door to the Cloister, laughing maniacally like the villain in an Errol Flynn movie. "You can take my body, ruffian, but you shall never have my heart!"

He tossed her down on the bed and leaned over her, smiling gently, all kidding aside. "Too bad. That's the best part."

She pulled his head down and kissed him, feeling aggressive. Without warning, she gave his shoulders a hard shove and pushed him over onto his back. Before he could react she was sitting on him, straddling his hips and pinning his arms to the bed with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Brazen hussy, am I?" she purred. He grinned. "You think you know brazen? Brace yourself." She fell to with vigor, determined to give the soundproofing around the Cloister a good workout.

**********

"This is pretty."

"That drinks blood, if I remember correctly."

"But look at the foliage. Very colorful." Laura frowned down at the potted bromeliad. "Does it really drink blood? It looks like such a nice, agreeable flower."

Hermione walked through the maze of tables at Broomthorn's Fine Herbs and Flowers, one of the largest wizard nurseries in the London area. Laura was looking for some durna fungus for the garden and Hermione had tagged along...it was never too early to begin thinking about wedding flowers. Much as she hated to jump into planning too early...they hadn't even set a date yet...her excitement was beginning to get the better of her. Laura was her co-conspirator in this venture, in fact she egged her on relentlessly.

"Now, any bouquets we prepare should definitely include some luck-inducing flowers," Laura was saying.

"I've never seen any that don't smell like something rotten and decomposed. Besides, that's all just superstition."

They came upon a display of assorted fungi and Laura dropped the subject of bouquets and pulled out her notes. Hermione watched her rummaging through Madame Broomthorn's carefully arranged selection of pots and bags.

"Hello, Hermione," came a voice behind her. She whirled, startled, her hand flying to her throat.

"Rufus!" She sighed. "My goodness, you scared me!"

"Sorry," he said, smiling. "I thought that was you."

She returned his smile. "And so it is. Well, hello! It's been some time, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has. You're looking well."

"As are you," she said, and it was true. He'd grown a mustache and it suited him. "What brings you here?"

He looked at her blankly for a moment. "Well, being an herbologist I come here several times a week."

Hermione flushed. "Oh, of course. How silly of me." An awkward pause. "How have you been?"

"Can't complain. Work is going well." He looked past her to where Laura was watching them with interest.

"Oh, forgive me," Hermione said, remembering her manners. "This is Laura Chant, one of my housemates. Laura, this is Rufus Frost. We used to date." They shook hands. Rufus seemed about to speak but then stopped, his eyes fixed on her shoulder. Hermione looked down...he was looking at her left hand where it was holding her purse strap. She sagged a little.

"You're married," he said softly.

"No," she replied. "Engaged."

"Ah." He forced a smile and tried to look happy. "Congratulations. Anyone I know?"

Hermione grimaced. "Yes..." She met his gaze and saw only the question there. She fetched a deep sigh. "Rufus, I'm engaged to Harry." His lips thinned and he nodded. "I think you of all people are entitled to a good 'I told you so.'"

He chuckled bitterly. "You know, when I saw you here I almost didn't come over. But the sight of you...well, I just had to. Thought I'd strike up a conversation, perhaps manage a dinner invite." Hermione looked away, embarrassed. "I should have known."

"It's very recent," she said softly. "We've only been..."

"You were always so emphatic," he overrode her. "Just friends, that's all. So certain, so insistent. So was he."

"We were wrong."

He met her eyes. "You love him, then?"

"Yes, very much. I think you know I always did."

"Then I'm glad." He smiled, and it was genuine. "I told you so," he said softly. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, quick and chaste, then turned and strode away.

Laura came up next to her. "My, that was unexpected."

"Poor Rufus," Hermione said, still watching him leave. "He always believed it was Harry I loved."

"It ought to be against the law for your ex-boyfriend to be right about anything."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, it ought. But in this case I'll overlook it."

**********

Harry sat at a large oval table in one of the I.D.'s many conference rooms, counting heads. Twelve were expected, all six division heads and their seconds. He kept coming up one short and then with an internal forehead-slap realized he'd been neglecting to count himself. Focus, Potter, he told himself. It had been one of those days.

He unrolled some parchment and the others turned towards him, expectant. He looked around at their faces, waiting for him to tell them what their business at this meeting was. He cleared his throat. "Well. Thank you all for coming to the meeting that has no purpose," he said. "Argo wants us to instigate this weekly meeting, though why she suddenly considers our regular staff meeting to be inadequate is beyond me."

"She's tossing our offices," said Henry Ubigando. Everyone laughed.

"Oh, blast," Harry said. "I left my 'Snogs for Voldemort' badge lying around in plain sight."

"While we're all here," Henry went on, "I may as well discuss a small matter of personnel." As the chief of the Strategy division, Henry was in charge of new recruits, determining where they'd be assigned and trained once Argo had made the initial contact. "This should interest you," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a card. A card from the Deck, Harry realized. Henry tossed it onto the table and it slid over to Harry, who picked it up.

He read the name on the back, expressionless. "Is this a joke?" he said, one eyebrow arching.

"Not to my knowledge."

Harry shook his head, then laid the card on the table where everyone could see the name printed there: HERMIONE GRANGER.

"Do you object, Harry?" said Remus.

"No, not at all! She'd be a tremendous asset...I'm just amazed at the timing. She's been wanting to leave her job and I'd made a few small inquiries about having her here."

"Only small inquiries?" Grace said with a smile.

"Frankly, I wanted to avoid the notion that I was pulling strings for my life partner," Harry said.

"Life partner?" Lefty said, his bushy eyebrows quirking in amusement.

"That is our agreed-upon term," Harry said with a wink. "'Fiancee' sounds so...Victorian. But I suppose those concerns are moot now. If the Deck chose her then she's in, regardless of anything I might do."

"Where shall I assign her, do you think?" Henry said. "Assuming she accepts a commission."

"Anywhere but CCO," Harry said quickly.

"Oh, of course not. That's verboten anyway, I wouldn't assign her to your division."

"I would like to have her," said the Librarian, a small and ethereal presence in her raised chair. "She has a sharp mind for Research."

"Yes, but she may not wish to spend all her time in the library," Harry said. "That's what she's trying to get away from."

The door to the conference room opened, interrupting them. Argo strode in, looking uncharacteriscally cheerful. "Good morning, troops," she said.

"What brings you here, boss?" Harry said. He only called her that when he was annoyed with her.

"Glad tidings, I think." She came around the table and stood next to Lupin's chair. "Remus Lupin, I'm pleased to inform you that you have been granted a promotion to the rank of Captain in the Federation Enforcement Corps, and, if you accept, to Chief Wizard of Infiltration and Reconnaissance."

Remus stared at her, open-mouthed. He looked at Grace, the current chief of I & R. "But...what..."

"I'm retiring," Grace said with a grin. "I've been offered a consulting job, and to be honest the pay's better. I'm vacating the position. I think you're the ideal choice, Remus."

Remus smiled, his surprise dissipating. "Well, I appreciate the confidence." He shook Grace's hand.

"You accept, then?" Argo said.

Lupin stood up. "I accept." They shook on it, then he turned to shake Harry's hand.

"Congratulations, Remus. You deserve it. But this leaves me with no second."

"It'll be taken care of, Major," Argo said cryptically, her use of his rank a tad jarring in the usually informal I.D. atmosphere. "But now I must steal Remus for some security procedures." Lupin headed for the door, shaking hands as he went, and Argo followed him out.

The remaining agents sat back down, their eyes drawn to the empty chair. "Well," Harry said at length. "That sort of pre-empts the meeting with no purpose, doesn't it? Dismissed."

**********

That night Harry returned home around six o'clock and went to the owl post tray, which was empty. He found Hermione in the study making some notes from the volumes open before her; he flopped down into an overstuffed chair under the window. "How many posts today?" he said.

"Only three. Seems to be easing up a bit." In the days after the Gala they'd been deluged with congratulatory notes from all their classmates and friends. It had been over a week now and the flood was abating.

He watched her for a moment, thinking his own thoughts. Her hair was tied up in a bun, little wisps had escaped to tickle her cheeks. Her narrow rectangular glasses sat perched on the end of her nose and her teeth bit at her lower lip as they did when she concentrated. "I've got something for you," he said.

"What's that?" She kept her eyes on her books.

He reached into his pocket and tossed the card from the Deck onto her desk. She looked at it blankly for a moment, then turned wide eyes to him. "Surely you're not serious."

"I am serious. And don't call me Shirley."

"You wouldn't be so horrid as to fabricate this."

"Absolutely not." He smiled. "Welcome to the club."

Hermione grinned and jumped up to lean over his chair and throw her arms around his neck. "You didn't pull any strings, did you?" she said, drawing back.

"My love, you were chosen by an enchanated deck of Tarot cards. I wouldn't know where the strings were to pull them."

"When can I start?"

"Come with me tomorrow and we'll start the procedures."

She sat back on her heels, her face flushed with excitement. "Oh, I can't believe this!" Her smile wavered a bit. "Is the training terrifically horrible?"

"It's no walk in the park. I'm afraid many of the things you'll be taught can't be learned from a book." He smiled at her anxious expression. "You'll also have to learn to do things you've been able to avoid."

"Like hit people?"

"That, among others."

She nodded, considering this. "Will I be able to work with you?"

He frowned. "Oh no, not directly. It would be against policy to have you under my command. Even it were not, I wouldn't wantyou in my division."

She looked crestfallen at this. "You wouldn't?"

"Oh, not because I don't think you'd be excellent there," he hurried to add. "It's just...well, I have to be able to give orders to the agents in my division. Orders that I know may endanger them. I can't hesitate. I have to be prepared to send someone to their death if necessary. If it were you, I might not be able to do that. I couldn't do my job properly if I had to give you orders."

"I understand," she said. "Can I at least have lunch with you?"

He smiled. "Of course. And we'll still collaborate on assignments, but I won't be your direct superior." He leaned forward and kissed her. "I'm relieved the Deck chose you. I was dreading trying to get you in without it seeming like I was just favoring my girlfriend," he said with a grin. "Excuse me, life partner."

"That's the one." She stood up and leaned against the edge of the desk. "I'm going to be a spy," she said, testing out the phrase in a pensive tone.

"Uh...intelligence agent," he corrected.

********

"Now Dr. Granger, I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Answer truthfully and as quickly as you can. Some of them may seem odd, but they are necessary," said the wizard seated across the table from her. He was gaunt and tired-looking, but his eyes were sharp. She got the impression that this was some sort of security procedure, though no one had actually explained its purpose.

"All right."

"Your full name?"

"Hermione Ann Granger."

"Your year of graduation?"

"1998 from Hogwarts, 2002 from Stonehenge."

"Do you own a car?"

"Yes."

"Do you enjoy foreign films?"

"Only with subtitles."

"Do you have siblings?"

"No."

"What is your brother's name?"

"I don't have one."

"How old were you when you became sexually active?"

"Sixteen."

"What is your earliest childhood memory?"

"Of going to the fair and getting sick on jelly babies."

"Do you have a significant other?"

"Yes."

"Do you prefer hollaindaise or bernaise sauce?"

"I don't care for sauces."

"Are you afraid of flying?"

"On airplanes, no. On broomsticks, slightly."

"Do you know a man named Remus Lupin?"

"Yes."

"What mountain range separates Asia from Europe?"

"The Urals."

"How many states in America?"

"Fifty."

"Wizard schools in the U.K.?"

"One."

This went on for almost an hour. Hermione tried to keep her mind blank and answer each question quickly. When the questioner finally stopped, she sagged and breathed a sigh of relief. He pressed a small button on the tabletop and the door opened. Lupin and Henry Ubigando entered. "Well?" Henry asked.

"I agree with you, I think she's suited for SIR. Her answers indicate quick cognitive processing and comprehension, frankness and logic."

"Good," Henry said, motioning to Hermione. She stood up and followed them out of the small, windowless room.

"What's SIR?" she asked.

"Surveillance and Information Retrieval," Lupin explained. "They deal most directly with intelligence information, collecting and analyzing. We think you're best suited to work there. There's a lot of field work involved. Observation, stakeouts, etc. You'll be with the agents who are really 'spies' in the most traditional use of the word in that they're the ones who actually do the spying."

Hermione nodded, pleased. "Where's Harry?"

"He left, he said he had a golf date."

"Oh yes, I forgot. Any word on his new second?"

"Not yet. We're all a little anxious about that, I don't mind telling you."

**********

Harry leaned on his driver and watched Doug Granger tee off, the ball hooking as it always did. "I'm telling you, open up your stance a little," he said.

Doug shook his head, grumbling, and came away from the tee box. They shouldered their bags and headed off down the fairway. Claire Granger and her sister Julia were ahead of them, headed down the fairway for their second shots. "Blasted clubs," he said.

"Oh yes. It's all the clubs' fault," Harry said sarastically.

"Watch it, smartass," Doug said with a grin. "And don't let me catch you magicking the ball into the hole again." They were on the last hole of the course and Harry still hadn't worked up the guts to tell Doug what he'd brought him out here to tell him. Hermione had agreed to let him break the news to her father, who was the only one still in the dark. She had been unable to resist telling her mother, who had been sworn to secrecy until Harry could chat with Doug. Seemed a trifle old-fashioned, but it felt right somehow.

Harry slowed his steps to increase the distance between them and the women. "Doug...there's something I need to discuss with you."

"That so?" Doug said, distracted as he tried to spot his ball in the left-side rough.

Harry stopped, forcing Doug to do the same and face him. "Well, here it is. The fact is that...well, I'd like to marry Hermione."

Doug just stared at him for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I see. Shouldn't you be speaking to her about this?"

Harry smiled. "I've already asked her."

"And what was her reply?"

"She said yes."

Doug chuckled, shaking his head. "In that case, shouldn't you have asked me first?"

Harry tossed up his hands in exasperation. "I wanted to be the one to tell you, all right?"

Doug laughed. "I'm just having you on." He sobered. "Listen, now. Hermione is my only child, and a father is always protective of a daughter. I've lain awake nights wondering about the men she's dated, how they were treating her, if they were making her happy." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've never lost a moment's sleep wondering those things about you, Harry. When Hermione told Claire and I that she was going to live in London with a male roommate, and her only barely 18, well...the only reason we allowed it was because it was you." He peered into Harry's face. "But I have to ask, because I've been wondering for months. I know that she loves you. Do you really love her? Or is it just inertia and settling for a friend?"

"It's a fair question," Harry said. He looked out across the fairway, squinting into the setting sun, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. "Whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, before I can sleep again I always sit there and just watch her sleep for a few minutes. I watch her breathing, and the peaceful expression on her face, and I get a tight feeling in my chest. Sometimes it actually hurts." He turned and looked back at his future father-in-law. "That's how much I love her, Doug. I wasn't sure of that when she and I first got together, I'm know she wasn't either. I didn't know what was happening to us or what it meant, or even if it was real. But as the days passed and turned into weeks, well...I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Doug sniffed, looking as if he might cry. "That's good enough for me." He grinned, then reached out and embraced Harry warmly. "I'm glad she chose you."

Harry smiled. "I don't think either of us had a choice."

**********

A few days later Harry sat in his office, gloomily sorting through a tall stack of parchments on the archeological expedition that was the top of his desk. He tossed papers over his shoulder into several piles: "Keep," "Throw," and "Other."

There was a knock at the door. "Come in!"

The door swung open and Lupin entered. "Surprise, Harry. Got a wee present for you."

"Is it a secretary?" Harry said, without much hope. "Or perhaps a blowtorch?"

"Ehh, close. It's your new second."

Harry brightened, glad at the chance to have some help. "Smashing! Send him...or her...in."

Lupin stepped aside, motioning to someone outside in the hall. As Harry watched his new assistant enter, his jaw clenched and his eyes went deadly cold.

The new second was a young man, looked to be about Harry's own age. He presented a unique figure to say the least, looking like a refugee from a Sex Pistols concert. Ripped leather trousers, a chain-mail shirt, a beat-up black bomber jacket, and motorhuckle boots that shook the floor when they struck it. His face was sharp and ferret-featured, with strange silver eyes and pale eyebrows. His hair, which gave the appearance of having been cut with pruning shears, stood up in wild spikes dyed every color of the rainbow. His right ear was pierced all the way up the lobe, a large stud stuck through his nostril attached to a chain that ran across to his other ear. He also wore rings in his eyebrow, lip, and the bridge of his nose. He grinned with a mouthful of anachronistically perfect white teeth, raising a hand in salutation. "'Allo, 'arry!" he crowed, his voice laced with acCockney accent so thick that it was almost a patois. "What's the what, eh?"

Harry lowered his head and glared at this strange personage. "Oh. My. God." he spat.

**********

Argo was mildly totting up her weekly schedule when the door to her office was unceremoniously banged open to admit a very angry-looking Harry Potter. He strode up to the desk and began to pace, too furious to form words for the moment.

"I can infer from your demeanor that you've met your new second," she said mildly.

"He's not my new second," Harry managed. "I wouldn't give that man the time of day if he begged me for it."

"Tut tut, Harry. Such venom is hardly befitting the great Harry Potter, Master of the Universe."

Ignoring her sarcasm, Harry planted his hands on her desk and leaned over it to stare into her eyes. "Listen to me. I cannot work with Napoleon Jones."

"Well, you're going to."

"I can't."

Argo returned his glare. "I said, you're going to. You'd better start internalizing that fact if you wish to continue in your present job."

"What is he even doing here?"

"The Deck picked him, of course."

Harry snorted and began to pace again. "I find that hard to believe."

"I don't see why."

"I'll tell you why!" he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. "Do you know anything about him? Allow me to do the honors! Once upon a time he was a mercenary, a hired hit wizard with no loyalties or honor to speak of who'd sell his own grandmother for a fast Galleon. Then, to my eternal disgrace, he ended up as a registered Regulator, I've yet to find out how. He's ruined not one, not two, but three of my operations. Weeks of planning and work gone down the drain because he decided to barge in, wand blazing, right as we were tightening the net! Taking it upon himself to kick some arse without so much as a by-your-leave!" He stopped pacing and pointed at Argo. "I don't care if the Deck picked him, I don't trust him any further than I can spit. Accepting him here is a serious mistake, Argo. He will betray us in a heartbeat if a large enough carrot is dangled in front of him."

Argo appeared unimpressed by these revelations. "He assures me his loyaltly is sure. The Deck would not have chosen him if he were unsuitable."

Harry threw up his hands. "Fine. But I will not work with him."

Argo stood up slowly, her eyes flashing. "You will do as you're told, Potter, or I'll have you courtmartialed for insubordination. Do not for one second think that your illustrious name obligates me to cut you any slack whatsoever. He's your new second. Deal with it."

They stood there in standoff for a moment, until Harry finally dropped his eyes, knowing he wouldn't win this one unless he was ready to resign his commission. He turned to leave. "You'd better be right about this," he said. As he reached the door he turned back. "And don't think I don't know that this is revenge for my little stunt during The Allegra Thing."

Argo smiled sweetly. "Why, Harry. I'm insulted that you'd believe me capable of such low motives." She waved at him. "Ta ta."

He shook his head, grumbling to himself, and left with a good hard door-slam.

**********

Harry stormed into the foyer at home, throwing his satchel to the floor as he ruthlessly yanked his arms out of his robes. Hermione came walking placidly through on her way to the kitchen, her eyes on a book. "Careful, dear, you're scaring the owls."

Harry reached out and caught her hand as she passed, drawing her into a fierce hug. She put her arms around him, a frown crossing her features. "What's wrong?"

He fetched a deep sigh. "Oh, nothing of consequence," he said, relaxing. He pulled back and looked down at her. "Just one of those days. Better now."

"Well, come on. You're just in time for dinner." He let her lead him through the rear corridor into the large kitchen. Everyone was already sitting around the table, handing bowls to each other. Cho's friend Joe was visiting again and Ginny was over for dinner, so along with Sorry they were nine at the unusually full dinner table. Harry sat down and accepted a mug of cider, feeling better already. The conversations ran into and over each other as he said nothing, content to just sit quietly and gather himself together while he let thoughts of Napoleon Jones, Argo, Allegra and a thousand other unpleasant things retreat to a far corner of his brain to sulk.

"You'll never believe what..."

"I saw the most interesting..."

"No, I can't possibly be there for..."

"She's being absolutely insufferable and I don't..."

He sat back and let the atmosphere wash over him, sighing and feeling fortunate to have such a home as this. I'm a long way from that cupboard under the stairs, he thought, looking around the table. The kid with no family and no one who cared, and now here I am. Friends who welcome me, family that transcends mere blood relation. And, wonder of wonders, she actually said yes.

At that moment Hermione happened to glance at him; she must have seen something in his face because her expression softened and she leaned close to whisper in his ear. "I love you," she said.

Harry smiled, his heart sighing as she returned to her conversation with Justin. Imagine that, he thought. She loves me. And you know, I think I believe her.

**********

Hermione stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at her reflection. She and Laura had gone shopping at lunchtime last week and she wasn't sure how, but she had been goaded into purchasing her first-ever piece of what might be called sexy lingerie. It had taken her days to get up the nerve to put the damned thing on...it wasn't bad, really. It was a simple burgundy satin nightie with spaghetti straps, it fell to a modest mid-thigh length. Laura did have good taste...Hermione's usual nightwear was a dizzying array of cotton nightshirts and flannels for winter. Harry had never expressed any indication that he found this wardrobe at all lacking, but Laura had assured her that any man was a sucker for sexy lingerie and that Harry would be no different.

"I'll feel silly," Hermione had insisted, but Laura was unyielding. Now, wearing the thing, she did feel silly, but not quite as silly as she'd thought. It was a very good color for her, and the shape flattered her figure. Do I dare go out there in this thing?

She heard an 'ahem' outside the closed door. "Um, would it be terribly rude of me to ask what you're doing in there?" Harry said.

She took a deep breath. "I'll be out in a minute." She heard his footsteps on the wooden floor of the bedroom as he retreated. She blew air through her teeth and pulled at her hair, wondering what the procedure was. Do I make myself up? Seems silly when I'm about to go to sleep. Do I just throw open the door and strike a pose? I'll look like a reject from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. He's supposed to swoon, not fall down laughing.

She stood there debating with herself for a long time, but Harry did not make any further entreaties. Finally she took a deep breath, blew out the candles in the bathroom, opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, managing an uncertain smile.

She waited for a reaction. There was none.

She stepped closer and saw that Harry wasn't even looking at her. He was standing in the middle of the room staring down at a piece of paper in his hand. It was an owl post, she realized. It must have just come. She stepped closer. "Harry?" she finally ventured.

He looked up at her but didn't seem to actually see her. His face was pale, his jaw set. "You'd better sit down," he said.

Her heart froze in her chest and she did as he asked, sinking numbly to the edge of the bed, all worries about lingerie forgotten.

He sighed. "You need to hear this." And he began to read the letter he held in his hands:

"Dear Harry,

Please allow me to congralate you on your recent engagement. The joys of marriage are a heaven here on earth, though I do not speak from personal experience. Your fiancee is quite a woman, as we've recently had graphic proof. I'm sure you'll be very happy. Allegra would send her congratulations as well but she is currently a bit indisposed." At the mention of Allegra's name Hermione stiffened, her hands lacing tightly together in her lap. He went on. "Whatever Dr. Granger did, it quite effectively incapacitated the formidable Ms. Blackburn-Dwyer, which I'm sure you know is no small achievement. It may interest you to know that she is currently stuck in a sort of temporal limbo, existing in the world but out of phase with it and unable to act upon it in any way. It will take some doing to get her back, but we will work it out. I shudder to think about her mood when she returns."

"You continue to impress me, Harry. I know you doubt my existence. If you did not, I would be very displeased with myself. Indeed, after a few days you will be able to rationalize away this letter. Someday we shall meet and all your questions will be answered.

Do not look for me soon. Do not expect Allegra soon. We have things to do. But with all the uncertainty you live with, this much is certain...our paths will cross again. Please accept my best wishes for your happiness.

Sincerely,
The Master."

He looked at her blankly, the letter dangling from his hand. She stared at his face, wide-eyed. "Merlin's ghost," she breathed.

"I know."

"Is that what I think it is?"

"A threat? Most certaintly."

"When did that arrive?"

"Just moments ago."

"Who could he be?"

Harry shook his head. "I have no earthly idea." His vision cleared and he seemed to see her for the first time, his eyes flicking to the satin nightgown. "Oh, honey...I'm sorry, that was atrocious timing, wasn't it?"

She looked down at herself, feeling just as silly now as she'd feared she would. "Oh no, it's nothing."

He sat down next to her and kissed her fingers. "You're beautiful, no matter what you're wearing."

She leaned against him, letting her head fall to his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments. "It never ends, does it?"

"No."

"What happens now?"

"Now, we go on with our lives. You'll start your training, and I'll attempt to break in my new assistant. We'll set a date and start picking out dresses and music and bridesmaids and before too long it'll be all over."

"Not over, just beginning."

He smiled against the top of her head. "Mrs. Potter."

She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Dr. Granger."

"Of course. Can I be Mr. Granger, then?"

"Oh, I like that very much. Really suits you." They laughed together, the sound of it banishing away the shadows that crept into the room with them.

He sighed. "Remember when I told you that you were my sacred space?"

She smiled. "Yes, of course. Am I still?"

He looked down at her, amazed. "You don't know, do you?"

She met his eyes. "Don't know what?"

"How precious you are to me."

She put a finger beneath his chin. "Show me."

**********

At the witching hour in the deathly woods in the remote hills of a far continent in a vast ocean on the surface of a spinning lonely planet, five wizards stood in a circle, hands joined, voices raised in entreaty to the gods of magic, whomever they might be.

A spinning light at the center of their circle ebbed and waned with their words, tendrils of light escaping to test the air. It grew and pulsated.

One of the wizards suddenly broke away and jumped into the light; he vanished and the others tightened their circle. Their chanting grew louder, faster. The spinning light grew stronger. "It's widening!" cried a voice from the circle of hands. "More!"

Another wizard flung himself into the light; it stretched yet wider. "Wands!" called a different voice. The three remaining wizards drew their wands and pointed them to the center. They shouted words, nonsense words, their voices as one. A loud crack filled the woods and the spinning light blazed forth brilliantly and was gone in a bright flash. Where it had been a lone figure huddled on the damp ground.

One of the wizards hurried forward and bent to the figure. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently.

Allegra flipped her hair out of her eyes, glowing red and blazing with hate. "Potter," she growled.

THE END