The Show That Never Ends

One day, one night, one moment
My dreams could be tomorrow.
		--Enya

**********

**********

When it happened, it happened fast.

Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table shelling garden peas into a large bowl. The activity had lulled her into a rather Zen-like state of calm with its repetitive simplicity. No thought was required, no emotions evoked. She ran her hand through the growing pile of smooth peas and picked up another handful of pods. "Ow," she said, dropping the pods to massage a sudden cramp in her shoulder.

George turned from the sink. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little sore."

"Intense workout today?"

"Why should today be any different?" she grumbled, returning to the peas.

"Oh, you know you love it. You know what I think? I think you're throwing yourself into this physical training so that whenever you find who's messin' with your man, you can kick their arse but good."

Hermione smiled. "Well then, that must be it." She brushed off her hands. "Is Laura home?"

"She's in the study. Justin's upstairs. He was up all night on that big wizard sighting in Surrey. They had dozens of Memory Charm wizards out there and they're still cleaning it up." That accounted for the entire household, as Cho was out of town on an off-season promotional tour with the Minotaurs.

She shelled peas in silence for a moment, listening to the familiar sounds of her home. The porch swing on the verandah creaking as it swung gently on its ropes. The wind whistling through the wrought-iron railings on the gazebo. The dry branches on the trees rattling together with hundreds of overlapping clicking sounds like dinner hour at a Chinese restaurant.

The front door opened, and then shut again.

She paused, frowning. George stopped stirring and looked over his shoulder. "Who's that?" he said.

Hermione shrugged. "Is Ginny coming for dinner?"

"Not to my knowledge."

She got up and went into the hallway, wondering who on earth would just walk in without knocking. George followed along behind; she stopped so suddenly he almost ran into the back of her.

Hermione stared into the foyer, her mouth dropping open and all the feeling leaving her legs.

Harry was standing in the entryway, going through the owl post.

"Oh my God," she whispered. She blinked and looked again; he was still there. She rubbed her eyes and looked again; he was still there. She pinched her arm hard enough to make her eyes water; he was still there, muttering to himself as he shuffled the envelopes. "George, do you see him?" she managed.

"I see him," he said, his voice hoarse.

Harry didn't appear to have noticed them standing there staring. He looked up the main staircase. "I'm home!" he called. Hermione was quite literally frozen to the spot. She heard a gasp from the study and the scrape of a chair being pushed back, then running footsteps. Laura appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide. "Hey, Chant," Harry said. "Is Hermione still mad at me? Should I batten down the hatches?" Laura said nothing, just goggled at him. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Laura, speechless, raised a shaking hand and pointed over his shoulder towards the kitchen. Harry turned and saw Hermione and George where they stood in the entryway. He took a few steps towards them and Hermione saw that he was carrying a bunch of roses. Those are for me, she thought. He met her eyes and smiled.

The sight of that smile, the image of which had haunted her dreams for weeks, broke her paralysis. She said nothing; she could not have mustered the coherence to form words if her life had depended on it. She just rushed across the foyer and leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and clinging to him as a drowning man clings to a lifeline. He staggered back a step but managed to keep his balance; the roses fell from his hand tothe polished wood floor of the foyer. She shut her eyes, her arms in a deathgrip around his neck as if she were afraid he might suddenly fly away again. It feels like Harry, she thought. It smells like Harry.

"Oh my...okay...honey...oxygen becoming an issue," he croaked.

George hurried up to them. "Great God, Harry! Where the bloody blazes have you been?"

Harry frowned. "I was at work?" he said slowly, the way you might speak to someone a few sandwiches short of a picnic. "You know, that place I go most days?"

George gaped at his friend, stunned. Hermione slid to the floor and stared up at him, her brain gripped in the numb fist of incomprehension. She was still not quite convinced she wasn't seeing things. Laura took a few shaky steps forward. "Oh God," she said. "He has no idea."

Before anyone could react to this statement, the front door burst inward and people began pouring in from outside. Laura jumped back against the wall to make way. Argo Pfaffenroth was in the lead. "There he is," she said, pointing to Harry. "Take him into custody."

Harry turned, an alarmed expression crossing his face. "Argo, what the hell? I don't think I've done anything in the last hour that merits an arrest!"

Her expression remained unchanged. "Harry, I'm sorry." She motioned to two wizards behind her, who came forward and grabbed Harry by the arms.

Hermione, some presence of mind returning to her in response to this new attack on her beloved, pushed herself in front of them, facing Argo with her arms spread wide. "No, stop it! He doesn't know what happened!"

"It doesn't matter," Argo said. "Please step aside, Hermione."

"What the hell is all this?" Harry exclaimed, ignored by both of them.

"I will not step aside! You're not taking him away again! You'll have to come through me first!"

Upon hearing this Napoleon, whom she hadn't even seen, strode forward and in one swift motion grabbed her about the waist and lifted her off the ground. She hit at him with her fists, all hand-to-hand combat training leaving her mind in a mad rush right as she could have really used it. "Put her down, Jones!" Harry thundered, pulling against the two wizards who had ahold of his arms. "If I have to make you it'll hurt a lot more, I promise!"

"Sorry, boss. You'll understand later." He hauled her into the parlor, kicking and protesting all the way. Several wizards followed him while more filed into the study bearing talismans and cases and instruments and various texts.

Harry stared at Argo, his features contorted in anger. "Someone bloody better tell me what the fuck's going on here!" he shouted, color rushing into his face.

At this, Lupin detached himself from the crowd and stood before him. "Harry, listen to me. We'll explain everything but first we have to examine you, to make sure you're not a threat."

"Why on earth would I be a threat? What's wrong with Hermione? Why are you all looking at me like that?" His voice had jacked up an octave, his questions shrill and half-panicked.

"Just calm down. Everything will be clear."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? I walk into my house and my fiancee jumps on me like she thought she'd never see me again and you all bust in here and act like I'm your worst enemy!" He struggled against the wizards holding him, his eyes wide and angry.

"Harry, please just trust me. I'll explain everything."

Harry looked up at him for a moment, then relaxed the tiniest bit. "All right, Remus. Because I trust you. But I'd better get some answers, and right quick."

**********

Napoleon set Hermione down in the middle of the parlor and shut the French doors that gave into the foyer behind him. Two wizards stood before it, arms crossed.

She advanced on him and grabbed the front of his sweater, jerking him towards her. "If you don't let me go in there I can't be held responsible for what I might do to you!"

"I'm sorry, luv. I wish I could, but I can't do it."

"Why?" she hissed at him. "For God's sake that's my Harry over there, he's been gone for two months and he's back two seconds and you whisk him away! I barely got to touch him!" She stepped back and visibly took hold of herself. "Listen. By what he said...he doesn't know what happened to him. He thinks it's still the day he disappeared. He must be so confused..."

"I understand, but..."

"You can't possibly understand!" she screamed at him. "No one understands what this has been like, do you hear me? I haven't slept in two months! Unable to think of anything else or make it go away for more than five seconds! Every minute of every day worrying about him and wondering if I'd ever see him again!"

"Whoa!" he said, holding up his hands in supplication. "Just chill out, okay? Let's switch to decaf!"

It was the wrong moment for an attempt at levity. Hermione's face flushed with fury. She lunged forward and hit him, hard. Not the slap of the outraged woman that she was, but the from-the-hips punch of the intelligence agent she would soon be. Napoleon's head rocked back but he didn't move. Hermione backed up, her hands to her face and her chest heaving and sucking in great screaming breaths of air. Laura came forward and put her hands on Hermione's shoulders, guiding her over to the couch.

"Sit down," she ordered. Hermione did so.

"Laura...I think I'm going to pass out..."

"Put your head down," Laura said, glaring at Napoleon. "Just breathe slowly, honey. You're hyperventilating."

"Why can't she see him?" George said, walking up to Napoleon, whom he'd never met.

Napoleon watched Hermione as she sat with her head down between her knees while Laura rubbed her back. "It's too dangerous," he said. "We don't know where he's been or what's been done to him. He could be a threat. He has to be sequestered until we've examined him."

"He's not a threat, he walked in carrying roses!" Justin said, exasperated.

"Just because he doesn't think he's dangerous doesn't mean he's not," Napoleon said, his tone grim. "When someone like Harry goes missing for two months and then suddenly reappears, well...we've got to be very careful."

"How did you get here so fast?" Laura said.

Napoleon shifted and looked a bit sheepish. "Since he disappeared we've had charms around the house that would alert us if he returned."

"It'd've been nice it we'd known that!" George shouted.

"You don't care if he's dangerous," Hermione said in a flat tone, sitting upright again, a bit calmer. "You just care if he gave anything up."

"It's a concern we have, yes."

"And since when are you part of The Establishment, Napoleon?" she said. "Your loyalty should be to Harry."

"It is. But I'm first and foremost an agent of the I.D., Hermione. And so should you be. I know how much you love that man, but when you accepted recruitment you agreed to put aside your personal feelings in matters of I.D. business and security. It's not always easy but it is necessary. You know as well as I do that we can't just let him walk around unobserved before we have any inkling of where he's been and what he's been through. You also know as well as I do how dangerous he could be if he's been affected in any way or if he's not himself."

Hermione sagged. "Yes, I know that. But that doesn't make me hate it any less."

**********

Harry was seated in a restraint chair and shackled at the wrists and ankles. "Is that necessary?" Lupin said quietly.

"I wish it weren't," said Henry Ubigando, standing behind Harry's chair and observing the proceedings.

"I'd really love to know what exactly you're afraid I might do," Harry said.

Argo pulled up a stool and sat in front of him as two wizards affixed some dented copper medallions to his temples. "Harry...I want you to look at me and just listen to my voice." He nodded. "All right. Now. What day is it?"

"November 25th."

She exchanged a glance with Remus. Everyone held their breath, watching Harry's face. "Harry...it's almost February. You've been gone for two months."

For an excruciatingly long moment, Harry just stared at her. He blinked and smiled an okay-funny-joke sort of smile. "Heh. Heh. Yeah, right."

"You left the I.D. that night. You never came home."

"No, I don't think so." His brow was beginning to crease.

Argo held out a hand and a wizard passed her a newspaper. She unfolded it and held it up. "Harry, this is today's Daily Prophet. See the date? January 30th, 2008." Harry looked at it, his face blank. "Listen to me. You left the I.D. at six p.m. last November 25th. At nine thirty, Hermione called Napoleon because you hadn't come home. He notified me. We started a search. We found out that you'd been seen in Tottenham Court Road buying flowers, and after that you just vanished."

Harry was shaking his head from side to side. "No. That's not right. No. I just bought those flowers."

Remus bent over him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, you've been missing for two months. We've been searching and searching."

Harry stared up into Remus' eyes, his breath coming fast. "Oh no. No."

"We've been so worried about you," Lupin said, keeping his voice soothing.

Harry looked down at the floor, his eyes darting from side to side as his mind processed their words. "Oh my God," he said, his voice hoarse. "It can't be true."

"And you don't remember anything?" Argo said.

He shook his head. "No. I left the I.D. around six. I was anxious to get home. I went to buy flowers for Hermione, and I Apparated from London into the front yard. I walked in the door and...well, you know the rest." His head snapped up. "Hermione!"

Remus nodded. "Yes. It's been very hard for her, Harry."

He began struggling against the manacles. "Lemme out of this thing, I've got to go see her."

"No, not yet," Argo said. "We've got to check you out first. Wherever you were, someone doesn't want you to remember it."

He cocked his head and fixed her with a steady stare. "Don't make me break out of this, Argo. You know I can."

"Harry, just stay here. Just let us do a few preliminary tests and you can go see her. All right?"

Reluctantly, Harry relaxed. Argo nodded to the wizards standing around the chair and they began waving their wands about and muttering spells. The front door was heard opening, and a few moments later Sirius ran into the room. He broke into a relieved smile when he saw Harry, then rushed to his side and crouched by the chair. "Harry, thank God," he said, taking his hand.

Harry watched his godfather's face. "Sirius...is it true?" he whispered.

"Yes. It's true," he said. "It's January 30th. Two months since we saw you." Harry gripped his hand so tightly that it probably hurt but he gave no sign.

Harry's throat worked and he bit at his lower lip, his eyes misting over. "Is...she all right?"

Sirius sighed. "I won't lie to you, Harry. She's been through hell. When you disappeared...well, it was terrible for her. Imagine if it were you and she'd vanished without a trace." Harry nodded. "But she never gave up hope that you were all right and that you'd come back. She never gave up the search, even when a lot of us were starting to think it was hopeless." He peered at Harry's eyes. "And you really don't remember a thing?"

"No," Harry said, his voice made younger by the shock. He looked into Sirius' eyes. "I feel like I'm going crazy, Sirius. I don't know what to think."

"I can't imagine what you must be feeling."

"I'm feeling like this must be a nightmare. Has to be. Any minute I'll wake up and be grateful that it's not real and I'll turn over and hug her and go back to sleep and this time I'll dream about fluffy bunny rabbits or anything else, anything but this."

**********

Napoleon watched Hermione with sad eyes as she sat on the couch with her head in her hands, Laura's arm around her shoulders. He hated what he was doing and he hated himself for doing it...though a tiny, miniscule, selfish part ofhim had been dreading Harry's return and was glad to keep her from him for just a little while longer, even if it did cause her pain.

There was a tap on the door behind him. Hermione looked up, hopeful, but it was just Remus. He came in and pulled up an ottoman before her. Everyone gathered around to listen.

"He's all right," he said. Hermione smiled in relief and grasped Remus' hands.

"What happened?"

"We don't know yet. But we asked the Oracle his age, and..." He trailed off.

"What did it say?"

"It said that he's twenty-seven years and six months old." Hermione nodded.

"What does that mean?" Laura said.

"It means that he didn't time-travel over those two months," Hermione said. "The Oracle measures age not as a mathematical difference between today's date and your birthdate, it measures it physically by how long you've actually lived. If Harry skipped those two months he'd appear two months younger than he ought to be. He's not."

"Which means that he was alive somewhere all this time," Remus said. "He just can't remember. His memory has been very skillfully blocked."

"And when they were done with him they sent him back with no clues...they put the same clothes back on him and gave him a bunch of roses." Hermione hit her knee with her fist. "Dammit, but it's diabolical." She looked back up at Lupin. "And there's no sign of where he might have been?"

"Not yet. We will have to try and break the memory charm, but not here. We'll want him back at headquarters for that."

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face. "Can I see him?" she said again, not looking like she held out much hope.

Lupin thought for a moment. "Yes. Come with me." He stood up, holding out his hand. Hermione, who hadn't been expecting a positive response, took a moment to react. She jumped up, ignoring his proferred hand, and pushed past Napoleon and the two agents at the door. Remus trailed behind, hurrying to keep up with her.

Hermione took a deep breath and walked into the study. Her mouth opened but the words just dried up in her throat when she saw him again. She hadn't quite realized it, but some very insistent part of her mind had still been sure it wasn't real and that she'd come into the room and it would all be a hoax.

Harry was standing near a restraint chair that he had evidently been seated in, rubbing his wrists while wizards plucked small copper talismans off his temples. "Anything interesting in there?" he said to Henry Ubigando, only half-joking.

"Nothing that helps," Henry said. "It's a strong charm, whatever it is that's making you forget." He grinned, one nonexistent eyebrow cocked. "I did uncover some very interesting and secret thoughts involving Professor Trelawney and a large vat of pudding..."

"Oh, ha ha. Is that any way to speak to a superior officer?" Harry sniped right back. No one in the room had really noticed her standing there. Harry turned towards the other agents in the room. "All right. Satisfied I'm not a ticking time bomb? I need to see her. And don't tell me one more test, because I'll..."

"Harry," she said, her own voice sounding as if it were coming from far away.

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. Harry turned slowly to face her.

Henry became suddenly very interested in his briefcase. "Uh...I've got to...uh...check something," he said, hurrying to the door with his eyes averted. Hermione barely noticed him go, nor the flood of agents who all discovered pressing business elsewhere and fled the room en masse. All she saw was Harry, standing across the room looking like a lost little boy wondering where on earth to find platform nine and three-quarters.

She saw in his eyes the knowledge of what had happened, and behind them a deep sorrow at the pain he must know she'd experienced. He looked bone-weary and very confused. As these thoughts passed through her mind in a flash he smiled at her, life coming into his eyes for the first time. At the sight of it, the force field she'd erected around her emotions shorted out and she burst into sobs, great heaving sobs that tore from her throat like living things.

She staggered forward and met him in the middle of the room as he rushed towards her, her hands reaching blindly towards him and then she was in his arms and her feet left the ground as he grabbed her up. She wrapped her arms around him, the tears flowing freely down her face. For a long moment she just hung on to him as tightly as she could, her eyes squeezed shut against the still too real possibility that it was some sort of mirage that would shimmer away if she let herself believe it. She could feel the bones in his shoulders under her hands, the pulse beating in his throat and the texture of his hair against her cheek. Whatever else was true, he felt real. He felt like Harry, right down to the raised scar on his upper back, a souvenir of The Allegra Thing, which she could feel through his shirt. His arms around her felt as strong as they always had, and she could smell the laundry soap on his shirt mixed with the vaguely sweet scent of his skin. She laid her cheek on his shoulder, her body gradually relaxing from the tense state it had been in for the past two months. He was alive, it wasn't a trick. The relief was strong enough to make her a bit light-headed. He put her down, keeping his arms tight around her waist as she slid her hands around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. The sobs stuck in her throat as they kissed frantically; she could feel an urgency from him that matched her own. She twisted her fingers through his hair, feeling his breath warm on her face. He lifted her into his arms again; she held onto him for all she was worth, her tears wetting his shoulder. They just stood like that for what felt like an eternity, saying nothing.

Finally he set her on her feet and smiled down at her, reaching up to brush the tears from her cheeks. Her hands roamed restlessly over his face and shoulders, reassuring herself of his solidity. "You're really real," she murmured. He nodded. A smile stole across her face, feeling strange in its unfamiliarity. She laid a hand on his cheek and looked up into his eyes. "I thought I'd never see you again."

He reached up and grasped both her hands, holding them to his chest. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"What for?"

He gaped at her, incredulous. "Well...I know what I'd have gone through if it had been me..."

"Yeah, it was hell. But it doesn't matter now. You didn't do this, Harry. I'm just so deliriously happy to see you that I think I could even forgive whoever it was took you from me." She relaxed into his arms again, slipping her own around his waist. He rested his cheek against her hair, one of his hands cupping the back of her head. "You don't remember anything," she said. It wasn't a question.

"No, nothing. My brain insists that I saw you this morning." He sighed. "Half of me still thinks this can't be real."

"Believe me, it's real. I lived every minute of it." She hesitated. "I nearly went out of my mind, Harry. Worrying and wondering and missing you."

"You seem a lot more stable than I would be if it had been me."

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling at the sight of his dear, familiar face. "It's amazing what resources the mind can muster when it's required."

All at once his eyes widened and he sucked in a horrified breath. "I missed Christmas, didn't I?" he said.

She nodded. "Yes. I'll tell you about it, but not now." She sighed. "Now, our business is finding out what happened to you."

He fixed her with a steady gaze. "I don't have to tell you that...well, the implications range from the merely disturbing all the way through the really awful."

"I know. We'll work through it." She leaned forward and kissed him again, a slow and lingering kiss that she hoped could contain all the happiness she felt at this moment...not to mention a small promise of what he might be in store for later. "I've missed this face," she whispered. "I've missed kissing you." He smiled, raising one of her hands to his face to press his lips to the palm. She ran one finger down his cheek. "I love you so much, Harry." He blinked a few times, his eyes misting over. Hermione looked down at their clasped hands. "You don't know how often I've wished that I'd said that to you when you left that morning, instead of what I did say."

"It was a stupid fight. You didn't mean to make a snipe at my mother."

"Of course not! I just meant you were a guy and didn't get it!"

"You were right, I didn't get it. I stewed over it all day."

She glanced up at him sheepishly. "Well...turns out that you were right, too. I did get in a huge row with Mum in London. Still, it was a stupid fight."

"Not that last we'll ever have, I'd wager."

"Right now I can't imagine ever fighting with you again."

He chuckled. "Famous last words." He reached out and twisted a strand of her hair around his finger, his expression far away.

"There's a whole crowd of people outside waiting to see you."

"They can wait. Let's run up the back stairs and snog in the upstairs reading room."

"Hm, someone's a naughty boy," she said, laughing. It felt so good to laugh with him that she thought she might break the bonds of gravity and just float away. "And as appealing as that sounds, I think they'd hunt us down before too long."

"Oh, all right," he said, reluctant as if agreeing to mow the entire lawn with nail clippers. "Let's go."

She grinned up at him and they walked towards the closed study doors, holding tightly to each other's hands. Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.

For a split second, the scene in the foyer was frozen before her eyes. Laura and Ginny were sitting side by side on the second step of the main staircase. Ginny looked anxious and held her hands in front of her as if unsure what to do with them. Justin and George hovered nearby, the aura of Must Look After the Women hanging all around them. Sirius and Remus stood near the winter garden room with their heads together, in the midst of a conversation. Argo sat perched stiffly on a straight-backed chair against the wall and various agents stood here and there in loose groups. When the door opened, everyone turned to look, leaving their sentences unfinished and their steps incomplete.

No one seemed to know how to react. Finally, Ginny broke the paralysis by leaping to her feet and hurling herself across the foyer. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and hugged him. After a startled moment, he returned the embrace, smiling. "Hey, Gin," he said.

She drew back and grinned at him. "Oh, Harry...thank God you're back." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. As if her kiss were the gunshot that began the 100 meter dash, Harry was suddenly surrounded by friends eager to greet him. Hermione stepped aside to allow room for the onslaught, rubbing her hands over her face and feeling suddenly more tired than she would have thought possible and still be conscious. Harry was embraced by Laura, then Justin and George at once, both of them slapping him on the back and teasing him to cover their relief. Sirius got in a proper greeting and most of the agents seemed to want to shake his hand.

After a noisy and confused few minutes Hermione was able to retake her place at his side, hooking her arm through his. She couldn't help but feel possessive, and the knowledge that at some point she'd have to let him out of her sight again loomed over her like a dark cloud. In her head she knew that he would be protected for the immediate future and that the odds of him vanishing again were small, but her emotions refused to listen to reason.

Argo was hanging well back as the welcoming committee concluded their task, but soon enough she glided forward. Hermione held tighter to Harry's arm, uneasiness rising in her throat. She already knew what was coming, and by the stubborn look on Harry's face and the resigned one on Argo's, so did they.

"Harry," Argo said quietly. "You know what's next."

Hermione took a step forward. "Please, Argo. Not tonight."

"What's going on?" Laura said, a puzzled look on her face.

Hermione sighed. "Procedure dictates that Harry be sequestered immediately until his memory is restored or until we find out what happened to him."

"That's ridiculous!" Laura exclaimed. "It makes no sense..."

"Suppose someone goes to Zaire," Hermione said, cutting her off, "and when they return they may or may not be carrying the Ebola virus. Would you not quarantine them until you knew for sure?"

"It's not the same..."

"Unfortunately, it is the same," Argo said. "And these two both know it. A wizard with two missing months is dangerous. A Mage with two missing months is infinitely more so."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Argo, please. Please just let me keep him home tonight. Just tonight. I'll bring him to headquarters tomorrow morning myself. He's been gone so long, you can't lock him up in a cell just yet. Let us...let me...have some time with him first. If you must, leave some agents here. Just don't take him away so soon, I'm begging you."

Argo said nothing for a moment. She glanced over at Henry. "What do you think?"

Henry shrugged. "It's a risk."

"A small one," Lupin said. "This house is full of wizards and protected by wards. I'll be glad to stay here myself."

"Me, too," Sirius put in.

Argo looked around at their faces, then sighed. "All right. But you'd better bring him first thing in the morning. Lupin, choose a few agents to stay. Uh, Jones...you should stay, too." She glanced from Napoleon's face to Harry's, smiling at the near-identical expressions of horror they both wore at this prospect. "Have fun." She began to walk towards the door, then paused. Without looking around or saying a word, she abruptly turned and walked up to Harry, gave him a brief hug, and stepped back just as abruptly. "It's good to see you, Harry," she said under her breath, then turned and swept out of the foyer, followed by most of the wizards she'd brought with her.

The door closed after them and for a moment nobody moved or said a word. All at once Justin snapped to attention and sketched an exaggerated salute at the door. "Good work 007!" he said in a phony military voice. "Now fetch me a Stoli and tonic, and mind the little umbrella!"

After a beat of amazed silence the entire assembly burst out laughing. The sound of it, great peals of laughter that echoed up to the 20 foot paneled ceiling, seemed to cleanse the house of the pall that had hung over it and those who breathed within its walls.

**********

Unbeknownst to Hermione, while she and Harry had been reuning in the study Laura had sent owls to what seemed like every wizard in the English-speaking world. While they were all recovering their wits after Justin's dead-on M imitation, the first respondent arrived in the form of Cordelia and the kids, who joyfully greeted their Uncle Harry and did not bother to mask their irritation at his lack of presents from the trip he seemed surprised to learn he'd been on. Cordelia wept unabashedly, alarming Charlotte who didn't quite get why Mummy was crying and smiling at the same time.

What began as a trickle became a flood and then a deluge. Cho rushed home from the promotional tour. Weasleys arrived in dribs and drabs, Molly's arrival triggering more weeping all around. Hermione's parents showed up and her father dragged Harry off to the side to berate him severely for abandoning his precious daughter. Draco put in an appearance and after greeting Harry with the cordial reserve that characterized their relationship immediately fell into a heated argument with Napoleon, with whom he had a running feud.

Professor McGonagall. Neville and Amelia. Most of the I.D. Half their graduating class. Before too long the house was full almost to bursting and a sort of impromptu celebration had sprung up. Early in the evening George vanished into the kitchen, dragging Lupin's three I.D. agents along for slave labor, and began turning out noshies and drinks. Before long Justin was at the piano belting out showtunes, a rather loud game of hide-and-seek had formed throughout the house involving the dozen or so children present, and there was even a pick-up game of Quidditch forming in the backyard...allowable due to the relatively balmy and damp late January weather. Every door in the labyrinthine house stood open, turning it into one shared space.

"How do you feel?" Laura said, plopping herself down next to Hermione on one of the divans in the east gallery. From their position they could see Harry in the living room talking to Neville.

"I think I'm going to faint."

"Go ahead, I'll just prop you up and move your mouth while Justin does the funny voice."

Hermione smiled. "It feels really strange. It's a total and utter release. The closest I can come is when I was preparing for my doctoral defense. I spent a solid week right up to the minute of the defense working on it with no sleep, food, or drink. The odd part was that I didn't feel tired, hungry or thirsty. I didn't even realize I was affected. It was as if the stress made my body impervious to its needs. Then the minute my defense was over I felt like I couldn't possibly keep my eyelids open long enough to get out into the corridor. It's sort of like that. I became so accustomed to that level of stress that I was acclimatized. It's a shock to decompress so suddenly. It's making me a bit dizzy."

"Don't you feel happy, though?"

Hermione stared at her, amazed. "What, are you joking? I've never been this happy. I'd gladly rhapsodize in nauseating detail about my happiness if I weren't so damned tired."

"Why don't you have a kip?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Everyone here wants a piece of him right now. Wouldn't you rather be good and rested later, when you have him all to yourself?" Laura grinned at her, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Hermione chuckled. "If I had never slept my whole life I could still stay awake for that."

**********

Harry moved through the hallways of the first floor, looking for Hermione. Most of his well-wishers had left with parting hugs and proclamations of relief at his reappearance. These welcomes still felt strange to him, as his brain stubbornly insisted that he'd seen Sirius the day before, and Cordelia and the kids the previous weekend.

"Cor," George said, picking up a few stray glasses from an end table. "I sure didn't plan on doing this tonight. I thought I might write some letters or maybe read a book. Serves me right for even contemplating doing anything relaxing." He smiled as he passed. "It's good to have you back, Harry."

"Thanks, George. I wish I could say it's good to be back, but..."

"It doesn't feel like you were gone. Must be weird."

"That's one word for it." George patted his shoulder and moved on towards the study.

Harry continued through the front living room. All around him were signs of the months that he had missed. A lingering bit of Christmas roping on the mantlepiece. Justin's heavy winter anorak laid over the back of a chair. The north wall of the study, which they'd just begun stripping before his absence, was completely repainted.

A slight movement in the corner caught his eye. Hermione was lying on her side on one of the deep sofas in the living room, fast asleep. He crouched next to her, staying quiet so as not to disturb her. She looked so peaceful and relaxed, which he didn't need to be told were two things she probably hadn't been very frequently in the past months. Her engagement ring sparkled on her left hand, clasped in her right and both tucked under her cheek. He reached out and touched her hair, wondering for the millionth time how he could have been so close to her for all those years, never suspecting the profound depths of the love he felt for her. He leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Hey," he whispered, touc hing her face with his fingertips. "Is all this dramatic-return stuff boring you?" he said, his tone teasing.

She stirred and her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened. Her lips curled slowly into a smile as she saw him leaning over her. "Mm," she murmured. "I guess I wasn't dreaming." She slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close for another, longer, kiss. She sighed. "Is everyone gone?"

"Except Remus, Sirius and Napoleon along with a few stray agents to babysit me."

"Good." She sat up and motioned him onto the couch with her. He stretched out with his head in her lap, letting his eyes fall shut. She draped her arm across his chest and began slowly running her fingers through his hair. This was a favorite arrangement of theirs when relaxing at home (though when it was Hermione's turn to be the one lying down she usually fell asleep); its familiarity was reassuring. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Harry reached up and ran his hand along her forearm where it rested against his chest.

"You seem different," he said quietly.

"How so?"

"I don't know."

"Well, this experience is the sort that changes you a bit."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"You have nothing to apologize for. The only thing I wished for was to have you back, whatever had happened."

He said nothing for a few minutes. "I'm scared," he finally whispered.

"I know."

"It's like I'm running from something and I can't see what it is. I can't turn around and fight it. I can't even hear its footsteps."

"You're not alone," she said, stroking his forehead. "I know you still feel as if you are, but you're not. You're never alone, you will always have me, for every day of our lives. We'll get through this."

He looked up at her. "You're the most amazing person I've ever known. You know that?"

She smiled. "Hold that thought."

**********

Hermione came out of the bathroom, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She was feeling nervous, and it made her want to laugh at herself. I'm nervous about sleeping with my own fiancee, she thought. How silly is that? But it had been so long, it was almost as if it were the first time all over again...not that there had been uneasiness the first time, she'd been far too swept up in that sudden blast of passion for that.

Harry was sitting in one of the window seats, fully clothed, with his knees drawn up to his chest as he looked out at the backyard. She padded across the floor and sat down on the edge of the cushion facing him. "What are you thinking about?" He turned his head to face her, and she saw that his face was wet. She leaned closer, concerned. "Harry...why are you crying?"

"It was supposed to be our first Christmas together..."

"Let's not think about it. It's in the past."

"I had something for you."

She smiled. "I know. Sirius gave it to me. It's beautiful, thank you."

"No, not the necklace. Something else." He reached down and picked up a small box that she hadn't seen sitting there next to him. "I was saving this to give to you when we were alone. I hid it behind my spare cloaks in the closet." He held the box between them.

"Should I open it?"

He shook his head. "No, it sort of requires explaining." He opened the top of the box and Hermione leaned forward to look. It was full of...well, it looked like junk or trash. She frowned and started to ask, but he held up a finger to forestall the question. He reached inside and drew out a slip of paper. "This is our number assignment from the first dance contest we entered. Couple Number 23." He dropped it back into the box and drew out something else. "This is a candle from the cake you made me on my 23rd birthday. This is some confetti from our graduation ceremony. This is the ribbon from your doctoral diploma. I, uh...I nicked it." He looked up at her. Hermione was speechless. "I could go on but we'd be here all night. I have no idea why I saved all this stuff, but here it is. Maybe because I never had any family history of my own or any mementos of my past I wanted to preserve as much as I could of us, even before I knew that there was an 'us.'" He closed up the box and held it out to her. Hermione took it with shaking hands. "I wanted you to have it. Consider it evidence of my limited precognitive skills."

She ran her fingers over the box, leaving it closed lest she lose it completely on seeing more of its contents. "Did you know?" she whispered.

"Know what?"

"Did you know, just as you knew that those others weren't for me...did you know that it would be you in the end?"

He shook his head. "I never considered myself deserving of much, Hermione. Not my fame, or my Quidditch skills, or my friends and their loyalty...certainly never of your love."

She smiled and rose to her feet. "I have something for you, too." She went to her bureau and opened the top drawer, pulling out three heavy leatherbound volumes. She returned to the window seat and set them on her lap, one hand resting protectively on the top of the stack. "The day you disappeared I started keeping a journal, which I'd never been able to do faithfully. Every day I wrote in it about what was happening to us, in the house, and in the world. It was for you, so you'd know what happened while you were away, and it always remained so...except that by the end it was more. It had become something I could pour out my heart to, an audience for all my fear and my doubt and my sorrow and everything that was happening in my life that you weren't there to see." She held them out to him and he accepted them, immediately holding them tight to his chest. "Here. Read them and understand."

He set them aside and pushed his box out of the way, sliding closer to her on the cushion. "Later."

Hermione grinned, then leaned forward and kissed him. She kissed him in the way she'd wished to before, in the study and in the foyer, in the way that wasn't meant to be witnessed by others no matter how dear. His hands rose to his own face and then he dropped his glasses to the cusion. Her hands were at his button, then sliding over his chest, then they were tossing his shirt to the floor. Her nightgown soon joined it on the rug and she was in his arms as she'd missed being for months, her skin against his, with his heartbeat thumping in her own chest. She felt the bed underneath her with no memory of how they'd gotten there and all there was in the world was him...and her own joy.