Love Conquers All

"YOU DAMN FOOL! CRUCIO!"

Malfoy fell to the floor in pain under the wrath of Voldemort's wand.

"YOU HAVE FAILED AGAIN!" Voldemort roared as he put all matter of evil into the curse.

Malfoy thrashed violently about the floor, the splint on his half-severed leg starting to come loose. He began to turn red with anguish, and soon it became so intense that he could not even manage to scream. Extremely sharp needles of a new definition of suffering shredded throughout his already ravaged body. And finally, it ceased.

Malfoy whimpered as the Dark Lord looked upon him with the utmost loathing. He spat upon the Death Eater and kicked him in the side.

"Get up you worthless bastard," he hissed.

The pain that the curse had brought to Malfoy's body had nearly fried his nerves and muscles to oblivion. However, he did not want to endure more of it unnecessarily, so he managed to stumble up to his feet. He fought hard to hide the misery behind his eyes, not wanting to give Voldemort the pleasure.

"My deepest apologies, my lord," said Malfoy.

Voldemort slapped him, leaving scratch marks across his face.

"Apologies are worthless!" he barked. "You cause a fiasco that cost me my most loyal follower, and your plan didn't even succeed! I ought to kill you for your ignorance, but lucky for you, I am a merciful man."

Malfoy said nothing, and Voldemort hissed.

"I wonder, Malfoy, if you still remain loyal to me?"

"Of course I do, my lord," said Malfoy calmly.

"Then prove it," Voldemort returned.

"How so, my lord?"

Voldemort cackled.

"By proving that you are worth something," he said. "I am giving you one last chance to bring the Mudblood to me. Forty-eight hours. Use any means necessary but I want her alive. Succeed, and you shall be rewarded. Fail," he smirked, "and you will be dead."

Malfoy nodded his head and then bowed before Voldemort.

"It shall be done, my lord," he said.

"Go then."

Malfoy regained his posture, turned, and limped out of the room.

***

Hermione sighed as she stood with Ron, Ginny, and Seamus outside the courtroom waiting for Harry to return.

It simply wasn't fair in her opinion. Why was the Ministry putting so much pressure on Harry? Did they have any idea what he was going through? She knew Dumbledore was right about the prophecy, and that Harry would be the only one who could defeat Voldemort, but did he have to be denied any help in doing so? Of course not. Even if the Ministry wasn't going to help Harry, she knew that she, Ron, and Ginny would be there to fight with him. She would remain by Harry's side the entire time, and if Voldemort tried to kill him, he would have to kill her too. She would never live without Harry, she couldn't. But none of that mattered. Harry, her Harry, was going to defeat Voldemort once and for all, and then she and he would be together forever, with no more Dark Lords or wars to worry about. She could live her life in peace with the man she loved.

"Hermione?"

Harry's soft voice snapped her out of her reverie. She was happy he was back, but when she looked at his face she saw that he was not looking as cheerful himself. He had a solemn expression written across his features and he looked quite tired.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"Nothing, nothing," Harry assured her.

She took his hand. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

He nodded. "But I need to get back to work."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," she said sternly. "You've had enough for one day. Ron, go tell the Aurors that Harry had taken the rest of the day off."

Harry's eyes widened. "But-"

"No buts, Harry," said Hermione. "I'm taking you home with me."

He looked at her with a rather disgruntled look, but agreed and they both Disapparated.

Ron shook his head and looked at Ginny.

"Still a bit bossy isn't she?"

***

Harry and Hermione reappeared on the front porch of Hermione's house. She lived in the country near Hogwarts, but only during the summer when she wasn't teaching Charms at the wizarding school (Flitwick had retired and moved to Germany). It was a quaint little brick house, and Harry normally enjoyed visiting it, but today he was just in too much of a state to notice. Hermione led him to her bedroom and tucked him under the covers.

"Sleep, baby," she whispered softly, kissing his scar. "Everything will be all right. Goodnight."

She left the room and her sleeping fiancée.

After eating a quick lunch, she sat down in her den with her current book, A Professor's Guide to Advanced Charms, and read. When Hermione got a hold of a book, she rarely put it down until she had read at least half of it, and by the time she put it down, the sun was halfway below the horizon.

She had just finished Chapter 27 (Anatomical Charms and Their Uses), when a hand pulled the book away. She looked up to see Harry grinning at her, and he gave her a quick kiss.

"Feeling better, love?" she asked.

"A little," Harry sighed. "But I'm still a bit flustered."

"Take a seat," she said, patting the armchair next to her.

He did so, and she took his hand in hers, rubbing it from his fingertips to his elbow.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

He stared at her with his bright green eyes. "No."

"Alright then," she said, rather disappointed. "Do you want to play a game of chess?"

"In my current state, you'd probably beat me," he smirked. "And I would feel horrible if I lost to the All-Time Chess Failure."

She slapped his arm.

"Very funny," she said. "Could I help it if my pieces were all against me?"

"That's what you get for insulting them."

"Oh, shut up," she grinned. "Well, how about a good snog then?"

He laughed. "I think that may be just the ticket!"

She smiled seductively.

"You asked for it."

She jumped on top of his and pressed her lips firmly to his. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly to him, deepening the kiss. She twirled his raven hair in her fingers as he massaged her back gently. Their tongues entered each other's mouth and began to dance around wildly. Hermione allowed a short parting for breath, long enough for Harry to kiss her neck, before returning her lips to his.

They continued like that for fifteen minutes before Harry picked her up and sat her back in the chair.

"I'll go cook dinner, shall I?" he panted.

She raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Sure," he grinned. "I'll make my specialty: Spaghetti and meatballs."

She giggled. "Just don't blow up my kitchen."

"No worries," he chuckled and laid his wand on the table.

She burst into giggles once more before taking her book back up.

"Can't you do something other than read?" he inquired.

"Like what?"

"Well," he blushed, "Maybe make some wedding plans."

"Oh!" she jumped from her seat. "That sounds great. It'll be so much fun. Let me go search through my collection of bridal magazines. I'm thinking maybe that chapel in Verona that I saw one TV once. Let's see if I have any information on that..."

Harry tuned her out.

Now look what I've done, he thought. She's going to be like this all day.

Harry walked into the kitchen and began to cook, not all to easily though. So he had lied to Hermione about his cooking, but he was going to try. Hermione had always told him to be open to new opportunities.

He began to boil water when Hermione came bounding in with a handful of magazines.

"Harry!" she squealed. "Look at these!"

She began to show him pictures of different wedding locations, dresses, tuxedoes, and various other wedding accessories. It was a wonder he ever got their dinner cooked with all the distractions she was causing. All the same, it did his heart good to see her so happy and cheerful in such bleak and darkened times. If everyone could stay in this good of a mood all the time, there would be no evil or suffering in the world.

Harry stirred the pasta as he half-listened to Hermione's continuous babble. He loved her to death, but sometimes she just talked way too much. He chuckled as he thought of what it must be like to sit through a lecture in one of her classes.

"What's so funny?" she inquired.

"Nothing," he replied with a mischievous smirk.

Her eyes narrowed.

"What were you thinking about?" she demanded.

"Nothing!"

"Don't lie to me, Harry James Potter," she said, shaking a finger at him. "Am I going to have to force it out of you?"

Harry laughed. "I'd just like to see you try."

Her lip began to curl as she stood up out of her seat.

"Very well."

She jumped on his back, winding her legs about his waist and grabbing a handful of hair. He shrieked as she yanked his head backwards, making him look at the ceiling. He stumbled around the kitchen, nearly falling, but maintained his balance.

"Alright, Potter," she giggled. "Now will you tell me?"

"No," he said to the ceiling.

"Would this help?"

She turned his face toward her and kissed him softly on the lips. He grinned.

"No, but you're getting warmer."

She grabbed his face again and kissed him harder, with more passion.

"Okay, I surrender," he said softly. "I was thinking about what it would be like to be in one of your classes."

"How did you imagine it?" she asked.

"Let's just say I like you better here," he answered with a goofy smile.

"Hey!"

She slapped him on the arm.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"I don't even know why I let that get by me," she said. "You practically insulted my teaching."

"No!" cried Harry. "I didn't!"

"Uh-huh, I hear you," she grinned and sat back down to her magazines.

Harry turned back to the stove and continued cooking.

"Harry," Hermione suddenly spoke.

"Yes?"

"Have you told Ron about our engagement?"

He shook his head.

"Oh," she said. "Do you think he'll be okay with it?"

"I hope so," said Harry. "I mean, you can't be upset forever can you?"

"Maybe, maybe not," she replied.

He sighed. "I'm sure everything we'll be all right."

Half an hour later they sat down and ate dinner. It was a fairly cheerful event, as Harry and Hermione kept busy talking about anything that didn't have to do with Voldemort or Ron. Much to Harry's own surprise, his meal was actually edible and Hermione was very impressed. They laughed and chatted idly for nearly an hour, just enjoying each other's company.

After dinner they cleaned up the kitchen and Harry announced he was going to bed. Hermione decided to do the same, and she went to her bedroom while Harry ventured to guest bedroom.

Harry crawled under the warm covers and lay there, feeling both happy and depressed at the same time. He stared up at the ceiling for the longest time, unable to get to sleep. His mind kept drifting back to the meeting at the Ministry, and how Fudge had placed the entire weight of the world on him. Why had he refused to assist Harry? He knew he would have to face Voldemort himself, but he could have used a little help finding him. He rolled over on his side, still trying to get to sleep, but wherever he looked he saw Voldemort's snake-like face glaring at him and cackling like mad. Harry suddenly wished he had never seen that accursed prophecy.

"Harry?"

Harry turned on his side and saw Hermione standing in the doorway, her silky nightgown flowing gently down her slender body. The moonlight streaming in from the window illuminated her beautiful features, but Harry noticed with dismay that she had a look of despair written across her face.

"What's wrong, honey?" he inquired.

She sighed. "I can't sleep."

"Come lay with me," he said, sitting up and patting the empty bed space beside him.

She strolled over to fulfill his request and laid her head back upon the pillow. Harry looked at her with encouraging eyes and brushed a stray hair out of her face. He jumped slightly when he gesture was interrupted by her grabbing his hand. She turned to face him and placed her other hand on his cheek. He touched her hand with a mix of curiosity and admiration in his eyes.

"Hold me," she whispered.

He did so with the most care that was possible. He gently scooped her up to sit in his lap, her head resting gently against his chest, still holding her hand. She stroked his large, rough, yet gentle hands with her small, creamy ones. He held her in his lap while she did so, breathing in the soft, sweet scent of her chestnut-colored locks. They remained in that position for God knows how long, until Hermione finally spoke.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered. "And I don't want to lose you. Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?"

He didn't answer.

"You're my whole world," she continued. "I can't live without you. You're as important to me as sunlight is to a flower. You are my sunlight, Harry, and I could never go on without you. If this war does not pan out the way we all hope it will, I will surely die of the pain. It hurts me more to think about not having you than it would hurt to die. The thought of you dead feels like someone has plunged a dagger into my heart. Without you Harry, without you..."

Her words faded.

"I don't even want to think about it."

Harry listened to her speech with a pang in his chest, for all these feelings she felt were equally true of his toward her. He feared not for his own death, but for hers. Hermione did not deserve to die. She had too bright of a future for that, and he did not want that ruined because of him. He felt that if he died that it would only be a reimbursement of all the lives he had been responsible for destroying. He did not tell Hermione this, however, because he knew she would go ballistic if she heard him saying such things.

"Don't you worry about that, Hermione," he said softly. "I have every intention of defeating Voldemort, coming back to you, marrying you, and having a family with you. As long as I have you in my heart, Voldemort can never lay a hand on me. Dumbledore has told me all along that Voldemort has but one weakness: love. Love is an extremely powerful thing. My mother's love protected me when I was a baby, and now your love will protect me in the final battle."

With that said, he kissed her gently on the lips and she cupped his cheek in her hand. They were both simple, yet effective signs of their care for each other.

"I love you," he said.

I love you, too," she replied.

They fell asleep in each other's arms.