Dark Obsession

Chapter 1

It was cold. Even for June. Even though the sun was shining. Even though he seemed to be the only one that noticed.

It was cold.

Had it really just been three days ago that the owl had dropped the newspaper article into his lap? It seemed much longer. He supposed that stemmed from the amount of arguing he'd done with his wife over those three days. She had been more concerned with his gaining closure with the Dursleys, while he had wanted to focus on who had sent the clipping. She had waved that off as unimportant, that anyone who knew him could have sent it.

"Hermione," he'd argued, "a friend would have sent a note or something. Even Dean, the world's worst correspondent, would have at least scribbled a note at the bottom."

"Maybe it came off during transit," she'd shot back stubbornly, "and don't think you're going to sidetrack me, Harry. We're going to that funeral. You need it, even if you won't admit it. You need to say goodbye."

Harry gave another shiver as he watched the last casket being lowered into the ground. He shouldn't have come. There was no reason for him to be here. Harry didn't give a damn about closure. He didn't give a damn about the Dursleys. He shouldn't be here. He felt it was a mark of how much he loved Hermione that he'd do this for her...and planned on reminding her often.

They stood quite apart from the other mourners, Hermione dressed in a simple, black Muggle skirt and blouse, Harry in a black suit and Jamie swaddled in the pink blanket Molly had knitted for her. Neither of them had been able to bring themselves to surround their child with the color of death.

If it had been any other occasion, he would have laughed at the odd looks being thrown his way. He almost did laugh when he'd heard someone mutter "St. Brutus' Centre." Several times he'd had to restrain himself from slyly transfiguring a nearby headstone into a drum set. Just because he could. Just because it would have driven Uncle Vernon into a rage.

A thousand horrid images began racing through his mind as they watched the grave tenders shoveling earth into the ground over the caskets; every single one making him colder -the soul deep, Dementor type of cold he remembered from third year.

Memories were as thick as the grass beneath his feet. Aunt Petunia, dying clothes grey. Uncle Vernon burning his letters. Dudley beating him up. Aunt Marge and her bloody bulldogs. She was here, he'd noted, standing stony faced and stiff. She'd glanced in his direction once, but hadn't spoken to him. Knowing her, she probably blamed their deaths on him, not caring that he hadn't seen or spoken to them in years. Aunt Marge was Aunt Marge and if something went wrong, they're had to be a way to blame it on him.

And if it hadn't been for Hermione's insistence that he needed to be here, he'd have ignored the whole affair. Once he'd reluctantly agreed to attend the funeral, she inferred that it might be a good idea for him to visit the house. She had wanted him to go to Privet Drive, but on that he«d put his foot down. There was nothing there to see but a pile of ash. His cupboard was gone. He supposed a psychiatrist would have fun trying to decipher why the loss of that cupboard seemed to bother him somewhat more than the deaths of four people.

Nevertheless, here he stood...paying his last respects to people who hadn't given a damn about him.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, reaching a free hand up to touch his shoulder.

"Hmmm?"

"We can probably go now," she said softly.

"What?" Harry glanced around, shocked to find that they were the only ones remaining in the graveyard. He'd been so consumed by his thoughts, he hadn't realized.

"One minute," Harry said.

He made his way slowly towards the four freshly filled graves. He stood over them, glancing at each in turn. "Goodbye," he said softly and then turned his back on them forever.

Harry stopped abruptly and drank in the sight of his wife and child. The last funeral he'd attended before today had been Hermione's. There hadn't been a body to bury, so a simple headstone had been fashioned and placed in the Hogsmeade cemetery. He'd stared at that bit of granite for ages, not moving except for the shuddering. The image of that stone -- Hermione Granger, loving daughter and loyal friend -- had remained fixed in his mind so strongly that it took gallons of whiskey to remove it. In hindsight, he realized even that hadn«t worked. The only thing that had removed the image was finding her alive.

Just then, Hermione smiled at him and he heard the unmistakable sound of Jamie's plea for attention. Warmth spread through him. Hermione Potter, Jamie Potter. His. Thank God, his.

"Let's go," Harry said, feeling lighter than he had in days. Maybe Hermione was on to something with this closure business - not that he had any intention of telling her so.

Jamie squealed when she saw her father, and Harry plucked her from Hermione's arms.

"Missing your dad, are you, love?" He lifted her high over his head then brought her slowly down to blow bubbles on her exposed belly. Jamie laughed and kicked her feet, begging unnecessarily for him to do it again.

Hermione followed behind father and daughter, smiling. The sounds of raspberries and baby giggles drowned out the eerie silence of the graveyard. She wanted to tell him that when he'd turned from the graves, he'd smiled for the first time since hearing the news. She wanted to point out that saying goodbye was an important step in accepting any death.

But she had decided not to ever say I told you so to Harry. No matter how much she wanted to.

*^*^*^*^

It didn't take them long after the funeral to join the others. It would have taken much less, but Hermione steadfastly refused to allow Harry to fly them on his broom. After a bone jarring trip on the Knight Bus and a harried portkey journey throughout which Jamie howled like a banshee, they arrived at the villa Ginny had rented.

Charming didn't begin to describe the house they'd be occupying for the next two weeks. There were four floors, Ginny had explained; the three top floors held a flat for each of them. The first floor was more of a common area. Tropical plants were scattered here and there making it look more like a section of someone's garden than an actual room.

Now that their feet were on solid ground, Jamie seemed a bit less cranky. But by the tone of the whimpers, Hermione knew that was only a passing respite.

"Someone needs a nap," Hermione told Harry as they walked into the villa.

"Greedy, aren't you?" Harry responded with a lascivious grin.

"You're incorrigible, Harry. I was talking about your daughter." She paused, considering. "But now that you mention it..." She trailed off as Mariah approached.

"You made it! Isn't this place fabulous? We just got in yesterday. Of course, Ron's in a mood over the sun waking him at dawn this morning. Honestly, he'd find a way to bitch if it started raining galleons."

"Nice to know some things don't change," Harry grinned, pecking her on the cheek in greeting.

"We drew straws when we first got here to assign the floors. You guys are on the fourth floor. Best view, but hot as hell in the afternoon. Sorry about that. We've discovered that each floor has its particular quirk, so you're not alone."

"What's yours?" Hermione asked. She loved watching Mariah when she was in full speed. For a while, she'd thought those days had passed forever. First she'd disappeared, and then when she'd come back she'd had to face so many dangers, culminating in the abduction of Rianne by her estranged brother, that she'd seemed a shell of her former self. But now, Mariah was back to normal - still a little secretive, but happy and boisterous all the same.

"A poltergeist. And she's a real pistol. Likes throwing things at us, which has made Ron dub her Mrs. Peeves. From what he's told me, the name fits. Luckily, she seems to have a soft spot for Rianne. We take turns using her as a human shield."

Ron appeared behind Mariah as if he'd Apparated there. And based on Mariah's look of surprise, he probably had.

"It annoys the hell out of me when you do that," she scolded.

"I know," he kissed the tip of her nose, "which is precisely why I do it."

"Where's Rianne? You were supposed to..."

"Relax, Mum. Ginny's in the pool with her. I just thought I'd take my niece to join them. Give Harry and Hermione a chance to settle in."

Before they could raise even a token protest, Jamie was being whisked away and they were left standing in the large living area all alone.

"You smell a set up?" Harry asked.

"Definitely."

"Wanna make the most of it?" His eyebrows rose up and down comically

"Definitely," she laughed, and together they Apparated upstairs and settled in. Twice.

Later that night, when the babies were all sleeping upstairs, the six of them settled in on the veranda for drinks and dinner. The table in front of them, once laden with mouthwatering island dishes, now looked like a flock of vultures had ravaged it.

"This is definitely one time I'm grateful I'm a witch," Hermione sighed, touching her wand to a platter and cleaning it instantly. She was just about to do the same to a platter of paella when Ron batted it away.

"Honestly, Ron, do you ever stop eating?" Draco drawled from beneath closed lids.

"No," replied everyone except Ron himself. His mouth was too full of rice.

"How did you find this place, Ginny?" Mariah asked, watching with mild amusement as her fiancé did everything but lick the paella platter clean.

"She didn't," Draco said, surprising everyone. "I did. This is where I came when I left England years ago. The villa is invisible to Muggles, but the island itself is a popular spot with them."

An uneasy shiver ran across the table like a tropical breeze. No one said anything and everyone avoided looking at Hermione and Harry. The near collapse of the Potters' marriage over the events on this island was still fresh in their minds.

"Do you remember any of it yet, love?" Harry asked, nearly laughing at the collective sigh from those seated around him. He shook his head and grinned.

"Bits and pieces," she grinned back. She'd told Harry as much earlier as they'd lounged in bed. "I do remember the waterfall, though. Do you think you can find it again, Draco?"

"Probably. It's a pretty popular tourist spot if memory serves." He looked a little uneasy, Harry noted. Based on what Hermione had remembered about that waterfall, he didn't blame Draco in the slightest. He just wished he had the heart to mention it. "We can go hunting for it tomorrow. Might want to get an early start though as we'll have to drive."

"You mean, I'll have to drive," Mariah corrected. "I don't trust any of you behind the wheel of a car."

There were murmurs of agreement from Ginny and Hermione, male posturing by Ron, Harry and Draco, but in the end, they all agreed that Mariah would play chauffer while Draco navigated.

Ron and Mariah headed for the housekeeper's quarters to secure childcare for the next day, while Ginny hurried off towards their flat -- Morgan had set off the nursery charm which was now shooting red sparks out of their window.

"Hermione," Draco called as she and Harry were making their way to their staircase. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure," she smiled, walking back towards him. Draco was a bit relieved that Harry continued on up the stairs alone. "What is it?"

"The waterfall," he began without preamble. "You remember that?"

"A little of it."

"Do you remember what happened when we reached the top?"

Hermione grinned and decided to extract a little revenge. "Yes. You're a fabulous kisser, Draco. Too bad I remembered that too late."

Draco felt his cheeks heat up and resisted the urge to clamp his hands over them.

"Hermione," he drew her name out in exasperation.

"You can relax," she smiled, deciding to let him off the hook. "I told Harry everything I remembered the moment it came to me, including the kiss. He's okay with this, Draco. I promise. He wasn't exactly a monk while I was missing, you know."

"But..."

"Look. Are you carrying a torch for me, Draco? Wish I'd leave Harry and run off with you?"

"No, but..."

"Do you think I'm apt to leave Harry and begin stalking you for more of those fabulous kisses?"

"No," he said, beginning to feel like an idiot.

"Then relax. We have a past, you and me. Ginny knows, Harry knows. Both have accepted it. For pity's sake, Ginny spent the better part of her formative years fixated on Harry. Neither of us has lost a moment's rest over that, have we?" Hermione felt her eyes get misty and tried not to get all blubbery and stupid as she continued. "I love that you care enough to ask me about this, Draco. I think it shows more than anything else how much you've changed. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go upstairs and shag Harry until he can't speak."

"Sounds like a plan," Draco agreed, clearing a lump from his own throat.

"You want to shag Harry, too?"

The shocked look that crossed his features made Hermione double over with laughter. After a moment, Draco joined in. "Always have. So you'd better get up there before I decide to see if he's interested in joining the home team."

Hermione was still chuckling as she entered their flat a few moments later. "Harry?" she called softly, not wanting to wake Jamie. She walked into the smaller bedroom and paused at the baby's crib, marveling for a moment over their sleeping daughter. Her Cupid's bow mouth was working silently as she slept; dark lashes lay against pale skin. Her father's raven hair lay flat against her head. If it stays like Harry's, she thought, it won't lay flat for long.

She heard water running in the bathroom to her left and felt a slight breeze ruffle her hair. Harry had opened their terrace doors. Deciding to wait for him there, she left Jamie sleeping and crossed to stand on the small patio. It was a clear, warm night, the faint breeze she'd felt a moment ago a bit stronger out here, and just cool enough to make her shiver slightly.

Before she could raise her hands to chase away the goose bumps, she felt Harry's arms encircle her from behind. Without a word, he began kissing the sides of her neck, nuzzling her bushy hair out of his way. She felt an increase in her pulse as his lips continued up towards her jaw line and his hands began untying the strings at her shoulders. He got the last one untied and Hermione had a second to catch it before it slid to the floor.

"Harry," she nearly shrieked.

"What?" he looked puzzled. "You've got your swimsuit on under there."

Hermione grinned and blushed at the same time, pushing slightly to move him back into their quarters. He acquiesced, still looking confused. Back inside their room, she closed the doors with the dress still clutched to her person. Once she was assured of their privacy, she let the garment go, revealing nothing beneath it.

"Hermione," he breathed, half surprise, half delight. "Just full of surprises, aren't we?"

She met his eyes then, not surprised to see her own desire reflected back at her in his gaze. Her body reacted as if he was touching her with his hands and not just his eyes. "You are beautiful, Hermione Potter."

"Easy words," she said mischievously, "care to back them up?"

Harry did. She was back in his arms next second, his mouth pressed to hers. His tongue did delicious things inside her mouth and his hands explored every inch of her. As his hands worked their familiar magic on her body, Hermione set to getting him similarly clothed...or unclothed. Pure feminine power coursed through her when she heard him groan at her teasing hands. His breath was coming in broken gasps as she touched and stroked and caressed. He seemed to have lost the power of speech as well, as the only thing he seemed capable of was moaning. Perhaps she really was going to shag him until he couldn't speak.

Hermione suddenly broke the mood when a small giggle escaped.

"Didn't mean to tickle you," he said, his voice gravelly with desire.

"You didn't," she admitted. "I just remembered something I told Draco earlier."

"Hmmm," Harry pondered once she'd told him. "Draco, eh? Now there's something I'd never thought of..."

It was fun, she decided later as she lay panting crossways across the mattress, pretending to convince Harry that he was perfectly happy in his sexual orientation.

The remainder of their trip passed in a haze of touring, shopping and laughing. Hermione knew it was the perfect thing for Harry. How better for him to spend the weeks following the death of one family but basking in the love and camaraderie of another?

Unfortunately, time passed in its usual fashion...much too fast for those still enjoying themselves. With a few tears, mostly from Ginny who would be living apart from them, the six witches and wizards headed back to their lives. Harry and Hermione to Hogwarts and preparations for the coming term. Ron and Mariah to the shop they would run together. Ginny and Draco to Malfoy Manor. And if anyone thought that Draco was a bit callous about his wife«s tears, they kept it to themselves.

They had a standing date to meet in Hogsmeade once a month for brunch, but somehow, it just didn't seem enough. Difficult as the past year had been, it had drawn them all together so many times, and it felt odd to be separated again.

*^*^*^*^

"Ginny?"

Draco paused at the fireplace, brushing ash and soot from his robes before his rather fastidious wife removed his head from his shoulders. The manor was silent around him, but that didn«t mean anything. Ginny could be holding a masked ball in their bedroom and he«d never hear it all the way down here.

He thought of calling for her again, but realized that Morgan might still be napping. If he woke the baby, life would not be worth living. He settled instead for the searching room by room.

The hardest part, he realized, was finding her. When he did, she stood with her back to him, staring out over the massive grounds that had sheltered him as a child. His heart plummeted when he heard the sniff.

He turned her around and enclosed her in his arms within seconds of that sniff. "What is it, Red?"

She pulled back and he could see she«d been crying for some time. She opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped the denial before she could utter it.

"Don«t you dare say it's nothing, Ginny Malfoy."

She sniffed again, seemed to have a short internal battle with herself, and then took in a deep breath. "But it really is nothing, Draco. I just...I miss Ron and Mariah, and Harry and Hermione. We had so much fun on holiday, and it was so great to be with them all the time. I«ve just been feeling a bit sorry for myself." Ginny wiped both hands across her cheeks and kissed him briefly before stepping out of his arms entirely. "And I know you think I«m just being silly. I could see it on your face as we were leaving the island. I guess it«s just taking me some time to get used to the iso--, I mean being back home again."

Draco picked up the word she hadn«t said. And he knew she felt isolated out here. The village was fine, but didn«t offer much in the way of peer companionship for her. As an only child, it had never bothered him much. Luckily, he«d anticipated it. With a supreme effort, he kept the grin from his face and his voice even. He had no intention of giving away the surprise a moment before he was ready. She read him so well, knew him so well, it had become a bit of a game to see if he could surprise her.

"Then why don«t we move to Hogsmeade so we can be closer?"

"Excuse me?" Ginny said once her jaw worked again. Score one for me, Draco thought as he battled his face muscles into laxness.

"I mean it, Ginny. I think we should move."

"Well," Ginny began. She didn«t dare hope he was serious. "I guess we can start looking for a house if you«re ..."

Draco reached into the front pocket of his robes for the brochure from the agent almost casually. He unfolded it and showed her the moving pictures of each room. "How about this one?"

Ginny stared at the pictures; the warm kitchen with its middle butcher«s block, the Master suite that looked exactly like the sketches she«d once made of a dream bedroom, the nursery furnished exactly like Morgan«s.

"When did you do this, Draco?" Ginny raised an eyebrow towards her husband.

"The day we returned from the island. You thought you were hiding it from me, but you weren«t. I don«t think I«ve ever seen you that sad, Red. I couldn't stand by and let you be miserable. This seemed an ideal solution."

Luckily, Draco had a nanosecond to prepare, otherwise his diminutive wife would have knocked him over. Her arms were around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her lips were searing his. "I ought to buy you real estate more often."

"When can I see it?" she asked. "When can we move?"

"As soon as you want, Gin. As soon as you want."

In the end, it took her only two days to get everything in order. She put Draco in charge of their bedroom while she packed up the nursery. She wondered if Draco noticed how little they had to pack up. Clothes, the baby«s things and a few personal items. Deep down, she wondered if she«d been kept from making the Manor a home on purpose.

With Morgan taking his final nap in the Manor, Ginny went in search of Draco. Much as she wanted to leave this place in favor of a home like she'd grown up in, there were a few lingering doubts. The part of her that wasn't thrilled was feeling guilty and selfish. It might be cold and drafty and completely isolated, but it was the home Draco had grown up in.

Determined to find out his true feelings on the matter, she headed towards their bedroom. She found him on the floor outside of their closet, staring at a scrap of parchment, his shoulders shaking slightly. Her heart sank.

"Draco, we don«t have to do this. I know this is your home. I was acting like a child when I said I wanted to move ..."

He turned then, and she realized that he wasn«t suppressing tears, but laughter. "What«s so funny?"

"Red, I«m so sorry. I didn«t mean to find it. I was pulling down the boxes in the closet and this one fell over. The parchment landed face up. I couldn«t help but read it."

Intrigued, Ginny took the sheet from him and immediately her face inflamed to match her hair. It was a rough draft of the poem she«d sent to Harry one Valentine's Day ages ago. The one he still didn«t know had been from her.

"Draco?" She smiled sweetly, forcing the blush from her cheeks.

His eyes were tearing up in his efforts to keep the laughter at bay. "Yes?" he choked out.

"If you ever, ever, ever," with each word, her voice grew sharper, "tell Harry about this..."

Draco said nothing, but his smile was fading fast. "Yes?"

"It will be the last time you ever see me naked, you got that?"

"Then I«d better get it while I can," Draco grinned and swept her into his arms. A minute later, she lay prone beneath him. He paused with his lips inches from hers. "So what are my eyes like, then?"

She shut him up in the most effective way she knew. Draco didn«t mind in the slightest.

"Draco," she began later, still determined to know for sure, "about the move?"

"Red," he sighed, pulling her tighter into him and wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. "I have no happy memories of this relic other than the times we've been here together. I had no siblings, no real family. I want more for Morgan than that. While I fully intend for us to provide him with siblings, I also want him to know his cousins as well. I will bid this place goodbye with a smile on my face this afternoon. That cover all your issues?"

"Yes," she grinned. "Except for the bit about the siblings..."

They spent Morgan«s last naptime in Malfoy Manor making one last happy memory. Based on how...inventive...his wife had become that afternoon, Draco was sure that one would stick with him for quite some time.

^*^*^*^*^*^

The first staff meeting, Harry had discovered, was always the most enjoyable. Once the students arrived, they focused on the business of running the school. In their beginning of term meeting, however, it was more a how-I-spent-my-summer-holidays free for all. He particularly liked Terese Sinistra«s yearly request to the heads of houses to keep their students from using her Astronomy Tower as Lover«s Lane.

"That hasn«t changed in over a hundred years, Terese. I don't foresee it changing in the next hundred," Dumbledore replied, his face serious but his blue eyes twinkling. The rest of the staff did their best to keep the laughter at a minimum. Especially since most of them had been guilty of it themselves while attending school here.

"With that bit of traditional business handled," Dumbledore continued, "I have a few things to tell you all before we go any further. First off, I will be taking a bit of a leave this year." He held up his hands to stifle the murmurs of protest. "I am not stepping down as Headmaster. But I am thinking of when that will be inevitable. Consider me a Headmaster Emeritus for this year. Minerva will be taking over the day to day operations for me.

"This brings me to my second bit of news, a welcome to our new Transfiguration teacher." All eyes flashed to the woman sitting at the end of the table, a pinkish tinge around her cheeks. "This is Sarabina Callux. She'll be taking over the first and second year Transfiguration classes to free up Minerva's time a bit."

A murmur of welcome passed through the room, and Sarabina nodded hello to everyone, although Harry noted that she didn't meet his eyes. He struggled against the grimace that wanted to show on his face. Harry had grown used to the reaction to his fame with his first years, but it seemed odd to be feeling it from an adult again. Based on the nudge to the ribs Hermione gave him, she'd noticed as well.

"What?" he feigned ignorance.

"Looks like you've got an admirer. Shall I be on my guard then?" Her voice was so low, even he had trouble hearing it.

"Quiet," he growled with a grin, squeezing her hand below the table.

The staff meeting ended shortly after that and everyone gathered around Dumbledore and the new teacher, offering bon voyages and welcomes. Harry and Hermione stayed at the back and waited for the room to clear a bit. Once Sarabina had been released from the throng of teachers welcoming her, Hermione approached her as Harry headed for Dumbledore.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she smiled warmly. "I'm Hermione Potter, Muggle Studies."

"I know," she stammered. "I must say I was a bit nervous about taking the position, knowing that I'd be meeting you both. It's just such an honor."

Hermione kept the warm smile in place. Inside, she was dying to sputter over the "honor" bit. "You must be quite a teacher if Minerva is letting you rule over the first and second years, Sarabina."

"Please, call me Sara," she said with a slight quiver. "Well, both of my parents are teachers, so I guess you could say I grew up in a classroom." She seemed to soften a bit, her shoulders relaxing. "I met Minerva about five years ago at a seminar in Ireland, and we've been corresponding ever since. When she mentioned the opening here, I jumped at the chance to come teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione was about to ask what she'd been doing prior to this, but Sara's eyes shot somewhere over Hermione's shoulder and her jaw went a little slack. Hermione guessed correctly that Harry was standing behind her.

"Sara, this is my husband, Harry," Hermione introduced him needlessly.

"Oh I know. It's just such...I'm so pleasured...pleased...I mean it's a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter." Hermione felt Harry wince. She hadn't seen anyone this nervous around Harry since Colin Creevy had been a first year. Hopefully, the older woman's nerves would calm in time, just as Colin's had.

"It's just Harry, Sara. And I'm honored to meet you as well. Anyone Minerva trusts with Transfiguration is definitely someone worth meeting," he extended his hand. Hermione nearly chuckled at the tremor she saw in the other woman's hand and the flush threatening to set her face on fire.

"Oh, I'm not as skilled as Minerva," she stammered slightly. "It seems so odd, meeting you in person. I can still remember the first time I heard your name. I was ten and my parents were celebrating with the rest of our neighbors. My mum kept laughing and Butterbeer was flowing like a river. I don't think I've ever seen a celebration that exuberant..." She paused, and Hermione literally watched as the color drained out of her face.

"Sara?" Harry's brow furrowed and he reached out a hand to steady her in case she toppled over.

"I'm so sorry, Mr...Harry. I never...I didn't mean to imply that we were celebrating that your parents had been killed...I just..." She said more, but it was drowned out when she clapped her hands over her face.

Harry and Hermione's eyes met as they waited for Sara to recover herself. Hermione was trying desperately to conceal a grin. It wasn't working, and she was afraid that she'd have to either excuse herself or embarrass Sara further by laughing.

"Sara," Harry said gently. "Don't give it another thought. Believe me, it's not the first time I've heard of fabulous parties taking place the night my parents died. The defeat of Voldemort was an event worth celebrating."

Sara nodded, face still crimson and eyes still worried. Relief shone through her eyes as Minerva stepped up to them and drew her away. Hermione snorted softly into her hands as they walked out of the staff room.

"Oh Harry," she giggled once she was sure they were out of earshot. "You made her so nervous."

"I don't understand why," he grumbled.

"You're the hero of the wizarding world," she giggled again, batting her eyelashes at him. "You make all the girls swoon. And you're so handsome besides..."

"There's only one effective way to shut that mouth," Harry growled, taking her into his arms. "Unfortunately," he whispered as his arms tightened around her, "we don't have time for any serious corridor snogging. We've got nanny interviews this afternoon." He settled for a quick peck on the lips and led his wife down the corridor towards the entrance hall. Harry quietly hoped that Hermione wouldn't mention this to Ron or Draco. They'd never let him live it down.

Half an hour later, Hermione was just finishing up feeding Jamie as a knock came from downstairs. Their latest attempt at a nanny for Jamie, most likely. Hermione hoped that this one was competent. Hiring domestic help was not Hermione's forte, nor was it Harry's, it seemed. The young witch they'd hired two weeks ago had seemed so perfect in the interview. But once she'd arrived, they'd realized just how deceiving appearances could be. Hell, Hermione groaned inwardly, she'd been such a bubble head, she'd actually misplaced Jamie.

With a determined sigh, Hermione walked downstairs to find Harry deep in conversation with a young witch no more than eighteen. She was immediately put off. After the disaster that was Rosie, Hermione was really hoping for a more grandmotherly sort. Determined to at least give the girl a chance, she entered the room and introduced herself.

"I«m happy to meet you, Mrs. Potter. I«m Faren Jianesian," the girl stood before her, hand outstretched. Hermione took it, but remained wary. Rosie had been charming as well.

"If you don«t mind my saying so, Faren, you«re a bit young."

"Hermione?" Harry questioned. They both knew that most nannies were young women. He tried to catch her eye, but her gaze was fixed on Faren. He nearly laughed at the almost identical look on Faren«s face.

"I«m eighteen, Mrs. Potter. I realize I didn«t attend Hogwarts, but my family couldn«t afford it. I have been magically trained by a local witch and have passed my NEWTs just this summer. I«ve always had an affinity for children. But if you think my age will be a detriment to my accepting this position, perhaps I should leave now before we waste any more of each other«s time."

Harry sat back and waited. He could tell from Hermione«s posture that she was feeling duly chastised. Her mouth opened and closed several times as her brain worked out the best response.

"You«re eighteen?" Hermione said softly, "I know thirty year olds that aren«t that articulate." She paused, and Harry could see the muscles working in her throat. "Well. Now that we know that you can deal with a boorish mother, let«s see how you do with a spoiled baby girl."

Faren rewarded them with a slight smile and by the end of the afternoon, the Potters had finally employed a nanny they felt truly comfortable with.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry sat in front of his third years, assessing the terrified looks on all of their faces. Checking their course schedule explained it all. He sighed. Apparently, Sybill was still focused on the Gryffindors. Harry sighed again and turned over the sheaf of notes on his podium. Just as Minerva had so many years ago, Harry shared with them the secret of Professor Trelawney's predictions. "So then," he said a bit loudly, causing a few to jump in their seats and stop staring at Katia. "I«m assuming that Professor Trelawney has predicted another death?"

Ten pairs of eyes swung towards him as ten more jaws dropped. "Pro...Professor?" David asked.

"I«m assuming that Professor Trelawney hasn«t altered her favorite way of greeting a new class. Who is the unfortunate soul this year?"

Katia«s hand rose in the air and he saw a mix of skepticism and concern mar the young face.

"Take it as a compliment, Katia. She only does this to those she deems most able to handle it. Not so long ago, I was the object of her predictions. To this day, she pretends to flinch when she sees my palm." Harry didn«t go into the other prediction she«d made - the one that had been spot on. For today«s purposes, setting young minds at ease was a bit more pressing.

After the relieved sighing abated, Harry instructed them all to get out their books and uncovered a water filled tank containing a grindylow on his desk. A wave of nostalgia came over him for the teacher he«d loved most. Happy as he was for him, Harry still missed him.

He«d been waiting a year to finally be able to teach this Defense Against the Dark Arts class the way it was meant to be taught. Harry saw ten copies of Defense Against Dark Creatures by R. Lupin appear one by one on top of the desks.

"As you«ve no doubt noticed, I«ve ordered a new book for this class. It«s come highly recommended and I think it will help us greatly in our study of dark creatures this year."

*^*^*^**^^*

Harry watched his class file out, wishing that Remus could be here to see their faces. He ran a hand over the front cover of their new textbook and grinned. It seemed there was gainful employment for a werewolf. He'd send Hedwig to him later tonight to let him know their reactions as he«d promised.

Harry swallowed a chuckle and packed his book and notes away in his desk drawer. He was just heading into his rear office when he caught sight of Annika, one of the Gryffindor seventh years.

"Annika," he called, "could I have a word with you?"

"Yes, Professor," she said, her voice low and serious. Her bookish manner had always reminded him a bit of Hermione, but without the waspish tongue or predilection for getting into trouble. As far as he knew, she had never lost so much as a point for Gryffindor in seven years.

"I wanted to ask you a favor," Harry began as she perched her hip on an empty desk. "Do you know Katia Jorgensen?"

"Third year?" The connection took place before Harry could say anything. Harry could see it in the slight upturn of her mouth. "Divination?"

"Yes. Professor Trelawney has predicted that she's the student to die this year."

"Can I ask you something?" Annika shifted her bag on her shoulder and looked slightly uneasy. "Has she ever been right?"

Harry paused and chose his words carefully. "About some things, yes. But so far as I know, she has never accurately predicted a student«s death."

Annika looked satisfied, but not entirely convinced. Before he could question her further, however, he heard her name being called from down the hall.

"Right, then. Would you mind speaking with her tonight? Just to reassure her. I«m fairly sure she didn«t take it to heart, but..."

"No problem, Professor," she smiled up at him and left the room a moment later.

Harry glanced at his watch and realized he had approximately ten minutes to get home before it was time to join everyone for dinner at Ember's Tavern.

*^*^*^*^*^

Dinner that night was a bit of raucous affair. Then again, it always was when they were together. The nine of them took up the better part of the rear of the restaurant, and the proprietress had since learned to put a few sound dampening spells around the area.

The only glitch in the evening's fun was the slight tension he felt from Ron and Mariah. She hadn't been with him when he'd arrived with Rianne nestled in his arms, but had arrived ten minutes later looking harassed. Ginny had asked what had kept her, but Mariah had waved the question off and immediately changed the subject.

"How's the new house?" she asked, brushing a kiss to Ron's temple. And immediately, Ginny, Hermione and Mariah began gushing over houses and furniture and decorating.

Ginny might have accepted the brush off, but Harry knew better. Mostly, he knew Ron's facial expressions well enough to know that his best friend was troubled about something. He made a mental note to ask him later.

As they ate, conversation jumped from one topic to another like Cornish pixies set loose in a room. Harry, Ron and Draco debated this year's Quidditch House teams, Mariah commiserated with Ginny and Hermione over the midnight feedings. Rianne, older than her cousins by three months, had passed that stage.

They all discussed Dumbledore's leave of absence and the changes since they'd left.

"I never thought that Minerva McGonagall would let anyone touch her Transfiguration classes, no matter how much extra work she had," Ginny commented.

"So far, I'm hearing nothing but praise for Sara. My first and second years seem to like her a lot," Harry commented. "She sounds a bit more," he glanced at Hermione, knowing her deep affection for the older teacher, "approachable than Minerva."

"I've heard the same thing," Hermione nodded, picking up on Harry's unease and gripping his hand lightly to reassure him. "But nothing's quite so dramatic as seeing an Animagus transfiguration on the first day of lessons."

"Speaking of dramatic first lessons," Ron asked, "is Sybill still up to her same trick?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but found himself once again gauging his words carefully. Since their discovery a few months ago that Sybill Trelawney was a Diviner like Mariah, they had started using the word "fraud" less often. At least when Mariah was within earshot.

"Yep," Harry answered blithely, trying to keep his tone light. "Still picking on the Gryffindors, too."

"Well, what did you expect, Harry?" Draco quipped. "All that reckless bravery? You lot are bound to end up broken and bloody over some ill thought out course of action. The Slytherins are much too ambitious to be easy targets for an early death. We let you take all the risk and find a way to turn it to our advantage and take all the credit."

"Sod off, Malfoy." Harry grinned as they all chorused the line together, even Ginny. He was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't stop, though. At this rate, that was likely to be the first phrase their children learned to say.

"Oh, Harry," Ron said during a lull in the conversation. "I hear you've got quite the admirer." From the look on his face, Harry guessed that he'd been just biding his time before dropping this bomb into the middle of the table. The only time Ron ever looked that excited was Christmas morning.

He shot a glare towards Hermione, but couldn't see a thing in her eyes. Except maybe a twinge of guilt. Mariah, he thought, she must have told Mariah.

"Really," Draco drawled, sitting forward eagerly. "Do tell. Some lithe young school girl?" That earned him an elbow to the stomach from his wife.

"Noooo," Ron drew the word out, clearly enjoying himself, "the aforementioned Transfiguration teacher."

"But didn't you say she was quite a few years older than us?" Ginny asked.

"She is," Harry said, hoping that would be the end of it. But Hermione had other ideas. She proceeded to tell them all about meeting Sara for the first time. He tried to tell her with his eyes that she'd be sorry for that later. Based on the laughter he saw reflected back at him, he realized she wasn't exactly shaking in her shoes about it. Pity she knew how much he loved her.

"Well, well, well. Coo coo ca choo," Mariah replied. Hermione laughed, Harry did too, a vague memory of the movie coming to mind. The other four just stared blankly. "It's from a Muggle movie, or, a song about it, really." She explained and then told them the story of the woman who seduced her daughter's much younger boyfriend.

"Maybe she'll write you a poem, Potter," Draco laughed. No one caught his wince of pain as Ginny pinched his leg hard under the table.

Harry could do nothing but bury his face in his hands. A few assorted giggles had developed into full out laughter as everyone took turns teasing him about his effect on the witch population. They took their sweet time in dropping it, too. Harry, for the first time since his name had popped out of the Goblet of Fire, desperately wished that the earth would simply open up and swallow him.

"Did you have to tell them?" he muttered to Hermione as she wiped tears from her cheeks. "Honestly, Hermione, couldn«t you keep that between us? You had to tell Mariah?"

"Oh, Harry." She grinned up at him. She saw the glare in his green eyes and her own suddenly turned serious, "I«m sorry. It«s just..." She stopped when he winked and threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Can dish out the jokes but can«t take them, eh, love?"

Based on the evil glint in his eye, Hermione guessed that they wouldn«t be doing a whole lot of sleeping that night regardless of how often Jamie woke up. Her blood heated at the thought. A devilish Harry was truly a wonder to behold.

Dinner wound down not long after. Both Morgan and Jamie began to express their adamant desires for their cribs and Rianne, not to be left out, promptly joined in. Harry stepped over to Ron as the rest pushed chairs in and gathered belongings.

"Ron," he said in a low voice, "what's going on?"

"Don't know what you mean, mate," Ron replied without meeting his eyes. Harry noted that his friend's ears had gone scarlet, but he didn't comment. If Ron wasn't ready to say anything, he would respect that. For now.

*^*^*^*^

"Where were you?" Ron asked Mariah the moment they closed the door behind them at their flat over the shop.

"I told you, I had errands to run," she answered, a bit more defensively than she probably should have. She left the room to put Rianne in her crib. Ron waited.

"For two hours?" he asked the moment she returned. He hated the suspicious tone of his voice, but was unable to keep it at bay.

"Yes, for two hours." The belligerence in her voice did nothing to improve the situation. "Ron," she sighed, slumping onto the couch and patting the spot beside her. He joined her immediately, concern replacing anger on his face. "If I could tell you what's going on, I would. But I can't."

"Does it have to do with the owl you got the night Jamie and Morgan were born?"

"Yes," she said laconically.

"Does it have to do with the Diviners?"

"Yes."

"Can't you trust me?" he asked with a bit more venom than he intended.

"It's not that simple, Ron."

"Yes, it is." He stood then moving in long angry strides to stand in front of their living room window. "It's just that simple," he ground out, his back still to her. "You've made it plain from the day you Apparated into this living room that there are parts of your life marked 'Mariah only'. Bloody hell, you didn't even tell me you were pregnant with Rianne. I found that one out by accident."

"I had..." she began.

"Your reasons," he finished. "I know. But that doesn't make it any easier to accept."

Ron?

She asked after he'd been silent for a few minutes.

Get out of my mind, Mariah. It's not somewhere you want to be right now. I can control what I say, but not what I think. And just now, there are some rather unpleasant thoughts rattling around in here. I hate blocking you, but I will if have to.

You can't accept that I'm protecting you by not telling you what's going on?

"No, I bloody can't," Ron roared, and then quieted his voice as he heard Rianne whimper. "You've told me you love me, Mariah. You've agreed to marry me. But I can't help but wonder what our future holds if you continue to keep secrets from me. I don't handle curiosity well," he added in a self-depreciating tone. "Just ask Hermione."

Mariah seemed to go through an internal debate, one he had no access to. The Diviner bonding did not allow the Bond to see within the Diviner's mind as easily. He could only feel her strongest emotions or physical sensations. When her eyes finally reached his, he felt scared for the first time in a long time. They were poised on a precipice here, but he knew he was right. If she couldn't trust him, they had no future.

"I don't like it that you have a point, Ron," Mariah said on an exhale, her brow furrowed. "I have kept things, important things, from you in the past. I've given you little reason to trust me and at the same time, I've expected you to do just that. And I'm sorry for that, very, very sorry. I guess my upbringing has left me used to keeping my own counsel. You're right, though. For us to have any chance at a future, I have to learn to confide in you and trust you with every part of my life. I just hope that after I have told you everything, you still want that future."

She spoke for an hour straight. Ron at turns got angry, supportive, and downright shocked. But once she was finished, he knew there were no more secrets between them. What she'd told him hadn't been easy to hear or to accept. That was the funny thing about love, he supposed, because he did accept them. And he trusted her.

"Ron?" she asked tremulously.

"It's okay, angel. I understand. I know now why you felt you had to keep silent."

Mariah exhaled so strongly, Ron could feel her relief all the way through to his very soul. They didn't speak further of the events that may or not be coming. Of the things which might or might not be happening. But they spent the remainder of the night making love, reaffirming their commitment to each other and stalwartly refusing to look any further into the future than tomorrow.

As Mariah lay sleeping, curled into his side with her back to his front, Ron stroked her hair and listened to the easy sounds of her breathing. Now came the hard part, he thought. She had told him what was troubling her and had trusted him with that information. Now he had to keep those secrets for her. Keep them from his sister and most importantly, keep them from Harry and Hermione.

~end chapter 1~