Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Chapter 81

“Revelations and Reporters”



Original story by -> MissAnnThropic

http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/6586/1

Email: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com



Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998, this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.



Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.



Content Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein



In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me ‘play in her sandbox’.



Note One: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.



Note Two: If you have issues with the way the story appears on the screen (in your browser), email me directly and I’ll email you the chapter in MSWORD. Thanks for your patience with me!!



NOTE THREE - I know that I promised a wedding in this chapter. The characters conspired against me. Please – stick with me. We’re really close – but some things came up that had to be expressed.



Chapter 80 – “Remember Me”



“Dobby? Could you make sure that they have some time to enjoy a cup of tea? And maybe one of your cookies? I’m sure that they’d love that”



Dobby understood, too, what was going on. He’d been around teenagers long enough, after all.



“Mistress ‘Mione? Dobby would be loving to do that for you and Master Harry. Dobby will be thorough in his tour, he will!”



Smiling, Dobby took Jake and Miranda’s hands and disapparated the three of them.



"Now, Mr. Potter. You liked my silk knickers, eh? Wanted to see me in them? I think that could be arranged".



"Oh? Shall we then?"



"Last one to the bedroom then!"



And they were off, sprinting towards their secluded refuge.



*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Harry rolled over. He was warm and comfortable. Looking over at the grandfather clock, he realized that they still had twenty or more minutes to snuggle under the covers. Dobby had promised that they would have at least an hour before he returned with Jake and Miranda.



Thank God for a down bed! He thought.



A sleepy voice in his head said, “I know. I love it, too.”



"Hmmmm. I love you, ‘Mione. This is still too weird, being able to hear your thoughts. It’s going to take a while to get used to."



His thoughts went sleepy again and he faded off; his dreams intertwined with those of the woman he loved so much.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***



The distinctive CRACK! of someone apparating into their common room woke him the second time, followed by another crack! of that same person apparating away again. Because Harry knew that within the castle, only with house-elves could do that, he didn’t worry about it. Their privacy was assured.



He also really didn’t want to worry about which elf it had been. He was particularly warm and comfortable, even if something was now tickling his nose. As he opened his eyes, Harry realized that Hermione had found her way on top of him during their sleep and her hair was cascading down around her face and his. When he tried to shift his weight, to reposition Hermione’s head on his chest, he realized that his erection was pressing uncomfortably close to the apex of her thighs.



He could feel the residual wetness of her sex from their prior activities and it made his already determined erection throb even more. He knew instinctively that it would be so easy to nudge her legs open and take her. It wasn’t a question of her not wanting it – that much he knew. Sharing their thoughts with each other had had the incredible side benefit of proving, without a doubt, that each of them desired the other intensely. Hearing her thoughts for the first time, as he pleasured her with his fingers and tongue had let him see (and feel) just how much she wanted to make love with him.



In return, Harry had opened up and shown her – let her feel – all the love and desire he had for her and let her explore, without censorship, his most wicked fantasies about her.



‘Mione? You awake?



He caressed her mentally and pushed towards her how much he loved feeling her on top of him and how good it felt to caress her all over.



She wiggled slowly; sensuously, in her sleep. Without conscience thought, Harry knew that she was trying to position his erection at her entrance. He didn’t want to move and yet he didn’t want to betray her trust or destroy their anticipated wedding-night joy by giving in to the easy thing.



Harry did the only thing that he could think of, which was to get a substitute. "Accio glass dildo."



Hermione had been Harry’s first – and he, hers, because of the supreme act of love she had shown him that night, after the tri-wizard tournament. The memory of her loving act warmed him and made him want to protect her, even from himself.



After they had left St. Mungo’s, Harry discovered, to his delight, that Hermione was a very self-reliant girl who was not afraid of her own sexuality and was more than willing to ‘take matters into her own hands’ as it were. She had surprised him on Friday night, several months after they had left the hospital by actually purchasing, at a muggle sex store, both a glass as well as a stainless-steel dildo. The first being a bit thicker, with slight ridges in somewhat concentric circles up and down its length, and longer and the second; more tapered, much easier to clean, and usable for a wider range of applications.



At first, Harry had not known what to make of them, as he had never heard of any such things, but was quickly a devoted fan. Over a course of several highly erotic nights at their home in Godric\'s Hollow, she had indoctrinated him into their use. He sat on the end of their bed and watched, naked and mesmerized, at her shamelessly exhibitionist show while she demonstrated why she liked her two toys so much and how good they made her feel. That is, until she had invited him to use them on her and shown him all the ways that they could be used separately and together. It had been a very, very eye-opening experience.



Harry thought about those wonderful nights of learning together and mutual exploration as he caught the toy from mid-air. Hermione was still squirming on top of him in her sleep, trying to get him inside her. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and thought about the charms he would need. When the right wording came to mind, he focused his thoughts and pushed the magic at the toy. There was a warm blue light for a moment as the charms took hold, and then Harry reached down the length of her body, pushing her legs apart with his just enough so that he could slide the toy into her, without her immediately waking up. Once he had moved his own erection out of the way, he was able to push the warm toy into her. Once it was in her, he activated the charms and lay back.



Just as he had hoped, the toy began moving in and out of her, in very human ways. It pushed all the way in and remained for a moment, and then withdrew partially, only to plunge all the way in again and again, in a series of almost rocking motions.



Harry was glad that in her sleepiness, she was not really going to be cognizant of the fact that it was one of her toys, rather than her husband, that was fulfilling her desperate sexual need. To make sure that she was satisfied and sated even as she slept, Harry returned to caressing her back and her arse in slow, gentle circles while the toy brought her new levels of pleasure. Harry supposed, as he held her in his arms and continued to touch her all over, that he should be jealous. After all, the toy was longer, slightly thicker, and more enduring that he. However, even as he thought it, though, he realized how incredibly lame it was to think that way and how disappointed Hermione would be if she found out.



"‘Mione? I love you so much."



Her sleepy voice came back to him, quietly and distantly, as if through a fog. "I love you too, Harry."



It did not take long for Hermione\'s breathing to quicken and for the muscles up and down her body begin to twitch, as the toy filled her again and again with its hard, slippery length . Her eyes snapped open as the toy drove her to an ecstasy that was not expecting.



"Oh God, Harry!! What have you done? Is that you in me?"



She could feel his desire for her come at her like a wave. "Hermione? I wish…I want you so much."



He pushed the thought of the charmed toy at her so she’d understand what was happening. Just let it happen, Hermione. Spread your legs some more and let it happen. Rub yourself against me and let go…



He deliberately squeezed her arse with both hands, so that she could feel his desire for her and know that he was as turned on as she was in the moment.



“Oh! Oh, God…please..don’t have it stop. Oh! Feels so good…oh! Oh! I want you, Harry. Please! Owwwwwwwwwww. God!"



Her hips were rocking up and down as the toy continued its mindless assault on her sex and she ground her sex onto his legs.



"‘Mione? Let yourself go. Share magic with me. Let yourself go…”



She could feel what he was trying to do and in the end, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t quite as strong magically as he; her magic knew where its mate was and it rose up out of her and sought out his magical core. The moment that their cores connected, she came.



It was an orgasm like none she had ever had ever given herself. It radiated up and out of her toes and from her very fingertips and from all the nooks and crannies her body. Every bit of her body was thrown into glorious chaos as the wave of release swept over her.



*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Once he felt her release hit, he cast the silent Finite which caused the toy to stop moving. It was simply fortuitous that he cancelled the charm at the moment the toy was deepest inside her, where it did her the most good.



She rolled her hips, enjoying the sensation of being penetrated and filled up.



"Feel better, love?"



"Oh Merlin, Harry. What you do to me! Have I ever told you how much I love you?"



"Every day, ‘Mione. You are my love and joy."



Hermione gathered all the desire and love that she could and she pushed it along their link to him.



"I don’t deserve you, Hermione, but I love you and I will never stop loving you."



"You do deserve me, Harry. You are the greatest man I’ve ever met and I can’t imagine giving myself to anyone else."



"Marry me, then?"



"Do you even have to ask? I love you, Harry James Potter, and I will be the happiest bride in the world."



She looked him in the eyes as she felt his fingers intertwine with the ringlets of her hair. He pulled her mouth to his and then they lost themselves to the kiss.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***



It was surreal to enter the Great Hall for dinner that evening. There was a real sense of déjà vu for Harry, as they walked the long center aisle, because of their entrance just the night before. Miranda and Jake were not there yet, but myriad other sets of parents - some of whom he recognized, while others not. He scanned the hall quietly with his magic, using a low-power version of his locator spell. Nothing. Wherever they were, it wasn’t within 100 meters of the walls of the Great Hall.



Hermione had made a point to dress Harry for the evening in an off-white linen shirt, matching black linen pants, and the Krug Baumen watch that she had recently bought for him on his left wrist. Over the ensemble, Harry wore a Hogwarts cloak, but one that anyone looking closely could tell was definitely not standard issue. Rather, his had been done in fine black wool by the tailors at Burberry in London that very morning by special floo-delivery. The platinum clasp of the cloak had been fashioned in the shape of the Gryffindor Lion by the renowned American jeweler, Nazir.



Hermione was dressed similarly, but in a closely-fitted, off-white silk top that caressed her prominent, sculpted breasts, which were cleverly hidden under the merest wisps of lace and silk. Her figure was shown off by the extremely tight black silk skirt which she wore and flattered by two-inch heels. An 18” double-strand of perfect blue pearls twinkled in the light and swayed gracefully about her neck with every step. What no one could see, but what Ron, Ginny, and a few others knew she had, was the Gringotts medallion that laid nestled safe and warm between her breasts. It and her ring – Lily’s ring - would never leave her body while she lived. They were things that she carried with her as symbols of Harry’s love for her.



Heads turned as Harry escorted Hermione in on his arm. As they swept by, their magic trailed them in swirling, invisible eddies. The more magically sensitive students felt it and shook their heads in wonder. In that moment, as the heads turned and peoples’ attention was captured, Harry could not have been prouder. She was his queen, the better part of his soul, and he knew that they looked regal together. It was as simple as that. Their reflections in the full-length mirror in their common room before they left had been amazing and he knew that they no longer looked like students, but rather professors or leaders.



“Bloody hell!”



There was only one voice…one person who had that peculiar intonation. Harry grinned. He knew that Ron was most certainly not looking at him…but at Hermione. Somehow, it didn’t bother him. Ron loved Hermione like a sister. And that god damn well better be the extent of it, Harry thought.



Harry!



She didn’t even have to say anything more than that. He knew that Hermione loved Ron, as a brother, and that she would not want to see Ron hurt over some stupid, petty jealousy. Hermione, he also knew, could very well take care of herself. She was neither incompetent nor unaware of the potential impact of her current, stunning looks.



“Hi Ron!”



As they moved closer, Ron turned farther in his seat, so that he could look up at her. “Oh my god, Hermione. You look so….amazing. Being in love is good for you, isn’t’ it?”



Hermione looked at him and reached out, so that he would stand. Once he did, she hugged him again; though she was careful not to get her carefully coiffed hair messed up.



“I love you for that, Ron. Thank you for being so supportive.”



Ron blushed all the way to his ears – a uniquely Weasley trait – as he said, “It’s nothing, ‘Mione. Harry loves in ways I never could, because he understands you completely. I’m really very happy for you.”



She squeezed him again. “I know, Ron. I told Harry what you said the other night. He really appreciated it, even if it embarrassed him.”



“S’ok. I love you. Thank you for all your help in getting me together with Luna. She’s totally wonderful and I love her.”



They stepped back from each other, and Hermione once again moved close to Harry, so that they could continue their walk down the length of the extremely extended tables.



There were cheers beginning to be heard from various parts of the hall. You heard it all? Her mind whispered into his.



"Yes. I’m glad we’re back to the friendship we once had, the three of us. I love Ron as my brother and I always will. I didn’t realize how much he loved you, though. You know his mind leaks like a sieve when he’s feeling something strongly. "



"Oh yes. With my face that close to his, how could I not hear him?"



Harry laughed out loud while they walked. "I hope that he’s the only one like that. I’m not sure that I want to be exposed to that all the time."



"Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I get the feeling that whatever the scope is of this new power we have, it won’t extend beyond us, even if we can ‘pick up’ Ron’s thoughts when we’re close. God knows the last things I want to hear are his thoughts at night!"



It was Hermione\'s turn to snigger. "I’ll make sure that your world is filled with only my thoughts and my love, Harry. I promise."



"I know. I love you for it, Hermione."



"By the way, Harry, I owe you for earlier. I have a treat for you afterwards."



Her thoughts carried such imprecations of a lusty reward when they returned from dinner that Harry almost had to reach down and adjust himself.



"You did that to me on purpose!"



Her laughter sounded in his mind like tinkling bells and it was so beautiful to experience that it almost took his breath away. So distracting was the sound that he almost tripped over his feet as they covered the remaining distance to the seats that had been designated for them.



By the time they were close to the head table and their seats, the cheering for them had spread throughout the hall. Even the teachers were clapping for them – a fact which embarrassed both of them, but also made them secretly very pleased. It was apparent that their peers felt that they had not had sufficient time to applaud the two of them at the memorial service. Harry and Hermione were willing to tolerate it, to a point, because they didn’t want to look ungrateful or unappreciative of the support.



"Should we?"



"Oh, why not?" came the response.



Harry and Hermione closed their eyes for a moment and without wands, their magic coalesced and was released, as one surge of focused power which bounced off the ceiling of the Great Hall. Quickly, the ceiling went dark and a hush fell. Suddenly, two almost ghostly figures – a jaguar and a lioness – sprang luminescent out of the darkness and ran the length of the ceiling, above everyones’ heads. Once the cats had done one lap, they sat on their haunches and nuzzled each other, before the words Thank you all appeared below them. It was getting to be their signature move.



The images faded and Harry and Hermione moved to take their seats, amid renewed, enthusiastic applause.



They stood back up; waived to everyone; blew kisses to a few; and then sat back down.



That seemed to satisfy everyone’s need and the hall settled back down. Satisfyingly, the ambient chatter picked up again and the two heroes were able to loose themselves in it.



One good thing – perhaps the only good thing - about the placement of their seats was that Hermione was close enough to the head table that she could see her grandmother. Otherwise, the two of them would have been annoyed at being singled out even further. Neither of them had any desire to lead a ‘cult of personality’ or be the object of a devoted fan club, except to each other.



Hermione had been resentful, almost, of the fact that her parents had shown up at the memorial service and had not even given her time or space enough for her to reconnect her father with his own mother. Thinking back on it, she hadn’t even had a chance to mention it to her parents that her grandmother was teaching at the school.



"Harry? I just realized…my parents don’t even know that my grandmother is here! How could I have been so stupid as to not have told them!"



"Well, go then! Rowena is at the head table, but your parents are not even here yet…at least I haven’t seen them yet. Call Dobby. He’ll know."



"Oh my God. Of course!"



“Dobby?!”



Hermione closed her eyes and waited. Ten seconds later, Dobby appeared, smiling. He had a huge grin.



She looked down at him, though she really wanted to kneel and look him in the eye. That was the polite thing to do. “Dobby? Do you know where my parents are?”



He nodded. “This is being fitted for new clothes they are, so they can be looking presentable, Ms. ‘Mione. Mistresses mother not wanting to make a bad impression, I am thinking.”



“Can you bring them here the moment they are ready? I really need to see them. I have something very special to share with them.”



“Yes, Ms. ‘Mione. Dobby will be bringing them shortly. Master Harry’s tailor is being finishing right now.”



In less than half the blink of an eye, Dobby was gone again.



*** *** *** *** ***

Gentle music played in the background as the meal began. There had been no fanfare or welcoming speech or even announcements from the Headmaster, nor were any of the special guests from the morning still present at the school. At least, there were none at the head table. All that were left were the students and the parents and siblings who had been able to stay for the special meal. It was inarguably the largest group that had ever gathered for dinner at the school.



What amazed Harry was that the students didn’t seemed to be seated at their traditional house tables. In fact, they were scattered all over the hall. There were knots of students in the same year, but Gryffindors were interspersed with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students and the Slytherins who had successfully re-sorted were not sitting in groups of former Slytherin students were interwoven everywhere.



At one point, Rebecca Bones, who was sitting with her sister Susan and Pansy Parkinson, flashed him an enormous smile. It was pretty obvious that she was trying to convey something by the look she gave him, but he was over fifty yards away from her and he couldn’t see much more than that. It did concern him though. More than one young woman had already proposed a consort relationship to him and he had told them firmly that he wasn’t interested.



"Hermione? Dobby should be arriving with your parents in a moment. In the mean time, I’m going to go have a quick, private chat with Rebecca Bones. I truly hope that she’s not thinking what I think she’s thinking."



"I’ll stay wide open so you can listen and tell me if I should say something specific to her."



"Ok, love. Kiss me first."



As Harry leaned over to her, to pull her close and kiss her thoroughly, he said, "I’m yours and no one else\'s."



"I know, Harry. I feel the same way."



Five minutes. Be back soon.



*** *** *** *** ***

“Rebecca?” A voice said from behind her. “Can you stand and come with me, please?”



Harry decided that it would be fastest if he just disillusioned her and then used his private portkey to move them. He pushed the blue, marble-sized portkey into her hand and then covered it with his hand and activated it. The audience never saw the resulting swirl of color that signaled the activation of a portkey gateway.



Thump.



Rebecca landed on her arse, as Harry stepped away from the dissolving magical field. He removed the disillusionment field before he reached a hand down to her and pulled her to her feet and looked at her, appraisingly.



“You said the other day that you wanted to talk. We have about five or seven minutes, so why don’t you tell me what you have in mind.”



Rebecca stepped much closer to Harry and reached out to put one hand on his chest; spreading her fingers and feeling the muscles that rippled there. Before she could go farther, Harry had taken it into his hands and pushed it gently, but firmly away from his body.



Her eyes were wide with hurt. “Harry? I thought you showed me that you liked me when we met and were open to ideas.”



Harry was no fool and since he thought he saw what was coming, he let breath on a slow eight-count. Then he said to her, “Let me cut this short. You’ve probably discovered that as the soul blood heir of two great houses, I’m allowed to take up to two consorts, beyond having a wife. You probably also mis-took my natural friendliness and affection for you as something other than it was. If that’s the case, I’m sorry.”



Rebecca was on the verge of tears, so Harry guided her into one of the over-plush chairs near the fireplace. As he was doing so, she realized that she’d never have a chance to woo Harry.



“Rebecca, I’m sorry. You’re a stunningly beautiful girl who’s also really, really nice. You’re going to go a long way in life and you deserve a cheerleader for your efforts and someone who can and will support you every inch of the way towards that success, as well as love you and cherish you. I’m sorry to say that I won’t and can’t ever be that person because of my complete love for Hermione.”



“But….”



“Rebecca? Ask yourself if you want to go through life as second fiddle. Tell me that would be satisfactory for someone who is as articulate, powerful, and beautiful as you are.



She shook her head. Harry nodded his agreement. “You don’t want to hook your star to mine, for however much it seems like a wonderful thing to do.”



She’s not thought this through, Hermione. She’s just….longing.



"I know, love. Just give her a kiss and end it there and then come back to me."



"Ok. I love you. See you in a few. We have to walk back to the Hall, so give us 10."



"Love you. See you soon. Dinner’s about to be served."



Harry looked at Rebecca and she was staring at him, her mouth open.



“You’re staring.”



“Ya! Your eyes went all unfocused for a moment, but I could tell you were thinking. Tell me you weren’t just talking to Hermione”.



It was Harry’s turn to be surprised. “What? How did you know?”



“Oh my god, you were! That’s amazing. I read a paper last year about the possibility of powerfully magical people being telepathic in the right circumstances, but I never thought I’d live to see it.”



“Well, now you have. Please don’t tell anyone about it. It’s pretty personal.”



“I swear on my magic Harry, that I will not tell anyone.”



That she swore a magical oath caused one of Harry’s eyebrows to rise considerably. It was not something done lightly. Clearly, Rebecca was no ordinary witch. He almost felt bad that he was not in a position even to consider offering her consort-status. There was a lot to make her very appealing.



“Rebecca, Hermione told me to give you a kiss and then bring you back to the Great Hall. Apparently dinner is about to be served.”



The look on her face was, as the muggle adverts put it, priceless.



“Let’s make it a good one, then” she said as she crossed the small gap between them.



Taking his face in her hands, she tilted her face slightly sideways and captured his mouth with hers. He reflected, as she kissed him, that while Rebecca offered him none of the magical spark that he felt with Hermione, she certainly had passion and fire to her. She traced his lower lip with her tongue and felt his tongue wrestle with hers as their hands held each other tight at the waist. If anyone who didn’t know Harry was watching, they would have seen two beautiful young people who were deeply in love sharing a very tender and erotic moment. That neither of them held those kinds of feelings for the other would have been believed. But - it still was truly a beautiful kiss.



After luxuriating in the kiss for several long moments, they broke apart. He looked at her with a smile on his face. “I hope you find the right someone for you, Rebecca. Kisses like that shouldn’t be wasted or left unshared.”



“Oh Harry! You know the right things to say to a girl, don’t you!” She gushed. “That felt wonderful for me, too. I hope you and Hermione get married soon. She deserves you. No one else does, I don’t think – not even me. Your kiss told me that. Thank you though. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”



The blush from that comment spread like wildfire across his face and to the tips of both ears.



It was hard to say thank you sufficiently to answer that kind of praise, so Harry just offered her his arm and they left through the secret door that was the entrance to the Head Boy & Girl\'s dorm.



Their entrance went largely unnoticed, because of the disillusionment charm that Harry cast on both of them right before they entered the Hall. There was no reason at all to add to the rumor mill. The disillusionment charms fell away when they parted to sit at their respective places.



Harry sat down next to Hermione, instead of opposite to her. He wanted to be close to her to share what had happened.



How was it? Her mind whispered.



She took NO all right. She’s very, very appealing and she’s going to make someone an incredible life-partner.



What about the kiss? You did kiss her, didn’t you?



Yes. Well – actually, she initiated it. He gathered up that strand of memory and pushed it to her; along with his feelings and thoughts about the kiss.



Ow. She likes you. Too bad you’re MINE!!



There’s only ever been one girl for me, Hermione. That’s you.



It’s always been you for me, too, Harry. It could never have been anyone else.



There were discreet stares from some of the people around them, as the two of them ate and looked at each other, without saying anything.



I know. We’re going to have to focus on being sociable, you know. We could get lost in each others’ thoughts. Not that I’d mind. I want to loose myself in you forever.



We could always just blow everyones’ minds and share magic in front of them. Let them see how it’s supposed to be done.



Harry pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her, and let his magic effervesce, so that she could feel his love for her.



Oh Harry! please? You’re going to make me cry. You know how much I love you...and feeling your magic……kiss me?



It was so natural for Harry to kiss Hermione that he forgot where he was for a moment. All that mattered was that she was in his arms and that her lips were touching his.



“Ahem.”



Oh God. Not again. Hermione thought at him. Why do they insist on interrupting us?



‘Cause they’re your parents and it’s probably fun for them. That and the fact that you probably interrupted them plenty when you were a little girl and it’s payback.



Harry’s comment earned a laugh/snort from Hermione as they broke apart. They turned their heads to look up at Miranda and Jake and felt the critical, if loving, look returned.



“Took you long enough to get here, Mom.”



It was Miranda’s turn to blush. Jake smiled as he saw it, knowing full well that it was entirely proper for her to be blushing. He would have described their tardiness as being due to her blatant inability to choose between the tailor for Burberry of London, the one that Dobby suggested (because they were the people whom Harry had chosen to do his wardrobe), and the one that Minerva McGonagall had pointed her to - Adam Jones. He didn’t have the courage to rat out his wife and admit to Hermione that Miranda had gone with the safe choice – Burberry – rather than the avante garde looks of Adam Jones.



“Well, I had too many choices. Finally, they agreed to do this outfit….” Miranda twirled for a moment so Hermione could get a good look at her “and a fur-lined Hogwarts cape. I also picked out several other outfits that I liked.”



“I hear a ‘but’ coming, Mother.” Hermione said, looking at her mother quizzically.



“Oh! Well…you’re right. When I finally saw the bill, I almost called the whole thing off. Then your father stepped in and told me about the extra money he had earned on the FTSE, and he convinced me to get all of the things I liked. That’s why we were late.”



Hermione thought about it things for a moment and then looked at her. “Ok…so how did you get to London to do all this? Portkey?”



Jake, listening to the conversation, threw back his head and laughed. Miranda fell into his arms and the two of them looked at their daughter. “No…actually, Dobby went and brought them too us. It was amazing. After we saw the library and the kitchens, we still had time on our hands, so we thought about getting dressed for dinner. We hadn’t brought anything with us and we told Dobby that. He’s the one who took care of everything else.”



“That’s wonderful, Mom. I love that you and Dad did that together. You look beautiful, by the way. I love the dress, especially. The red picks up the highlights in your hair.”



Harry stood, finally, and ushered them to places across from them, so that they could be side-by-side as well. Somehow, it was more intimate to eat that way.



They sat as a family and tucked into their dinners. The house-elves, as well as some of the students who liked to cook, had outdone themselves again. It was, Harry thought, a meal fit for a king or any royalty. The thought made him laugh for a moment, when he thought of what Her Majesty\'s reaction might have been to the mounds of food that graced all of the tables.



His eyes caught one of his favorite dishes – Coq au Vin – and he pulled the dish closer to him so that he could serve onto his plate several large pieces of chicken as well as the gravy and mushrooms that went with it.



Hermione looked at him, smiling ear to ear, and did the same thing. With her first bite, Harry could feel Hermione\'s whole mood shift to incredible joy. It was an infectious feeling and with his first bite, he joined her in feeling a powerful contentment.



After a while, serving platters were bare and personal plates were wiped clean with dinner rolls.



It was hard to contain his growing excitement, which he thought was a bit odd. After all, it wasn’t his grandmother. Yet, he understood how important family connections were. Perhaps more so than others, he mused.



Hermione? Do you want me to get her and bring her over? Or should we wait? She’s wearing a glamour right now and I’m sure Jake could not see through it.



Yes….please go get her….. Oh Harry! I’m so nervous!



Excusing himself, he stood up and walked from the table. That he had just sat down only a few minutes previous caused Jake and Miranda to look at him askance. “Don’t worry Mom, Dad. We have a surprise for you. Harry’s arranging it.”



Their eyes followed Harry’s walk up the three stairs of the dais and his progress to the head table. There he had a brief conversation with the Headmaster. They continued to watch him as he walked to the visual left side of the table and extended his hand to a youngish-looking brunette. She wiped her face with her napkin and then set it down; rising to take his hand and be escorted back to where Hermione and her parents were sitting. As the woman approached the table, her steps became slower and her gaze more fixed on Jake. She looked him up and down. Then she looked at Miranda and took in her classic good looks and the beautiful outfit, complete with the Hogwarts cape that she was wearing.



She looked at her son for the first time in over twenty-eight years. “Jake?” Her glamour spell fell away. Before Jake could even get words out, he was out of his seat and grabbing the woman and holding her to him.



Hermione had not even noticed that the room had suddenly gone very quiet, as everyone watched what was going on. The Headmaster had stood up to watch the reunion and he began to applaud the moment the two crashed together.



It was never easy, Harry thought, to watch someone else crying, especially if it was another man. Somehow a man crying was always more poignant and painful.



Harry had sat back down, so that he could comfort Hermione, as she cried, watching her father and her grandmother come together after so long. You did the right thing. Getting them back together.



I know. It just makes me remember all of the students whose parents were killed by Tom simply because they were ‘half-bloods’ or ‘mudbloods’ like me. Think we’ll ever put it behind us?



We’re going to try. With every step we take forward, Hermione.



Mother and son finally broke apart, if only because it was so emotionally exhausting to cry like that. Rowena’s eyes were puffy with the tears that had streamed from them, as were Jakes. Miranda thought she had never seen her husband look so happy since the day they had been married.



“Hermione? How long have you known?”



She looked up at her father. “Since just before school started”.



Miranda looked at her husband and her mother-in-law. Seeing them side by side, it was easy to see how they were related.



“Why didn’t you tell us immediately?” Miranda looked slightly perturbed.



Her daughters’ eye-roll was enough for Miranda. “Ok, ok!” she said, chuckling slightly. “You don’t have to hit me over the head with it.”



Leaning over towards her mother conspiratorially, she said, “Ok, then. I mean, seriously, would you have wanted to miss seeing that reunion for anything?”



Rowena looked at Hermione and Harry. “You two have a lot of explaining to do. Even after your speech today, Harry, I still don’t understand everything that happened and there’s an uncomfortable silence in the professors’ lounge regarding some of the things that happened after you killed Voldemort. Minerva McGonagall told me flat-out that she wasn’t at liberty to discuss any of it.”



You want to tell her or do you want me to?



I can’t tell her everything, Harry. Didn’t see most of it and what I know of it came from your dreams. Not sure I’d do it justice, and if you tell her, you can control what she knows or how she thinks about it.



Rowena was looking at them intently, as were Jake and Miranda. The only difference being that Jake and Miranda were smirking.



“Ok, spill, granddaughter. You two went all unfocused for a moment and I’m pretty sure you don’t know that you took each others’ hand.”



She was right. Hermione found herself holding Harry’s hand in hers. She wondered if the instinct to be in physical contact was automatic, given their increased bond. Do you remember reaching out for me, Harry?



No, came his reply. It seems like I’m always touching you, or you’re touching me, whenever we’re close enough. We’ve always done that though, ever since our first year.



We’re pretty slow on the up-take. Took us long enough to figure things out.



“Whatever is going on between you two, I really want to know.”



Hermione looked exasperated and then resigned. “Ok. What I am about to tell you must be held by a witches’ promise.”

Rowena looked offended. “You don’t trust me? I’m your grandmother!”



“Doesn’t matter. Swear it or not.”



Rowena’s innate curiosity overcame her frustration at being asked for a binding promise from a teenager. “I, Rowena Granger, swear on my magic and on my life that I will not reveal your secret.”



A blue light swirled around her for a moment as the power of the oath to hold of her and interwove itself with her magic.



“Ok, now spill.”



“Mom, dad, this oath has to cover both of you. Do you promise never to reveal what you saw?”



They both nodded.



Finally satisfied, Hermione took a deep breath and in one long explanation, quietly told her grandmother what happened and what she thought it meant. When she finished, Rowena was looking at her and Harry with wide eyes.



“Grandmother? I think that we ought to talk tomorrow about some of these things. Maybe during lunch? Harry and I still have things to do tonight and I know that you want to catch up with Dad still. You two have a lot to talk about.”

*** *** *** *** ***

Once desert and coffee appeared on the tables, the conversations between the five of them took on a different, more personal quality. Harry swore to himself, and privately to Hermione, through their link, that he twice saw tears in her fathers’ eyes and that Rowena did not remain dry-eyed, either.



Thinking about tears and happiness naturally led Harry to think about his impending marriage to Hermione. It was hard to contain the feelings of excitement or the feeling that there was still much to be done. One of the skills that Hermione had helped him develop while at school was list-making, so Harry let his mind wander towards making a list of the things that had to be done. Most of the big things – the cake (ordered and paid for) was being done by Cecile Burbidge – a renowned wedding cake maker to Hollywood’s most famous movie stars. The chapel had been reserved and the reception hall booked. Since Harry and Hermione were personally wealthy beyond any rational level, the wedding invitations had requested that if any guests felt compelled to buy a gift for them, that it was given in the form of a charitable donation to the Save the Children fund. There had been some minor negotiation about which charity was most deserving, but in the end, it had been pretty obvious to both of them as to which one was nearest to their hearts.



A second thought came to him regarding Ron and Ginny. One – Harry had not had a chance to formally ask Ron to be his best man; two – Hermione did not have a bridesmaid and needed one, and three – while it was understood that Jake would be there to present Hermione as his bride – he hadn’t asked about that directly, either.



Harry shook of the thoughts and plunged back into the conversation between Hermione, Jake, and Miranda.



Ten minutes later, he realized that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just delaying and should get on with things. He started to get up, so that he could walk over to where Ginny and Ron were sitting. No time like the present, Harry mused. He sat back down only when he felt Hermione’s arm snake around his waist to pull him closer to her.



Lost as he was in his thoughts, he almost didn’t catch the mental poke from Hermione. Hey! Lost in thought, love?



Sort of. Lots to think about. Just realized how wonderful it is to have friends that I can count on. Ron and Ginny are really there for us. It’s amazing to me, still.



Lots of people love you, Harry. Ron and Ginny are two of your biggest fans, but they also love you a lot.



They love you, too, Hermione. You and Ginny are best friends and Ron loves you indescribably.



I know. The connections between the four of us are not typical, I think.



No, they’re not. Speaking of which – do you have a bridesmaid? I think that Ginny would love to do that for you.



Of course. I’ll ask her tonight. You going to have Ron stand for you as best man?



How could I not? Besides, he’d crucify me



“Would you two stop that? Please? It’s creeping out the rest of us.”



Hermione looked at her father, stuck out her tongue at him, and then did something that caused both her mother and her grandmother to gasp. Hermione turned her father into a ferret.



“Granddaughter! Don’t do that to your dad!”



With a swish of her wand, which she had pulled from somewhere hidden, Rowena turned Jake back to his human form.



Jake stared hard at Hermione and then his face split into a huge grin. “That was really cool! Is that what you feel like when you change, squirt?”



The two of them looked at each other and then they both laughed. Hermione rose from her seat and went to the other side of the table to give her father a hug. “I love you, dad.”



“I know you do, squirt. I think that your grandmother, your mother, and I are going to go down to the pub in the village and have a drink. We need to spend some more time catching up.”



Hermione looked crestfallen for a moment, and then she brightened up. “Ok. Well, Harry and I have some things to do and then we’re going to go back our room.”



*** *** *** *** ***

Ten minutes later, Ron and Ginny were on board for their additional roles. Ron had already begun to work on the food preparation and had actually spent some time talking to both Dobby and the Headmaster. Harry felt a burst of pride when he listened to Ron describe what he was doing. It seemed like he had actually decided to step up and accomplish something that he truly believed in.



Ginny, for her part, had fallen in line with Neville and was already actively helping him with the planning for the flowers. She told them both that what she didn’t have was a bridesmaids’ dress - so Harry pulled her aside and gave her his muggle credit card that he had from Gringotts. Ginny’s eyes grew wide when Harry told her where Hermione had bought her dress. She had never been to a muggle dress shop and was really excited about being fitted.



He looked at her as he handed over the card “Get what you really like, Ginny. You know the colors that Hermione has picked out. Don’t worry or even think about the price. In fact, don’t even ask about the price. Get your shoes, everything, for the outfit. There’s a fabulous lingerie store called Silk Enchantments next door. Go there.”



She started to protest…that it was too much…that she didn’t deserve it. Harry swatted down her complaints. “Ginny – please – think of it as part of it as a very early wedding gift to you and Neville. Buy all the pretty things that you want. Buy yourself whole outfits - I don’t care. Have fun.”



Ginny’s smile was radiant. She threw herself on him and hugged him tight. He stroked her hair and held her face to his. “That’s my sister. I love you, Ginny. Now, scoot. There are things to do!”



The last that Hermione and Harry saw of Ginny, she was skipping down the hall, a wide grin plastered on her face. Harry thought he might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn that she was singing.



Some of the things that had to be done for the wedding required that Ginny and Ron actually work with Miranda and Jake, so Harry took two galleons from his pockets and put them on the table. He looked at them and thought ‘Portus’. Once the two portkeys were made, he gave them to Ron. He explained to him that they were going to have to apparate back from the Grangers’ house to Hogsmead and walk back to the school from there. Ron promised that he’d track Ginny down and give her the other one.



Once those tasks were completed, Hermione and Harry were free to return to their bedroom and Hermiones’ promised treat. It made Harry excited to think about. He was grateful that they could ‘port directly there, rather than walk through the entire castle.

*** *** *** *** ***

The portkey was never as easy a way to travel as apparition, but it was better than having to walk, Harry thought. He and Hermione landed, upright fortunately, in their common room. A quick spell made the residual embers in the fireplace jump back to life.



Hermione looked at him with a grin, knowing that she had been looking forward to this all day, and that Harry had been as well.



I want you, Hermione. I don’t know what you’ve been planning, but I’m hoping that whatever it is, it’s going to be done naked, because I’ve been longing for your touch all day.



That’s the way I feel, Harry. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, too. Want to strip and crawl into bed? I’ll be right there.



Harry grinned at her and with a wave of his hand, divested himself of all of his clothes and, after letting Hermione have a good, long look at his back and his bum, made his way to their bedroom.



Hermione wasn’t going to let Harry feel how worked up seeing him naked made her – at least not before she got a chance to please him, as she had promised.



First – she stripped out of all of her clothes, save her knickers, and then she fetched the long silk chemise that she had hidden earlier. Over that, she put on a red silk robe that had a Gryffindor Lion embroidered on the back.



A spritz of perfume in strategic places and she was ready.



You ready?



Dying in here without you, ‘Mione.



She walked into the bedroom and saw Harry stretched out on the bed. Perfect, she thought. Deprimo! Harry found himself suddenly tied down by the wrists and ankles. His erection was pointed at the ceiling and Hermione giggled. Her idea was going to work out nicely.



Harry? Look at me. I’ve wanted to do this all day.



She took off her robe and climbed up on the bed. She looked down at him as he looked up, taking in all of her sensuality. His lust for her was palpable, as was his physical reaction to have her so close and yet so out of reach.



Watch. I want to show you how much you turn me on.



She crawled closer to his body, so that she could throw a leg over him and straddle his chest. His eyes were boring into her body and he was watching every movement. He licked his lips, as his mouth was suddenly dry. Take it off. Take it all off. Please?



Oh, I will. I’m not going to make you suffer tonight. I’m just taking my time because it will make the release all the sweeter.



She reached back, behind her, and took his tumescent penis in he hands and stroked it for a moment. She gathered the moisture there between her fingertips and brought it to her mouth. The slight saltiness of it was something she had grown to like very much and she knew that if it were any other night, she’d already have it in her mouth, so that she could drink down all of his seed.



It amazed Harry that a girl so known for her studiousness and personal dignity and demeanor would have such a lusty, erotic, adventurous side to her. It thrilled him in indescribable ways to know that she loved him and wanted to share that hidden part of her with him and only him.



With almost a casual flick, Hermione pulled the silk chemise up and over her head, leaving her in just her silk knickers. Harry\'s eyes followed the path of her hand down to the ‘V’ of the front of her knickers and then underneath the elastic waistband. Her eyes fluttered as she touched herself. Harry! I’m so wet! Did I tell you how much I want you inside me?



Hermione, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to break the enchantment; rip your knickers off you; and make you my woman.



You’re going to have to wait for that…but right now, I’m going to take care of you. Then you can take care of me…



Hermione climbed off Harry and stood by the edge of the bed, so that she could take her knickers off. Once off, Hermione took them in her hand and climbed on the bed again. Looking him in the eye, she stroked his erection up and down for a moment; reveling in the silky hotness of it and the way it completely filled her hand. I’m going to try something now that I read about a while back, when we were at home. I hope you like it.



HER MI ON E!!...please...whatever you do, I know I will like it. Just please…don’t stop touching me!



Oh, I won’t Harry. Touching you is exactly the point.



Hermione folded her knickers in her hand and wrapped them around his erection. The effect was instantaneous. His hips surged upwards as much as they could and he let go a strangled cry of pleasure.



Like it that much?



His breathing was labored as she began to stroke him in earnest. Oh my God, Hermione. That’s amazing.



Her touch was both loving and enthusiastic and so it didn’t take long for him to near the edge of no return. She had stopped and started several times; letting his desire build in ever-increasing waves. In the end, he was babbling almost incoherently. I’m going to….going to….ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod…I’m cumming!



Hermione was ready for it and brought her mouth down to cover the crown of his erection, so that she could drink down every bit of his release.



It took several long minutes for his heart to calm down and for her to let go of his softening erection.



Good?



Not good. The best. The very, very best.



It was all she could do to resist the urge to work him back to an erection and mount him, while she had him tied down. His words and the emotions behind them moved her. Not a little bit, but in ways that made her want to cry, because of their intensity and honesty.



She could, however, wrap him up in her arms and kiss him as if there were no tomorrow, which she did with all the love in her heart.



As she kissed him, he thought at her, My turn to do you?



She didn’t have to answer that mentally or verbally, when she had him tied down as she did. The wicked witch of Gryffindor simply scooted her body up so that his face was trapped between her legs and his mouth was positioned to pleasure her.



No stranger he, to pleasuring her that way, Harry went at it with gusto.



As she started to squirm and force more of her sex into contact with his mouth, he realized that she didn’t have to be the only one with a trick up her proverbial sleeve.



Harry focused his magic on the semi-difficult personal transfiguration that he was attempting to do. He thought about the result he wanted and then bang!, it was done.



Hermione had started to become impatient and was looking for a signal that he was still interested in pleasuring her when she felt his tongue grow enormously and slither into her sex.



Oh my God! Was that you, Harry? Oh! Oh! Oh!



Harry was pushing his much elongated tongue into her in a series of almost-jabs that made her rock forward slightly. Hermione could not believe how good it felt to have her sex repeatedly penetrated by something so silky, wet, and hot.



Oh! Don’t ever, ever stop that! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, fuck! That feels so good, Harry/



I’m not going to, love. I want you to cum for me.



Hermione, had she been in a rational state of mind, might have been able to reassure him that it wasn’t going to take much longer to push her over the cliff, either. In the end, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t, because Harry did something both unexpected and totally erotic. Wetting one finger, he nudged open her nether hole and slid the finger in, as his tongue continued its assault. The feeling of his longest finger sliding all the way into in her bottom was more than enough to send her into a cataclysmic orgasm.



Hermione collapsed on top of Harry, stretched out so that most all of her body was in contact with is. Without preamble, she fell asleep on top of him.



All Harry had to do to unlock the magical bindings which held him to the bed was to look at the magic which surrounded them and then undo or ‘untie’ the magic; dispersing it back into the world. It was nothing to bring the blankets up around them both, so that they could drift off to sleep, safe and secure in each others’ arms.

*** *** *** *** ***

Tuesday morning, September 3rd.

6:45 am. Headmaster’s office.



“Albus? May I come in?” It was a rhetorical question, she knew, but she loved him too much not to show respect for both his station and for him, personally.



The heavy, magically protected door swung open and Minerva McGonagall entered the Headmasters’ sanctum sanctorum. It was not his outer office, but his inner office. It was the office that no student ever saw or that anyone but the deputy ever entered. It was where the student records were kept and where the Headmaster stored his private library. Some of the most ancient and most powerful tomes of magic resided in this place. It always awed her a bit.



Her eyes swept the room and then settled on her friend and mentor. He was seated behind his desk; a pipe in one hand and a book in the other. Apparently, she had interrupted some of his quiet time.



As he put the book down, he released the toke of pipe smoke that he had inhaled. Not content to blow smoke rings, he let go a series of animated, smokey animals. Watching how his magic was so much a part of him, Minerva felt hot tears come to hear eyes.



The eyes that had twinkled so often at students now contemplated his best friend and right hand.



“Why the tears, Minerva?”



She looked at him with love. “Because the students will never get to see you the way I get to see you. Magic is so much a part of you, Albus.” She didn’t finish the thought. How could she tell him how beautiful she thought she thought his magic was?



“You embarrass me, Minerva.” He said it quietly; with such affection and warmth in his voice that her heart ached with the sweetness of it.



For a long moment, she completely envied what Harry and Hermione had found in each other and envied them their youth, that they could pursue their love.



Breaking her train of thought, the Headmaster spoke her name. “Minerva? I am quite sure that you didn’t come here to watch my lack of smoke rings. Tell me what’s on your mind.”



She held up the Daily Prophet.



His eyes darkened and they no longer carried the friendly twinkle that she had seen moments before. If anything, there was an implicit threat in them that she found decidedly disturbing.



“What are we going to do about it, Albus. Surely, we can’t let her get away with this?”



“No, we can’t. However, it may not be a problem we have to solve. I suspect, though I can’t prove it, that Hermione is already working on a solution for this ‘problem’.”



Minerva was unnerved by the fact that the Headmaster was implying that Hermione might be building up to do something “permanent” to Skeeter and that he didn’t look at all troubled by the thought.



“Can we help her? Should we help her?”



Taking the pipe from his mouth and giving it a tap on the desk, to dislodge the old tobacco, in preparation for new tobacco from one of his multiple storage jars, he looked at her. “Well, so long as she doesn’t commit violence on school grounds, and we don’t have ‘first-hand’ knowledge of anything she might do or has already done…well, I can’t say that it’s any of our business. But – whether we can help her? Of course we can help. Research is never illegal, nor – to a lesser extent, is preparing potions.”



“Do you know what our Head Girl is planning?”



The Headmaster nodded slightly. “I have a pretty good idea, based on some of the charms she\'s practicing lately. Once the Twins owled me this morning regarding a purchase order they had just received for certain other items, I became fairly certain what she’s up to.”



The Deputy Headmistress shook her head and figured it was time to leave. She didn’t know, either, whether she really wanted to know what Hermione and Harry might do.



Skeeter’s article had been scathing; full of vitriol and caustic innuendo. What set it apart from her previous articles was the irony that it was not so much a declaration of war as it was a suicide note.

*** *** *** *** ***

One of the advantages of being Head Boy or Head Girl, besides the privacy, was the fact that the mail owls delivered their mail early in the morning, directly to the private common room.



As Harry drank his tea, he thought about what the day held for the two of them. It promised to be a warm, clear day, if the light streaming into the upper window held true. In a massive shift in policy, notices had gone out overnight that all classes, except History of Magic and Potions, were to be held outside until the weather turned.



‘Mione? He said, reaching out with his mind and his hand, to touch her.



Love? Thank you for last night.



Hmmmmmmmm. Harry made a thrumming noise that signaled his happiness and contentment. It was something that only Hermione knew about. She called it ‘whale song’. He didn’t understand the reference, but that didn’t matter. It was something special that they shared. I haven’t even looked at our schedules for today. Any idea what’s first?



Hang on. Let me dig them out. I put them aside yesterday and haven’t even bothered to look. Since Snape\'s gone, it’s going to be a much easier year, even if there’s more work.



Hermione grabbed her bag from where it lay on the floor, next to the writing desk in the far corner of the room, and began rummaging around in it. Finally, she pulled out two sheets of parchment; handing one to Harry.



They both spent several minutes going over their schedules, which were identical, save for the fact that Harry was taking only Runes and not the heavier combination of Runes and Arithromancy. Hermione, for her part, had opted not to continue taking muggle studies. She felt sad about that, given that her grandmother was teaching the course, but she just could not justify complicating her schedule that way



‘Mione? Four pm for our first animagus class.



I know. I have all my notes ready. You do too, don’t you?



You know that I don’t, love, or you wouldn’t be asking. We have lunch free today until one fifteen. I thought I’d write out the last of it then and then duplicate all of the copies I need. Speaking of which – I need to get in touch with Flourish and Blotts. What time is it, anyway?



Harry glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that it was only 7:15.



We still have time to get to breakfast, if we want.



Hermione had just collapsed into his lap when she heard Hedwig’s cry from the open window and saw several more owls trailing her in.



The first owl was the newspaper owl – delivering both the Quibbler (their paper of choice) and the much less desired Daily Prophet.



Hermione grabbed the Prophet and tossed the Quibbler at Harry, so that he would be distracted. Immediately, she scanned ‘above the fold’ and took in the headlines. Seeing nothing that set off alarm bells for her, she flipped it over. That was the moment that her stomach began churning.



One of the reasons that the two of them were so compatible was that Harry’s magic had a natural affinity for Hermiones’. Having bonded, their sensitivity to each others’ moods had greatly increased, so much so that even the slightest irritation in each other was discernable. The moment that Hermione had flipped the Prophet over, Harry knew something was very wrong. Her mood shifted abruptly and her magical energy spiked.



That does it, Harry. I’m going to kill her.



Ok. Give.



Hermione handed him the Prophet. There was no point in repeating the episode from the train, she thought. Better to get it over with.



I wish this shite would stop. We’re going to be married in sixteen days. How are we going to get any peace if this continues?



Harry sat and began to read.



HARRY POTTER OFFENDS THE QUEEN



September 3rd



By Rita Skeeter



In a display of significant crassness and ill-regard, Harry Potter once again out-did himself yesterday during the Hogwarts memorial service for all those who were lost in the battle against Tom Riddle.



“It was horrible,” said one student, who wished to remain anonymous. “There was her Majesty, on the dais, and suddenly, and Potter is up speaking. He starts in saying that he’s not much of a public speaker – and I agree with him on that – and then he casts this...memory or something...and makes all of the people in the audience watch as Tom is killed. It was so embarrassing to watch. Her Majesty was clearly offended by it and she was quickly hustled off the stage at the end. They wouldn’t even let Potter talk to her. That’s how bad it was.”



Another student told me, in confidence, as this report was being finished last night that “Potter and his girlfriend strut around here like they own the place. He thinks that just because she’s the top student in the school, he’s all high and mighty and can do no wrong. Their demonstration yesterday made me sick.”



There is an unconfirmed report that Rowena Granger, ex-Auror and spy for the British government during World War II, has returned to Hogwarts to teach. If reports are to be believed, she is Hermione Granger\'s grandmother. Government files that were obtained by this reporter last night show that Rowena Granger was reported missing in 1970, while trying to extract British ex-patriot wizards and witches from Cambodia, at the behest of the Ministry for Magic. Why a witch of Granger\'s stature has chosen to involve herself with Hogwarts is unknown, but it does seem calculated to elevate Hermione Granger\'s standing and influence within the school. That, by itself, raise significant concerns about Harry Potter\'s influence-by-extension in matters that should be the province of mature and circumspect wizards and witches.



The press was not allowed at the Memorial Service. It seems likely that the reason was that the Headmaster knew what was going to happen and condoned it, even though he knew that it would stir anger within proper wizarding circles. This reporter can only speculate. There have been no press releases forthcoming from Hogwarts to explain or apologize for this unforgivable offence to our Sovereign Majesty.



The current administration of Hogwarts has gotten away with far too much in this reporters’ estimation. Allowing Potter to speak, in the presence of her Majesty, should have been the last straw for the Board of Governors, but they have yet to make their voices heard and remove Mr. Potter from the school.



There was a time when the Wizengamot seemed willing to take things in hand and act as leaders and give direction to what should be the pre-eminent school of magic in Europe, but the ‘boy who killed’ seems to have them cowed.



As this story was going to press, attempts to contact the muggle Prime Minister, through the offices of the Minister for Magic, were rebuffed. When asked why contacts with the muggle Prime Minister were being refused this paper, the comment made by his representative, Percy Weasley, was that the Minister for Magic would no longer support “a third-rate, trashy tabloid paper”.



Percy Weasley is the third-eldest brother of the notorious Weasley Clan, a degenerate pure-blood family with no respect for Wizarding traditions or dignity. That such a family was allowed to infiltrate the Ministry for Magic so completely is beyond this reporters’ comprehension.



Speculation regarding the recent shift in the attitude of the Minister for Magic, away from old, proven wizarding traditions and towards the increased ‘mugglization’ of wizarding businesses; wizarding law; and norms of dress and behavior has this reporter very worried for the future of the wizarding world. That someone like Harry Potter should be held up as a standard bearer and a muggle-born witch should be both a fashion trend-setter and role-model for young witches truly terrifies those, like this reporter, who care about the ultimate direction of our world.



As citizens of magical Great Britain, we should all be offended for our Majesty, that she was exposed to Potters’ crass and vane presentation.



Potter is no model to follow. The sooner the magical world learns that sad fact, the better off all of us will be.



I’m not going to rant and rave to you, love. You don’t deserve that from me. I will tell you thought that she’s not going to be around very much longer. I feel a great need to let the kitty out and use Skeeter as a scratching post.



The mental image of Knight doing that to Skeeter struck Hermione as both funny and terribly appropriate, somehow, and she burst our laughing.



I know. I feel the same way. However, I have a much more permanent solution. One that I think will benefit not just us, but two some ones who are very dear to a friend of ours.



One of the down-sides of having an instantaneous, telepathic bond was that occasionally, ideas and images ‘leaked’. The picture that Hermione was trying to keep hidden was too strong for that and too important to her for her to be able to shield it from him. Irrespective of whether he had been looking into her mind or not, he saw it, and in an instant, understood what she had in mind.



That’s brilliant, Hermione. I love it. Of course, Skeeter-beetles’ not going to love it.



I don’t care any longer, Harry. She deserves what I have planned for her. You read the article. I’m not going to put up with it any longer.



Ok, ok. What can I do to help?



Just find her. I’ll take care of the rest.



Breakfast now?



Hermione\'s stomach had started rumbling and, counter to what Ron thought, Hermione really did like to eat. Yes. I’m hungry and we’re not going to get through the day if we don’t.



The two stood and headed towards the secret portal which was the entrance to their private enclave. Before they stepped through, though, they fell into each others’ arms and shared the kiss both had been longing for.



I love you, Hermione. Sixteen days.



We can make it, Harry, I know we can.



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