Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Vox Corporis

Chapter 74: Love, Pain and Vengeance



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.



Standard 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. 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 1: I was made aware of the fact that I screwed up an earlier chapter of this story by saying that Harry’s parents were both muggles. Well, anyone who’s paid any attention at all (which I should have!) to JKR’s cannon knows that Harry’s father was a pure-blood and that Lily was muggle-born. SO…my penance will be to make the entire story available (when it is done) as a PDF download at my alternative site. I’ll post the URL when it is ready.



NOTE 2: THIS CHAPTER IS NC-17 FOR VIOLENCE. NO, I’M NOT KIDDING. IF YOU’RE NOT 18, GET LOST. GO AWAY. BEAT IT. YOU DON’T BELONG HERE. I don’t apologize for it. It is what it had to be.



NOTE 3: Please – Read and review my work. Over 20,281 of you have read this story so far, but only 77 people have taken the time to post a review. Positive reviews or constructive reviews are REALLY helpful and I live for them. I’m writing for fun and it does me worlds of good to hear what people think.



From Chapter 73 - "TOGETHER"



When they emerged from the magic of the port key, Hermione looked at him. “Ok, what gives? Who did you see?”



“Rita Skeeter. I figured that she was a confrontation that we didn’t need. I just wanted to get you out of there quickly and the mens’ room was the best place to disappear from.”



His wife-to-be grinned. “Good, Harry. That was good thinking. I might have been very, very tempted to hurt her.”



“Yea, me too. I’m not sure that I could have resisted using that hair removal hex and or the burning boils hex.”



Hermione giggled. She knew how bad the burning boils hex was. It was like the muggle affliction, chicken pox, but considerably worse and more immediate. She envisioned Rita bald with the boils erupting and bursting all over her body.



“You up for that walk now? Or do you want to go for a run? There’s no one around. We could let the cats out…”



Hermione looked at Harry in his fine dress robes and then sidled up next to him. “Actually…” she purred, “I was hoping that my husband would take advantage of me, like he promised earlier…”



Harry looked as the woman he already thought of as his wife “I think that can be arranged…”



Hermione caught him by his bowtie, untied it, and used both ends to pull him backwards to their bed. “You’re going to be the death of me, ‘Mione. I love you.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



“ ‘Mione? Ready to go?” Harry called down the hall from ‘their’ bedroom at Hermiones’ parent’s home.



Hermione walked to the bottom of the stairs and called back “Almost, Harry. I’m trying to corral Crookshanks without magic.”



Harry grinned wryly. “Good luck, love. He’s at home here. He doesn’t want to go home to the Hollow.”



Hermione giggled, because she knew exactly why her ginger-haired cat didn’t want to go. The last time they were home, Harry had become Knight and chased Crookshank all over the glen near their home and then up a tree, just to show the kneazle who was boss.



Miranda and Jake had been roped into helping to catch Crookshank, so that he could be crated and transported along with their one travel bag and some of the things that Jake and Miranda had been storing in their attic for Hermione, once she was planning to move out for good.



“Got you, kitty!” Jake shouted triumphantly from their den. The pronouncement was followed by hisses and snarls and an “Ow!”. Jake came out, holding the hissing cat by his scruff and sucking on a bloody finger. Miranda helpfully opened the cat crate which was lying on the living room floor cat crate and Jake unceremoniously dumped Crookshank into it. The lid was slapped down hard and locked, so that the kneazle couldn’t get out without his own magic.



Hermione watched the whole episode without humor. She knew that her kneazle didn’t like being crated, but that it was a necessity, if they were going to be able to get all of their things, plus the additional boxes home with them.



There were soft footfalls behind Hermione. It was Harry coming down the stairs. He was holding an open box in his hands. The box held pictures that had previously resided on Hermione’s chest of drawers, as well as one, a water color of lilies, that had been hanging on the wall above her headboard. Jake and Miranda had one more for them, which was sitting, wrapped, on the floor, tilted back against the sofa. It was a charcoal of Harry and Hermione, holding each other, that had been done after Christmas by a local artist and then framed by her parents. The original picture had been taken by Berti, with her instant camera, when Harry and Hermione had been paying attention to no one but each other. Jake and Miranda had intended to give it to Hermione as an end-of-school year gift, but because of what had happened, it had gone by the wayside. They handed it to Hermione, who took it back to the love seat she and Harry shared. Once it was open, she fell in love with it.



Harry had reacted more quietly, but no less enthusiastically. He had stood up from where he was sitting next to Hermione and walked over to Miranda, who was sitting next to Jake. Harry bent over and kissed both of Miranda’s cheeks and said, quietly, “I love it. Thank you. It will go in our bedroom.”



Harry looked at Jake and said, with as much appreciation and manly warmth as he could muster, “Thank you Jake. That is a wonderful gift.”



Jake could see the seventeen-year old struggling with trying to be formal and yet appreciative and affectionate. It was funny, after a fashion, or it would have been if Jake hadn’t had the sudden realization that Harry was struggling with never having had a strong, positive, male role-model in life. Something raged in Jake that Harry could have been abused and ill-treated that he didn’t even know how to act around adults or what it really meant to be or act like a man. If half of the things that Miranda, and then finally Hermione had said about what had happened to Harry while he was living with his aunt and uncle were true, then Harry had been horribly abused. That he lacked my socialization skills was almost a given.



A light-bulb of sorts went on for him and he looked up at Harry. “Harry? Do you fish?”



Harry blinked. Fish? Harry hadn’t expected that question at all. “Do I fish? No, not that I know of.”



Jake burst into laughter. Harry’s answer was genuinely funny, given what fishing was all about.



Harry stood, dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected Jake’s laughter. Hermione understood what was going on and she stood and pulled Harry back to the loveseat. Harry sat down first, so that Hermione could snuggle onto his lap.



Hermione turned to Harry. “Sweetie, my father is trying to ask whether you’ve ever gone and tried to catch fish. You know…with a pole and bait and stuff.”



Harry’s eyes went wide. It was new to him, really. He had never really thought about how fish were caught, though he understood intellectually that in order to eat fish, you had to first catch fish. What he had never thought about was how that was accomplished. Accio fish? Harry wondered if that would actually work. Not that he could show it off to a bunch of muggles!



Harry was snapped back to reality and to the present moment by a gentle poke. “Harry? Did I lose you?”



“I’m sorry, Hermione” Harry said, blushing. “I was just thinking about fish and stuff. I’ve never really thought about the process of catching a fish. My uncle never took me anywhere or even pretended that there was anything that I might be interested in that he ought to teach me.”



That statement earned a frown from Miranda and an almost murderous look by Hermione and, to her surprise, her father. Jake looked like he wanted to hurt someone, a lot.



“Harry, are you telling me that your uncle never taught you anything or took you anywhere?”



Harry nodded slowly. There were things that were still painful to talk about. What he didn’t learn as a boy growing up was one of them.



Hermione could feel Harry, trembling beneath her. In a still, quiet voice, Harry said, “I didn’t know my name until I was five. They keep in me a closet under the stairs and I wasn’t let out very often.”



It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did though, something terrible thing in Hermione’s soul snapped in Hermione and the ambient level of magic in the room exploded. Harry could feel the magic crackling viciously around Hermione’s hands. When he reached out to take her hand in his, he discovered that her magic, when it was as obvious as this, was like touching velvet that was alive and moving. Hermione stood up, looked at him, looked grimly at her parents, and then disappeared.



Harry looked at Miranda and Jake, who both seemed too startled to move. Harry whipped around frantically for a moment, and then had a damn good idea where Hermione had gone. In the soundless blink of an eye, he followed her.



For as much of a hurry as Harry was in, he couldn’t bring himself, willfully and flagrantly, to violate the secrecy laws which protected wizarding society. As a result, he had to apparate at a point that was quite a ways from where his aunt and uncle lived. He appeared, suddenly, in the middle of the narrow alleyway that ran between two houses, at a point that was concealed by two six-foot high fences. The pathway connected Privet Drive at its lower end to West Pruette Circle. He took off at a run towards number four, Privet Drive. When he got there, he saw immediately that the front door to the house was gone. It was a smoldering ruin and there were screams coming from inside the house.



Harry rushed inside, not mindful of the looks he was getting from some of the neighbors who were starting to look his way.



Once he was inside, he saw exactly what he thought he was going to see. Hermione had a wand out and was making her point very directly to his aunt and uncle. He saw what he thought might have been Dudley. It was a long, purple mass, roughly Dudley’s size, with burning, awful-looking pustules all over. It wasn’t screaming or anything, but it was violently twitching back and forth on the floor and was clearly in a great deal of pain. Then it struck him that Dudley was dead. He had been killed by death-eaters at Christmas. Aunt Marge?



His eyes swept left and he saw that Petunia was no better off. Her hair was gone and the burning, awful blisters were growing, popping, bleeding and oozing all over her body, including her face. Her clothes were gone and she was stuck to a point half-way up one of the walls in the living room.



That, as bad as it was, was not what shocked Harry. What stopped in him in his tracks and sickened him to his core was his uncle. He was naked, tied to a chair, and, there was no other word for it…. dying. His skin was gone…stripped away, from just below his neck, all the way to his feet. He was bleeding everywhere and he grunted in such obvious pain that Harry was very surprised that his heart had not yet given out.



Hermione was standing there, looking more murderous and evil than Harry had ever seen and using her wand to draw X’s in mid air. Ever time she did so, a huge welt appeared on Vernon Dursley’s chest and he screamed. Harry was rooted in place with a horrid fascination. He watched as Hermione beat him and each scream grew progressively weaker than the last, though. Hermione was growing weaker as well. Magic used to cause pain and death required huge amounts of physical and mental energy and Hermione just didn’t have the hatred in her heart sufficient to sustain it.



From the second that he had entered the house to the moment when he stepped next to her, Hermione had not said a thing. Harry was not sure what he could say to her that would assuage her anger, but he felt he had to try.



He placed a hand on her shoulder “ ‘Mione? Enough. They’ll never hurt me again.”



She stopped what she was doing; looked at him and then at Harry’s uncle and said, “No, Harry, they won’t ever hurt my husband again. Cruc…”



Harry’s hands snaked out like lightning. One caught her wand hand while the other covered her mouth. “No Hermione! Not an unforgivable! No! I won’t stand by and see you sent to Azkaban for the likes of them. If we want them dead, they’ll die, and they’ll know where it came from. Today’s not the day. You’ve done enough.”



Harry uncovered her mouth and lowered her – no…his wand in her hand and pulled her, gently, back with him. As he did so, he released his aunt from where she had been stuck to the wall and muttered the counter-curse to the boils. He did the same for Aunt Marge, and with another waive of his hand, transfigured her back to her human form. She was a mess. Naked, pink, and shivering with fear, his ‘aunt’ lay on the floor of the hallway. Harry had no sympathy for her at all.



He then stopped Hermione and pointed to his uncle. “Fix him, cure him. Before he dies” Harry said it as an entreaty, but it clearly wasn’t. Harry would have to do the magic to repair what had been so brutally done to his uncle if she didn’t and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to do it was well as Hermione. She was the one, after all, who had invented that particular method of interrogation. It was as horrible as anything he had ever run across in the restricted section of the library at Hogwarts, but she had created it at a time when they thought that the war was going to be even more brutal than it had been.



His ‘request’ earned him a nasty look. But, because she loved him, she did it anyway. The skin seemed to ooze back up his body, starting at the toes. It unfolded and stretched until it reached the apex of his legs. Working its way to the center of his body, it met and joined together in the front and back. Slowly it re-covered the bleeding, raw flesh that had previously been hidden. Each inch covered lessened the pain, until it was finished. His uncle was then released from the bonds which had held him down on the chair. Harry’s Uncle slumped in the chair, his eyes rolling back into his head. Harry quickly cast evanesco and then scourgify, which completely removed the blood, vomit, and feces on the floor and the chair, so that there would be nothing for which the muggle police could come looking. Fixing only their injuries had the up-side of leaving their memories of the incident, particularly the pain, intact. Eventually Vernon Dursley half fell off, half deliberately slumped down onto the floor next to his naked wife. He held her as she sobbed.



Harry walked over to his aunt and uncle, as they coward on the floor of the living room together. “Be grateful I didn’t want to see Hermione become a muggle murderer today. She killed a dozen evil wizards during our last battle and I could have let her kill all three of you, but I won’t have my wife sully her hands with the likes of you three. You can be sure though that if any of the three of you ever harm anyone else the way you hurt me, and that goes particularly for you, Marge, I’ll let Hermione come back and finish what she started today. Next time she won’t be so nice about it.”



Harry turned and saw Ripper, Marges’ dog, standing by her body. He took his wand back from Hermione and, with power and hatred of his own, pointed it at the dog. “Avada Kedavra”.



With that, Harry took Hermione’s hand and the two of them disapparated.



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

When Harry and Hermione re-appeared in her parents’ living room, Jake and Miranda were still on their sofa together, and were in the midst of what seemed to be an intense conversation.



The two dentists looked up when they heard the barely audible ‘pop’ of the magical arrival.



Miranda launched into it first. “Harry! Just where have the two of you been? You’ve been gone for over twenty-five minutes!”



For the first time, Harry realized that there are some things that a person should not discuss with parents. This was one of those times. He held up a hand, as if to pause her.

“Miranda? Hermione had something that she felt she had to do. I’m not going to discuss it. That means not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”



Miranda was not dissuaded. She looked at Hermione and Hermione, for the very first time, ignored her and deferred to Harry. For his part, Harry looked at Miranda and Jake and said directly, but with as much affection as he could. “There are some things, Miranda, that have to stay between a husband and wife. This is the first one for Hermione and me. I think I speak for her in saying that if you persist in asking about it, I will obliviate you. Please, don’t make me do that. It’s not fun and it would hurt me greatly to have to do so.”



“What do you mean when you say ‘obliviate’ me, Harry?”



Jake spoke up from where he was still seated on the sofa. “Miranda, if I remember correctly, it means to wipe out certain memories magically. Harry would put a mental block on you regarding whatever has happened in the last thirty minutes, so that you’d remember none of it.”



Harry looked at Jake and confirmed with a nod that he was correct. Jake smiled at him. It was a fatherly smile and Harry felt a certain shame in even thinking about obliviating him. But he felt, at the same time, that his loyalty to Hermione overrode any other considerations and that he’d do whatever it took to protect her and her happiness.



Jake looked like he had a pretty good idea of what had transpired, even if he knew none of the details. Harry would never, in his lifetime, ever reveal those details. He was pretty sure that it would never come up, either. In both the wizarding and muggle worlds, those who are married are protected from having to testify against their spouses. He didn’t expect that Vernon would be able to do anything, because he had no idea where to start with a complaint in the magical world. Of course, even if he was willing to acknowledge that magic did exist, he would still have to confront the fact that Harry Potter wasn’t just anyone, he was the acknowledged savior of the wizarding world.



Hermione started shaking as she clung to him. Her eyes were wide and were full of tears. Pain, regret, and sadness at what she had just done were starting to hit her. “Take me home, Harry.”



Miranda and Jake nodded. It was clear that whatever had just happened, they couldn’t be privy to it and realized that they didn’t want to be.



Harry pointed his own wand at the boxes in the living room and Crookshank’s travel box and in an instant, he, Hermione, and all of it was gone.



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



Two weeks passed at Godric’s Hollow. It was high summer and the grasses in the glen grew high and golden. Young birds fledged and the flowers bloomed and then began to fade. Hermione Granger saw none of it. The anger and hatred she had felt for the Dursleys had passed, but the nightmares did not. She couldn’t close her eyes without seeing what she had done to Vernon Dursley or re-living their fight against Voldemort. Harry was beside himself. Hermione couldn’t stop crying or screaming. Every time she tried to sleep, she awoke in the most awful tears. She would sob for an hour or more before passing out.



Finally, Harry had to call both Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore and ask them to come to the Hollow.



They arrived quickly; apparating to the edge of the Hollow, just outside of the house wards. Harry felt their magical signatures as they walked through the wards. Dumbledore’s presence always felt more overwhelming than any other wizard that Harry had ever met. It wasn’t just that Dumbledore had raw power. He had that in almost unlimited quantities. What made Dumbledore special was the control over it that he had.



Harry went out the front door of their home and ran to where they were. “Professor, Madame Pomfrey. Thank you for being here. Hermione is….”



He couldn’t describe how Hermione was. It was killing Harry to see the pain, regret, remorse, and self-loathing that she was feeling. Harry imagined that she felt as he had felt after he had killed all of the death eaters that awful, last night. She felt like a monster for doing what she had done and she couldn’t find a way to come to terms with it. It was eating at her from the inside.



“What is it, Harry. What has happened that you would send me a note asking such haste.”



Dumbledore looked at him and Harry began to weep. “It’s Hermione, sir. She did something….awful and now she’s afraid she can’t live with herself. It’s killing her.”



Madame Pomfrey looked startled and horrified. Before she could say anything, Harry motioned them inside. He figured that at least Dumbledore had been to the Hollow before – probably just after his father and mother were married. Madame Pomfrey he wasn’t so sure about.



“Hermione’s in our bed. She hasn’t gotten up today. Every time she wakes, she starts crying and holding onto me. It’s’ gone on these last two weeks, since we left her parents’ house.”



Dumbledore looked at Harry quizzically. “What happened there, Harry?”



It was a horrific story, but Hermione was in no shape to tell it, so Harry motioned them to the living room and bade them sit.



Once they were seated, Harry called into the air ‘Dobby’? A diminutive house elf appeared and looked up at Harry. He was wearing a modified Scottish kilt and a brocade of the house colors of Clan Dumbledore. It was a startling change from what Dobby used to wear.



“Nice outfit, Dobby! It’s great to see you wearing proper clothes!”

“Dobby thanks Master Harry. Why has Master Harry called Dobby. Is their something that I can be doing for his self?”



Harry looked down at Dobby with tremendous affection. “Dobby, I have a long and painful story that I need to tell the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey. I was wondering if you could get some tea for us and then go upstairs and be with Hermione. She’s having the most awful dreams and can’t sleep properly. I know you have powerful healing magic and I was wondering if you could help her by using some of it.”



Dobby nodded solemnly and then disappeared. When he re-appeared a few minutes later, he was bearing a silver tray with a complete tea service on it as well as two plates of chocolate-dipped cookies as well as fresh, still warm, cranberry scones.



Once he set the tray down, he quietly disappeared up the stairs to Harry and Hermione’s bedroom, where Hermione lay on the bed, in a restless twilight sleep.



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



Dumbledore looked at Harry. The young man was haggard and his face was gaunt. It was obvious that he had not slept in some time. Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at him and he results were a red, misty cloud. She tutted and said “You’ve not eaten in two days and you’ve not slept for longer than that. You’re barely functional. What is going on that you’d taken such disgraceful care of yourself?”



“Harry, maybe it’s best if you tell us everything. The details are important. I can’t help you or Hermione if something is missing.”



Harry nodded grimly and started in on the tail. He recounted being at the Grangers’ and the about his relationship with Hermione. He told them how his relationship had grown with her and then about giving her Lily’s ring and asking Hermione to be his wife. Madame Pomfreys’ eyes went wide when he relayed that detail. Apparently Lily had been very close to Madame Pomfrey, to Harry’s surprise.



Harry then told them about dinner out and running into Johnathan and seeing Rita Skeeter. The Headmaster made a distasteful clucking noise at the mention of Skeeters’ name. Eventually Harry got to telling them about the last day with the Grangers and the conversation in the living room which preceded Hermione’s attack on the Dursleys.



Then Harry quietly, and just has he had done the night that Voldemort was re-born, told the Headmaster and the medi-witch about what Hermione had done to the Dursleys and about the terrible curse that she had used to flay him alive.



Their revulsion was absolute and their horror that Hermione could do such a thing was immediate. The look on their faces was the same look that Dumbledore had worn the night at the Three Broomsticks when Minerva McGonagall, in the Headmasters’ presence, had told Madame Rosmerta about what Harry’s godfather, Serious Black, had supposedly done to twelve muggles as he tried to kill Peter Pettigrew.



Harry told Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey about his undoing of the curses and his killing of Marges’ dog, Ripper.



The last detail earned no more than a nod of acknowledgement. Harry supposed that this was because in the scheme of things, disposing of the distasteful dog was no more than a minor offense.



When Harry finished, his guests were ashen-faced and distraught. Their brightest student – maybe the best student in five hundred years – had committed one of the worst offenses that a witch or wizard could commit. Assaulting and torturing a muggle, even for good cause, was punishable by no less than a hundred lashes or five years in Azkaban. Hermione was in serious trouble and it would be no less because her conscience was torturing her.



Harry buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. She can’t sleep; she is crying almost constantly when she’s awake, and she’s falling to pieces. Please…help her.”



Dumbledore reached out to touch the shoulder of the only student he had ever considered a son. “It’s going to be all right, Harry. You did the right thing by bringing us here.”



“Poppy” Dumbledore said, “Would you go upstairs and check on Hermione? Could you see if she could be transported?”



“Yes, Albus.” She rose and left the room.



When she was safely upstairs, Dumbledore turned to Harry “Harry, if your aunt and Uncle don’t or can’t complain to the Ministry, Hermione might just be spared what she has coming to her. I believe that if we can get her to Hogwarts, I can use the pensieve to collect all of her memories and dreams from the last two weeks, since the day of her attack, and transfer them to the pensieve. After that is done, I can obliviate those memories and dreams. She’ll not remember rising to your defense or the hatred that she felt which cause this terrible thing to happen. It won’t make her innocent, but it will give her peace and allow her to sleep normally again. However, you must never, ever mention this to her or discuss it any way, is that clear? Memory charms are notoriously tricky and can be broken by a determined mind. Hermione has such a mind and she could re-introduce this horror back into her own life and what I am proposing to do could not be done a second time.”



Harry understood what Dumbledore was saying and knew Hermione well enough that she would latch onto a clue and follow it endlessly if she thought it was important. That meant that Hermione must never again see the Dursleys nor hear their names spoken again. It meant that Harry was going to have to have an extended talk with the Grangers while not in Hemiones’ presence.



It also meant that his own issues were not, probably, going to get worked out and talked through – at least not with Hermione. That thought made him sad, but it was a minor irritation compared with Hermione’s long-term happiness.



Poppy came down the stairs and walked into the living room. “She’s sleeping now, Albus. I gave her a dose of Dreamless sleep and so she should be out for at least eight hours. That’s enough time for us to get her to Hogwarts. Whatever you’re going to do can be done there.



Harry and Dumbledore nodded their assent.



Albus Dumbledore stood up. “Harry, best you go get packed. I suspect that once we’ve done what we have to do, Hermione’s going to want to submerge herself in her schoolwork. Since the two of you are going to be Head Boy and Girl, you’ll want to get a feel for your new apartment and get settled in before the term starts. Plus –the Memorial service will be the day after term starts, so that all the students and parents who wish to be, can attend.



Oh. And one more thing. Given your relationship, I am going to waive school rules regarding sleeping arrangements for you two. Please don’t antagonize the other students with it though. There might be some resentment regarding ‘special treatment’, but I think that most students will be understanding, given what you two did for the school and for everyone.”



He and Hermione had talked about returning to school and it was something that they both wanted to do. Their NEWT’s were important, after all, and both of them wanted to attend university, so it made sense to finish their seventh years.



“What are you going to tell Hermione happened, Professor? Why she doesn’t remember the all of the last two weeks?”



“Oh, that’s not a problem, Harry. She slipped in the kitchen and had a concussion. She was out for two weeks to make sure that she was going to be fully healed. You, of course, were at her bedside the entire time and exhausted yourself doing so. It’s close enough to reality that she’ll accept it easily.”



“Oh, ok. That sounds good. Can I ask one more thing?”



“Surely, Harry. You’ve never stopped asking questions before.” The old man smiled at Harry.



“Would you do us the honor of officiating at our wedding on New Year’s Eve? Hermione and I would like it very much if you would.”



Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and his mouth set in a smile that was filled with warmth and happiness. “Harry, I would be delighted to do that for you and Hermione. Not only that, but the school could really use to have that kind of happiness and excitement within its walls.”



Harry could not help himself. He stepped close to the Headmaster and gave him a heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Professor. Hermione will be very happy.”



After a moment, pupil and headmaster separated and Harry could see a tear run down the headmaster’s cheek. “You two are very special to me. I can’t hide that. I will be very sad when you are graduated and yet I will know that you will be on your way to new and great things.”



The young man who had always staunchly told whomever asked, that he, Harry, was Dumbledore’s man, through and through, could not look up at his headmaster when he said, very gently, “I love you, too.”



Harry turned and fled upstairs, for he was feeling both sadness and pride at what the Headmaster had said, and needed some moments to compose himself.



When he entered the bedroom, he saw his beloved fiancé lying on the bed. Her breath was, for the first time in two weeks, even and slow, and her face showed none of the bone-racking, soul-rending sadness that had overcome her. Harry knew that nothing would wake her up from the magical, dreamless sleep that had overcome her, so he was safe in kissing her. He leaned close to her body…close enough that the perfume of her hair and the sensuousness that was naturally a part of who she was to him almost overcame him. Neither of them had experienced any sexual contact with the other since her attack on the Dursleys, as cats or otherwise, and it was taking its toll on both of them. Harry could feel his body reacting to being so close to her and he knew that the sooner Dumbledore was able to help heal her, the better.



Refusing to lose himself in sadness, Harry pulled their school trunks from their closet and, with a bit of magic that would have really impressed him four years ago, effortlessly made them magically expand to hold all of what each of them would be bringing to school.



He started with their clothes – both from their shared chest of drawers as well as their closets. Once those had been packed away, along with shoes, boots, and assorted winter gear, Harry started in on their personal effects. The things from their desks went first – their personal journals; more pictures of the two of them as well their friends; floo powder (a large box); a long box filled with extra writing quills; special inks for various kinds of projects or types of research; as well as other personal mementos. Harry resisted the temptation to take everything with them. This was, after all, their home, and the would be returning here on weekends and during holidays and would need to have certain things available.



He then packed some, but not all, of their books. Most all of their books, including the one about Horcruxes (which they themselves had written) would go with them. The ones that were going to be left behind covered topics like Care for Magical Creatures; Divination; Muggle Studies; Astronomy; and their mutually least-favorite course, History of Magic.



He also decided against taking with them copies of their correspondence (which both of them hung onto like pack-rats); their ‘additional’ photo albums (which had all of Hermione’s old family pictures as well as some of their pictures together from first year). He chose instead to pack for them the album that they were in the process of putting together, as well as the album that Hagrid had given him of his parents’ pictures.



Once he was satisfied that the room was packed up and that Hermione was still sound asleep, Harry went back downstairs to see Dumbledore. He was deep in conversation with Madame Pomfrey and didn’t immediately look up.



Harry kept his distance so that he wasn’t overhearing a conversation that wasn’t his business.



Madame Pomfrey rose from the chintz chair in the corner of the living room and walked passed him. She ascended the stairs while Harry walked over to where Dumbledore was seated. “Poppy has gone upstairs to check on Hermione and to get her ready for travel. Now that all of your things are packed, we can be leaving. The sooner Hermione is attended too, the better off she will be. I hope that this can be done without lasting damage.



That is why I wanted to talk to you, Harry, before we leave. You’re going to have to make a choice about whether you want to undergo this procedure as well, or retain the memories that you have and cope with them as an additional burden. If you undergo the procedure, the last two weeks will be wiped from your memory as well and it will be as if you both blacked out and lost two weeks of your lives together. If you chose not to have me do it, it will mean that you will have to guard against, for the rest of your life with Hermione, any reference to the Dursleys. I think that it would be best if they were evicted from the home and the home sold, so that their involvement in your life will come to a complete and irrevocable close.



I should mention, even though you have not yet spoken with the Goblins at Gringotts about your inheritance, that you own No. four, Privet Drive. It is a part of the Potter estate. I would suggest that while Hermione is in recovery, that you make a very quick trip to Gringotts and speak with Griphook. He will help you. Most especially if I send a quick letter along with you.”



“I think, Professor, that I don’t want to remember these last two weeks. I have enough memories that haunt my nights that I could do without these as well.”



“Very well then, Harry. I think that is probably a wise choice. You and Hermione will convalesce together in the hospital wing for the next couple of days. School begins a week from Monday, so you will have to be up and ready to assume your Head Boy duties, which I will tell you about again tomorrow, in nine days’ time. You and Hermione will have to apparate to Platform Nine and three-quarters next Sunday morning, in order to be onboard the Hogwarts express.”



“I’ll be ready, Headmaster. I won’t let you down.”



“No, Harry, I don’t think that either you or Mrs. Potter will do that.” Dumbledores’ eyes twinkled like mad as he referred to Hermione as “Mrs. Potter” and his mouth crinkled into a broad smile. Harry knew that the Headmaster knew how much joy it would give him to hear Hermione spoken of that way.



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



Once everything had been brought downstairs and the house had been prepared for an extended absence, Dumbledore himself levitated the sleeping form of Hermione out the door and down along the driveway. The bags, school trunks, kneazle, and assorted items, were all sent ahead to the Head Boy and Girls’ common room, there to await Harry and Hermiones’ arrival.



Once the four of them had gone beyond the outer boundary of the house wards, and Harry had disillusioned the entire house, so that only the trees behind it could be seen, the Headmaster created a port key. Harry placed Hermione’s hand on the branch that Dumbledore had selected for the port key, and then his own, and then the four of them vanished in a swirl of wind and magic.