Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Chapter 76: To the Alley



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 may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and 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 may or may not reflect the opinions of the author.



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: I have received mild complaints that I screwed up two things in the preceding chapters: (1) that Harry and Ginny had a relationship. I meant to say CHO CHANG. I know that it was a screw-up and I will fix it when I post the whole story as a PDF. (2) HARRY has BLUE eyes according to Ann – and I will RE-WRITE AND stick to that cannon (AFTER I FINISH THE STORY!). UNTIL THEN, HIS EYES ARE GREEN. I apologize to any of you who were upset by my mistake. (3) Some have complained that Hermione’s reasonably expert performance of oral sex on Harry was OOC and did not comport with the slow pace of discovery and ‘coming together’ that occurred in Ann’s story. My reaction is that Hermione came back to Hogwarts after their Christmas together at her parents’ home a markedly changed girl and a greater sexual need / sexual awareness were among the changes she experienced.



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From Chapter 75 – "In Memoriam"



With his free hand, Harry ran his fingers over the marker. “Sirius? I love you. I never got a chance to tell you. I’m sorry. I was really proud of you – of all you did for us and for me. I know that I will see you again, someday. Watch over me and protect Hermione for me, k?”



Harry was crying openly as he touched the marker. He had never gotten enough time with his godfather. The loss struck him hard, because Sirius had made so many efforts to be involved in his life after he had gotten out of Azkaban and then escaped on Buckbeak.



Harry promised himself that he would not let that happen again. He swore to himself that his family would come first and no one would stand between him and Harry. Instinctively, Hermione had wrapped her arms around Harry as he cried. She knew what he was feeling and she knew, too, that he had to be allowed to let it out.



“Let’s go home, Harry.”



The two turned to face the lake as Harry took the small, blue port key from his pocket. Hermione placed her hand over his and they disappeared.

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



Sunrise. 6: 11 am. Friday, August 30th



Not many students and only a few of the staff knew that there was a chapel at Hogwarts. Those that knew were aware of the special nature of the grounds upon which it rested. Harry knew. Hermione knew.



Please? I don’t know how to do this. Hermione said just to talk, as if I’m talking to a friend. I don’t know if I’ve ever believed in a God. Hermione believes in you. She said you answered her prayer. Was that you? I was so afraid that night. I thought I was going to lose her. Were you there that night? Hermiones’ parents say you were. They said you protected their daughter and you gave her life back to me. What did I do to deserve that?



In the chapel, in the front row, on the left, a lone, a curly, black-haired young man knelt. For the first time in his life, the young man didn’t feel like he was being hunted or haunted. He was alone with his thoughts, but that was all right. He felt safe in this place, because no dark force could enter here.



The simple cross of willow wood hung on the wall. It was rough-hewn and had been put together with long nails. It looked barbaric.



Was that the point? Is that where your son died? What did I do that he had to die that way?



Harry knew the answer to that. He knew what he had done. A thing so terrible that even with Hermione’s company, there were still the nightmares. I made Tom look like an amateur. I killed all those death eaters. How can I be forgiven for that?



Harry remembered seeing the bodies. Everywhere they lay; crushed, broken and bloody. Twenty, thirty, he didn’t know how many, but more than they could have handled. The battle had been lost, even after Tom was dead, because they were just outnumbered too badly. Harry remembered the curse he had used: a curse more terrible than any unforgivable - a curse so awful that even having knowledge of it was an offense.



How can I forgive myself for what I did? How can anyone forgive me?



A shadow crossed the threshold of the chapel. Silently, a curly-haired brunette of medium height, wearing a floor-length robe walked the center isle and knelt by the young man’s side.



Her perfume. Hermione.



He turned to her and smiled “Good morning, love.”



Harry leaned close to her to kiss her and, sensing that, truly, no one else was around, returned the kiss.



“I thought I might find you here. Still thinking about things?”



Harry looked at the granite floor in front of where he knelt. “I…..I was trying to pray”.



Hermione nodded. “I’m glad, Harry. I think that you will find what you need if it becomes a part of your life.”



He had never been very good with words and it wasn’t proving to be any easier this morning. It was one of the things that he knew he should work on being better and doing, for both of their sakes’.



“Hermione?” Harry took her hands in his. “How do I forgive myself for what I did the night that I beat Tom? Do you forgive me for what I did that night?”



“There is nothing to forgive, Harry. You saved my life. You saved many, many lives that night. I love you for that.” Her look and her voice turned sterner. “But is that what this really is all about, Harry? Because, if it is, I think maybe you need to talk to the Deputy Headmistress. I think she might have a few things to say to you about that. Things you need to hear.”



He nodded. It was almost a relief that Hermione had suggested talking to McGonagall. He had been concerned that she was going to suggest Remus Lupin. Of all the people, besides Hermione, who knew Harry well enough to chastise him, Remus was the one who made Harry feel like he was being spoken to by his father and the shame he always felt when Remus admonished him ran deep with him.



The meditative state that Harry had reached fled when Hermione arrived. He was all right with that, though, because her presence helped him in ways that no period of meditation ever could do. He looked at her “Ready to go? I know it’s early, but if we have breakfast, we can get to Diagon Alley and Gringotts and still be back before noon. There’s a lot to do before we have to meet the train on Monday.”



Hermione looked at him and smiled “Well, aren’t we the organized and driven one this morning!”



Harry pulled her close enough to kiss her again. “I learn from the best, ‘Mione.”



She felt her cheeks grow hot with the blush that overcame her. “Charmer.”



“I love you, Hermione. It’s not charm on my part, but the truth. You know I think you’re the smartest witch ever.”



“Oh, Harry. I love you too. It’s just hard sometimes….I don’t see me with the same love as you see me.”



“I know, Hermione. It troubles me that you don’t realize how awesome you are.”



Harry rose to his feet and brushed off the dust off his dark robes self-consciously. Hermione was still mostly looking at the floor, as if it was too much to look Harry in the eye. His hand reached out and pulled her to him, so that her chin bumped his chest. “You treat me better than I deserve, Harry. Not even my father supports me with the kind of love that you do.”



Harry knew that wasn’t true, at least not entirely, but hearing her say it made him feel warm and more loving than he had ever thought possible.



Thinking about how much he loved Hermione and what her love meant to him scattered Harry’s thoughts. Finally, he looked down into her eyes “ready for breakfast? I’m peckish and if we’re going to get to the Alley, the Bank, and get back before noon, we need to go.”



For once, it was Hermione who was resistant to leaving immediately. It felt so good to be held by him, she thought, that moving from their spot was the last thing she wanted to do. She felt very secure, being held by Harry, in the sanctum sanctorum of the school. No one who could not willingly leave their magic behind them could enter here.



It took actual hunger pangs to roust Hermione from the place where she stood, being held by her husband. Her thoughts were afloat, wandering in and out of areas wicked and otherwise. She felt his warm body press against hers’ and, when she pressed her left hand in his, felt the slight pressure of her engagement ring. They were bonded. Dumbledore had said so. Madame Pomfrey had said so. Bonded equaled married, to her way of thinking. Marriage equals shagging….



The very thought of shagging Harry, in his human form, spun her thoughts off into wild gyrations of possible, impending pleasures.



“My love? Ready to go?”



She looked up into his amazing green eyes and almost lost what semblance of control she had. Very reluctantly, she said, “Yes, I guess so. I just wanted more time in your arms.” Hermione failed to mention that she would have much preferred that such time be spent in his naked arms.



The two passed through the portal which separated Hogwarts from the chapel. The momentary shiver that both Harry and Hermione felt told them both that they had passed through some kind of magical or mystical gateway, but its nature and the way it worked was beyond them to discover in the moment.



Harry was hungry, so as he walked the length of the seventh-floor east corridor he dropped, almost lazily, into his animagus form. Hermione followed suit, as it was always easier to keep up with him as Sagehunter. It was also less frustrating for Knight, because then he didn’t have to slow down to keep pace with her human form.



The two bounded, joyfully, along the corridors, down the multiple staircases, and eventually into the great hall.



It wasn’t until they had entered the hall and were half-way along the halls’ length that they saw that there was a visitor. It was the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.



Knight was close enough to snarl at the Minister; his long fangs prominently displayed. Sagehunter roared along side him; her fangs also in evidence. Knowing the real story of what the two of them had done the night of the final battle, the Minister for Magic almost wet himself.



Dumbledore stood by patiently. He knew, perhaps better than anyone in the hall, that Harry and Hermione wouldn’t actually hurt the Minister, and that allowing them to express their displeasure at his presence was a way to diffuse their anger.



Scrimgeour made a mistake, though. He stepped closer to the two animagi and extended his hand to touch Sagehunter. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not unless you don’t mind losing the hand, and perhaps the arm to which it’s attached.” Dumbledore said sotto vocce over the Minister’s shoulder. The Minister realized that Knight had nudged Sagehunter out of the way and had his fangs barred. His back fur was up and there was nothing that could have prevented Knight, in that moment, from ripping the Minister apart.



Sensing that discretion is indeed the greater part of valor, the Minister backed away from Knight. At what he thought was a safe distance; he turned slightly to Dumbledore and said, “They don’t like me, do they?”



“No, Minister, they most surely do not. You must understand that they lost many friends the night that Tom was killed and that Hermione herself was almost killed. Your vaunted Aurors were nowhere to be found that night; leaving the school itself and most all of the students to be protected by a very few, incredibly dedicated, and amazing courageous fifth, sixth, and seventh-year students plus the professors of the school. You tried to take credit for Tom’s defeat, when in fact; you had absolutely nothing to do with it. So no, they have no reason to want anything but your demise, personally and professionally.”



“Well, that’s part of the reason that I’m here today. I have been authorized to award both Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class, during the memorial services that are going to be held.”



The air shimmered for a moment which, if Scrimgeour had been an even half-way decent wizard, he would have recognized it as heralding the coming of beyond-the-ordinary levels of magic. However, it was lost on him and so he missed the amazingly swift transformations that occurred as Harry and Hermione resumed their human forms. It was not lost, however, on Minerva McGonagall. She looked with appreciation at the pair and leaned over to Dumbledore to whisper something in his ear.



Hermione looked at the perturbed Minister and said, “Minister Scrimgeour, I speak for both Harry and myself in saying that we have no interest in receiving medals from you. They are completely meaningless to us. They’re not given in sincere gratitude nor are they anything more than a publicity stunt on your part. You want heroes? Go give medals and galleons and attention to the Medi- witches and wizards from St. Mungo’s who saved all those lives that night. Go show them how much THEY’RE appreciated. Do that and just maybe, you’ll have earned some respect from us. Until then, we wish to be left alone by the Ministry.”



As Hermione stepped back, Harry intertwined his fingers with hers and the two moved away from the head table, to a private place near the door to the great hall, so that they could eat in peace.

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

He looked across the table at his beautiful partner “That was a good job, Hermione. I’m glad you told him off. I’ve really had enough with the Ministry’s incompetence and their self-serving attitudes. It drives me nuts that he should be allowed to just show up like that and assume that he can try to make himself the center of attention again by giving out a medal that you know he’d never have given if he didn’t feel forced into it.”



“Thanks, Harry. I was really angry there for a moment. I mean..really! How arrogant! He comes in here and thinks that he can somehow placate us by giving us awards that we neither need nor want. You notice that he didn’t even bother to ask us ahead of time whether or not we’d accept if they were offered. That’s usually how these things are handled. I know, because one of my relatives was knighted by the Queen and he was approached a year’s time before the actual ceremony, to make sure that he’d accept if it were offered.”



Harry was not surprised. So many things in the muggle world were handled with the dignity and thoughtfulness that was completely lacking in the wizarding world. It didn’t surprise him, either, that one of Hermione’s relatives had been knighted. Jake and Miranda were such good people, that they had to have come from great families.



Harry couldn’t really think of any of his family, except his mother and father. When he tried to think of aunts or uncles, there were no images that he could call up. Interesting. Harry thought.



Hermione looked at her husband, as she now thought of him. His mind was obviously elsewhere and his eyes were gone in what muggles called the ‘thousand yard stare’. She squeezed his hand across the table, to snap him back to the present.



“Hey”



He blinked. “Sorry. I was thinking about parents and how lucky I am.”



That comment caught Hermione off guard. She wasn’t expecting him to say that he was thankful. At least not directly and especially about parents.



“You were what, Harry?”



A squeeze of her two hands in his fetched a smile from her that made his heart skip a beat. “I was just thinking about all the people who have acted as parents to me. My parents; Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, your parents. I’m not sure that anyone else has had as many good people trying to help him as I have. It took being alone with you in the chapel this morning to realize just how much love I’ve experienced and didn’t see it. Now I do.”

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

It was a shame, Dumbledore thought, that the Potters couldn’t see how beautiful they were together or how amazing it was to see them bathed in the intense golden glow that surrounded them. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but whatever it was, it was powerful and intimate. Minerva caught his eye and she nodded. “Just as I thought, Albus. I knew they were powerful together. Seeing it here only proves my point.” The deputy headmistress said so quietly that only her aging mentor could hear her.



The Headmaster nodded. For once, he was embarrassed that the Minister for Magic was present and could see what was happening between Harry and Hermione. It would only make him want the two as spokespeople, (‘faces’) as the muggles called such people, for the Ministry all the more.

Can’t have them distracted by Rufus. They don’t deserve that and they wouldn’t go along with it anyway, which would only create a row.



The Headmaster quietly took out his wand from where he kept it inside his robes and pointed it at the Ministers’ back. Obliviate.



A moment later, Rufus Scrimgeour was overcome by the memory of something urgent that he had to do back at the Ministry. The memory of a nice conversation and a warm cup of tea filtered through his thoughts and he turned to thank Albus for receiving him so warmly and for the tea that they had shared.



“Anytime, Minister. You are always welcome here. I look forward to your next visit.”



They shook hands and the Headmaster watched, as the Minister disappeared in a swirl of wind and magic, when his private port key activated and took him away to his office.



Serves him right. Albus thought to himself. He tried to suppress a grin, but Minerva was watching him and knew him all too well as a wide grinned crept onto her face as well.



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

Nine AM, Friday, August 30th, Diagon Alley



Hermione was laughing as they tumbled through the archway that led into Diagon Alley and into a nearby alcove / grotto. “Oh Harry! That was too funny. How could you do that to Tom?!”



Harry grinned like a fool and the light in his eyes danced as he listened to her almost bell-like laughter. It was musical to him and he couldn’t help but pull her close and kiss her. “You didn’t say that I couldn’t turn his beard purple and yellow. You just said that you didn’t think those were his best colors.”



“Oh you prat! He’s going to be weeks trying to either undo the magic or letting it grow out so that he can get back to his own colors.”



“Well, good luck with trying to undo it. If he were a better wizard, he’d not be tending bar.”



Her eyes turned mock-stern “Don’t be judgmental, Harry. I’m sure that he’s a decent wizard. Maybe he just loves what he does.”



Harry knew when not to contradict Hermione and this was one of those times. She had a valid point and Harry knew it, despite the fact that he might not want to admit it. “I know……but you have to admit, it was funny. He just stood there, looking at his beard, as if he had never seen those colors before.”



There was a wonderful smile on Hermione’s face as she pulled Harry close for a kiss. “You’re such a boy.”



Harry felt the heat between her legs and slid his right hand down her body, to caress her arse and pull her even closer. In between kisses and gasps for breath, he said “and you love that I am.”



A low moan rumbled in her throat as she felt his massive erection press against her sex. She struggled for breath as she gasped, “let’s.…get…home...soon. I am going to shag you senseless.”



Harry’s eyebrows threatened to ascend into his forehead as he considered that statement. He looked at her as their noses touched and their lips brushed each others’. “I thought we were waiting for our wedding night...,” he asked, incredulous.



“Harry, I’m…I’m desperate to have you. Dumbledore says we’re bonded…and bonded means married, doesn’t it?”



He understood immediately where she was going with that train of thought and he smiled. “ ‘Mione? I will wait as long as you need me to wait and then not a minute longer. I wanted it to be special for both of us and I thought that our wedding night would be that special night.”



She felt his fingers under her very short, wrap-around, summer skirt, moving sensuously up and down under her soft, pink cotton knickers and tantalizing her more with their every movement. “Dammit, Harry. If you keep that up, I’m going to rape you right here, under your invisibility cloak.”



Hermione very, very rarely swore, so Harry knew that she was feeling intense about what was happening between them “Can’t rape the willing, ‘Mione.”



Harry looked around; trying to decide whether there were few enough people around that the risk of getting caught shagging...or at least taking care of their immediate needs in other ways was low enough. Unfortunately, there were already eyes on them and not a one of them was from someone watching with approval or at least understanding.

“Sweetie? There are eyes on us. Unless you want to see our picture on the front page of the Prophet, we’d better stop.”



Her fingernails dug painfully into his chest and a purely animal growl emanated from her, as if Sagehunter was trying to express the outrage of being denied what she most desperately wanted. “Fuck, Harry. Promise me that when we get back, we’ll do something about this?”



As it happened, Harry had an idea about what they could do that might stave off Hermiones’ growing lust just enough so that they could at least make it to her birthday on the 19th of September. “I promise, Hermione. I want you just as badly. I’m so hard right now, I’m surprised that I’ve not already created another pair of slacks to clean..”



Hermione knew exactly what Harry was referring to, and it brought a smile to her face. She put her soft hand on his chest and looked up with her best ‘come-hither’ look “Save it for me? I need the protein”



“Hermione, if you don’t stop being the wily seductress, at least for the time being, you’re going to get shoved against a wall and shagged until you’re cross-eyed. If that’s an image that you can handle being on the front page of the Prophet, I’m game. Otherwise, BEHAVE!”



He gave her a final, lingering kiss and then smacked her bottom before taking her hand in his as he pointed them down Diagon Alley.



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

Almost exactly an hour later, Hermione and Harry found themselves sharing carrying duty for a deceptively small bag. In the bag were separate copies of all the books from Flourish & Blotts they’d need for their NEWT classes, plus additional books that explained in greater detail some of the things that were in the text books. Not a few of which were actually University-level texts. They had all been shrunk down to the general size and length of a roll of coins.



Still pending of the list of things to get were wands. A back-up wand for Hermione and a mainline wand for Harry. A trip into Ollivander’s usually took thirty minutes to an hours’ time. On this day though, it was destined to take much longer. Hermione’s wand needs were fairly straight-forward and she did, in fact, find a back-up wand that suited her very well. It was also vine wood, but had Unicorn heartstrings instead. It was 14.4” long and was etched with her personal rune signs. Harry, however, struggled and two hours of trying left him frustrated and irritated. Finally, he broke down. “Can you just make me one that looked like my old one, but with no phoenix feather inside?”



Mr. Ollivander liked Harry and so he promised that he would do that for him. “Mr. Potter. Just one question. Why is it that you feel the need to carry a fake wand that won’t do you any good? How are you going to pass your classes?”



Harry grinned at the slightly crusty wizard. As Harry exclaimed, “Like this!” an amazing stream of flowers appeared out of nowhere at the wave of his hand and re-arranged themselves in dazzling ribbons and bouquets along the shelves of the store. Many of the flowers were almost gaudy in color, but reminded Harry of the kinds of flowers found in remote, tropical paradises. The combined effect of their fragrances was intoxicating. Mr. Ollivander exhaled rather abruptly as he saw, (and realized), Harry’s inherent, raw power and his control. Only Albus could do things like that. Does he realize how powerful the boy has become? I wonder. Ollivander then made a mental note to contact the Headmaster as quickly as possible.



Laughing merrily at the display that Harry had just put on, Hermione paid the nine galleons for her wand and then took her bond-mate by the arm and led him from the store.

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

“Only three places to go, Hermione, Quality Quidditch Supplies, so I can get some more polishing cream for my broom and a new set of seeker gloves; Gringotts; and then I have a special treat for you before we can get home.”



As they walked the length of the Alley, people waived from second-floor balconies; stopped them for pictures in store-fronts, and once or twice almost bowled them over with tear-filled hugs. One of the huggers was the first cousin of Susan Bones.



Harry had just turned to Hermione to ask her if she wanted to get a cup of tea with him when a frizzy, blonde-haired girl of Susan’s approximate height, came out of the package store that was across the way from the tea shop. She moved like lightning to grab Harry in an almost bone-crushing hug. Hermione’s hand immediately reached for the wand that was strapped to her inner thigh, but hesitated when she heard the young woman crying profusely and saw that she was clutching Harry with what almost looked like love.



Over and over again, the young woman said “Thank you, Harry. You saved her.”



When Harry was finally able to extricate himself from her grasp – at least enough to get a good look at her face – he thought for a split second that it was Susan Bones. However, the eyes were the wrong color and there was a slightly darker cast to the girl’s complexion that told him that it wasn’t Susan. “You’re welcome…but who exactly did I save who was so important to you?”



Hermione snaked her fingers in amongst Harry’s as the girl looked at the two of them. “You saved my cousin, Susan Bones”



The light dawned for Harry. He realized that the girl who was still holding onto him must be Rebecca – the girl from the States whom Harry had heard Susan talk about so often. His face lit up when he realized who she was and why she had hugged him because he really liked Susan. She was a good friend to Hermione and a solid, determined young woman who was going to go far in the wizarding world, Harry was sure.



“Rebecca, let me introduce you to my fiancée, Hermione Jane Granger. “



Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with delight as she took Hermione’s hand. “Have I heard about you!”.



Hermione groaned and Rebecca giggled. “S’all right, Hermione. Susan thinks you’re the cats’ meow. Sometimes you’re all she talks about. She’s constantly comparing herself to you. She said that you’re the reason that she’s done so well these last two years. She’s so competitive that you made her work that much harder.”



Blushing, Hermione said “Thank you. I didn’t know that Susan felt that way. She’s always been so nice to me and so supportive. Even when I was going through my bad patches.”



“Oh! And she told me to ask you…..that is if you don’t mind, of course….if you’d show me your animagus forms. She said that the two of you are so beautiful!”



Winking at his love, Harry ‘touched the jaguar’ and suddenly was the great beast. Hermione, feeling Harrys’ magic flowing next to her, ‘touched the lioness’ for the first time in the same way that Harry seemed to do and was startled at just how easy it was when she was in the right frame-of-mind and just as quickly, she was the plains huntress.



Rebecca whooped and started clapping; she was so excited to see the great cats. This caused heads to turn and a wave of applause rose up as people stopped to look at Knight and Sagehunter.



Their animagus forms had become well known in the wizarding world, thanks to the myriad images that had been published of them. Harry had not realized it at the time, but there must have been at least one person at St. Mungo’s who had a wizarding camera, because images of him as he lay next to Hermiones’ bed had gotten out into the media – much to the annoyance of Ron and Ginny – who had posted themselves as guards for Harry and Hermione. Harry bet that Rita Skeeter had made it into the hospital in her bug form and had brought a wizarding camera with her, which she smuggled to one of the employees whom she had paid off to get the pictures. That’s how he would have done it, at least.



The applause finally died down after a moment and the two resumed their human forms.



Rebecca practically gushed as she hugged Harry and then Hermione. “Oh thank you! That was wonderful! I’m really excited to have seen your animagus forms. Did Susan tell you? I’m coming to Hogwarts for school this fall! I had been attending school in the states, at the Salem Institute in Salem, Massachusetts, but my parents thought that I might get a more complete education at Hogwarts. Especially now, since Voldemort’s gone.”



Harry was proud of her that she could resist saying ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’. That had always been so stupid, to Harry’s way of thinking, and he was glad that it was finally over. Most all of the professors at Hogwarts had taken to calling him Tom Riddle or just ‘Tom’.



Hermione looked at the young girl appraisingly. “What year are you going to be in?”



“I’m going to be a sixth year. It’s going to be a little weird, because the American system doesn’t really correspond well with the British magical educational system. You see, I just turned 18 and was just graduated from the Institute this spring. Normally, I’d be on my way to the White Mountains University in New Hampshire, which is the premier magical University on the east coast, this fall.”



“How old were you when you got your invitation to study?”



“Oh. Yes. I heard about the letters that go out here. No – I had always known. Parents in the States are notified at birth when a child is magical, so that can be on the lookout for early signs of magical activity and to make sure that the child knows, at age appropriate levels, what he or she is allowed to do and where he or she is allowed to talk about what they can do. I had just finished sixth grade in elementary school and turned eleven the summer before I started at the Salem Institute. However, I had had magical tutors since I was in fourth grade. My birthday is July 31st.”



Harry’s grin ran from ear to ear as he looked at her. “Did you know that the 31st of July is my birthday too?”



A casual onlooker might have thought that Rebecca had just been told she had hit some sort of lottery or something, as she jumped up and down in joy and pumped her fist in the air. Her smile was wide and her eyes were misting over as she looked at the two heroes. “Oh, just wait until I tell my parents. They’ll never complain about having to celebrate my birthday in the middle of the hot summer ever again! WOOT WOOT!!”



Hermione was genuinely happy that another person could take such joy in a simple coincidence and she found herself smiling broadly as well; her fingers warmly intertwined with Harry’s.



Hermione caught a look on Harry’s face and she leaned close to him “Can I invite her to have a butter beer with us on the first Hogsmeade weekend? Would that be all right?” he whispered to her.



She nodded. “Of course Harry. That would be fine. Thank you for asking me, though. That’s really thoughtful of you.”



He kissed her and said, “Thanks.”



Harry turned back to the young woman and said, “Hermione and I have things to go and finish up before we go back to school. We’re head boy and girl this year and we have to have all of our preparations done before we meet the train on Sunday. I’d like you to join us for a birthday celebration butter beer in Hogsmeade though, if you’d like to.”



Rebecca nodded and then hugged each of them in turn “Thank you. You’ve been really nice to talk to me. I can’t wait to see you both in school.”

“We feel the same. Have a great day and we’ll see you on Sunday. Remember, the train leaves EXACTLY at ll Am., so you better be there early to get a seat. We’re expecting hundreds more students this fall, so the train’s going to be packed.”



They waived to her as she ducked back into her store.



Harry turned to his love. “Ready? I have to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and then we’ve got to go to Gringotts. We’ve paperwork to sign and some assets to transfer before we can get to the last stop.”



Hermione looked at him quizzically, but he smiled at her – a smile that reassured her that it wasn’t anything bad that he had in store for her.



They went, hand in hand, to the Quidditch store. With a wink to her, Harry went inside. Good to his word, Harry was in and out of the store in a hurry, because he knew exactly what he wanted and didn’t want to lose time with Hermione.



“That was fast, Harry! No time for looking or drooling?” she giggled as she teased him. Quidditch was Harry’s favorite sport and she knew full well that he had a certain pride of ownership in the Firebolt that he owned.



He smiled and then said “Nah. I’ve learned that there are certain things – like a new broom – that are often more fun to think about owning than to actually own.”



“I admire that about you, Harry. You don’t seem to give a damn about money and you’re absolutely not greedy or acquisitive.”



Harry stopped for a moment and reached up, very softly, with his free hand, to brush away a lock of hair from the side of her face. “Only greedy when it comes to you, Hermione. I want you in my life more than anything in the world. Even if I had to trade everything I own, I’d do it, if I could be with you.”



Her lip started to tremble as she considered what he had said and there was a painful tightening in her chest as she realized the depths of the love that he had for her. She started to shake and Harry put his arms around her and drew her to him.



“Shhhhhh, Hermione. It’s all right.” He looked down into her intense, brown eyes and saw love there. Love that he had killed to protect just two months prior; and love that he would never, ever let go.



There were eyes on them, of course, as they stood in the middle of the Alley, holding each other. Harry should have known that they were being recorded for posterity (and profit) by at least one wizarding camera, but he didn’t care in the moment. All that mattered was that his wife – the only love of his life – was with him and would never leave him.



Finally a voice – a sibilant voice that he had grown to hate – interrupted their moment and, more, their privacy.



“Well, well. What do we have here? Harry, how good to see you!”



Harry looked at Hermione as he held her and mouthed ‘go to Gringotts. Apparate there, now. Let me deal with her. Hide your ring from her sight. I love you. Go now.’



Hermione mouthed wordlessly, ‘I love you’ and disappeared.



Harry turned to face Rita Skeeter, who looked very disappointed that Hermione had gotten away, tried to put on a brave face and looked at Harry appraisingly.



“Get out of my way, Rita.”



“But Harry! there are so many things I want to ask you! So many things the public wants to know! Surely you wouldn’t mind answering just a few questions?”



Harry held up his hand. It was pulsing with radiant magic. He spread his fingers and let the terrifying glow dance at his fingertips. He looked at her with hatred and loathing.



His voice was violently menacing as he extended a finger at her. “Run away, Rita. Run far, far away. I’m no kid you can bully anymore. If I ever see you again or if you ever bother my family or friends again, you may not live to regret it.”



Rita Skeeter, someone who had bald-faced her way through many tight situations, knew for perhaps the first time in her adult life, absolute fear. She also knew, in that instant, that Harry was protecting something important. But maybe not something important enough that it’s worth dying over, she thought. The slightly over-the-hill, jaded, one-perm-job-too-many reporter, swallowed hard, suborned her pride, and disappeared.



God, I hate her. Harry thought. Good riddance.

He closed his eyes and focused on the apparation spot that he knew at Gringotts. In a moment, he was standing in a cool, semi-dark lobby. It took him a moment to get his bearings. Once he had oriented himself, he looked around for Hermione.



He saw her standing with her back to one of the floor-to-ceiling marble columns. She felt his power still resonating as she walked up to him. She looked at him interrogatively “You all right? What did our favorite reporter have to say?”



Harry didn’t smile, at least not really. “I gave her marching orders.”



Hermiones’ eyebrows went up at that and Harry knew that she wasn’t going to settle for only that as an explanation.



He sighed. “Ok…I told her that if I ever saw her again around you or any of our friends, I’d kill her. She believed me.”



“Oh Harry…did you have to? I mean…really?”



“I had to get rid of her, Hermione. She wasn’t going to leave us alone unless I gave her enough reason to do so. I didn’t hex her or anything, I promise. I just made it very, very clear that she’s on my shit list and that’s a bad place to be. For what it’s worth, I don’t expect that we’re going to be hearing from her – at least not directly, for a while. Now, don’t be surprised if there’s at least one article about us tomorrow. I have to imagine that there was at least one camera on us while we were holding each other in the Alley.”



Hermione nodded. She had assumed that as well, and it didn’t bother her. She had stopped caring what the Prophet said about her or Harry some time ago.



“S’all right, Harry. I don’t care. No one who knows us gives a hang about what that stupid paper says anymore. Besides, we’re together and they can’t stop us. Our troubles are over.”



Harry shook his head. “Hermione, there’s still Draco, somewhere, out there. I still have to deal with him. Once he’s gone….that’s when we can really rest easy. Until then, I’ll be on edge at least a little bit.”



“Well – today’s not the day to be thinking about him. Let’s get our stuff done here and then get that last errand done and get back to the School. It’s already 10:30 and we’re running short on time.”



“You’re right. Let’s go find Griphook and get this done.”



They joined hands and wandered out into the main lobby of the bank. After standing in line for two minutes, they were summoned to a side alcove, where they approached the desk of a rather youthful looking goblin. Harry bowed to him and spoke in the sometimes sibilant / sometimes guttural goblin language.



The clerks’ eyes went very, very wide and looked at Harry, as if he had never seen such a sight before.



Unfortunately, the polite, formal greeting that Harry had intoned required an equally formal reply, which the flustered clerk completely failed to deliver. This did not go unnoticed and a moment later, an elderly Goblin, appeared in front of them, as if out of the shadows. His voice was raspy, but strong and he intoned an equally guttural/sibilant response. Harry bowed again and extended his hand in a peculiar fashion, palm facing upward. The Goblin took out a small knife and made the most delicate of incisions in Harry’s palm and the blood flowed to the spot, as if a raspberry was trying to emerge from his skin.



Harry did not withdraw his hand, but rather waited until the elderly goblin did the same to his own palm and then pressed it against Harry’s equally bleeding hand. Their fingers entwined for a moment and then they disentangled. Harry then took a piece of silk brocade from his pocket and held it against his palm. Hermione, meanwhile, watched the process and wondered what Harry was doing, but decided to hold her questions until she and Harry were alone.



When Harry was satisfied that the piece of silk had absorbed a sufficient amount of his blood, he folded it very precisely and handed it to the elderly Goblin. The goblin smiled broadly for the first time and waived his hand over it. The silk brocade with Harry’s blood sparkled and then disappeared in a flash of light.



“I am Ragnok, First Prime of Gringotts. Your words of greeting have honored us and that you observed the old ways and old tradition of binding pleases us, because it shows us that you were true to the words of your letter. Welcome indeed, Harry James Lord Potter-Black.”



Harry turned and extended his hand to Hermione, who took it gently and stepped forward.



“Ragnok, I wish to acknowledge my wife to you, Hermione Jane Potter. She is my love, my life, and mistress of all that I own now or forever into the future.”



The elderly goblin looked up – as he was still considerably shorter than Hermione’s 5’7”. “Be welcome here, Hermione Lady Potter-Black. Our services are always at your disposal.”



Hermione was not the odds-on favorite to make a record-breaking fourteen NEWTs for nothing. She knew what was expected of her in this moment. She curtsied very low and when she rose out of the position a moment later, she took Ragnok’s hand very gently and kissed his ring.



Most muggles would have thought or interpreted her action as one that conveyed loyalty or fealty. That error would have come from not knowing Goblin culture the way Hermione did. The kissing of Ragnoks’ ring was properly interpreted as a sign of Hermiones’ recognition of his office as First Prime of the Bank and her respect for his office.



“Lord Potter, you have chosen exceptionally wisely. Lady Potter does us great honor as well. We will not forget this.”



That was exactly what Harry had hoped for. He could not tell Ragnok how desperately he needed any help that Gringotts could muster on his behalf, but he had hoped that by executing the ritual properly, that such help would be forthcoming.



“First Prime Ragnok? Is there somewhere within the bank that we could sit and discuss the needs that I have? I am afraid that there are many pressing questions that I have and it might be better if they were asked in a less public space.”



“Yes, indeed, come with me. I will have Griphook, the daytime manager, join us.”



They followed Ragnok to a conference room, in a wing several floors below the main floor. The elderly goblin bid them sit and within a moment, a large tea-service tray was brought out. It was of the finest goblin-wrought silver and it sparkled. Hermione was almost hesitant to touch it, but the growl in her stomach told her that the tea and the scones would be welcomed. They had missed out on the tea which they had planned on earlier because of Rebecca’s greeting, so she was glad to have something to eat and drink. Harry also helped himself and soon, the two of them were feeling content.





Several minutes passed before Ragnok, Griphook, and another goblin entered the conference room. Harry had stood the moment they had come in, but Ragnok had casually bid him sit back down with a lazy flick of his hand.



Once everyone was settled at the table, Ragnok looked at Harry and said “Lord Potter-Black..”



Harry cut him off. “First Prime Ragnok? Would it be a terrible breach of protocol if, at least when we are in private, you address me by my given name? It’s much less cumbersome and I really would appreciate it.”



The diminutive goblin smiled at Harry. “If you insist, Harry. I’m happy to do that. However, I’ll insist that you address me as Ragnok if that is going to be the case.”



It was Harry’s turn to smile, but Hermione answered for them. “I think we can do that, Ragnok. You may address me as Hermione, if it helps.”



“Well, let’s begin then. I have asked the day manager, Griphook, to come to this meeting because he has the most updated records of all of your holdings. I am warning you both now: they are considerable. I have in my possession a letter from Albus Dumbledore and he has asked us if we would, as a favor to House Dumbledore, help you, Harry, sort out what it is that you want to do with at least some of your holdings. You have already taken domain over your parents’ property at Godrics’ Hollow and you have control over the property just outside of London, known as Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. That is a good start, but it is insufficient if the Potter and Black lines are going to be re-energized the two family’s wealth expanded.”



“Manager Griphook, would it be permissible for me to ask for a bottom-line figure? I mean…the total value of all properties and cash combined?”



The slightly younger goblin scrambled for a moment to put his hands on the right book. “Yes, of course, Harry. I have the figure right…..here.”



Griphook turned the book around, open to the correct page, and pushed it across the table to Harry. Harry drew Hermione in close, so they could both look at the numbers. Harry and Hermione were both stunned as they looked at the numbers. It was much, much more than either of them could have ever imagined. It was so much more that Harry began thinking about how much of it he could give away immediately.





House Black

Galleons ∫ 68,058,204

Real Property (in Galleons) ∫ 96,042,995



House Potter

Galleons ∫ 24,895,018

Real Property (in Galleons) ∫ 118,716,024



Total holdings ∫ 307,712,241



“Ragnok? I won’t ask you if you’re sure about these numbers, because I am sure that you are. What I want to know and I know that Hermione agrees with me on this: how much of this can I give away?”



“Harry, that’s just the difficulty. You can’t. In the muggle world, there would be ways. It’s worth about a billion and a half British pounds Sterling or just about three billion U.S dollars. In those terms, it would be easy enough to spread around to organizations that you favored. However, in the magical would – our world, Harry – there’s enough here that you’d create economic chaos if you started liquidating your holdings and moving the funds out of the system. Because the galleons in your accounts earn three and one half percent, compounded weekly, you are gathering galleons at an alarming rate. Part of that is due to the fact that these accounts have been inactive for the last seventeen years and they’ve done nothing but grow during all that time.”



Harry looked at the goblin banker for a moment. “What about selling off the galleons in the muggle world for their value in gold. Could I do that?”



“Yes, you could, but there are two problems. One – we could not sell the gold galleons fast enough in the muggle world fast enough to satisfy your demands for volume sales without attracting significant, unwanted attention from the muggle authorities, into the source of the gold. Believe it or not, both the British and American governments have people who’s entire job it is just to keep track of such things and raise alarms of things ‘don’t look right’.”



Harry and Hermione were both beginning to be depressed by the entire meeting. She gave him a look, which he returned, that expressed the entirety of the sentiment: “I was afraid this was going to happen.”



Griphook continued “Two, even if we could sell the gold fast enough, and without attracting attention to the sales, it would still depress the world-wide price of gold significantly, and there are rules that have been set up by the International Confederation of Wizards as well as the Wizengamot, that restrict what we can do in that regard. We are obligated to avoid doing things that might bring unwanted attention upon or notice of the magical world or any of its organizations. We, for better or for worse, qualify as an ‘organization’.”



Harry was shaking his head and Hermione knew the look on his face well enough to know that Harry was about to blow a gasket. He hated to be told no and he hated to be stymied in things/tasks that he thought should be easy. One thing Hermione knew about Harry – which she hoped would change – was that Harry had a bit of a short fuse and tended to want to light off when he ran into strong opposition. She hoped that it was a male teenage thing that he’d grow out of. She was pretty confident that he would, but she was willing to wait, either way.



He looked at Griphook and at Ragnok. “I can’t take much more of this. Is it possible to take this book with us? So that I could study it a little more slowly? I don’t feel like I am in any position today to make decisions about anything, most especially real property.



Speaking of which: is it possible to obtain money bags for myself and Hermione? Also, is there some sort of magical credit card or debit card that is used? Like muggles do?



First Prime Ragnok rose and when he did, both Harry and Hermione did as well. “I will leave you in Griphooks’ capable hands. He will take care of all of your needs and will be your day-to-day contact person here at the bank. However, if you ever need me for something important, please don’t hesitate to ask. I am at your disposal.”



Harry said something in goblin and the goblin answered him. Bows were exchanged and Harry smiled at Hermione; knowing that he had just made a very, very important ally.



Griphook left the room for a few minutes, which gave them time enough to have some more tea and to scarf down another scone each. When Griphook returned, he had in his hands two silver pouches. Each pouch had goblin runes etched or stitched into the side of the bag. “Lady Potter. I need but a drop of your blood; perhaps drawn from a finger, in order to seal the blood ward on the bag. That will restrict its use to you or to Harry. Is that acceptable?”



She nodded and a moment later, Griphook had taken but the merest pinprick of blood. It was enough, though, to seal the ward. He handed Hermione her new money bag and then did the same for Harry.



“It’s linked to one of your cash account vaults. All you have to do is say the number and that number of galleons will appear in the bag. There is no limit except when that vault is empty, a new vault has to be designated or there has to be an internal transfer of funds. In practical terms, however, there is no limit. We’ll just assign the interest from your other accounts to pile up in the cash account vault and that will take care of keeping it full.”



Harry was overwhelmed, but he didn’t let it show. The first thing he did was to extract three thousand galleons and had half of them converted into pounds Sterling. That gave him fifteen hundred galleons to spend (though he couldn’t ever imagine where) and the balance gave him seventy-five hundred pounds.



Satisfied for the moment, Harry took Hermione’s hand and the two left the bank. They had their bank book with them, so they could study it later, and all the cash that either of them could ever imagine having. It was surreal that they were wealthy beyond any possible dreams of avarice – even Ron’s.



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

The last stop.



Hermione was getting tired, just as Harry was. It had been a very long morning and it was only 11:20 am. At this rate, she thought, I’ll be asleep by noon. Harry still had her hand in his and was leading them further down Diagon Alley, to a section where she had never been before.



Harry finally stopped and the two of them looked up at the store awning. Silk Enchantments. Below that it read Fine Lingerie since 1105 AD. That definitely got Hermione’s attention. Harry grinned and held the door open for her.



An hour and a half later, Hermione was in a daze. She couldn’t believe what had happened to her. Not only had she been received into the store as the most important patron the store had ever had, but she was relieved of her burdens; divested of her street clothes, bathed, pampered, massaged, and then finally, measured from head to toe in a variety of different ways. When it had come time for her to dress again, her street clothes had not been returned to her, but rather, she had been fitted for a light yellow summer dress that flowed onto and around her body. It was comfortable on top and fitted at the waist, and flowed out, around her legs. It was silky, sensuous, and made her feel like a princess. Her cotton knickers – a pair of which Harry was particularly fond – had been supplanted by high-cut, light pink, silk knickers that stroked her skin as they moved with her every step. While her mind was tired, the new outfit had definitely awakened her sexual needs.



When Harry stepped back into the shop (Hermione hadn’t know that he had been gone), the manager pulled Harry aside and there was an intense, if short-lived conversation between them. Finally, she nodded her assent to Harry’s request and he placed in her hand several large stacks of galleons. After the third stack, she shook her head and tried to push it back at him. He, for his part, objected just as much, and took the galleons over to where the shop assistants stood, helping Hermione gather the last of her things. Harry took the third stack, which had been refused by the manager, and divided equally between the two assistants. As he placed the galleons in their palms, tears began to form in their eyes.



Harry shook his head and looked at Hermione. She knew what he was thinking and so she pulled out two delicate handkerchiefs and offered them to the young women. Each dried her eyes and then tried to say a heartfelt thank you to Harry. Unfortunately, what came was a half-intelligible thank you that was crossed with more tears.



He understood though what they were trying to say and gave them his best smile as he and Hermione departed the shop.



“How do you feel?” he asked, as the two stood outside the shop.



“Tired, but very much alive. Horny. I feel good and I feel horny, Harry. I’d like to take you back to our house (by which she meant Godrics’ Hollow) and shag you senseless.”



Harry felt pretty good himself – once he had gotten over the stupor-inducing meeting with Ragnok and Griphook. “Tell you what. Let’s head back to school; drop our stuff off at our room; and then we can leave again to head to the Hollow. I’m feeling ‘catty’ too. And I’d love to go for a run, as well.”



“Oh, Harry. You’re always looking out for our best interests. Even when If feel like breaking the rules or doing something completely out of character for me. You’re always strong for me. I love you!”



“I love you too, Hermione. I just want to get us to the 19th of September. Let’s just be strong until then, and then we can have each other forever and ever.”



Her eyes lit up. She had an inkling of what Harry was planning, and if she was right, she really did not want to spoil it for him.



Their silent agreement was enough.



They linked arms and disappeared together, to the outskirts of the school…



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



A/N: Next chapter – “Onboard the Hogwarts Express”