He\'s Mine

“He’s Mine”
By the_scribbler
the_scribbler at shadowgard dot com

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

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

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

Author’s note: This is an OOC AU/AR story. It bubbled up and I wanted to get it out of my head while I had the chance. Please…no flames. I don’t know how much more strongly I can disavow any relationship between what JKR did and what I’ve written, below. I’m doing this because I can and because at least some of you seemed to appreciate my last, free-standing story, “Knickers”.

WARNING!!!!! There are DARK themes here of suicide (self-sacrifice), family pain, loss, and sadness. THIS IS NOT A FLUFFY FIC. IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THAT, GO READ SOMETHING ELSE.

There is a poem that inspired some of what I’ve written: here it is, for better or worse:

I'm born into this world of
Joy and misery
Where all the things go round in circles
The sense of life it seems to be
An unknown mystery
With ups and downs
The good and the bad things

Living, loving
Weeping and mourning
Finally the circle's closing in

The circle of life
Another chance, another try
The circle of life
As moments passing by
The circle of life
Another love, another lie
The circle of life
Will we end in paradise

What will come and what will be
No one can foresee
Future gives the answers to all questions
Some may choose a simple life
Some decide to die
Some are always searching for the reasons

Living, loving
Weeping and mourning
Finally the final curtain falls

[chorus]
Time to spread my wings and learn to fly
I try to leave it all behind
Time to enter up the stage of life
The whole world is mine

I will take the train to anywhere
Go through heaven and through hell
I will make my way and I don't care
If I win or fail

This story is 17,137 words long; composing 34 pages. I write in 11-point Palatino Linotype font, with 1” margins.

SPECIAL NOTE: This story is dedicated to my wonderful beta & dear Philly friend, Jennie’s Aunt. I am incredibly, nay…AMAZINGLY lucky to have her as a friend, resource, and sharer of ideas.

As always – please, PLEASE read and review. It’s what keeps me going!!!!!

Head Girl’s room; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

Ginny Weasley is going to die. Hermione was sure of it. As she paced back and forth in the Head Girls’ room, she contemplated the duel that was going to happen in less than three hours. Then she thought about Ron, and what loosing Ginny would mean to him.

Ron was the reason that the duel was going to occur, Hermione thought sadly. If Ginny had kept Ron out of it, she might not have been moved to challenge the youngest Weasley. No, you know that’s not true.

The thing about being honest with herself was that occasionally, her inner-self knew the truth better than her ‘head-girl’ self or any other part of her. Hermione knew, from the moment that she had discovered what had happened to Harry, that a duel with Ginny was probably inevitable.

Even as she paced, Harry lay in the school’s hospital wing; suffering a massive overdose of Amortentia – the most powerful lust/love potion ever devised. Whether Harry pulled out of it depended on Harry’s magical constitution and Madame Pomfrey’s singular skills as a medi-witch. She had already tried a bezoar as well as a half-dozen other antidotes to no effect. Even the potions master, Horace Slughorn, had been unable to help.

Hermione was, at the moment, stumped, and that added to her rage and her fear. Ginny was no threat….at least not one that would cause her pause. Hermione had killed more than fifty death eaters while she had been at Harry’s side, as they battled to defeat Tom and his minions at the end, so Ginny was really the least of her worries.

She stopped to look out the window, where the dueling grounds lay. It seemed fitting, as well as tremendously sad, that Ginny would die on the old Quidditch grounds at Hogwarts. The young, beautiful red-headed girl had often bragged about her Quidditch skills and had tried to rub the fact of it Hermione’s face, in order to embarrass her in front of Harry.

Of course, Ginny’s attempt to embarrass her had done nothing but make the future head-girl go out and learn the game better and more thoroughly than Ginny could have ever imagined. Harry had taught her everything he knew…and had practiced with her, secretly, until she was as good on a broom as Harry. She knew that she’d never be a Seeker, of course. She didn’t have the courage to dive and roll – at least not at full speed like he did – but in all other ways, she was his equal. They had even gotten off together on Harry’s broom one warm night at Godric’s Hollow, hanging some five-hundred feet in the air, while illuminated by the moonlight. It was a memory that they both treasured.

Hermione was still pacing when she heard a knock on the door. A wave of the hand and the door opened. It was Ron.

“Hermione?” He looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot. She had only seen that look once – when Arthur had been attacked by Nagini and the healers at St. Mungo’s weren’t sure whether he’d make it or not. He had cried by his father’s bedside then, while she and Harry had comforted him.

“Ron?”

He was standing, unmoving, in the doorway. She could tell that he was scared.

She shook her head. There was nothing for it. He had come; she was sure, to beg her not to kill Ginny. Very quietly, she looked at him and said, “I can’t, Ron. You know she won’t walk away from this and I can’t, either.”

He began crying again and she could feel his emotions, even from where she stood. Ron knew that she was Harry’s girl and that Harry was hers. There was nothing Ron could do about it, and to his credit, he had long-since gotten over the hurt of loosing her to Harry. Luna had helped with that.

Suddenly, he moved from where he was standing and without another word, she was in his arms and he was hugging her. As he held her, he whispered to her “You’re still my sister and I’ll still love you, Hermione. Nothing can come between the three of us. Ginny picked her path.”

She stiffened as she heard his words. It was a shock to her him giving up his sister. It was not what she was expecting.

When he finally separated himself from her, he held her face in his hands and she felt the gentleness that he intended. His eyes met hers. “Just….don’t drag it out, ‘Mione. Just…..end it quickly. Mom and Dad couldn’t take it.”

Hermione nodded. She had already decided what she was going to have to do and it would be quick. She owed Ginny that much, for the years they had been friends, and she owed it to the rest of the Weasleys, who had shown her a great deal of love.

Ron looked at her and an understanding passed between them in that instant. He forgave her and that’s what mattered most to her. Harry would understand, she knew, and so she hadn’t worried about

“I’ve got to go, ‘Mione. I’ll see you…..” He trailed off; not wanting to put voice to what he knew would happen in less than three hours.

“Ron? If I’ve never said it before, I love you and I love your family. I’m sorry…..”

She started to cry and it embarrassed her. She knew that Ron hated to see her cry and she didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already was. There was nothing more that either of them could say; so he simply nodded and then turned and fled down the stairs from her private room. She listened as he fled; the tears dripping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ron”, she said into the air; hoping that someone would absolve her of the guilt and hurt she was feeling.
************************************************
Hospital wing; Hogwarts, two hours previously.

“What can we do, Pomona? If Harry doesn’t survive, I don’t want to think about what might happen to Hermione. You’ve seen how they are together. If we lose them both, I truly fear for our world.”

It might have sounded funny or melodramatic if anyone else had said it, but the renowned Hogwarts medi-witch knew that Minerva McGonagall was not someone to make statements that were not thoroughly thought through. More, Pomona knew that Minerva legitimately worried for the future of the school. Having the Head Girl involved in a duel to the death with another student was horrifying enough; but having the Head Boy lying in the hospital, battling for his life because he had had been poisoned by the other student involved in the duel was that much worse. At a minimum, she knew that in the best, most optimistic scenario, the school was going to lose a student forever…and not because the student was transferring to another school, but rather because the officials were going to carry that student off the dueling grounds, to be memorialized and then buried.

It was just after breakfast when Hermione had brought Harry into the hospital; supporting him as best she could, as he staggered to ‘his’ bed. The bit about it being ‘his’ bed had started out as a joke…but like all jokes, had a grain truth to it. In his case, though, wasn’t a joke. Harry had been an unwilling visitor to the school’s hospital more than most of the other students put together in his seven years at the school and so the bed – the one nearest the window, by her office, had become his. There was even a plate on the wall that only Harry, Hermione, and Ron could see, proclaiming the bed to be ‘his’, which Pomona suspected had been placed there by either Hermione or Ron. It was an unusual bit of magic, so she felt it was better to credit the Head Girl until she knew for sure, otherwise.

Seeing Harry looking like he was going to pass out, Pomona had come rushing yet again out of her office. “Hermione! For Merlin’s sake, what’s happened now?!”

“He’s been poisoned, Madame Pomfrey. I’m pretty sure it’s Amortentia”. She held up the cup from Harry’s breakfast and the vial which she had seized for the medi-witch to examine.

Amortentia was a forbidden potion. Banned by an act of the Wizengamot, the potion, known by it’s memorable mother-of-pearl sheen and the characteristic way that steam spiraled up from its surface, could interfere with the relationships of even those who were most strongly bonded. In large doses, it was almost always fatal and when not fatal, often left the victim in a permanent, mental fog. By the looks of it, given what was left in the vial, Harry had received three times the usual, fatal dose. The look on the medi-witches face told Hermione everything she needed to know about the gravity of Harry’s situation. For all of his remarkable strength and resiliency, Hermione knew that there was a limit to what a persons’ magic could fight off. Amortentia was not a potion that a person fought off easily.

As she laid her bond-mate; her soul mate down onto the bed, she felt him shutter and then grip her arm. He looked at her and his eyes bore into her. “Love? If I don’t make it…..I love you and I always will. It’s all been worth it.”

It took everything she had to hold it together emotionally in that moment. Her lips met his and she tried to pour all of her love and desire for him into the kiss. She wanted him to know, even as the effects of the potion were starting to affect him, that she loved him more than life itself.

Harry gasped and she felt him shutter again as they broke the kiss. His skin had become pale and his eyes rolled back. If he had been a muggle, she would have said for sure that he was going into shock.

She felt herself being pushed out of the way, as the matronly medi-witch drew out her wand and performed a horribly complex charm over his body. The next moment, his body stopped shuttering and then settled back. Hermione knew that she was completely out of her depth and could do no more for him. There were other, pressing matters to attend to. One of them had red hair. That one, she knew, would require a ‘final solution’.
************************************************
There were a few things that being Head Girl allowed her to do. One of them was to know where all the students in the school were at any given time. Very quickly, she found her target and made sure to note what exits led in and out of that particular room. She didn’t want her quarry to get away.

Racing towards the Headmasters’ Office, Hermione decided that she would take the direct approach. There was no point in being subtle or dishonest about what she planned to do. She knew she was within her rights and she also knew that precedent was on her side. The question was whether the Headmaster was going to allow what she planned. It was hard to say, of course, because it had not happened during his tenure, but there’s a first time for everything, as the saying went.

Once she was in front of the stone gargoyles, she muttered “sugar quills” and the statutory pair sprang aside, revealing the spiral stairway which they guarded. She was tempted to run up the stairs, but decided that walking would give her a more graceful entrance. What she was about to say to the Headmaster was going to be disturbing enough, without her barging in like a forest hog or something.

The inner door looked like it was made of ancient oak, but bound with polished metal. She pushed it open and walked in. “Headmaster?”
“Ms. Granger, what brings you up here?”

He was standing with his back to his desk, looking out over the western hills, as the sun shown bright on the lake. “It’s Harry, sir. He’s been poisoned.”

Any semblance of peace fled the Headmasters’ countenance as he turned to face her. “Say that again, please. I thought you said that Harry has been poisoned.”

“Yes, Headmaster, and I know who did it and how it was done. I have come to claim right of vengeance, as Harry’s consort and bond-mate.” Hermione was not in a joking mood and her voice reflected her anger. It was a side of Hermione that the Headmaster had never seen before and it worried him.

“He’s in the hospital wing now, sir, and Madame Pomfrey is caring for him. There’s nothing more I can do. I am going to kill his poisoner, though, and I will do it with or without your permission.” Her hand was on her wand, in the event that the Headmaster tried to take it from her. She had no intention of being disarmed.

“Who poisoned him?”

Hermione was seething, as she thought about the red-haired girl who had poured the poison into Harry’s drink. “Weasley, Sir. Ginny Weasley. And I am going to kill her for it.”

He looked at her and then reached over to his desk, where a small, blue ball lay in a wooden cradle. He extended his hand to her and said, “Come with me.”

She took his hand and they disappeared in a swirl of blue and white light; which marked both the comings and goings of portkeys. Wherever he was taking the two of them, he was not going to waste time getting there.

The next thing she knew, they were in the hospital wing, near Madame Pomfrey’s private office. Dumbledore looked about; quickly finding both the medi-witch and her most famous patient. Drawing a zone of privacy around the entire wing, the Headmaster walked over to where Pomfrey stood. “Pomona, may I have a word with you?”

“Oh! Headmaster. I’m glad you’re here. We definitely need to talk.”

“Miss Granger just came to me and told me that Mr. Potter had been poisoned. Is this true?”

The medi-witch nodded, sadly. With her wand, she pointed at the vial and the cup which Hermione had brought in less than thirty minutes earlier. Closing her eyes, she muttered several incantations that made both the vial and the cup glow. The Amortentia that was still in the cup seemed to rise to its surface and then arc up and out of the cup; separating from the pumpkin juice with which it had been mixed, and migrated back into the vial. A magical stopper topped the vial and it settled down on its side, on the table where it had originally rested. The second incantation caused the vial to rise up into the air and begin to spin on its own axis. Hermione was fascinated to watch what the skilled medi-witch was doing. She thought she recognized pieces of the magic that was being employed, but she wasn’t certain.

It took another full minute for the vial to stop spinning. Once it did, Madame Pomfrey summoned it to her; making it stop and hover at eye level, in mid-air, a foot or so in front of her. “See that residue, Albus? Those are the fingerprints of the person who handled this vial. The spell I used will allow us to match the fingerprints, and the DNA, to the person who created the potion.”

“Amortentia?”

She nodded. It was just as he feared. If Hermione was right, and the Headmaster was sure that she was, the youngest Weasley had probably not only committed murder, but suicide as well, for he was certain that Harry’s bond-mate would be true to her word and would, before the day was out, kill the youngest of the Weasley clan. It would be a very, very sad day for Hogwarts and for the wizarding world.

What he was about to do caused him more and greater pain than anything he had ever had to do before, including seeing Hagrid drummed out of the school. “Do what you must, Hermione. Remember, if you can, the proverb that said ‘blessed are the merciful’”.

She looked at him and then nodded. He wasn’t going to refuse her the right of vengeance, but warned her, in his own way, what the cost of vengeance might be.

However, looking down at Harry, and knowing that his odds of surviving the poisonous effects of the Amortentia were slim, she decided that for once, nothing else mattered. It was time to act.
************************************************
Ginny knew she couldn’t run. There was nowhere, in fact, where she could go that Hermione could not find her. She had been caught red-handed with the potion vial and what Harry had not drunk was had been left in his cup. It was only a matter of time until Hermione came looking for her. Ginny had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. Hermione was either going to call her out, or kill her outright. It depended on what the Headmaster would allow. Hermione had always been a person who observed the rules and the rules said that she had to make a formal challenge. However, Hermione was also the one who had developed the Mortuis curse, which Harry had used, at the end, to kill Voldemort. The only question that Ginny had was whether Hermione would drag it out or not. “Probably not”, she thought, as she sat on Ron’s bed. “If Hermione wants me dead, she’ll make it fast and clean”

Ron had fled the sight of her; so upset was he when it was discovered what she had done. She imagined that he was in Luna’s arms at the moment. Was he crying over loosing his only sister? “Probably”, she realized, in a moment of honesty. Their relationship had always been pretty good, and he had defended her in any number of family battles over the years. They had squabbled, like brothers and sisters often do, but had always reconciled afterwards. Ron had never been one to be shy about saying, “I love you”, at least to her. She wasn’t sure whether he loved Luna, but she hoped that he’d find lasting happiness with her. He deserved it; after all he had been through during the war.

There was a sudden disturbance in the room; as if the air pressure had changed, and she looked up to see Hermione Potter nee Granger looking at her, her wand out and pointed squarely at her chest.

“Ginerva Weasley, you have attempted to kill my consort bond-mate – the man who was willing to die a thousand times for me and for all of us - by using Amortentia to seduce him. I challenge you to a duel to the death, as is my right under wizarding law. Meet me at the Quidditch field at one pm today, or I will hunt you down and kill you, wherever I find you.”

They said nothing as a terrible, black cloud filled the room, and then dissipated, as the magical challenge took effect. Hermione knew its significance, even if Ginny didn’t. She took no satisfaction in it, though.

Before she could reply, Hermione disappeared. It looked like she had disapparated, but it was more subtle than that. It was almost like what the Hogwarts house-elves did when they disappeared. Seeing that, a cold lump fell into her stomach and Ginny realized that, baring a miracle, she was going to die.

The first tear hit the hand in her lap even before she realized that she was crying and the tears after that fell like rain in the spring. For the first time in her life, she knew the bitter sting of irresolvable remorse.

It wasn’t that she was going to die. She knew that death claimed everyone, eventually. It was that she was going to die and her mother, father, and all of her brothers, would hate her until the day they went to their final rewards. The thought of it made her sadder than anything ever had before. The vileness of what she had done, and what she had caused to happen, sickened her. Making Hermione spill her blood….and by so doing, loose the love she had been given by the twins, Ron, and the rest of the family was suddenly so revolting that she swore that she would not let it happen. She would not make Hermione carry that burden. If she had to die for what she had done in a reckless and terrible moment of jealousy, so be it…but it would be by her own hand and no one else’s.
************************************************
Hermione Granger entered the Headmasters’ office the way everyone else did, even though she had faster and more expeditious ways of traveling around the school. She knocked once, quietly, on the large inner door, before entering the office. Fawkes trilled a greeting as she entered and she nodded to the beautiful phoenix. Hermione closed her eyes and touched her inner phoenix; just enough so that she could trill a greeting back. It was a game they played – one that was only between them – because the Headmaster knew nothing of it. He was blissfully ignorant of Hermione’s status as an unregistered animagus, or of Harry’s animagus ability to become a rainbow serpent. The secrecy was necessary, but regrettable, she thought.

The game between her and Fawkes almost caused her to be revealed to Dumbledore, though, as he came out of his inner office rather abruptly when he heard the second phoenix song. Hermione berated herself for not being more careful as she quickly composed her features, so as to give nothing away to the Headmaster that he didn’t already know.

“Oh. Ms. Granger, or should I do what Minerva has suggested and call you Mrs. Potter?”

She blushed. “Hermione is fine, Headmaster. Actually, you can call me anything you want; though I think that it will disturb some people if you refer to me as Mrs. Potter.” It took a moment for her to compose her thoughts, because his question distracted her momentarily from what she wanted to say to her mentor. “That’s actually what I came here to tell you. I have challenged Ginny Weasley to a duel to the death, at the Quidditch field, at one pm today. I told her that if she didn’t show up, I would hunt her down and kill her.”

Fawkes gave a long, keening cry, which she felt to her very soul, and then burst into flames. She stood in the outer office, unable to move, or even contemplate what to do next. Dumbledore fixed his gaze at her, as the effect of the phoenixes’ cry moved within her. “It’s a rare thing that Fawkes would be moved to give up his life, Hermione, and be re-born when it’s not his time. I think you know what it means, do you not?” She nodded, to signal that she understood. It meant that Fawkes saw her death looming near, if she proceeded. Was she willing to give up her life to gain revenge? Was it worth it?

If she lost Harry because of what Ginny did? Yes. It was worth it.

“Headmaster? Do I have a choice?”

Albus Dumbledore smiled, albeit sadly. “Hermione, as I told Harry right after he killed the basilisk and saved Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. He was concerned about who or what he was, because the sorting hat had told him that he’d do well in Slytherin and because the almost-reborn Tom Riddle had told him that there were certain, unusual similarities between himself and Harry. To make my point, I showed Harry the blood-stained sword of Godric Gryffindor which Harry had used to kill the basilisk. I told him that night, and I am even more convinced of it now, that only a true Gryffindor could have pulled it from the Hat. In the same way, you have to decide, Hermione, who you are, and what you are…and your choices will reveal who the real person is, under that strong, determined mask which you wear.”

“She tried to seduce Harry, Headmaster, even though she knew that Harry and I had already bound ourselves to each other. She gave him so much of the Amortentia that he probably won’t survive it and I will be left never having had the chance to marry the one person who has always loved me.”

“You must do what you feel is right. I cannot stop you from dueling Ms. Weasley and sad to say, I cannot keep you from killing her. She has done what you have said….and there is no forgiving her for it. The only question is whether you can forgive yourself for what you are about to do. I can’t order you to not duel her…but I can ask you to think about what I’ve said, Hermione.”

“Headmaster?”

“I have no more to say to you, Hermione. What happens now is in your hands, alone. Do what you feel is right. I will not see you again before this terrible matter is over.”

She started towards him….for a hug or to be absolved or something…she didn’t know what. She took another step and watched as he disappeared, in much the same way as she had learned to do from Harry and from Dobby. She found herself completely lost. Harry was ill and could not speak with her and her one other source of strength – the Headmaster who had guided her since she had arrived at the school – had left her alone with her thoughts.
************************************************
11 Am. Two hours before duel.

There was no where else to go. She had only one refuge in the school and it was to him that she turned. Racing towards the hospital wing, she forced aside students and teachers alike; ignoring the called protests that fell on her deaf, retreating ears.

Smashing open the doors of the hospital wing; Hermione continued her run, reaching the bedside of the only person whom she had ever loved almost before Pomona Pomfrey could leave her office and emerge to scold her about making too much noise.

Harry didn’t hear her come in because he couldn’t. The Amortentia had worked its way into every pore; every nook and cranny of his body. It would be dislodged only after a titanic struggle – and Hermione didn’t know if he had the strength for the fight. The moment that she got to his bedside, she was on her knees, next to the bed, kissing his face and touching him as much as she could. “Harry…” She tried to find him with her mind, “Harry...come back to me! I need you. I love you.”

The hand on her shoulder was shrugged off the moment it made contact. “Go away” she snarled aloud to whomever owned the hand that had once again fallen to her shoulder.

“Well I never…” the medi-witch said, in a shocked tone. The glare of the Head Girls’ suddenly killing-mad eyes was enough to cause her to back away quickly and retreat into the relative safety of her office.

Hermione was still desperately trying to find the touch of her consorts’ mind. “Harry! please….let me find you! I need you…” She sought out all the secret corners of his mind; where she knew he had hidden before, even from Tom, when he had tried to invade Harry’s mind. “Come back!” was her plea – but it echoed hollowly as her pseudo-self looked about in the gray, terrible, lonely fog that was his mind.

When at last she withdrew, she was shaking. She was more alone than she had been the night that she and Harry had become separated in the grave yard in Little Hangleton, after their first battle with Tom’s death eaters, when she had killed for the first time. Then she had had the reassuring touch of his mind, even if they couldn’t find each other.

Still on her knees, she reached out to brush a lock of hair away from his eyes. “What am I going to do, Harry? If I kill Ginny, Fawkes says I will die. If I don’t kill her, then I will loose my magic and I won’t be any good to you!” Pressing her face against his, she whispered “What am I going to do, Harry? If I lose you, I don’t want to live!”

Looking out from the doorway of her office, Pomona Pomfrey looked at the kneeling girl and saw how diminished she looked; frightened as she was, by what had happened. It was a bad, bad business that had been stirred up because of the jealousy of one stupid girl. That the hero of the wizarding world would be brought low because of it was almost too insane to contemplate.

Healers from St. Mungo’s would be arriving shortly and she thought to send the Head Girl away, or at least move her to the side, so that Harry could be examined without incident, but somehow she knew that her magic was not nearly as strong as the Head Girls’ and she didn’t want to see just what might happen if someone tried to move her away from him without her consent. She feared it might not be pretty.

Turning, she saw that the floo in her office had come to life and two tall healers had stepped out, one after the other. They were both wearing the black and red which signified that they were master healers who specialized in potions. The first one reminded her of Severus Snape, but only so much as his hair was black and cropped short. The other looked like he was the man’s junior, but seemed to carry himself with a great deal of confidence.

Her wand was in her hand before she realized it and she held it in front of her; unthreateningly, but in a way that showed that she was prepared. Looking down, the younger one saw the wand and realized that their presence had disturbed her.

“Pomona Pomfrey?”

“Yes?”

The younger-looking healer extended his hand. “I am Alchemist Paracelsus Bracus. I was told that my presence was needed urgently. I’ve come a long way to be here.”

The clattering of the medi-witches’ wand on the floor echoed loudly in the room. Paracelsus Bracus was a legend. His works were considered holy writ at the medical school of the Universitatis Cantambridgia. If this was the same man, then she was in the presence of someone who was as close to a god as there was in medical academia.

The look on her face must have given away what she was thinking, for he broke into a smile. “Be at ease, Madame. I am the one you are thinking of. I am sorry if my presence has startled you. Albus Dumbledore contacted the Minister for Magic himself not more than twenty minutes ago and he, in turn, came and called me from my long slumber. He claimed that it was a matter most urgent.”

Pomfrey started to lead them out of the office when the legendary healer turned to the older man who had accompanied him. “One more thing. I want to introduce you to my colleague. This is Olympus Bonham. He and I have worked together for many, many years. He is my friend; my mentor, and the best diagnostician who has yet lived.”

The man’s laugh filled the room with its low rumble and his gentle smile completely disarmed her. “Paracelsus” he said, “you shame me with your praise.”

“Madame, I believe you were about to lead us to the patient?”

She nodded and made a sweeping motion with her hand, as if to ask them to follow her.

They did and in less than a hundred steps, they were next to Harry’s bed. Hermione had not left Harry’s side and was crooning to him gently as the three healers surrounded the bed. The moment that their eyes fell on Harry’s scar, they looked at Pomfrey in shock.

Paracelsus spoke first. “Is it truly he?”

A nod was all that was necessary. Hermione looked up at the man’s question. “Who are you?” she said, more sharply than she would have in other circumstances.

“Rest easy, Miss. We are here to help. I am Paracelsus Bracus and my colleague is Olympus Bonham. We were called by the Minister of Magic himself to come and see if there was something we could do. Are you his consort?”

Hermione’s fierce look and earlier tone of voice had all but confirmed it for the famous healer, but he had asked the question out of courtesy anyway. “I’m sorry for my tone. I am his consort, yes. My name is Hermione Granger. Harry and I were going to be married just after Christmas. He is my bond-mate.”
“You are bonded?” he said, surprised.

“Yes. We have been since the summer. After Harry killed Tom, we…..”

“No need for details, Mrs. Potter. We understand. Actually, the bonding will help us, I think. Can you stay?”

“Yes, but only for a while. I am to fight a duel with the girl who poisoned him. I am going to kill her.”

Setting aside, for a moment, the fact that a student had just told him that she was planning on killing another student, the legendary healer looked at her appraisingly. “Poisoned?”

Pomona Pomfrey interjected herself into the conversation. “Yes. It was Amortentia. He’s received, as far as I can tell, about three times the usual fatal dose.”

“Do you have a sample of the potion that was used?”

She nodded. “Yes. What was not used was immediately confiscated and brought here by Hermione, when she brought Harry in.”

The younger-looking healer looked at Hermione. “Be at peace, Mrs. Potter.” Her eyes widened at the name, though she didn’t respond. “There may yet be hope for your beloved. If he’s lived this long, it’s likely that he’s going to pull through. We have some work to do, but I’m optimistic that he’ll live. You have to stay strong, though, for him. He can feel you – even if you can’t feel his presence. Stay with him…talk to him. Find something to share with him. We’ll do what we can.”

The three healers, led by Paracelsus Bracus, turned and walked back towards Madame Pomfrey’s office. Once they were inside, Bracus set down his wand and spoke to the resident medi-witch. “We can save him…I’m pretty sure of it. How his magic will be afterwards though…that I can’t be certain of. If he’s gotten this far, he’s much stronger than any other patient than we’ve ever worked on before and that will help. She has to stay strong for him, though. There’s no discounting the power of love.”

The relief that Pomona Pomfrey felt was almost palpable. Harry was very, very important to her, even if she had never told him so. He had more courage than any other student she had ever met, and was more obstinate in the defense of his friends than was possible to describe. She hoped that Hermione’s love for him, and her absolute and irrevocable dedication to him would be enough to pull him through this ordeal.

As the two healers began to set up their equipment, Pomona Pomfrey looked out, across the ward, and saw Hermione settling in next to Harry - placing one hand on his chest and pressing her face against his. She could only wonder at what Hermione was sharing with him, via their special link, and marvel at the magic of love that made it possible.
************************************************
12:30 – At the dueling pitch.

“Is everything prepared, Hagrid?”

“Aye, Sir, but it be bad business hap’nen today. ‘Tis a foul thing to let duel to the death happen on these grounds.” His voice was gruff and tinged with the anger that everyone was feeling. “If you don’t mind my asking, Sir, who’s dueling?”

The tears in the Headmasters’ eyes melted the calm, careful demeanor that had for so many years been his façade. Hagrid looked at his friend, mentor, and Headmaster in sympathy and sadness, as the older man struggled to regain his composure. “Miss Weasley has poisoned Harry, Hagrid, and Hermione has claimed right of vengeance, because of her pair-bond with Harry. She means to kill her.”

As he said it, Albus Dumbledore slumped against the stands behind him, barely able to come to grips with what was about to happen.

It was no better for Hagrid, though. Though half-giant and still quite young by giant-standards, Hagrid felt the tragedy of what he had just been told as deeply as any person who cared for children day in and day out. The immense sadness and horror of what was about to occur threatened to blind him with tears, as he realized that the Head Girl – one of the two greatest heroes that the wizarding world had seen since Dumbledore himself had dispatched Grindelwald – was going to be forced to take yet another life. The tragedy was that there really was no forgiveness for what Ginny had done. It was beyond unspeakable to have poisoned the very person who had killed Voldemort.

Hagrid immediately thought of Ron and the rest of the Weasleys and was sickened by what he imagined they were feeling in the moment.

The tall, shaggy half-giant put his hand gently on his Headmasters’ shoulder. “Nothing that can be done?”

Wiping away the tears that had run their course down his cheeks, Albus Dumbledore looked up at his friend. “Tragedies have to run their course, too, my friend. I just hope that the help I have called will be able to save Harry and in saving Harry, save Hermione. I fear that if we lose him, we will lose her, too. It is an awful business.”

“Ginny?” he said, quietly.

“There’s nothing I can do. Some things are best left in God’s hands.”
Nodding, Hagrid wiped away more tears that were silently streaming down his face. He had always cared about the youngest Weasley girl and had never wished her anything but happiness. To think that she had poisoned Harry was almost too hard to bear, for Harry was loved by all the teachers who knew him and both respected and revered by the rest of the wizarding world. Hagrid thought about Hermione and how much Harry loved her and was suddenly ashamed that he hadn’t thought more about what loosing Harry would mean to her. Albus was right. It was a terrible business.
************************************************
By wizarding law, all duels to the death had to be publicized, so that there would be witnesses. As a consequence, fifteen minutes before the duel was to occur, wizards and witches who had attended the school; along with Ministry officials, began to appear just outside the wards of the school and begin the two kilometer walk to the former Quidditch pitch.

The mood was somber. No voices could be heard among those who were walking towards the pitch. The news that the Head Girl of Hogwarts had challenged another student to duel to the death and thundered its way through the Ministry for Magic and had caused the greatest single dispatch of owls since it had been confirmed by the Ministry that Voldemort had returned to England. The fact that it was a duel between students, one of whom was the youngest daughter of a very old and respected pure-blood family, and prompted by the apparently deliberate poisoning of the wizarding worlds’ greatest hero, was enough to throw wizarding Great Britain into a complete uproar.

Soon, there was an enormous stream of people wanting to witness the duel. It had not yet become a spectacle. The Weasley twins – so famous for their antics and clever products were understandably nowhere to be found; huddled, as they probably were, with their brothers and parents. The one vendor, who had tried to sneak in so that he could sell omnioculars, had been caught and summarily thrown into the forbidden forest by a very, very angry groundskeeper. The omnioculars salesman was never seen again and no effort whatsoever was made to discern his fate.

At the appointed moment, Hermione Jane Potter nee Granger, dressed in the dark green robes which signified her status as consort and headmistress-designate of House Potter, stepped out onto near end of the pitch. In the stands were thousands of onlookers; silent and respectful. It was not a time to make any kind of sound or protestation.

At the far end, dressed in a simple grey robe, Ginny Weasley stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight. The wind caught her robes and whipped them around her ankle as she walked towards the middle of the pitch. The stillness in the stands was deafening.

At the mid-point of the field, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, along with Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic, waited for the approach of the two girls.

Hermione swept to the center, on her side of the field. Her head was bowed and fresh tears, evident. Ginny came to her designated spot on her side of the field and mustered all her remaining courage, so that she could look up at her soon-to-be former transfiguration teacher and friend.

Her voice tight with sadness, the Deputy Headmistress said, “Does either of you have anything to say? Hermione Potter, will you withdraw your challenge?”

Hermione shook her head. “I cannot, Headmistress.” McGonagall then looked at the young redhead. “Do you, Ginerva Weasley, understand why you have been called forth for this challenge? Do you understand that the duel will not end until one of you lies dead on the field?”

The sixth-year girl was crying openly now, but she made the effort and looked up, so that she would not be ashamed of her last moments. “I understand, Headmistress. Hermione...” Her voice was pleading, “forgive me for what I have done?”

Her voice cracking, the older girl said, barely audibly, “I cannot, Ginny, though I most desperately wish I could. You were my first and best girlfriend.”

The younger girl understood. She felt the sadness, but saw that Hermione was resolute. “So be it.”

Unable to continue, because she, too, was crying openly, the Deputy Headmistress stood back and the Minister for Magic looked at the two. “It is a terrible day and a terrible thing that happens here now. May God forgive you both.”

Scrimgeour took McGonagall’s hand and led her away from the center, so that they would be out of the line of fire. Hermione and Ginny each backed up twenty paces, to their respective spots on the field. The crowd held its collective breath.

As Hermione turned and brought her wand up – though she hardly needed it anymore – she saw something that stunned her and made her lower her wand immediately. Ginny had described around herself a pentagram of Elven-fire and had sat down in its center. She looked peaceful; almost serene.

Ginny looked at her and shook her head. Turning to face her family, she drew a piece of paper from the pocket at her breast and folded it into the shape of a bird, before sending it across the field to them. She saw Molly Weasley catch it; open it, and then burst into tears. In that instant, Hermione thought she knew what Ginny had planned. She would be saved….but at what cost?

There was nothing further to do. The moment the signal was given for the duel to begin, Ginny raised her wand and pointed it at her own throat. Hermione watched in horror. Without knowing that she was doing so, Hermione was racing towards the younger girl. It was too late. She saw the terrible, green light, and watched the life go out of the girl who had once been her only female friend.

As the younger girl fell over, there was a tremendous explosion of sound from the crowd. Hermione didn’t hear it though. She made it to the edge of the pentagram; swept away the Elven-fire with the merest flick of her wand and grabbed the girl’s now lifeless body. The sense of loss overwhelmed her. It was over…and a young girl was gone whom she had called a friend for many years. “Harry!!” she screamed, silently; desperate as she was for his touch and his love, so that she could cope with what had just happened. “Harry! I need you. Please?”

Cradling Ginny’s head in her arms, she didn’t see the rest of the Weasleys approaching. It was too much to comprehend. She couldn’t understand why Ron was gently lifting her to her feet, nor could she grasp that she was being embraced by the family of the girl whom she had just caused to take her own life. All she knew was that Ginny was being bourn off the field, covered by the quilt which her mother had made for her when Ginny was a little girl. There was a stuffed bear tucked under Ginny’s now still arms. She couldn’t take it any longer.

“Oh Ron!! What have I done? Oh god, Ron…”

“Shhhhhhhhh. It’s all right ‘Mione..” He stroked her hair and pressed his face against hers in an attempt to comfort her. “Shhhhhhh. It’s over.” Just the way that Hermione had cradled Ginny, Ron held her. Luna was by his side, though Hermione could not see her. They were both dressed in black – Luna in a conservative dress and Ron in mourning robes.

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving the pitch through the gates at both ends. All those who had gathered were again just as quiet, leaving, as they had been coming in.

Hermione found herself being more carried than led back towards the castle; surrounded on all sides by Weasleys. People were watching them as they went, thinking the whole thing perverse. No one, save a very few, knew of the incredible relationship between Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. Even fewer knew that Harry had actually saved Ginny’s life in her first year at Hogwarts; had saved Mr. Weasleys’ life when he was bitten by Nagini, and saved Ron when he was accidentally poisoned by some Mead that had been intended for Dumbledore. More, Harry had convinced Percy to return to the fold and had recently given Percy and Penelope their own home – one of the ones that Harry owned but didn’t need. For a time, the Weasleys had been reunited and had found a happiness in that which they had not known for many years.

Hermione was welcomed into the family because she and Harry were inseparable and because she and Ron were, and always had been, as close as brother and sister. Ron would simply not accept any situation where Hermione was not a part of Weasley family events.

Now Ginny was gone – but by their protectiveness, she could tell that they thought she was still ‘family’. She didn’t know what mattered more to her in that moment – their love, or the fact that she had not been forced to take Ginny’s life. The miracle was that Ginny had made the sacrifice for her and in so doing, had allowed her to keep her magic and fight for Harry’s life.
************************************************
Hospital Wing – 2:15 Pm.

The moment she entered the hospital, Hermione was different. Somehow, she was more alive when she was near her consort than she was when anywhere else. Harry’s bed had always been in the back part of the hospital – closest to Madame Pomfrey’s office – because it allowed the powerful medi-witch to be nearby, in case he ever needed anything. It was also her perpetual hope that he’d not need her services each year…but somehow, he had survived everything that had ever happened to him. Even the last battle, when he had somehow apparated right to ‘his’ bed in the hospital; his organs threatening to spill out, because of the magical cut across his belly. She saved him then too, though it had been a closer thing than any of his previous injuries.

The horror of the duel behind her, Hermione flew into the hospital wing and to Harry’s side; almost knocking over the medi-witch and the Headmaster. Immediately, she was on her knees, with her hands caressing his face – searching for some sign that he was going to be by his side again.

“Harry! Come back! Oh please…..Harry! I love you. I need you.”

Hermione subsumed herself into his mind and finally, let her magic rise up and merge with his. She could feel his…it was still there and it was still strong….but it had no ‘guidance’ or direction. The will that had always directed the incredibly, almost unspeakably powerful core of magic that was Harry Potter, was somehow missing or absent. The absence scared her. “Harry! Help me find you! Tell me where to look.” She started to thrash around in his mind; beating her fists on the grey ‘walls’ of his mind. It was as if she was inside some kind of prison.

Prison. Prisons have keys. The thought made Hermione feel the kind of hope that she hadn’t felt since she had discovered that it was Amortentia which Ginny had used.

Once she had backed out of his mind, she stood up and looked at her Headmaster, and the healers who were standing around him. She was not expecting for him – the most respected wizard in all of Britain, and perhaps in the whole world, to reach out and pull her into an embrace.

No one was more shocked than the Weasleys who were standing by Harry’s bedside; watching. They hadn’t expected it either, apparently. Molly Weasley was still fighting back tears as Hermione returned the embrace with enthusiasm. Ron was flabbergasted. He had never seen the Headmaster show such affection for a student – though he might have, if he had not been sent off by the Headmaster, after their adventure in the Chamber of Secrets, to find an owl to deliver Hagrid’s release papers. Dumbledore had hugged Harry then – to show him how much he appreciated the loyalty which Harry had clearly shown him while in the Chamber.

When the two – Headmaster and Head Girl – parted, Hermione’s eyes were once again wet with tears; though they were happy tears. She had never expected to feel such affection and the appreciation for her very survival.

It took a moment for her to gather herself emotionally before she attempted to put into words the realization that she had had when she was sharing thoughts with Harry. “Headmaster, when I was in Harry’s mind, it felt like…..like a prison. I’m not sure how to describe it, but it’s like he’s trapped. I think that I just have to find the right key….to let him back into his own mind.”

Paracelsus Bracus looked at her, as if she might have just stumbled across something. She caught his gaze and returned it, unflinching. “His magic is still there. I can fell it. It’s not gone anywhere…it’s just that it’s…..unfocused. It’s like it has no will guiding it. Harry has somehow run away from it, or has been separated from it. When I was in his mind, it was all gray and I couldn’t look around at his memories, like I usually can.”

The Headmaster, Molly, Percy….everyone was looking at her. “What? Why are you all staring at me?” She started to feel distinctly uncomfortable as she realized that she was the focus of their complete attention.

“Because, Hermione, you’ve just said that you and Harry share an ability that has never been heard of before.”

Incredulous, she looked at him. “But Sir….you’re a master legelimens. Surely you can do the same thing.”

The Headmaster smiled and shook his head. “Sadly, no. I can see a great deal, but I’ve never, ever been able to do what you just describe that you do with Harry. I assume that he can do the same with you?”

“Well….yes, of course. We often just hold each other and talk with our thoughts. He can show me his memories and how he felt about something and I do the same for him. Don’t most married couples do that?”

Molly smiled and smacked Arthur on the shoulder. She looked at Hermione. “Hermione, love. No one can do that. Arthur and I are both fairly experienced with the uses of magic…and the best we’ve ever been able to do is sense each others’ moods.”

“If I can interrupt” Healer Bracus said, “Mrs. Potter here has just given us a potential tool that we can use to save Harry. If his magic is still powerful and intact, we just have to connect him with it again. I suspect, though I can’t prove it, that the bezoar that Madame Pomfrey used on Harry actually worked…but Harry has ‘fled’, for lack of a better term, in order to keep the Amortentia from having its desired effect – which would have been to cause him to fixate on….”

He stopped, suddenly. The air was pregnant with the sadness of what had just happened out on the pitch. Molly face said it all. She turned to Arthur and buried her face in his chest. The healer turned and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Arthur looked at him; his face composed, but sad. “Ginny picked her path.”

A sob from the corner caught them off-guard. It was Percy. His face was in his hands and he was bent over, crying. Ron looked at his eldest brother and in an instant, had moved to hug him. Arthur saw him and soon, the Weasleys were in a group hug; holding each other and crying openly.

Moving quickly, Madame Pomfrey flicked her wand and summoned several vials. She handed one to Hermione and pointed to Harry’s bed. “Drink this. It will help. Then lie down with Harry. He needs you close.”

The other vials she took to Molly and the other Weasleys. All of them put her off, except Molly. She drank it and silently nodded her thanks.

Shooing the rest of the visitors away, towards either her office or the other wing of the hospital, Pomfrey became again the fierce protectress and care-giver that she was known for being.

None complained as she herded them out. Each knew that Hermione needed the time and space to recover, and that the Weasley family needed time to remember and mourn Ginny’s death and consider how she had affected each of them.

Later, with their privacy assured, the piece of paper which Ginny had sent to her mother, just before the duel began, was passed around; read; and cried over.

Finally, when they had all read it, it was laid down on the table in the Gryffindor common room. Holding hands and calling on old, Weasley family magic, they formed a mourning circle around it and together remembered the sister and daughter whom they had all loved so much.
************************************************
Four Hours later – hospital wing - Hogwarts

“Harry? I’m coming for you. You’re not alone. You’ll never, ever be alone. I love you.”

Hermione lay next to Harry. His body was warm and his breathing was low and even as she opened herself to him. She exploring his mind and calling out to him, but there was no sign yet that he knew she was there. Somehow, though, she knew that he hadn’t given up and simply needed a way back – a way to reconnect with his magic and with the woman who loved him so much.

She felt a hand on her shoulder; warm, soft, and delicate. Opening her eyes, she saw the one person she didn’t expect. “How is he, dear?”

“Oh, Molly….” Hermione launched herself out of the bed and hugged the woman whom she had come to think of as her second mother. “I’m so sorry…..”

The matronly woman held her as if she was another daughter. “It’s alright, Hermione. None of us blame you. Ginny picked her path. You did what you felt you had to do and I don’t blame you for it. She always was a rash one. I had hoped she’d outgrow it….but in the end, she understood what she had done and accepted her end. We’ve mourned her and remembered her together now and we’re alright. She’ll always be with us here.” Molly put her hand over her heart. “The ones we love never truly leave us, as Dumbledore would say.”

Hermione sniffed and wiped away tears that were threatening to roll down her cheeks. “Arthur and I love you and Harry and we want to see him back, if it is possible. He’s suffered too much to be taken from all of us this way. I came down to tell you that our home will always have a place in it for the two of you, ok?”

The young Head Girl honestly did not know how she was supposed to remain composed in the face of such love. She had only ever known it from her parents and from Harry. To have it be given so freely by the Weasleys was almost more than she could bear. The tears came again – but not quite as harshly. “I love you all, too….and so does Harry. I’ll bring him back….I’ll….I’ll find a way.”

The certainty of her tone; the look on her face, and the way that the young woman’s magic visibly pulsed around as she said it, told Molly that if it was possible to do, Hermione would do it.
************************************************
Next day – just after sunrise – Headmasters’ office

There had to be a way, he thought, to help Harry. Fawkes was his first idea, but he discarded it almost immediately. What ailed Harry was not physical….at least, not really. Harry was somehow ‘disconnected’ or ‘unplugged’ from his magic. It was like he was in what the muggles called a ‘coma’. The body functioned and was healthy, but the mind could not control it.

For two hours, the aged Headmaster struggled with the puzzle, until he was interrupted by the sound of several people coming up the stairs to his outer office. Pulling on his brown ‘duty’ robes, Albus Dumbledore left his sanctum sanctorum and walked down the stairs, past Fawkes’ perch, to greet his visitors.

“Albus. We came as quickly as we could. Alchemist Bracus has made a breakthrough, of sorts.”
The infamous eyebrows – so well known in the wizarding world – threatened to ascend into their owner's forehead at the news. “Oh?”

Paracelsus Bracus looked at his equally famous host and nodded. “We believe, based on some preliminary research, that we can use two potions: Essence of True Desire which we would then combine with a quarter dose of the Draught of life, to make a new potion – one that would help Harry focus on his desire for Hermione, and at the same time, and help him to reconnect to his magic. The only difficulty is that the Draught requires, as one of its primary ingredients, the tail feather of a phoenix – which strengthens the body and ‘focuses’ magic - and two tears – which are used to heal the body - from that same-said phoenix.”

The other healer, who had been silent until that moment, spoke up. “Headmaster Dumbledore, what my colleague has not said is that in order for this to work, you will have to allow Ms. Granger to perform the most intimate ritual that a man and woman can perform together. It’s the woman’s virginal blood which will act as the catalyst for the magic we seek to have invoked.”

“I assume that she would be unable to use a contraception charm before the ritual?”

Bonham nodded. “It would taint the purity of the sacrifice.”

“Well, let us hope that the time of the month correlates favorably for us, otherwise we might have to open a daycare here at the school.” His eyes were twinkling madly.

“Albus! Surely, you can be seriously considering allowing Ms. Granger to do what they are suggesting?”

“Minerva, are you thinking that Harry and Hermione would not, either of them, make such a sacrifice for the other? Harry and Hermione both killed, coldly and repeatedly, to protect the other. You know that. They’re already bound to each other and you heard her - she said that they are seeking to marry after Christmas. I think any discussion of impropriety is itself inappropriate.”

She was never going to win an argument with him on that score, she realized, and so she gave it up.

“When, then? Are you suggesting that they do the deed right in the hospital wing?” McGonagall was so flabbergasted at the thought, that her voice quickly climbed into a new register.

For the first time, Albus looked truly angry with her and she immediately regretted her cheek. “Minerva, I will try to forget that you made such a statement. However, I think you need to decide right now whether you should be involved in this matter any further. You seem not to have the understanding and compassion that is called for in the moment.”

The Deputy Headmistress had never been slapped down by the Headmaster since he had taken the helm of the school and it shocked her. It was far out of character for the Headmaster to speak to her so. She wondered, for a moment, whether she should consider tenure her resignation, and then thought better of it.

The three healers looked dumb-struck at the exchange. It took Pomona Pomfrey to break the silence that had suddenly settled in over the five of them. “Headmistress, I have always had the greatest respect for you, and to be honest, always valued your friendship and judgment. However, in this, I have to side with the Headmaster. Hermione will most certainly agree to do what Paracelsus and Olympus have suggested – and I think that it would only be a matter of time before they consummated their relationship, anyway. They are both of age and there’s nothing we could do to prevent them from doing it, even if we tried to assign chaperones for them around the clock. You know they’d find a way. So – I say we make it as special for them as possible and give them access to the VIP suite in the west tower. If what Paracelsus and Olympus are right, and their treatment works, I would further suggest that Harry and Hermione have use of the suite for a further two days, to allow them to re-establish their pair-bond fully.”

The Headmaster looked at the other four. “I believe that we should have no problem with convincing Fawkes to give up either the feather or tears. He and Harry seem to have their own, unique bond. Harry’s first wand has one of Fawkes’ tail feathers in it and it seems particularly suited to him. As for the VIP suite, Pomona – I think that’s a wonderful idea. I will put the house-elves Winky and Dobby on it immediately. Is there anything else?”

Seeing no further comments, the Headmaster turned to his head medi-witch. “Would you let Ms. Granger know that I will be coming to speak with her in an hour? I imagine she’ll want some time to rouse herself fully and have something to eat before I arrive. Also, would you let me know when Fawkes needs to make his contributions? He and I will need some time to prepare.”

“Of course, Albus. Everything will be exactly as you have asked.”

Sensing that the meeting was over, Pomona took the Deputy Headmistress by the arm and escorted her out of the office, along with the visiting healers. It left the Headmaster alone with his thoughts, looking out over the western mountains and the sun that had extended it’s reach all the way to his window, as it had for all the wonderful years he had occupied the office.
************************************************
One Hour later – Hospital Wing

Hermione Potter nee Granger had just finished dressing when the doors to the inner, secure wing, opened and the Headmaster strode towards her. “Ah. Mrs. Potter. You’re awake. Good. We need to talk. I take it that there’s been no change with Harry?”

The beautiful brunette shook her head, sadly. “Then I have good news for you. We believe that there is an effective treatment for Harry.”

Like the morning sun breaking on a perfect day, Hermione’s smile radiated across the space between her and the Headmaster. “Your happiness does you credit, but the treatment comes with a cost.”

“I’ll do anything for Harry, Sir. You should know that.”

He smiled. “It is what I told Madame Pomfrey and what I told the healers. You have never done anything but give of yourself for Harry’s sake.”

“Tell me what it is that I have to do and I’ll do it.” She stood up and walked to him. “Headmaster, please. I want him back. I…..I…need him.”

Putting his hand to her face gently, he said, “Hermione, you are every bit as loyal has always been. When he was able to call Fawkes to him in your second year, it only could have been because he had shown me extraordinary loyalty. I know now why you were always meant for each other.”

She hugged him – just the way Harry had hugged Hagrid the night he returned from Azkaban. After a moment, she broke the embrace and looked up at him. “What do I have to do?”

“First, you must believe me when I tell you that I am confident that it is the only way to bring Harry back to us. Second, I tell you that what you must do is something I believe you would or will soon do anyway. You must make love to Harry.”

The blush which rose to her cheeks battled with her smile for dominance over her face. “Oh”, she said, as she nervously straightened out her school robes. “I….see.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Hermione. I know you desire Harry mightily, as he desires you. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you could ever hide your affection and love for him or the fact that you enjoy his touch a very great deal. Remember, I, like Professor McGonagall, and the others, were once young, too. We know what it is to feel that for another person. It is not a shameful thing.”

Her blush was full on, now, and she fought the desire to touch herself, as she thought about being fully intimate with Harry for the first time. It was a battle which she was going to lose, sooner than later, and she immediately began thinking about where she could get the privacy necessary to relieve the sudden tension she was feeling between her legs.

Not meeting his gaze, she said simply, “When?”

“Just as soon as the potions are ready, which I think will be in the next twelve to twenty-four hours. In the mean time, you should stay here and continue to comfort and talk to Harry. Even if you don’t think he can, I’m certain a part of his mind is hearing you. That may be the only thing keeping him with us.”

“I won’t leave him, Headmaster. He is mine, just as I am his.”

“I know, Hermione. I felt the same way once, about my wife. It has been over fifty years since she was taken from me, but I remember her still, and miss her just as much.” She had never known that he had been married previously. There had been rumors about Dumbledore’s sexuality, but nothing had ever been confirmed, one way or the other. One particularly foul, loathsome British writer had done a scurrilous piece about him being gay, but that had been roundly rejected in most quarters. Now Hermione had the absolute proof that he had, at least, been married and loved a woman. That was all she needed to completely discount in her own mind the things that she knew had been said about him.

“I’m sorry, Headmaster. I didn’t know.”

He looked at her, over his half-moon spectacles. “It’s alright, Hermione. I have my pensieve, and I have all of her letters and notes, and I know that she is waiting for me to be with her again, forever. I still feel her love – just as you can still feel Harry’s love for you. That is the greatest and most precious gift you can ever give another person. Be true to him, Hermione, and life will give you great things.”

With that, the Headmaster abruptly faded into nothingness. It was like the apparition that the house-elves did, but it was even quieter and more subtle. She was left to wonder what the Headmaster had meant about life giving her great things. Children? She thought. She knew that a family of his own was Harry’s greatest dream and desire and she had no problem with giving Harry as many sprogs as the two of them decided they wanted. She would live a very long time and Harry had all the money that they could ever want, so there was no reason not to have a big family. That line of thinking led, unfortunately, back to the problem at hand, which was that Hermione had become almost unbearably horny and needed relief.

Taking Harry’s wand in her hand, she waved her other hand over it. In an instant, a life-like replica of Harry’s personal wand appeared in her hand. It was shiny, smooth as glass, and warm to the touch. Looking around, she cast a notice-me-not charm on herself, Harry’s bed, and Harry’s end of the hospital wing. Then she cast a silencing charm, so that anything that might escape her lips would not be overheard by the medi-witch.

Lying down, the beautiful brunette lifted her skirt and slipped her soft, pink cotton bikini knickers down to her thighs. Whispering a lubrication spell, she made sure that the toy was ready to go where she wanted it. Remembering that her virginal sex was off-limits, she smiled. She knew that her nether hole would probably make her feel just as good…and would allow her to dull the roaring desires that were raging through her body. Pushing the toy against the crinkled, tight hole, she grimaced for a moment at the pain and then relieved as she felt the slippery toy worm its way in.

“Ooooooooow. Harry! Oooooooooooooooooooow, God.” She was broadcasting at him, as she pushed the toy deeper into her arse. It stretched and filled her in ways that she dreamed Harry would do, once they were married. One final push got it seated all the way in and she reveled in how good it felt.

Pulling her knickers up and smoothing her skirt back down, she then unbuttoned the skirt at her hip and unzipped it, so that she could slide her fingers down, into her knickers and into her smooth, wet sex. Once covered by the blankets of their shared bed, she was all but invisible to anyone who might pass by.

She knew it was going to be a while before the potion was ready…and the Headmaster hadn’t said anything at all about her not enjoying the wait, so she laid back and let the toy in her bottom and her well-trained fingers take some of the edge of her frustrations. All the while, she let the feelings seep into Harry’s mind. It would have been something she’d have shared with him anyway, so there was no reason not to do so in the moment. Hermione wondered how many orgasms she could take before she passed out. Her previous record had been fourteen, but she thought that just maybe, she’d break that record this time.
************************************************
One day later – Hospital Wing

“Hermione? Where are you?” Madame Pomfrey’s voice was louder than Hermione expected. The famed medi-witch was searching the inner, secure hospital wing, and apparently could not see through her overlapping notice-me-not charms.

Hermione had just sat down on the bed to next to Harry to get comfortable again, after returning from the lav, when she heard the medi-witch calling her name. Without even a casual wave of the hand, Hermione dispelled the layered charms – but not until she had done up the button on her skirt and zipped it up at the hip. The toy was still ensconced in her arse and she could feel it moving in and out as she shifted around on the bed. It was such an erotic feeling that she promised herself that she’d not take it out until called by nature again to do so.

“Madame Pomfrey!” she called out. “I’m right here.”

The medi-witch turned, startled, and walked over to where Hermione was now standing. “I’ve been here the whole time. You couldn’t see me because I didn’t want to be disturbed while Harry and I were sleeping.”

Smartly dressed in her hospital whites, Pomona Pomfrey addressed the Head Girl. “Well, I won’t ask how you managed to not be seen. You seem to be full of surprises for all of us. I’ve been sent to tell you that the Headmaster needs to see you immediately. He has news for you – that he was unwilling to give me. He said it was better delivered in person.”

That worried Hermione. Usually, people preferred to deliver bad news in person, while good news seemed to have multiple carriers. “I’ll go immediately. He’s in his office?”

“Yes, Hermione. And yes, I’ll keep an eye on Harry. I don’t have any other patients, so he’s my only responsibility today.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that Harry would be watched while she was talking to the Headmaster. Promising herself she’d be back quickly, Hermione disapparated away.

Appearing a moment later, in front of the gargoyles which blocked the entrance to the Headmasters’ office. “Stupid gargoyles” she said, almost with a laugh. The two stone gargoyles seemed to glare at her – if stones could glare – as they sprang aside. She took the spiral staircase very slowly, though, as the toy in her arse continued to give her pleasure and focus her attention on her bum.

Making it to the top step, she gingerly walked into the Headmasters’ office. Dumbledore was waiting for her, along with the two visiting healers and Minerva McGonagall. Seeing her at the door, the Headmaster extended his hand. “Ah, Mrs. Potter. Come in. We were just discussing where things stand.” A chair appeared out of thing air. “Please sit down and we can talk.”

“If it’s alright, Sir, I’d like to stand.” She didn’t want to tell Dumbledore exactly why she wanted to continue standing and was very relieved that he didn’t push the point.

“Suit yourself.” Sweeping behind his desk, the Headmaster took his pipe from the holder upon which it rested and resumed smoking as he sat down; occasionally blowing magical smoke rings into the air. Mythical creatures of every sort danced and cavorted across the room, eventually dissipating and Hermione could not help but watch them intently.

“Hermione, the reason that I asked you to come this morning is that we have a difficulty. While the potions are ready to be combined, we seem to have an unwilling phoenix. I have asked Fawkes – which is all I can do – to give up one of his tail feathers and two tears, and he seems unwilling to do so. Until or unless we can find a phoenix that will cooperate, we are stuck.”

Hermione smiled. “You mean that if you could find another phoenix, that was willing and able, you could save Harry?”

The Headmasters’ eyes narrowed. It was a look that told her that he suspected something, but was far from positive. Her inner witch giggled. It was going to be fun to shock him. “I think I have a solution, sir.”
“Oh? Something you’ve not told us, Mrs. Potter?”

“Ah….yes. Something like that, Sir.”

In an instant, she had ‘touched’ her inner phoenix and became the radiant, gold and brown bird that Harry thought was so unspeakably beautiful. There were gasps all around, as she stretched her wings out and bugled to Fawkes her greeting. Fawkes answered her in the same fashion; calling out in a way that swept the school with his peaceful song.

After a moment, she again became the beautiful seventh-year girl whom they all admired. There was not a single person in the room who didn’t have to pick his or her jaw up off the ground, so total was the shock. The Headmaster looked at her and smiled, after he recovered. “Mrs. Potter. Were you planning on ever letting us know about this small matter?”

Shaking her head, she replied “No, sir. I would never have shown anyone, if this situation had not arisen. This was something that was private – between Harry and me.”

Paracelsus Bracus studied her intently. It was, however, Olympus who spoke up. “Mrs. Potter, please forgive my forwardness, but we need to know. Have you and Mr. Potter been intimate?”

“Not that is anyone’s business but my own, but no, we haven’t yet. We’ve been waiting for our wedding night.”

The Headmaster looked at her with the kind of patience and understanding that only a grandfather could give. “Hermione, no one is trying to intrude on your privacy. We had to know, because the ritual that you must do, in order to save Harry, requires the sacrifice of a girl's purity. Her purity being defined as her virginity. We know that it is a hard thing to talk about and no more will be said about it beyond this meeting. You have my promise and my word on it.”

Hermione was particularly glad for that, because she was starting to squirm, even as she stood there, because the toy in her bum was giving her spasms of pleasure. Every step she took caused it to slip in and out a little bit. She was glad that she had cast a notice-me¬-not charm on her lower half, before she had entered the Headmaster's office. Being caught with the toy would have been the ultimate mortification – even more so than being caught kissing Harry somewhere where she knew it wasn’t allowed – like the library. That particular fantasy was something she was dying to experience with Harry, and she had told him so, but they had promised each other that it would have to wait until after they were married. She hoped that it would be one of her Christmas gifts from him.

She knew that if she didn’t get somewhere private, and soon, she was going to have an orgasm, and she was pretty sure that she’d not be able to hide it from the Headmaster, and more particularly, from McGonagall. Hermione really wanted to be with Harry when it hit, and she hoped that she could forestall it long enough to complete the ritual with him. She wondered if she’d be able to make love to him and still have the toy in her bum. The thought intrigued her a lot….

“Damn…” Hermione thought. The idea of being doubly penetrated while making love to Harry for the first time caused a new rush of heat to her sex and she felt her knickers get wet all over again. Harry’s cock was amazing to her. At almost twenty-three centimeters long, and almost ten centimeters around at its thickest, it was a thing of beauty to her and she loved the way it felt in her hands. Fantasizing about how it was going to feel in her sex had become a daily occurrence for her; almost regardless of where she was or what class she was attending. Ever since he had asked her to marry him and given her the engagement ring which currently graced her left hand.

The two visiting healers finally broke their private conversation and turned to her. It seemed like they’d been talking for a long time, even though it had been less than five minutes, and she was growing very needy. The younger healer stepped forward. “Mrs. Potter. Are you able to give us the two tail feathers we need, as well as the tears? We can’t force you to do it. You have to want to do it for it to work.”
“Of course. Let’s do it right now. I need to get back to Harry.”

The way she said it must have betrayed something, because the Deputy Headmistress laughed at her statement. Hermione hoped that her need for Harry’s touch and her need to enjoy the orgasm that was stalking her were not that obvious.

“Can you transform now? And perhaps fly up onto the Headmaster’s desk? It would be easier to take the feathers there.”

Again touching her animagus form, Hermione transformed easily and flew up, onto the desk. Fanning her tail, she made it obvious as she could to the healers which feathers they ought to harvest. Their touch was deft and quick and for that, she was grateful.

The next thing that was necessary was to conjure the mind-set which would allow her to cry the magical tears into the vial. She thought about her sadness of losing Ginny as a friend and how she felt about the Weasley family. Then she thought about Harry and her love and desire for him and about how much she wanted him back. Less than a minute later, the healers had the tears necessary for the potion.

Transforming quickly, she turned to look at the Headmaster. “Can I go, Sir? I really want to get back to Harry.”

“Mrs. Potter – one more thing. In order for this ritual to happen in the best possible circumstances, we’ve opened the VIP suite for you and Harry. You’ll have it for at least the next three days. Harry is going to be moved there just as soon as Madame Pomfrey gets word from Healers Bracus and Bonham that the potion is ready to administer. Perhaps you should meet him there.”

Hermione had never heard of the VIP suite before and was momentarily taken aback that they’d be given access to such an area. “Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Very good, then. I will have one of the ghosts lead you there. The password for the room is ‘popsicle’..”

She turned to leave, slowly, so as to keep the toy from moving too much and sending her, cascading, over the edge of orgasm. It was going to be a long walk, she thought, between the Headmaster’s office and the VIP suite, wherever that was. She hoped that she could control her feelings at least long enough to get to the suite before she came – because she knew that it was going to be a really thunderous orgasm and she wanted to enjoy it completely.
************************************************
Once outside the office, and past the gargoyles, the Bloody Baron met her and led her, silently, towards the suite. He never spoke to anyone, for it was rumored that he had loved Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw and that when Rowena lay dying, she sent the Baron to find Helena and beg her to come back. Helena refused and the Baron lost his temper and killed her. In his remorse, he committed suicide with the same knife.

No one had ever asked the Baron directly if the story was true, but the Headmaster had been asked, in Harry’s first year, if he thought it was so and had indicated that he believed it to be. Only the Headmaster could compel the ghosts to serve him and only the Headmaster seemed to have the ability or authority to make the Baron answer questions directly. Hermione thought it an odd sort of penitence for the Baron and she wondered if there was ever any way of releasing him, finally, from his bondage.

After one long flight of stairs, during which Hermione had had to stop, twice, to keep herself from orgasming, they made it to the entrance of the VIP suite. It was hidden, as most entrances were, behind a picture. This particular one was of the castle itself, from a western vantage-point.

The Baron stopped and pointed at the picture. She nodded her understanding, and the Baron floated off; lost in his own thoughts.

“Popsicle”, she said, desperately.

The picture swung to the right, revealing, to her dismay, another staircase. She closed the portal behind her and began ascending the stairs. After the fourth tread, she could feel the orgasm building inside her. Knowing that she was alone – at least long enough for her to find the relief she desperately needed, Hermione stripped off her skirt and shoes; leaving her in her knickers and bare feet. Another four stairs and she knew she was going to cum and there was nothing that she could do about it. Plunging her fingers down into her knickers, she sought out her clit and rubbed it furiously, in sympathetic time with the pulses of the toy in her arse. Less than a minute later, she convulsed in sheer pleasure, as the orgasm crashed through her whole body. Her knickers were almost instantly soaked with her juices, so she stripped them off, too. That left the toy exposed, for anyone who might enter behind her. She smiled lewdly as she thought of what Harry might think as he watched the toy moving in her arse. Once she could concentrate again, she fantasized, while climbing the stairs again, of what it would feel like to have him remove the toy and then replace it with his huge stonker of a cock. The thought of Harry doing so did not help her concentration at all.

When she got to the top of the stairs, she had to stop again, because another orgasm was beginning to build and she wanted to be able to lie down on the massive bed before her, and enjoy the crescendo.

She divested herself of her top and bra and then lay naked on the bed; save for the toy in her bum. Caressing her nipples with one hand and exploring and caressing her sex with the other, she thought about what making love to Harry would be like, once he was awake again and could be the responsive partner she desperately loved and needed.

She was about to loose herself to another fabulous orgasm when she heard the portrait open at the bottom of the stone stairs, and voices fill the hallway. Summoning a cotton robe from one of the hooks on the way, she growled in frustration at the timing and then tried to make herself presentable for Harry’s arrival. She knew that in his present condition, he couldn’t care about that, but she did care and wanted to make sure that when they shared the memory later on, that he’d desire her and think she was as beautiful as he thought she was the night that he asked her to marry him.

When Madame Pomfrey reached the top of the stairs, Hermione met her. There was a smile on the Medi-witches’ face. “They’ve done it, Hermione. The potions are ready and I think that Harry will be alright. Are you ready?”

She gulped. “Yes, Madame Pomfrey. At least, as ready as I will ever be. Harry and I love each other and if this is what it takes, I’m willing. Harry was willing to die, to protect me, and sacrificing my…….well, it’s worth it.”

The medi-witch nodded gently. She knew that it was a twin-edged sword. If Harry and Hermione really had made a promise to each other to wait to consummate their relationship on their wedding night, then what she was being asked to do was not inconsequential. It would change their relationship. However, it would save Harry’s life and perhaps give a second chance to a young man who most assuredly deserved it.

Pomfrey turned and let Harry’s body drift into the room; guided by her magic. She directed him over to the bed; lowering him into the middle of it. After a moment, she walked over to Hermione and handed her to vials. “One each, Hermione. His first, and then yours. Make sure, though, that you don’t drink yours until you’re about to consummate the relationship. That means Harry has to be ‘ready’.”

Grinning and blushing at the same time, Hermione looked at the medi-witch. “I know what to do, Madame Pomfrey. I’ll make sure that everything is ‘ready’.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Hermione”, she said, with a laugh. “You’ve always been the overachiever. That you know exactly what to do doesn’t surprise me at all. I take it that all the books in the forbidden section of the library are well known to you now?”

Hermione replied with her own cheek. “Madame Pomfrey, I refuse to answer that, on grounds that it might tend to incriminate me!”

“Hermione, call me Pomona or Pom. You’ve earned that. I know how much you love Harry. You’ve never been able to hide it…nor has he been able to hide his love for you. You two have fun, ok? I’ll look to see neither of you BEFORE THE END OF THE WEEKEND, ok? Take your time and enjoy each other.”

With that, she turned and left; closing the door behind her with a definitive ‘click’; which let Hermione know for sure that they were now alone.
************************************************
It took Hermione a moment to realize that she was alone with Harry. Not just alone, but alone and expected to do the one thing that the school, at least nominally, did everything in its collective power to keep students from doing. She had to make love to Harry…or at least, get his body to respond enough so that she could….what? Rape him? Make love to him? Suddenly, Hermione was less certain about what she knew, intellectually, had to happen.

She knew that in the muggle world, for those who were unconscious and in need of immediate medical treatment, consent was implied. Her parents had told her that it was a legal fiction, of course, but it served the purpose of getting treatment to those who could not speak for themselves. Hermione wondered if being in a potion-induced coma was such a situation. Probably. Then she asked herself if Harry would want to stay in a coma, when there was a treatment available. No. She knew that he’d want to be treated….but some part of her feared that he’d hate the cost. He’d hate it because of what it would do to her.

She smiled at that. Harry had always done everything he could to protect her and he was not going to like that she paid the cost of saving him.

“Well, no time like the present. I’m already horny enough to take him….” Hermione thought to herself. “If he feels as good in me as the toy does, I’m in trouble. I’m certainly glad that the room is soundproof!”
Harry was lying prone on the bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. She leaned over the bed and kissed him, all over his face. His skin was still warm and his breath was slow and even. She could sense his magic, though it was at a lower level than it had been the previous day. She hoped that was she was about to do wasn’t too late.

There wasn’t nearly enough time to show him all the love she was feeling for him. That would take a lifetime. All that mattered in the moment was to use the potion and bring him back. It took just a wave of her hand – for her magic had become increasingly powerful as she had gotten older – to strip his body of clothing.

She loved seeing him naked. His skin was pale, of course, but his muscles rippled and what body-hair he did have was sparse enough to be appealing, rather than gross. The one thing she wished she could see was his luminous emerald-green eyes. She loved the way they watched her and took in her nakedness. It was an amazing thing to feel so desirable when she was naked with him and she longed to do so again.

Sweeping her eyes down his body, she took in his manhood. Praying that his body would respond to her touch, even if his mind was hiding, she crawled onto the bed and between his legs. The toy in her arse reminded her, with ever sashay, that it was there and couldn’t be ignored. Kneeling over him, she gently wrapped her lips around his soft organ and felt it fill her mouth. It was salty, and there was a very male, masculine smell to his skin that she found turned her on tremendously.

It didn’t take very long for Hermione to get her answer as to whether the Healer's plan was going to work. Her slow sucking action, combined with the touch of her hand, as she encircled the base of his organ, caused an almost immediate response. It grew and lengthened in her mouth and soon she had to back off it or choke on its girth and length. Soon, she was sucking just on the head, while stroking it up and down with her right hand. “This is going to feel soooooooo good”. Smiling, she thought to herself. “Harry, I’m going to fuck you until you’re cross-eyed.”

Reaching out with her mind, she tried to find him; to bring him back to her just by force of will. But, like her previous efforts, she got nowhere. Whatever defenses he had put up against the effects of the Amortentia, they were almost completely impenetrable and she was doing nothing more than banging her head fruitlessly against an immovable, unyielding, magical object.

Shucking off her robe, Hermione summoned the two vials of potion. The first one she carefully fed to him; trickling it into his mouth a little at a time. Once it was done, she turned her attention back to his tumescent organ. It was hard and long, though not as much so as it had been just before she had started to feed him the potion.

Moving down his body, she once again took his erection in her hands and caressed it. Harry’s hips started to move and she wondered just how far down his mind really had retreated. Well, we’re going to find out!! She thought to herself.

There was no need to get more lubrication; she was already incredibly wet, after the almost mind-shattering orgasms she had enjoyed with the toy. Use a contraceptive spell was out – which she would have done as a responsible witch - worried her not at all – because she knew that if having Harry’s child was one of the costs of saving him, she was more than willing to bear the cost. She had planned on taking at least a year off and perhaps as many as two, after leaving Hogwarts and before attending university anyway. Carrying Harry’s baby would be a bonus, she thought, and if they were lucky, the child would be born at the end of July.

Looking down at her soon-to-be lover, she touched his face and thought to him, “Come back to me, Harry. I love you. I wanted you to be awake when we first did this, but I want you to live….so…come back to me, ok?”

Taking his erection in her hand, she straddled his hips and lined his erection up with her entrance. The tip of his erection touched her opening and she could feel it pushing the muscles open. It was so tight that it began to hurt. “Stupid me.” She thought. Reaching around, she drew the glass toy out of her arse, cleaned it wandlessly, and sent it over to rest on the night stand. She wondered how Harry’s cock would feel in her arse and she made a note to herself to make sure that after the potion worked, to find out. “If he fucks my arse as good as the toy does, I’m going to be walking funny for a couple of days!”

Having made more room for Harry’s prodigious erection, Hermione smiled as she slid down onto him more easily. Just before Harry’s erection reached her hymen, she swallowed her dose of the potion. Closing her eyes, she let herself enjoy the specialness of the moment. She could feel him in her sex and it was glorious. Touching her clit gently, she looked down at her still unresponsive consort. “This is for you, Harry. I love you.”

Pushing down, she flexed her hips so that his cock touched and then tore her hymen away; completing the ritual and making her no longer a girl, but a woman.

Hermione was so lost in the pleasure of the moment that, as she sat down fully on his erection, she was almost not in time to see his eyes snapped open.

“Hermione!” he croaked. “What?....”

Hermione’s joy was complete in that moment. “Oh Harry! You’re back!”

Grinding down onto him, she leaned forward; shifting her hips so that she could kiss him more easily and look into his beautiful eyes. Their kiss went on a very, very long time, as they let their passion and love for each other infuse their oneness.

“Hermione, love, what’s happened?”

“Oh God, Harry, so much. We thought we might never get you back. I had to tell Dumbledore that I’m a phoenix. I’m sorry!!!!!!”

As she kissed him again and rode up and down his massive, now steely-hard erection, she slowly let the images and conversations flow out to him. When she got to the duel with Ginny, she stopped moving and just let him hold her, as she re-lived those terrible moments.

She had been very worried that he’d be furious at her or hate her for what had happened, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to feel that towards her. Because of their unbreakable bond, he experienced, as if had had been there himself, everything that she had felt and knew how much sadness she had bourn as a result.

“Love? There will be time to grieve later. Right now, though….”

“Take me Harry. I’m yours. Come in me and make me pregnant. Please?”

“Is that what you want?” He looked into her eyes, searching for and then finding the reassurance that what she was telling him silently was also the deepest desire of her heart. Tears of happiness were pooling at the edge of her eyes as she felt him beginning to move in and out of her; opening her a little bit more each time and making her gasp at each thrust.

“I’m yours, Harry. Yours and no one else’s. Just like I told you when we made our binding vows.” As if drawn by their intertwined magic, they begin to recite them again:

“My body to your body; for you, and you only;
My body to your body; my desire for you unbound;
My mind to your mind with no secrets and no fears;
My heart to your heart – one in love and one in desire;
I give you all that I am;
I promise you my undying love, in this life and the next;
My soul to your soul, never alone and never parted”

As the binding magic washed over them again, Hermione knew that she’d indeed get pregnant this night and the thought of it caused her heart to skip a beat.

“Make love to me, Harry? Make me pregnant and make me yours, forever and ever.”

“Mine, Hermione. Mine and only mine, forever. I love you.”
************************************************
Epilogue

Indeed, he did make her pregnant that night. With twins. Eight and a half months later, the married couple celebrated the arrival of Ginevra Jane Potter and Ronald James Potter. The day that the children were born, the Weasley clan gathered in Hermione’s private room at St. Mungo’s Hospital. Holding hands in a circle, the remaining Weasleys, plus Harry, first prayed for the twins; thanking God for their safe and healthy arrival and, with Harry and Hermione’s agreement, bound the twins into the Weasley family by invoking the family’s protective magics.

“Nos redimio vos ut a secui prosapia per nostrum bona. Iam nostrum veneficus est vestri veneficus ; nostrum diligo est vestri diligo. Qua vos vado , nostrum veneficus eo vobis.”

Hermione knew through their pair-bond, even as Harry held hands with Molly on his left and Ron on his right, that Harry was thinking about the night that he had gone, alone, to the Weasleys to mourn Ginny with them. He had come away from the experience shaken, having not anticipated the kind of love and support they shared with him. Arthur, particularly, had insisted that Harry see the memories that Ginny had put into their family pensieve, regarding Harry. There was no shame, Arthur had told him, to cry over Ginny’s passing. Nor should he fell any embarrassment, they all told him. Ginny might not have loved him with a completely adult kind of love, but she loved him none-the-less. She had done what she had done not because she was evil but because, in her own way, she had wanted a chance, over a lifetime, to ‘pay him back’ for saving her life during her first year. The tragedy of her passing lay in the fact that she could not have anticipated how the Amortentia would have affected him. A little or a lot – it would not have mattered. He still would have retreated into the coma.

Hermione knew, because he told her, that he missed Ginny’s friendship and that special smile she always had for him. They both prayed that Ginny would be the very last person that either of them knew, who was lost to something other than old age.

****************
Once the four Potters left the hospital, special quarters were created for them at the school, which gave them some privacy until the end of the school year. No one complained, as professors and students alike understood how much Hermione and Harry had given to the wizarding world.

At the end of June, Harry and Hermione were graduated with the highest possible honors from Hogwarts; receiving their diplomas as their children snuggled in their arms.

Finally, all was right with the world, Hermione thought, as she looked at her husband and children and then at her extended family – each with flaming red hair.

Life was good.