Final Year, Chapter 12 – The Wand, the Graveyard, the Snake, and the Lovers

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – December 19

We’re back in England now, and we’re going to meet Ron at Hogwarts this evening to fetch Dumbledore’s wand. We’ve worked it out so that Hagrid’s going to come to the gate and let us in.

Ron has been staying at Bill’s house instead of with his parents. He told us it was too risky to go there, as the Burrow’s under surveillance. Most likely because they’re still trying to capture me, but it might also be because some Voldemort sympathizers in the Ministry are hoping to catch Harry. So it was a good decision on Ron’s part to not let them spot him either.

Harry and Hermione approached the Shrieking Shack under his invisibility cloak, and a quickly whispered Homenum Revelio spell indicated that the disillusioned form of their best friend was waiting for them. After assuring themselves that no one was nearby, they removed the cloak and greeted Ron warmly, Hermione with one of her famous crushing hugs. After a few minutes spent catching up, they restored their concealment and apparated up to the Hogwarts gates, where Hagrid soon appeared. A quiet greeting alerted him to their presence, and he quickly let them in and led them back to his hut. Along the way he explained that they should be safe from detection there, since Umbridge avoided going anywhere near the Forbidden Forest. Beneath the cloak the two Gryffindors shared a grin, recalling the incident that had instilled that particular phobia in the much loathed headmistress.

At Hagrid’s hut they were surprised to find McGonagall, Flitwick, Ginny, and Luna eagerly anticipating their arrival. While Luna threw herself into Ron’s arms, Ginny explained. “Susan and Neville are on Dawlish distraction duty tonight, as Luna and I wanted to see you guys. And your message was mysterious enough that the professors wanted to find out what was going on.”

“Dawlish distraction duty?” Hermione couldn’t resist asking. She noticed that McGonagall and Flitwick pretended not to hear that part.

“The DA members take turns getting detention with him in the evenings,” the petite redhead whispered conspiratorially. “That keeps him in his office every night and makes it easier for the rest of us to get together for training without being stopped in the hallways.”

McGonagall cleared her throat, at which Ginny grinned and stepped back. “Now, Mr. Potter, what’s this all about?” the stern Transfiguration professor inquired.

Harry tried to answer as casually as he could. “I need Dumbledore’s wand.”

There was a stunned silence in the hut for several seconds, then Ginny snorted and shook her head. “Well, is that all? And here we all thought it was something unusual.”

McGonagall was the next to recover. “Whatever on earth would you need that for?”

“Actually, the fewer people who know why the better,” Hermione responded before Harry could answer, and to add her support to his request. “In fact, it’s pretty dangerous for you to even know that we have it. It might be better if you were all obliviated after we fetch it.”

“Can we assume that this is important with regards to defeating You Know Who?” McGonagall asked, uncertain about this proposal and wanting to be convinced. “Surely you don’t believe that Albus’s wand is one of the … items you’re seeking.” She caught herself before saying the word ‘Horcrux’, not certain if everyone present was fully aware of the details of the Trio’s mission.

“No, this is something else entirely, but it might be just as important,” Harry assured her.

Luna finally broke away from her snog session with Ron. “Did you ever find Ravenclaw’s diadem?” she asked in her typical abrupt but breezy manner. Hermione shot a hard look at Ron, but he paled and shook his head quickly, signaling that he hadn’t told Luna anything. Hermione relaxed slightly and decided that Luna was bright enough to conclude that they’d follow up on her tip, given how strongly Hermione had reacted to the information that day in the plunge pool. The memory of that reaction brought a brief flush to her cheeks and she noticed a grin flash over Harry’s face next to her. She managed to resist elbowing him in the ribs in return.

“No,” Harry replied, seeing that Hermione was still trying to regain her composure. “But it might help if we knew exactly what it looked like.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Flitwick spoke up for the first time since their intention of breaking into Dumbledore’s tomb had been revealed. “There’s a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw herself wearing the diadem in the Ravenclaw common room. I’ll take you to see it, but it would be best if you came back over the holidays when there aren’t so many students present.”

“That would be great,” Hermione responded, “but let’s get back to the issue of the wand. We understand that you really want to know why we need it before you’d let us damage the tomb, but …” she paused to glance at Harry, seeking his opinion.

“I agree with Hermione,” he stepped in quickly. “Obliviation might be best. Ron?”

Ron had missed the beginning of the conversation, but had now picked up the gist of it. With his arm still wrapped around Luna’s waist, he nodded his agreement, then gave her an apologetic shrug.

McGonagall was still hesitant. “I understand your concern, but since Professor Flitwick and I would be among those requiring our memories to be adjusted, you don’t have ready access to an Obliviation expert.”

Harry grinned. “How about someone who Moody said could be hired by the Ministry as an Obliviator any time she wanted the job?”

Upon hearing the details, no one in the group was the least bit surprised that Hermione would have been able to master the tricky spell. Thus reassured, their eagerness to hear the story behind Dumbledore’s wand (even if they knew they would forget it within five minutes) made them all agree to Harry’s terms.

Once again, they were all speechless.

If it had been anyone other than Hermione Granger telling them that not only did the fabled Wand of Destiny exist but that their renowned headmaster had actually wielded it for the past fifty years – a story that they would have fully expected to hear from Luna, to cite an obvious example – they would have either put it down to a colossal prank or suspected that the teller had taken leave of his senses. Even so, it was all they could do to keep from scoffing (except for Luna, who thought it perfectly reasonable). It was finally the deadly serious nature of the assertion that persuaded them that Harry and Hermione were not having them on.

Still shaking their heads, the two professors led the small group surreptitiously down to the lake beside the great white tomb of the most famous Headmaster in Hogwart’s history since Godric Gryffindor. Flitwick himself did the honors, neatly carving a hole in the white marble so that Harry could dart in and retrieve the ill-fated wand from where it was still clasped in the unmoving hands of the great wizard. He deliberately avoided looking at the face of the man about whom he now harbored such mixed emotions, and hastened back out into the cold nighttime air. Without another word Flitwick expertly sealed the opening, and the small group scurried back to Hagrid’s hut, where Hermione promptly erased the incident from the minds of all but her two best friends.

As soon as she’d finished, Harry spoke up. “Well, thanks again, Professor Flitwick and Luna, for clearing that up about the diadem. We’ll be sure to stop back next week.”

“But Harry, what about your mysterious errand?” Ginny wondered.

“It’s taken care of,” Hermione responded quickly. “We don’t want you to give it another thought.” A look of understanding passed between the two professors, and was quickly caught by the two students, then by Hagrid.

Under the cloak once more, Harry and Hermione passed through the gate alongside their disillusioned friend. “So, are you going to come to …” Ron began, then frowned when he couldn’t continue. “Whoops, I forgot. Read this.” He dug a slip of parchment out of his pocket and held it out in the direction of his friends until his arm bumped into one of them. A bit of wriggling later, the couple was reading the words.

Bill and Fleur Weasley live at Shell Cottage, Tinworth, Cornwall

“Got it,” Harry announced when they’d finished, as Hermione incinerated the secret message. “As far as what we’re going to do next …”

“I …er, we have plans,” Hermione broke in. “It’ll be our first Christmas on our own as a couple, you see, and I wanted to do something special. We’ll come to stay with you after, OK?”

Ron was silent for a while, as he processed this information. It was probably inevitable that things like this would happen more and more, he realized, and he just had to deal with it.

“Boxing Day then?” he asked.

“Sounds great,” Hermione replied, relieved that he hadn’t pushed, or that Harry hadn’t objected, since she’d not had time to run her idea past him. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

Upon reaching Hogsmeade Station, Ron bade them farewell, and disapparated away. Harry, whose arm had been around Hermione’s waist the entire time they’d been under the cloak, as was their standard procedure when traveling together beneath it, pulled her a bit closer in a hug.

“So, just what exactly is Hermione’s Plan?” he teased.

“I thought we might treat ourselves to a few days off and relax,” she replied hesitantly. “Get a hotel room in town, do some Christmas shopping, go out to eat, maybe take in a show or a movie …”

“Can we afford that?” he wondered.

“If you mean can we afford to take the time, I think we need to,” she responded with a bit more confidence. “It’s important to take a break every now and then, and we’ve been going nearly nonstop since September. If you mean do we have enough money, I think so. Living in the tent for the past nearly four months didn’t cost a thing, and we were pretty frugal with food. We haven’t spent a thing on entertainment, and …”

“OK, OK, you’ve convinced me,” he laughed, giving her another hug. “Now, tell me more about this hotel. I assume you already have one picked out?”

“Well, you know me,” Hermione smiled back. “I like to fully research things before I commit myself. The one I have in mind isn’t in the center of town, so it’s not too expensive, but it’s still convenient to shopping and entertainment.”

“Does it have room service?” Harry asked with a salacious grin.

“Not only that, the rooms have Jacuzzi style tubs that can hold two people,” Hermione retorted with wicked grin of her own.

“Brilliant!”

Just over two hours later Harry found himself relaxing in chest deep, hot, bubbly water, with Hermione in front of him leaning back against his chest. She had just given him a thorough scrubbing, and now he was returning the favor. As he rubbed her down his hands did tend to linger, though, on her more interesting parts.

“Hermione, you really outdid yourself this time,” he sighed. “I must say you have the absolute best ideas.”

“Mmmm,” was the only response she could manage, as a particular ministration sent a tingle through her body. Eventually she added, “I’m glad you’re enjoying this as much as I am.” Then she just closed her eyes and relaxed, allowing her other senses to take over.

Eventually they decided that their skin was going to wrinkle if they stayed in any longer, and climbed out of the tub, Harry going first and handing Hermione a large, fluffy towel as she emerged. He couldn’t help giving her a head to toe inspection, and when his gaze returned to her face he noticed that she was biting her lip, a sign that she was nervous about the topic she was about to bring up. As they toweled themselves off he gave her a reassuring smile, indicating for her to go ahead with what was on her mind.

I had an additional idea,” she told him, her voice now serious. “I got some information on Godric’s Hollow. Your parents are buried in a church graveyard there. I thought on Christmas Eve we might go there and attend the service, then stay after to visit their graves.”

Harry was nearly overwhelmed with emotion upon hearing this, and wrapped her up in a tight hug.

“Hermione, I love you so much!”

-0x0x0-

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – December 21

This has been an absolutely fabulous weekend! We spent the whole day Saturday shopping and seeing all the Christmas decorations, and Harry didn’t complain a bit. He was actually pretty excited about it, having never had the opportunity to see the city decorated up for the holidays.

Today we did some more of the same but also took in a movie. The next few days we’re going to play tourist, and visit places like Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and the Tower of London and Tower Bridge. If we have time I’d like to spend a day at the British Museum.

The movie we saw was Titanic, which just opened last month and is sure to be a major hit. Of course, Harry made a joke about it when I first made the suggestion, saying he already knew how it was going to turn out (the boat sinks!) but I just rolled my eyes and told him there was more to the movie than that. It really was a fascinating movie, with a very touching love story, and I cried a bit when it became clear that she was going to lose him.

The ending did hit a bit close to home, and generated some discussion as we walked back to our hotel.

“So, what was your favorite part?” Hermione asked while they made their way through the crowds outside the theater. They paused to fasten their coats and pull their scarves tight, as a light snow had begun to fall, and Harry wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. She shot him a grin. “Besides the nude scene, that is.”

“Well, that was certainly a highlight,” he shot back playfully. “Do you think you would pose for me like that?”

“I might, if you could draw worth a lick,” she teased. “Maybe we could get Dean …” She broke off and laughed at the horrified expression on his face at the thought of her posing nude for his Gryffindor dormmate. “So what would you do with a picture like that if you had one?” she continued.

“Might come in handy if you’re not around for awhile,” he replied cheekily. She decided that the only proper response to that was to hit him on the arm. The more serious aspect of that thought, the exact circumstances that would cause her to ‘not be around’ crept into both of their thoughts.

“I guess I admired his spirit, the way he never gave up no matter how bad things got,” Harry decided, as the conversation grew more somber.

“Kind of like you,” she pointed out, tightening her arm around his waist to punctuate her thought.

“Like what he said at the end, that he planned to write a strongly worded letter of protest to the shipping line,” Harry continued. “I think he knew he was going to die, and he was still concerned mostly for her, trying to make her laugh.”

Hermione stopped and turned to Harry, wrapping both arms around him and laying her head on his chest. “You’re not going to die, Harry, and neither am I,” she insisted, her voice breaking slightly. “We have too many things we want to do. We’re going to get married, and have a family, and live long lives together. We have to believe that, Harry.”

“I know, Hermione,” he whispered back. “And I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.”

-0x0x0-

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – December 24

We’re getting ready to go to Godric’s Hollow. We decided to polyjuice ourselves, on the chance that there’s still some danger there. We’ll take the invisibility cloak as well. Harry’s going to leave his rucksack here in the hotel, but I’ll take my handbag, which I’ve altered again into a nice looking evening bag. Among other things, I’m putting in Gryffindor’s sword. Just in case.

We had an amusing discussion about the polyjuice potion, deciding what we wanted to look like. I stocked up on hair last summer by visiting a barber shop and a beauty salon, and asked Harry what color hair he wanted. He immediately answered red – he always wanted to be a Weasley. So I asked him if he had a name picked out and he said ‘Barney’. I wondered where that came from and he got the cutest guilty look on his face. I finally made him tell me – he’d been watching the telly while I was getting ready this morning and there was a children’s show with a purple dinosaur on it that kept telling all the kids how much he loved them. It was so sweet!

However, I told him I wasn’t sure if I could go along with him in red hair, and that he couldn’t expect any hugging or kissing while he looked like that. At his puzzled look, I asked him what he’d think if I gave myself long straight red hair. He immediately got the point. We eventually decided that I’d go as a blonde and he’d have brown hair. Neither of us look anything like ourselves.

They apparated to the outskirts of Godric’sHollow, and found themselves standing hand in hand in a snowy lane, lined with cottages on either side, Christmas decorations twinkling in their windows. As they entered the village they came upon a small square, surrounded by several shops, a post office, a pub, and the church that was their destination. In the center of the square was a war memorial, a simple obelisk covered with names. To their surprise, as they passed it, it began to transform.

“Harry!” Hermione whispered. “It’s you!”

Apparently the wizarding world had its own idea of what needed memorializing in Godric’s Hollow, for standing there before them was a statue of a man with unruly hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a pretty face, and a baby in her arms. Harry tightened his grip on Hermione’s hand, and she turned to him, her eyes shining through the snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes. Harry swallowed hard and managed a return smile, blinking away the moisture in his eyes that had nothing to do with melting snowflakes.

Hermione made no move to leave until Harry tugged on her hand, indicating that he’d had his fill, and the pair of them headed toward the church, where the music had already started playing. Slipping inside and hanging up their cloaks and scarves, they found an empty pew near the back.

Harry followed Hermione’s lead, since she was much more familiar with Christmas services than he, and she held the hymnal out where he could follow along. The church was lit only by a few dozen candles along the aisles, but it was enough to make out the words to the familiar carols. As the service ended with Silent Night , the two of them waited until most of the worshippers had gone, accepting friendly greetings of ‘Happy Christmas’ before they made their way out into the graveyard behind the old stone church.

There, behind an old rusty kissing gate, they found rows and rows of tombstones emerging from the snow, in a haphazard arrangement that suggested that they went back hundreds of years. They reluctantly released each other’s hands so that they could separate to search more efficiently, but also kept their free hands clasped tightly on their hidden wands.

“Here’s the Dumbledore plot,” Harry called out in a low voice. “Looks like his mum, dad, and sister.” Hermione waved to indicate she’d heard and moved into the next row. Harry paused briefly, feeling once again a mixture of sadness and resentment at his former headmaster, that he had not shared the information that they had this connection, much less brought him here at some point in his life to pay his respects. Why had this needed to be hidden from him?

“Harry, over here!” Hermione whispered excitedly.

“Did you find them?” Harry asked quickly as he stumbled in her direction. He noticed that she was in an area where the stones were much older, some of them crumbling, and many of them covered with moss or buried in weeds.

“No, but this one’s important too,” she informed him as he came up to her side, their hands automatically joining again. “Look.”

The name was difficult to read, but definitely started with a P. But what caught his eye first was the symbol above it – the now familiar triangle in a circle, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Hermione had taken a brief look around before pulling out her wand and cleaning the moss off the name. The last name was Peverell. Their hands tightened in each other’s grasp in excitement as the first name emerged – Ignotus.

“The brother with the Impenetrable Invisibility Cloak,” Hermione recounted softly. “Who passed it down to his descendents. Who lived in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Guess Ron was right,” Harry concluded. Beside him Hermione nodded. After another few moments they separated again to continue their search.

The little church was empty and dark, and he’d been tempted to illuminate the tip of his wand but decided not to, instead depending on the light of the crescent moon. In the shifting shadows cast by its dim light, he finally made the discovery.

“Hermione, I’ve found them.” Hermione was only a row away and hastily joined him. As she pulled his arm around her shoulders and wrapped her own around his waist he felt a heavy sensation in his chest, much more intense than what he’d experienced while looking at the memorial statue. Being here, in the presence of the mother and father he’d lost when he was just a year old, the feeling was nearly overwhelming, but for the strong support of the woman at his side.

This headstone, being relatively new, was easy to read. The white marble almost seemed to shine in the dim moonlight. His father’s name on the left, his mother’s on the right, sharing a common date of death – October 31, 1981.

Now the tears came, emerging hot and heavy from his eyes, cooling as they tracked down his cheeks and fell to the ground. Beside him Hermione tightened her grip but remained silent, providing him the strength to stay standing instead of falling to his knees in his grief. He didn’t need to look at her, knowing that she was there for him was enough, and he returned the pressure of her embrace. With a twirl of her wand a wreath of Christmas roses appeared, and she directed it gently down to rest on their graves, coming through with exactly what he needed yet again.

At length he decided it was time to go. He’d needed this visit, this connection with his past, this reaffirmation of who he was and where he came from. But now it was time to return to the present, and the present was Hermione, and their mission. With his arm around her shoulders, and hers still around his waist they picked their way back through the tombstones, to the kissing gate and the darkened church beyond, without a word being spoken. None were necessary.

During their time in the graveyard the Polyjuice had worn off, so before they emerged from the darkness behind the church, they once more donned the invisibility cloak. There was one more visit to make, to try to determine why Snape had wanted them to come here. With directions from Remus they made their way past the pub, filled with Christmas revelers now that the church service was over, and down a dark street leading out of the village. Wizarding homes tended to be located on the outskirts of the villages they shared with muggles, and those of the Potters, Bagshots, and Dumbledores were no exception.

The street had turned into a lane, and the cottages with their gaily twinkling Christmas lights had become more sparse, when they finally spotted the dark mass at the very end of the road. No lights illuminated this abandoned wreck of building. The hedge had grown wild and waist high grass contrasted with the neatly manicured lawns of the other homes in the village. Most of the cottage was still standing, but part of the upper floor had been blown away in a horrible accident that had claimed the lives of the young family who had once lived there, or so the other villagers believed.

Hermione voiced the thought that had also entered Harry’s mind. Why had no one ever rebuilt it? In any other town houses like this were razed and the property sold, and eventually a new structure housed another family who had no knowledge of the people who had lived there before, except what they gathered from the gossip of their neighbors. Why not this one? Was it the remains of the Fidelius , or were there still active Muggle Repelling Charms? Did the other residents of Godric’s Hollow even know it existed?

Their intention was to enter the house, to see if they could spot something that Remus and Tonks had missed, some clue to a possible Horcrux, or at least the Founder’s relic that Voldemort had intended to use that fateful night. But as soon as Harry touched the heavily rusted gate to push it aside, two things happened.

First, another transformation occurred, and part of the rubble on the ground turned into another memorial plaque that explained one set of their questions.

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state
as a reminder of the sacrifice made by the Potters,
and a monument to the victory of the Boy Who Lived

Then, a figure appeared, approaching them, a heavily muffled figure of what appeared to be an elderly woman. As she passed the last of the occupied houses, they concluded first that she must be a witch, next, that she might be Bathilda Bagshot, the other well-known resident of Godric’s Hollow, and finally, that she was there to talk to them .

But they were under the invisibility cloak, presumably the one perfectly impenetrable invisibility cloak. Did she possess a magical eye like Moody’s that could sense them even if he couldn’t see them? The old woman stopped in front of them, stared straight at Harry (and seemed to ignore Hermione) and beckoned him to come with her.

“Are you Bathilda Bagshot?” he queried. The muffled figure nodded and turned, expecting him to follow. As she led them back up the lane, and then turned down the first side street, Harry fell back so he and Hermione could discuss the situation without being overheard.

“I’m not sure she even knows I’m here,” Hermione whispered.

“I noticed that too, maybe she can only sense that there’s someone under the cloak, and assumed it was just one person,” Harry suggested.

“I think she knows it’s you, though,” Hermione pointed out. Harry then suggested that when they arrived at whatever destination Bathilda was taking them to, Hermione remain under the cloak, and she agreed. Neither of them needed to add the phrase, ‘Constant Vigilance!’ Both of them had their wands in their hands, ready for action.

At the end of the second street, set somewhat apart from its neighbors, was another house with a yard that was rather overgrown, again in contrast to its neighbors. Harry suspected that this one too was protected by Notice Me Not Charms, and its owner must not feel the peer pressure that normally worked in a village such as this to assure that every yard was properly manicured.

Their guide paused to unlock the door, and led them inside, still having not spoken a word. Whatever message she had for them evidently required privacy. A slight prickling of his scar as they entered put Harry on even higher alert.

The inside of the house looked terrible, and smelled worse. It appeared that no one had lived here in months, dust coated everything and there was some old, moldy half-eaten food on the kitchen table. A squeeze of his hand let Harry know that Hermione also felt that there was something terribly wrong here. While Bathilda had her back turned, Harry slipped out from under the cloak, leaving Hermione covered.

The phrase ‘dead man walking’ flashed through Hermione’s mind as their host unwrapped her shawl, revealing a white head of hair and a wrinkled, pale face with unseeing eyes. Was she blind? Had she sensed them by some other means?

The old woman gestured again and began to climb the stairs to the second floor, although it seemed that such a task would be beyond the capability of her broken down body. Harry followed her while Hermione lingered for a few seconds, taking the opportunity to quickly scan the kitchen and sitting room for the presence of dark objects.

But up in the bedroom at the top of the stairs, the slow motion tableau abruptly ceased. Harry’s scar burst open with a blinding pain, and he staggered backward, falling onto a dusty old bed. As his hand shot to his forehead, he barely glimpsed a horrifying transformation as the crippled old woman dissolved into a massive snake that coiled itself and raised its head to strike at him.

With a shout to warn Hermione Harry raised his wand, then fired off a blasting hex just before rolling out of the way of Nagini’s first strike. To his shock, his hex just bounced off of his attacker and he landed heavily on the floor, trying to gather himself before the snake could strike again.

“Sectumsempra !” Hermione had raced up the stairs at the first sound and appeared in the doorway just in time to see Harry’s hex deflect into the ceiling, blowing open a large gaping hole, so she went for something stronger, and cast the borderline dark slashing curse.

But it was also to no avail, impacting harmlessly on the seemingly impervious hide of the creature. Harry again dodged its second strike, moving as quickly as he could, hampered as he was by the searing pain that lanced into his head. Now he was backed against the wall of the small bedroom, his options for movement limited, as he tried to come up with a curse that might be more effective than the ones cast so far.

“Depulso !” Hermione cast this, not at the attacking serpent, but at the floor beneath it, blowing it away and sending Nagini crashing down to the lower level of the cottage. But before she could reach Harry, the rest of the floor also gave way, and the two of them fell through as well.

A quick cushioning charm assured their safe landing, and they scrambled to their feet even as the dazed serpent gathered itself for another strike. “Protego !” Harry incanted, and the snake’s attack was blocked by the shimmery blue glow, although they were pushed back by the force of the strike.

Harry cast the shield spell again while beside him Hermione fumbled with the strings of her evening bag. “Harry! Try the sword!” she gasped, holding the bag open before him. Without an instant of hesitation he reached inside, took hold of the familiar hilt, and withdrew the gleaming blade just as Nagini lunged at him once more. This time Hermione defended them, levitating the kitchen table to block the attack, and then raising it to crash down on their foe as the giant snake recoiled again.

The blade of Gryffindor cut through the air as Nagini’s head rose through the splintered wood, and severed it cleanly before the snake could try to evade. A final burst of agony threatened to tear apart Harry’s skull, as an unearthly shriek filled the room, emanating from the now dead body of Voldemort’s familiar.

Hermione wasted no time pulling Harry out of the kitchen and into the sitting room, and he staggered along after her, following her lead while he tried to clear his head. “Are you OK?” she called out as she retrieved the precious cloak and picked up their discarded hats and scarves.

He nodded and reached out his hand to her. “I will be. I think we found what we came for. Let’s get out of here before someone else shows up.”

 

The young couple reappeared in their hotel room and immediately collapsed onto the bed in each other’s arms. Hermione was overcome briefly, shaking uncontrollably now that the immediate danger was past, and Harry held her tightly, murmuring to her how incredible she’d been in the fight, and how she’d saved his life. These comforting words were cut off, however, by another flash of pain and he winced at the raw rage pouring through the link he shared with the master of the creature he’d just destroyed. Hermione, having regained her poise, now returned the favor and began stroking his forehead and the raw, red, jagged wound.

“Oh Merlin, he’s really angry now,” Harry managed through his gritted teeth. Neither of them needed to speculate why, since both had recognized the telltale signs of a Horcrux being destroyed, having now witnessed four of them either directly or indirectly. But try as he might, Harry was unable to close the connection this time.

Hermione recalled that the last time this had happened, at Remus and Tonks’s wedding, Harry had told her he had driven Voldemort out of his mind by concentrating on his love for her. Accordingly, she pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him, after first casting aside their cloaks and heavy outer clothing, then claimed his lips and proceeded to kiss him as passionately as she could.

It worked, and soon he was responding as forcefully as she was, and more clothing began to disappear as things heated up and hands started to roam. Finally they broke apart and faced each other, lying on their sides, while they caught their breath.

“Harry, I don’t want to wait any more,” Hermione breathed huskily.

“Are you sure?” he whispered back, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

She nodded as her hands reached out for him again, bringing him closer to her body, desperately needing the reassuring contact. “Either of us could have died tonight,” she reasoned. “And there’s no guarantee that this sort of situation won’t happen again. I don’t want to take the chance that we might never …” Harry silenced her with another passionate kiss.

The remainder of their clothing disappeared in no time at all, and the covers of the bed were thrown back, even as their hands never stopped touching each other. The decision having been made, both of them wanted to take the time to make it special. Hermione grabbed her wand and cast a charm on herself that Fleur had taught her, designed to eliminate the pain of a witch’s first time, then showed Harry how to draw the rune for the contraception ritual she had learned at Beauxbatons. He watched with increasing excitement as she vanished her pubic hair, and he cast the rune on the newly uncovered skin, then stroked it tenderly while she completed the ritual. By the time she finished she was also breathing heavily, and they both pulled each other into another loving embrace.

And in the early hours of Christmas Day, the young witch and wizard joined together and gave their bodies to each other completely, and without reservation.

-oooOOOooo-

“Mum?”

Hermione’s head jerked up and spun to face her daughter as she blinked several times to clear her thoughts.

“What happened?” Rose continued now that she had her mother’s attention. “You just sort of faded out and you’ve been sitting there staring at a blank page.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermione replied as her face reddened. “I suppose I got lost in my thoughts. Where was I?”

“You and dad had just apparated back to your hotel room after killing Nagini and you were holding on to each other, and then you kissed him to drive Voldemort out of his head,” the young girl explained impatiently. “What happened next?”

“Oh … oh, well, we just went to bed and kept holding each other all night,” Hermione stammered.

Rose rolled her eyes in frustration. It seemed to her that would have been a perfect time for her parents to make love. Honestly, with the way things were going in this story it was hard to see how they’d ever managed to conceive her. Then she looked back at her mother, who was once more staring at the notebook with a contented smile on her face.

A smile of her own crept onto the bright young girl’s face as the realization hit her. OK, so maybe her parents weren’t so out of it after all.

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