Chapter 8: Awake and AvengeSummary:So.
Harry goes scorched earth.
Hermione gets violent.
Dumbledore gets bitch slapped.
Ron is trying to accept this new reality- and makes a few good decisions too.
There's smut in the horizon, but it's my first attempt and might be exceptionally cringe. So, proceed with caution but don't worry, we're still in the kiddie pool here- nothing too wild. For now.
Notes:*peeks from the the wall, waiting for the tomatoes*
Hello hello hello!
Guess who's alive?
Surprised? Intrigued?
New lil chap all for ya. Extra long because I have to make you forgive me.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextThe very first thing Hermione saw after opening her eyes was Professor Dumbledore's ecstatic, weathered face.
The next thing she saw was the hole in the wall she had made with his ecstatic, weathered body instead.
She had just woken up after logic-defying, absurd days passed in a mental limbo with her newly minted husband, just to find herself face to face with the man who had indirectly killed him.
Well, in his future life. Or past life?
It was not important, because the old man planned to morally coerce her husband into certain death, all the while leveraging his influence to make him fight and finish a war he had not commenced, nor had subscribed to if not for the machinations of Fate.
More accurately, Fate and man both, as one of the key manipulators of the events was in front of her.
Or was in front of her. Because the moment she had eyed that unsightly beard, she had released an involuntary wave of pure, destructive rage in the form of a wandless, wordless Bombarda -which ended up positioning said unsightly beard horizontally - and sent it through what she now recognised as the Infirmary's front wall.
"Miss Granger!"
"Headmaster-"
"Mi, love-" she only turned around when she recognised Harry's voice in the cacophony of the overcrowded room. His eyes were wide and astonished, but he couldn't control a glimmer of satisfaction when he realised what had happened. Hermione winked at him.
A sudden surge in static made everything go quiet. Hermione got up from the bed and adjusted her gown, still dressed like the night of the party, and calmly walked to the smoking, enormous circular hole in the wall. She knew the Professor had cushioned his fall, as he was now upright and sprightly again. For now, she silently added.
"I think we need to work on the control part," Hermione said thoughtfully, indicating the wall with a hand. She then waved with nonchalance at some acquaintances on the other side of the hole that had been almost scared shitless by the explosion.
Harry nodded sagely.
The Professors who had gathered in the room were gaping at the sight.
Then everyone started speaking over each other again.
"Miss Granger - sorry, Mrs Potter, you cannot-"
"Mr Potter, how are you feeling?"
"Do you feel any different from-"
Harry cleared his throat.
"Before you start with your questions," he declared, "Hermione and I are aware of what happened. Right now, it's not important how much we know or how we came to know it. However," he gave a cold, penetrating stare at Dumbledore, "I think we need to talk, Professor." He almost spat the word. Dumbledore's eyes dimmed -he didn't know what the two young Gryffindors knew, but it certainly didn't appear favourable to him.
Hermione nodded somberly.
"I would like to invite Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick too, if it's not a problem." Her words were polite, but she didn't sound like someone asking permission.
The two teachers agreed immediately. One, because he was fascinated with the subject, and the other because she had been left in the dark far too many times when it came to these particular students. It was high time to change that.
They quickly arranged a meeting for that afternoon in the Headmaster's office, since the couple had preferred to take a shower and change their clothes first- a guise for regrouping and deciding on a plan of attack.
Of course, Madam Pomphrey wouldn't let them go so easily -they were free to leave only after extensive charms and tests proved their sufficient health.
They made their exit from the suffocating Infirmary amidst ravenously curious looks from people in other beds and their stuttering openings for a conversation.
Harry and Hermione almost didn't notice Ron following them.
"Err- mate?" he tentatively asked.
Harry was startled. "Godric, Ron. Didn't see you there- almost scared me. Were you in the Infirmary too?"
"Yeah," he rasped, "I scared you. Not the other way around. Not at all."
Harry eyed him for a moment, then sighed.
"Come with us."
———
The couple did indeed stop to take a shower, while sending Ron to the Kitchens to get a bite to eat from the Elves.
They met in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and Harry passed three times in front of the wall across from it to conjure their usual room.
Ron took a seat hesitantly, not exactly aware of where he stood in all of… that.
"Relax, mate, I'm not gonna eat you." Harry and Ron rolled their eyes almost simultaneously, but the ice had been broken.
"So," Ron started, clapping his hands once. He was vibrating with the need to know, as no one had spoken a word to him after the Headmaster ended their conversation, and he went out of the room to compose himself. "What in the actual bloody hell has happened?"
Harry gestured to the table, where the provisions for the late lunch had been laid out.
"You'll want to be seated for this," he added.
Ron gulped.
———
"This is barmy. Barmy, I say. Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody-"
"Language."
"Language, my foot, 'Mione. You cannot tell me all of this and expect me to just accept it and move on, right?"
"Imagine living it," Harry replied from his prime position- sprawled on the couch like a starfish. He was already tired of this shit- he just wanted a few moments alone with his wife, was that so difficult?
"I would rather not, thank you very much," Ron shuddered. He was trying to accept the events and take a stance, having tried to box his feelings about everything and stored them somewhere along the very back of his heart. He was not entirely successful, but still.
He made a decision anyway.
"That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to the dorms, and I'm going to sleep for a while-" at Hermione's deadpan look, he reddened. "What? I slept horrible last night," Ron shrugged. "Horribly, Ronald, you slept horribly."
"She's all yours, mate. Blessings and prayers."
"Ronald Bilius-" Hermione hissed.
"Run, mate, run," Harry pointed his finger upwards, spraying red sparks as if to cheer him on from his couch. His tone was flatter than his best Wronsky position.
After a game of chase that ended with Ron bound to the armchair and lectured for a good fifteen minutes, Harry finally rose from his great rendition of a Victorian child on his deathbed and intervened.
"Children! Can we please stop whatever this is and think about what we're going to say to Dumbledore?"
"He's alive!" Hermione faked a gasp.
Harry just stared at her. "If I weren't, you wouldn't be either."
That shut both of them up.
Harry and Hermione shared a meaningful glance. They hadn't told everything to Ron. For example, the dream and the identity of the entity -he rolled his eyes at his own word play- who had informed him remained a mystery to Ron. They had explained it as some higher power that had intervened and revealed everything to them- it was somewhat true, even if said 'higher power' was just Harry himself, if from another time. Neither could bear to tell him what had happened with the older versions of themselves- it was decided not to mention weddings nor divorces. That would be plain cruelty, not to mention completely unnecessary.
They had been truthful, however, about the rest of the information. They had explained what had happened, the mechanics of the Bond, and gave the merit for the new information about Dumbledore's plans to that same entity. The Prophecy's interpretation was corrected, and so was the truth about the Horcrux in Harry's head and its certain connection to his visions. They talked about Sirius and the inheritance waiting for Harry, expecting another explosion from Ron.
He was very calm, instead. Almost too calm.
"Mate, did you already know about my title?" Harry asked in trepidation. He couldn't bear being lied to yet again. "Not exactly," Ron started uncertainly, then steeled himself. "When we met, you had a lot of Galleons. I was curious about that and asked my father, who told me that you were a descendant of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. I just took that at face value, at first - to get into your Vault, you had to ask the Goblins, and I figured they had informed you about your situation," he sighed.
"I didn't talk about it later, when it became clear that you knew little of your family, because it's just not the done thing, ya know? You would be asked things like that only by someone in the Legacies Department or Gringotts- other people just don't interfere in others' House matters. It's considered a very private thing, something your guardian should have informed you of. I gathered Dumbledore, or later Sirius, would tell you or had already told you anyway, and you didn't speak about it because you were, you know, uncomfortable with it or something, and never thought about it again," Ron shrugged.
Harry felt his hackles rising.
"Mate," he started. "Do you truly think Dumbledore would tell me anything not strictly necessary? And Sirius was barely holding up as it was, let alone talk to me about titles! You know I was raised by Muggles, where else would I get this information if not from you?"
Ron looked down, a bit ashamed of his own naivety.
"All right," Hermione intervened. "Harry, you know he didn't withdraw the information maliciously, so just shelve it for now. We'll talk more about this when we have the time."
"Very well," Harry raised his glasses on top of his head and rubbed his palms on his eyes, already exhausted.
—————
"So, let me recap," Ron tried to make heads and tails of what had been said. "Basically, you're Soulmates and, as such, married. This I already knew -it doesn't make it any less bonkers, but I had a couple of hours to wrap my head around it," he nodded to himself, pacing up and down the room.
Harry and Hermione followed him with their eyes, nodding at the right times.
"Then, after you… kissed," he made a face.
"After you completed the Bond, you went to this insane place inside your heads that looks like the Common Room. But not before Harry met some deity or such, that informed him -while sitting in a completely white version of King's Cross- of Dumbledore's plan to basically make him an underage Battle Wizard on the front lines, until it was the right time for You-Know-Who to do him in. This right time should've come after Harry found all of the pieces of hissoul, which, at the moment, no one knows where or even what they are. Harry should also destroy said pieces of soul, even if we still don't know how. But I digress," he continued pacing while passing his hands through his hair and pulling a bit.
"Fact is, after everything is done, Harry should have to sacrifice himself, because there was one of those things inside his head, and You-Know-Who won't be able to kick the bucket until they're all gone. Am I right?" Both teenagers nodded mechanically, and he resumed wearing a hole in the pavement.
"But this plan cannot go on, because the Bond has destroyed that… thing that has leeched off Harry's magic for years and even tried to sever the Bond itself, which is why you never got together earlier- other than the fact that it was not yet mature enough to be completed. And that's all and good, Harry doesn't have to gracefully invite You-Know-Who to Avada him in the face again, and the will of Magic has been respected," he continued nodding maniacally to himself.
"If it wasn't for the fact that you are now the most powerful beings Wizarding Britain has seen since Merlin and Morgana- which means you will be fighting on the front lines as a certainty, because you're just that kind of people and no one in power would let you cry off in any case -if you don't count the Prophecy, that basically forces both of you to do that anyway, of course. Nonetheless, we know that a War is brewing and we are not only fewer in numbers, but also weaker in potency of attacks, because almost none of the members of the Order will kill the bastards outright. Which means that everything will be in your hands, as it is tradition by now. Why not rest the outcome of a war and the safety of the world on two teenagers' shoulders? Truly rational, very well reasoned. At least Hermione has already started reuniting people, waiting for the right moment to form an army. Not that that's any less bonkers than everything else, but apparently, we will have at least a bit of help if you can overpower the Veil and get Sirius back from the dead. That is, if he's still sane after all of that -not that he was all that right in the head to begin with. Not only that, but you'll have to assume your title to get political power, try to steer public opinion in our favor and recruit as many people as humanly possible to fight for the Light Side," he fell on the armchair, covering his face with his hands.
"That… pretty much sums it up," Harry nodded weakly.
"Blimey, Harry!"
———
"So, what's the game plan for today?" Ron said excitedly. He had overcome his incredulity and now planned to ride on their coattails for the day.
As for later, he decided not to state it outright, but he knew that Harry and Hermione had gotten the point: they would have to establish a new dynamic. The Trio would not function if there was a Duo inside of it, as history had confirmed in the past, and that's exactly what happened currently. Ron was frankly sick and tired of stewing in envy day by day, of the constant comparisons he made in his mind and the all-encompassing feeling of always not being enough.
He decided it was time to spread his wings and exit the shadows of the Golden Couple, as they had already been dubbed. Ron needed to take time for himself, to discover who he was when he wasn't just Harry Potter's friend. He would help his friends however he could, of course, and he will fight alongside them just like always, but he needed to distance himself for a while- and it looked like Harry and Hermione understood and respected this.
Neville's words reverberated in his mind: you cannot ask for diamonds and then blame them for shining.
He wouldn't, he decided. He would not blame his friends for his own insecurities anymore- he will find a way to resolve them on his own. As he should've done from the beginning.
In the meantime, he couldn't wait to see the Professors' faces when Harry and Hermione confronted them. It'll be spectacular- he grinned to himself.
"Do try not to look so pleased," Hermione snarked.
"Why not? I'm going to sit back and watch while you explain meeting some sort of deity to McGonagall- priceless."
"It's Professor McGo-"
"Alright!" Harry interrupted, at the cost of a glare from Hermione.
"We have to get together some sort of plan. Hermione, ideas?"
'Of course I have ideas,' a distinct voice scoffed in his mind.
He almost fell from the loveseat.
He looked at Hermione in shock.
"Did you just-"
"Did I what?" Hermione replied, confused.
'Did you speak in my mind?'
Hermione gaped at him. "What did you-?"
'I spoke in here,' echoed in her brain like a whisper.
"You did it again! Is it easy?"
'Apparently it is,' Harry's grin almost split his face.
'That's so cool,'
'Yeah, but can we block it if we want? I don't want you to hear like everything-everything.'
'Thinking about all the pretty girls, Potter?'
'Only one pretty girl, Potter. Each and every night,' he smirked. Hermione reddened like a tomato.
"Could you please stop? You're making faces at each other in silence; it's creepy," Ron remarked.
"We have just realised we can really talk telepathically, Ronald. Do give us some leeway," Hermione explained.
"You what?"
"Side effect of the Bond. Our minds, souls and magic are linked, and all of that," Harry added.
"This is getting more nutters the more you talk, you understand that, right?"
"Yeah," they responded in unison.
"So bloody creepy."
"Anyway," Hermione tried to steer the conversation.
"I propose that we speak with Professor Flitwick first and foremost- as far as I know, he has done some research on the subject, and he may have insights that we do not," the other two nodded in assent.
"But, didn't you say that the Bond was treated as a tale in recent times? And that only a few people ever studied it? You didn't mention Flitwick at all," Harry asked.
"Indeed, that's true enough, but I was talking about things that I could read in the library, Harry. Professor Flitwick is extremely accomplished in a lot of subjects and has done substantial research spanning charms and rituals alike, but his papers were never published, so they're mostly private. Think about the rapport Wizards have with Goblins- it's a miracle that Dumbledore let an Half-Goblin teach at Hogwarts, let alone him publishing academic research,"
"That's just sad," Harry made a face. "Wizards are just stupid sometimes. Why not use all of the manpower available? I mean, whether he is a Goblin, a Wizard or a dolphin for all I care, if he does important research, then it should be published. That's how science works, isn't it? Researchers sharing their findings and one-upping one another, and in this way letting the whole subject progress," Harry said, like it was obvious.
"That's how you know that people are being suppressed, Harry. Do you remember last year, when we spent Christmas in Grimmauld?" Harry nodded.
"Well, you were half-asleep on eggnog by then, while Remus and I were discussing a bit of Magical Theory. He told me that before that Halloween both he and your mother were working on a project about a rune array that permitted complete protection from detection spells and charms, other than being more secure than a Fideliusbecause the moment someone entered the premises, if he wasn't explicitly invited by the spellcaster -thus not requiring a secret keeper- a sort of alarm would trigger the aerial distribution of a substance similar to the Draught of Living Death. It didn't directly harm anyone if the antidote was administered in time, but it did stop them effectively. They were in the initial phases of the research and didn't go anywhere near a resolution, but I've seen the papers, and they made sense. My point is, do you really think that even something as useful as this would have been published if it was under the names of a werewolf and a Muggleborn witch, no matter whom she was married to or how brilliant she was?"
Harry looked downwards, lost in thought.
"Blimey, your mother was brilliant, mate," Ron added, impressed.
"That she was," Harry smiled, his previous gloom dissipated.
"Wait, wait. Were you thinking right now?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, why?"
"Because I didn't hear you at all," Hermione nodded to herself. "It appears the connection is intention-based. If we do not actively want to tell something to the other, the thought will remain private," she added, relieved. She really didn't want to completely share a mind with a teenage boy, Soulmate or not.
"Great," Harry interjected. "But what are we going to say to the other two Professors?"
"After we talk with Professor Flitwick, I think we should just take the bull by the horns and confront Professor Dumbledore. We will say honestly that we know what's going on in his mind, and that there's no way on Earth that will happen. Also, we will talk about the true meaning of the Prophecy. No matter that talking about his plan is not necessary anymore, with the Bond, but just the fact that he implemented your suicide as a touchstone for winning the war should get Professor McGonagall thinking," Hermione explained with a glint in her eyes.
"You mean…"
"We're going to get Professor McGonagall on our side. She's been less and less effective over the years, both as a Head of House and as a member of the Order, and that's because she's following Dumbledore's orders like a soldier. This tyranny has to end; Dumbledore is not God, he's not omniscient and should not be the only one to make decisions during a war- especially since he plans to exit early and leave the rest to us," Hermione reasoned.
"That's right, 'Mione. The only tyrant around should be you," Ron mocked.
"Don't you dare speak to my wife in that tone," Harry faked sternness.
He whipped his head around to look at Ron. "How did it go? Was I very husbandly?"
"I think I'm going to puke," Ron deadpanned.
"Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes to herself.
———
The Headmaster's office was as peculiar as always, if a bit more cramped than usual.
On one side of the desk sat Professor Dumbledore, half-moon glasses and benign smile both perfectly in place. On either side, the two other Professors wore different looks- one as stern as ever, if a bit tense, and the other almost vibrating with anticipation.
In front of them, on the three conjured overstuffed chairs, sat the fabled Trio- with Harry positioned right in the centre.
Albus opened the dances after a customary offer of Lemon Drops.
"My boy, what do you need from us today?"
"I need some answers." Harry's voice was colder than usual, though still polite. That was the best he could do at the moment. "Professor," he added as an afterthought.
"The three of you can ask away," Albus invited with a sweeping gesture of his hand.
"Professor Flitwick," Hermione started, "I am aware of the basics of the Bond, such as the theoretical links between the Mates and the way it strenghtens with nurturing, but I'm probably lacking some of the fine print. Could you share with us what you have concluded from your research, if it's not too much to ask?"
"Certainly, Mrs Potter, certainly! But could I ask the two of you to subject yourself to a Magical Core Reading first? It will not only be helpful for giving you more pointed information, but it will aid my research immensely, too. Do you consent to it?"
'Are we going to become guinea pigs?'
'Focus, Harry!'
"It would be conducted by spellcasting, am I correct?" Harry asked. He didn't want Hermione to suffer for information they probably could research themselves, given a bit of time.
"Of course, Mr Potter, the most you will feel is a sort of warmth where your Core resides, nothing more," Filius reassured them.
"Very well, I'm in. Mi?"
'You don't have to do anything you don't want to', he added privately. The Magical Core was a truly intimate part of a wizard, and most people wouldn't easily let someone else check it liberally. Hermione gave him a reassuring look, nodding at his question.
"Then you should go stand in the centre of the room," Professor Flitwick rose from his high seat and unsheathed his wand. The other Professors didn't have any objections, being rather curious themselves.
Strings of different colored lights converged in a spot behind their belly buttons, accompanied by symbols and ancient-looking graphs that Harry couldn't decipher if you gave him paper, a pencil and a hundred years.
"Merlin be blessed," Professor McGonagall gasped.
Professor Flitwick's wand hand trembled slightly, his eyes bulging from their sockets. Even Dumbledore seemed unsettled.
"That strange?" Harry asked flatly, fed up with the absurd situations he always found himself in.
"No, not strange," Flitwick shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the floating runes. "Miraculous," he whispered.
"Could you please explain the results, Professor?" Hermione was getting anxious- changes to the Magical Core were never to be taken lightly.
Flitwick nodded quickly, still trembling, and resumed his seat. After the Mates got themselves comfortable, he started talking.
"The results are… inconceivable. Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad thing at all. It's just that I've never imagined I could observe such a phenomenon up close… but I digress. To simplify it, you both have the potential to be the most powerful wizard and witch the world has seen since time immemorial. Your Cores are enormous in size, almost pulsing with force and energy -but you might have already known this," the two overpowered beings in question nodded, receiving a scrutinising look from Professor Dumbledore in return.
"What fascinates me the most," Flitwick continued, "Is the way they have merged. It's not a complete fusion; you still have two separate Cores, but the magic in them is flowing between you. I think you might really be able to pool magic together, Mr and Mrs Potter," he was almost breathless.
"What does it mean, Professor?" Ron asked, confused.
"It means that, hypothetically, when one of them needs a boost of power -even if they singularly concentrate more power than twenty average wizards put together, so the conditions should be extreme to guarantee the need for such a choice- the other could consciously cede, for the duration of the spell or however much time would be needed, a variable portion of their own magic to increase the other's."
"So, during a battle, for example…" Professor McGonagall breathed out.
"They would be virtually unbeatable- if they learned to harness their power reserves properly," Filius concluded.
"And that's all very nice," Harry said. "But Professor, we want to know as precisely as possible what the bond would entail daily. I know that our power gives us an edge in the coming war, but we're people before we're weapons. Are we not, Headmaster?" Harry couldn't resist a jab.
"Of course, Harry, my boy," Albus had a terrible feeling about Harry's words.
"On a daily basis, you say? Well, the most relevant thing is that you will develop some sort of mental connection, which I don't know the specifics of, but should enable you to communicate telepathically, theoretically across longer distances the more you strengthen the Bond. Have you already had any signs of this?"
Harry rubbed the back of his reddened neck with a hand, but they nodded in affirmation.
"That means your Bond was very mature when you sealed it. Such quick development is rather peculiar. Either way, in the following weeks, you might notice an increased perception of the other in a spatial way- basically, you will feel when the other is near, and even have a sort of resonance with the other's emotions. For example, if one of you feels particularly happy or irritated, the other might be able to sense it, or even feel it like an echo of their own feelings. All of this talk is merely speculative, of course, based on the limited information we got from documents compiled almost a millennium ago, but it should be true enough." As Professor Flitwick finished his explanation, the Gryffindors nodded and thanked him.
Before they could change the subject, however, the Professor gave them an excuse to introduce it.
"The thing that perplexes me, however…" Filius said thoughtfully. "Is that from the Reading's results you should have been ready to complete the Bond around the end of your third or the start of your fourth year at Hogwarts. Such close proximity and continuous contact should have accelerated the maturation of the Bond, so I cannot understand why it took you so long…"
"That I can tell you, Professor," Harry took the opening immediately. He didn't wait for anyone to interrupt him.
"It was because I had one of Voldemort's Horcruxes in my head. They are pieces of his soul he has placed in different objects in order to not to kick the bucket completely if someone kills him. He left one involuntarily when he tried to kill me as a baby, but instead of taking my life, he took his own- he couldn't die directly because he had already made a few of them, so he was still anchored to life, but a part of him remained tethered to my soul until the Bond destroyed it. That foul magic you said you noticed during the Bonding? That was Voldemort's soul being exorcised from mine." Harry explained as if he hadn't just detonated a bomb in the Professors' minds.
"But you already knew that, didn't you, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry continued, his voice so calm and controlled that it sounded eerie, but the magic in the room rose sharply with his emotions. Hermione rested a hand on his knee, under the desk, to give him comfort, and he squeezed it once.
"You bet on my naivety, on my trust in you, on the fact that you knew I would latch onto the first adult to offer me kindness to manipulate me into doing what you thought was necessary for winning the war. I'm curious about how you planned to convince me into letting myself be hit by a Killing Curse again, from the same man who killed my family? Because if he didn't kill the Horcrux himself, then, in your opinion, it couldn't get out in any other way- am I correct? And if it wasn't destroyed, then he wouldn't die." Harry shook his head to himself.
"If I hadn't Bonded, I would have been forced into suicide," he let out a bitter scoff.
"You will die soon, won't you? You know this, and you know you will leave everything in our hands. A whole War. Maybe you will leave word to the Order to follow my lead, but even then, how effective is the Order, really? You stun the bastards, put them in Azkaban, and then just wait for their other Pureblood, rich and powerful little comrades to get them out. Just look at last year. You wasted everyone's time for months to guard something I could have destroyed with a trip at the Ministry without problems. Imagine during a war, when martial law rules and the Death Eaters are out in the open, killing and torturing people at will. It was like that during the last War, wasn't it? Now, do try to be honest with yourself. If my entire family hadn't been exterminated, and I hadn't the dubious luck to be protected by my mother's sacrifice, do you really think you would have stopped the Death Eaters with monologues on love and the hope to 'reform lost souls'? You owe everything you have today to my family's deaths, and not only do their souls -and all the souls you have killed indirectly by not stopping these terrorists when you had the means- not haunt you at night, but you think it 'fair' and 'for the best' to sacrifice even their only son and descendant to the cause. But let's not talk about your little schemes anymore," Harry rose from his chair and paced the room with calm, confident steps.
"Let's talk about your inactions. Let's talk about everything you have not done. First of all, you have not given me any sort of useful information unless forced by extenuating circumstances. Case in question, the Prophecy. Did you know your interpretation is incorrect? 'The power he knows not', it's not some sort of martyrical notion about my sacrifice and love for my friends, it's the Bond. Second, you have never given me any kind of practical training, even while knowing that I would be fighting because of said Prophecy, if not for that pitiful excuse of Occlumency class you had me subjected to from a man who hates both me and my dead father and a few short films on that monster's pitiful life. What did I learn from them? That I apparently had all the rights and means to become a monster myself, but ended up being so stupid as to let myself be sold and still counting the money for the vendors." Harry shook his head in disbelief.
"'Neither can live while the other survives', doesn't mean that either one of us has to go or the other is dead, it means that neither Hermione nor I can live if Tommy survives. Magic itself has given me power and the best possible partner for what is to come, and you? You've let me run wild, blind and deaf all those years, never giving me any tools until after a deed was done. And I don't know if you were merely raising me as a pig for the slaughter, thinking 'he will have to die anyway, sooner or later' at every turn, or if you truly thought that was how things should have gone, but this stops here. My Soulmate and I are going to train, and train hard. We're going to fight- and we will win. I won't die at your command like the little soldier you wished me to be. You can forget about all of it. I do not trust you, Albus Dumbledore. Not anymore. But," he added. "I will fight with you. I will learn everything you want me to learn, because whether I like it or not, it's you who has the most cards in your hands. We're on the same side of this War, after all. But let me say this: vital information will be shared, and I don't want to hear another riddle or mystery or vague answer, because I swear I will go rogue, to hell with plans and machinations." Harry spared the stricken Professor a look.
"I won't be your weapon nor your martyr, but I- no, we will be an integral part of this War, no matter if we like it or not, so it's better to just cooperate and stop these grand manipulations, because I will not condone them anymore." Harry offered his hand to his wife and walked towards the doors of the Office.
"You made this my war, Professor, but I will fight it on myterms- or not at all." Harry left these words behind, not caring about what the Professor's reaction would be.
It was high time for him to reciprocate in kind.
———
Albus watched the closed doors for a good two minutes before being interrupted.
"It appears there's a lot you haven't shared with me, Albus." Minerva's voice was a furious hiss.
"I know, Minerva, I know," his voice was tired.
Professor McGonagall almost flew out of the room in impotent rage, Professor Flitwick following with a look of disappointment openly worn on his face.
The great Albus Dumbledore looked more defeated than ever. He had honestly thought he was doing everything for the bigger picture, for the Greater Good. Why would he burden a boy with such daunting information so early on? Why would he interfere with his personal growth when he was not asked to? He was not the one to put the Horcrux inside of Harry- the monstrosity had to be destroyed one way or another, and that was a fact. Why not steer the events to let it be destroyed at the right moment? No matter how extraordinary and good Harry Potter was, he was still one person against the lives of countless people. Not to mention the possibility of Tom occupying his body and fully corrupting that brilliant soul of his- he always thought Harry would choose death over it, and that probably still stood.
Albus did think all of that- but that was in the past. Young Harry had given him a lot to think about.
Everything had changed now, his grand plans as useful as rubble. He also felt like Harry had become unrecognisable in such a short time. In order to know all of that information, it meant he had received help from someone, probably during the days he was in a magical coma. That could have altered his worldview and, as such, his demeanour, indeed.
But for the time being Harry probably wouldn't be open to a conversation. Neither would Miss Granger, he gathered. No- Mrs Potter, now. He had also tried a light poke of Legilimency on them, but it was the mental equivalent of smashing one's head against a stone pillar. Completely impenetrable -probably a way of the Bond's magic to protect itself and its recipients.
Albus looked at his charred, blackened hand and felt older and more tired than ever.
Was it time to pass the mantle, once and for all?
Should he use his last few months on this Earth to correct what he had done to this boy?
In the large room full of trinkets and instruments that had little use left, Albus Dumbledore sighed.
———
"That was mental, mate," Ron was jumping in place, overexcited.
Harry and Hermione shared an eye roll, but appreciated the way Ron always made the gloom dissipate. Harry felt like a stone had fallen from his chest, his back straighter than ever. They remained in silence for a few moments, just walking towards the Common Room.
"We have McGonagall," Harry said out of nowhere.
"Flitwick too, I'm sure," Hermione added. "I've heard he has never involved himself with the Order because he doesn't subscribe to Dumbledore's way of running it," she whispered.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, intrigued.
"He's a researcher, Ron. An academic. He does not act without all of the relevant information, and Dumbledore always has this way of ordering people around without explaining himself, which he probably couldn't stomach. Most people just follow along because he's AlbusDumbledore, but others, like Professor Flitwick, are just not wired to obey orders without asking questions. I think his critical way of thinking works a lot like yours, Harry, if I have to tell you the truth," she said offhandedly.
"Are you saying I should go into research? You know I'm a lot better with the practical part of magic than theory," Harry honestly didn't think he was made for that line of work.
"One doesn't exclude the other, but that's not what I was thinking about," Hermione explained. "I was thinking that getting a few nice pointers from Flitwick in a subject or two would work wonders for our training. He is a duelling champion, after all."
"Yeah, that would be great," Harry admitted. Ron decided to eat dinner in the Great Hall, biding his farewell with a distracted hand wave.
Their walk was interrupted by a small shadow darting in front of them. The tabby cat swiftly transformed back into Professor McGonagall, who eyed them with a mix of trepidation and resolve.
"I would be available on every Thursday evening if you're interested, Mr and Mrs Potter. I believe some Transfiguration tricks that didn't make it into the syllabus would be a valuable asset to have in combat," she offered. "I can also ask Filius to impart some pointers at the same time, Mrs Potter," she emphasised.
Hermione blushed a bit, but seized the opportunity immediately and accepted the offer gratefully.
"I came for another reason," the Professor hesitated a bit. "Now that you're, ehm, married, you could benefit from one of the dorms dedicated to such occasions. Truthfully, there hasn't been a student married couple for a few decades, but the rooms are still there. There's one directly connected to the Common Room -about four meters from the Fat Lady's Portrait, there's a tapestry of a knight and a damsel, and the password is Amor Vincit Omnia. Both the password and the subjects are a bit on the nose, but it'll do. I have taken the liberty of alerting the Elves, so your luggage should already be in your new accommodations. I hope I wasn't too hasty?" she raised a knowing eyebrow.
"That's perfect, Professor. Thank you." Hermione was genuinely grateful to the Professor for her initiative. Just the idea of being so far away from Harry was giving her the chills. That was the Bond in play, she gathered.
They gave their thanks and proceeded towards their new room, only to end up standing awkwardly in front of the cheesy tapestry.
'Are you really okay with us sharing a room?' Harry asked.
'We're married, Harry -we're going to share a room sooneror later. Also, I remember that married couples' quarters are equipped with a little sitting room. That would be perfect to talk in complete privacy- we won't even need to go to the Room of Requirement anymore. That should save us some time.'
'I'm sure it will be very practical, but I was thinking more about sharing a bed, Mi. Are you sure you're ready for that?'
Hermione blushed fiercely.
'Harry James!'
'What? Didn't you say we're married? Married people share a bed.'
'That was not what you were thinking of.'
'What was I thinking about then, love?'
'You're impossible.'
'And you're too easy to rile up.'
Harry's chuckle echoed pleasantly in her mind.
'Seriously, though, are you okay with sharing? Would you prefer for me to sleep on the sofa instead, just until we get used to it?" Harry offered.
'Honestly, the thought of sleeping away from you tonight is making me uncomfortable. Do you feel it? The need for closeness, I mean. It's like an itch,' Hermione confessed.
'I do, and I don't know how to feel about it. I mean, all day I have been thinking: 'Is it the Bond, or are they my feelings?' I'm going mad about it, I swear,' Harry's voice was frustrated.
'I think it's useless if you categorise them this way. The Bond is not some external entity that pushes you to do something; it's more like our souls speaking to us. I enjoy thinking about it, not like an imposition, but more similar to a revelation of what my soul needs and what it was made for. Magic may have decided to gift us this extra 'superpower', but if we weren't compatible on a deep level, if we weren't destined, I don't think it would have been possible to be in this situation.' Hermione shrugged.
'At least, I don't feel controlled by anything. Do you?'
'No, of course not. It's just that it's all very new, and I was trying to rationalise it in some way.'
Hermione nodded in understanding.
"So," Harry said outwardly. "Shall we go take a look?"
'We've been standing here in silence for, like, five minutes. People will think we're more nutters than they already thought,'
'Since when do we care about what people think?'
———
The sitting room was spacious and warm, extremely similar to their usual request to the Room of Requirements.
'That's cosy, I guess,' Harry offered.
'Should we eat dinner in here? I really don't feel like confronting the masses tonight,' Hermione admitted.
'Yeah, me too. I'm frankly exhausted,' Harry spread himself on the couch, raising an arm to fit Hermione by his side -they had perfected this cuddling position very quickly, and it was a favourite for both of them.
They relaxed for a while in that position, almost falling asleep before remembering dinner. To evade potential onlookers, they decided to use the Cloak and grab a bite from the Kitchens.
The route was mercifully empty, since everyone was in the Great Hall for dinner, so Harry and Hermione were able to swiftly tickle the pear and slip into the enormous room undetected.
"Harry Potter Sir, you's come to see Dobby!" The second the Cloak was lowered, Dobby shot like a bullet from his position in front of the stove.
'Godric, I forgot about that.'
'Oh, come on, he's sweet!'
'I don't particularly like having Elf-shaped bruises on my thighs every time, but you do you,'
'Hmpf, I know you like him,'
'Of course I like him,' Harry admitted freely.
They were startled from their thoughts by Dobby asking about their Bond.
"How did you know?" Harry asked, curious.
"Elves can sees these things, Harry Potter Sir. And everyone in the Castle be talking about it!"
"Fantastic." Harry pushed a hand through his hair. "Er, Dobby, could you get us some of what you made for dinner to take upstairs?"
"Of course, Dobby can, Harry Potter Sir! But, me's been thinking…"
"Yes, Dobby?" Hermione asked kindly.
"Now that Harry Potter Sir and Harry Potter's Grangy be Bonded, could Dobby be serving you?" Dobby seemed ready to throw himself at the open oven door, so Harry steadied him by squatting down and placing a hand on his bony shoulder.
"Not that I don't want to, Dobby, but my wife would kill me. And didn't you enjoy being a free Elf? Why would you bond yourself to a wizard again?"
"No, no, no, Harry Potter Sir! Dobby will be remaining a free elf! But Dobby wants to help Harry Potter Sir, and wants to work for him now that he's be having a home to take care of," Dobby explained.
"What home, Dobby?"
"Potter Manor, Sir!"
"I don't have access to it yet, Dobby. I'm not of age- maybe in a few months, yeah?"
"But, Harry Potter Sir, you's be bonded!"
"So what?" Harry was confused.
"You's don't have the Trace anymore, Harry Potter Sir. You's be of age early!"
'Well, that's new information,' Harry thought. 'So, what do we do?' he asked for Hermione's opinion.
'I think we should employ him, Harry. We will pay him and give him sick days and holidays, but if he wants to stay closer to you, considering how loyal he is and how capable Elves in general are, I think he could be a great asset," Hermione added. "At least we would know he's not being mistreated. I saw him getting isolated by the others, and I don't like it. He's been your friend for years, after all.'
'You're always such a sucker for the underdog," Harry rolled his eyes fondly.
'Wouldn't have befriended you if I wasn't,' she snarked back.
They reached a consensus, and gave Dobby his first orders: to clean up Grimmauld Place -since they wouldn't have access to Potter properties until they got to Gringotts and the Ministry, and they needed a temporary house to use as Headquarters- and to kick Kreacher's ass if he stepped out of line again- Harry's words, of course.
They collected their dinner and went back to their little sitting room.
———
Dinner was a quiet, relaxed affair. Less so was the moment they finished.
"So, I'm just going to take a quick shower," Harry said, an awkward smile on his face.
"Sure, you go first. I'll set up my desk in the meantime," Hermione tried to sound nonchalant, but Harry felt her accelerated heartbeat as clearly as his own. He just smiled and closed the bathroom door.
A few minutes later, Harry found himself in an embarrassing situation. In his haste to get nice and clean and smell good for his first night in the same bed with his wife, he had forgotten his clean clothes outside, and his wand on top of them.
With the boost of power from the Bond, he could probably summon them without even raising a hand, but he wouldn't want to set them on fire accidentally -better to practice a bit first.
So, he called his wife over. The picture of domestic life, he thought to himself sarcastically.
'Er, Mi?'
'Yes, Harry?'
'I forgot my clothes.'
'Then summon them,' Hermione replied. 'It's getting late, and I want to shower, too, so be quick, please.'
'Why didn't you say so sooner? We could've saved water and showered together.'
'Weren't you proposing to sleep separately earlier? How come you're so forward now?'
'That was two hours ago.'
'How very reliable you are. Why are you still in there, by the way?'
'Well, I might have left my wand on top of the clothes, too.'
'Understood, I'm coming."
Hermione quickly gathered the pyjamas and sent them flying through the ajar bathroom door. From that sliver of space, the fragrance of Harry's minty bodywash enveloped the whole bedroom, making Hermione more eager than ever to get that shower -before she did something she would regret.
Or maybe not, but still.
Harry came into the bedroom smelling like a dream and looking like… even more of a dream. He had left his glasses on the bedside table, his green eyes watery and half-lidded from exhaustion. His black hair was damp and shiny, falling on his forehead and almost covering the now faint scar that bisected his brow.
Not to mention the pyjamas. Godric, was he even wearing underwear? Hermione blushed furiously at the thought and shot towards the shower in a blur, not forgetting her own nightgown.
Harry noticed her gaze and blushed a bit himself, but didn't think more about it than that. It would lead to embarrassing consequences that he wanted to avoid.
At first, he really tried, but with no other distraction than the sound of water it was very difficult not to let his mind wander. Just imagining the scene that was playing just behind that dark door made his mouth water. Hermione, his lawfully wedded wife, was naked and dripping at a mere five meters of distance from him- he was a fully functioning adolescent, after all, and reacting was normal. It was to be expected, in fact.
He tried to reassure and calm himself as much as possible, but no one had prepared him for the sight in front of him.
Hermione's face was pink from the steam and the hot water, while her hair looked slightly puffier than before, reaching her middle in chocolate curls that offset her pale skin. Her figure was covered by a short white nightgown -relatively tame to be honest, but to Harry it looked like the sexiest thing anyone had ever worn in the history of wizardkind. Especially when he noticed the miles of bare legs moving towards him. He couldn't have hoped to control his erection without cutting everything off.
He snapped from his reverie, afraid of making Hermione uncomfortable, and decided to just get it over with. He gestured towards the bed.
'Which side do you sleep in?' he asked tentatively.
'I usually sleep on my left side,'
'Perfect, then I'll take the side next to the door. This way I can protect you if something happens,' he joked. Mostly.
'If you need to protect me while I sleep at Hogwarts, then shit is hitting the fan -hard. Not that I need you to protect me at all.'
'Miss Granger! Language!'
'It's Mrs Potter. Soon to be Lady Potter, in fact,' she assumed her usual know-it-all tone, which made him shudder in a way it had not previously. Was anything she did destined to turn him on?
'Will you get in, or will you sleep upright like a horse?'
'Coming, coming,' literally, he added to himself.
He decided to avoid hesitating and just embraced Hermione like he had done it thousands of times. At first, she was startled and tensed a bit, but in a few seconds she relaxed completely in his arms, moulding to his body like she was made to fit there.
And, if he thought about it, she really was.
'Comfy?' he whispered.
'Yeah. I feel a lot better now.'
'Me too.'
He curled around her, feeling the steadiness of her heartbeat and the softness of her body, and the only word that came to his mind was home.
She turned to her other side, resting her face into the crook of his neck. After a few seconds, she slightly opened her mouth, leaving a few little kisses right on his pulse point.
'Evil witch,''
'You smell good,'
'Mhmh, you too. But I'm not torturing you for it.'
'This is considered torture now? Should I try it on Malfoy to see if he spills the beans?'
'Don't ever mention the M word again when we're in bed. Better yet, do not mention the M word at all.'
Hermione laughed softly, the sound vibrating into the delicate skin of Harry's neck. He couldn't resist a moan.
'Mi…' even his internal voice was rough.
'Do you need something?'
'Are you enjoying yourself there?'
'Immensely.'
'Very well.'
Harry moved so swiftly that Hermione could only stare at him in confusion for a second. She was now completely enveloped in his scent, his eyes gazing at her from above, and her wrists caught in one of his hands, blocked above her head.
Hermione was cradling him between her thighs and could feel the effect she had on him more than ever before. She could only imagine just how that would be able to get inside her, someday.
Harry kept her hands firmly secured in his grip, gently lowering his head to mimic her earlier actions. His hair tickled her neck, his hot breath making her skin tender and sensitive everywhere it landed. He started with the same small, playful kisses she had given him, but soon started nipping, sucking and licking at her delicate skin, while his light stubble amplified the sensation a hundredfold.
'Mh, not hickeys, please,' Hermione's voice was weak.
'Why not? Everybody already knows you're my wife.'
'But it's embarrassing!'
'For whom?'
'For me!'
'Mhmh, not for me. Gotta work for that husband title.'
'Har-ry!'
Harry chuckled, leaving her neck alone and freeing her arms, but took her chin in his hand and angled it.
He gave her a light peck on one corner of her lips, then on the other, and another on the tip of her nose, making her smile.
Then he kissed her lips again, deeper, with one hand in her hair and the other propping up her waist. In a few moments, the atmosphere changed completely.
Sparks appeared in the air around them, their movements becoming messier and more passionate. Harry sucked her tongue lightly, and she involuntarily snapped her hips upward in response.
Harry's cock had been hard and dripping since Hermione had started her torture, and the sudden contact made him groan.
He flipped them over, positioning her on top of his cock, where she immediately started pushing down and around, grinding her hips and moaning in his mouth. Harry was panting, his hand wrapping around her mane of curls and using it to pull her head gently back, resuming his attack on her neck.
'Fuck it, let them see.'
'See what?' Hermione's attention was completely taken by the pressure of Harry's hard cock on her clit, a delicious weight that gave her just the right amount of friction. He definitely was not wearing any underwear, thank Merlin.
'The marks. Let people see them,' Harry felt the little caveman take over his brain.
'What do you want them to know?' Hermione provoked. She loved this new side of Harry- uninhibited, passionate, possessive. She loved all of it.
Harry knew that she could heal these little things in seconds, but this… coquettishness was as natural as breathing for her right now. She wanted to hear him say what he thought, what he wanted- if she had to tease it out of him.
'Do you want me to say it?'
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Sure you don't, witch,' he snapped his hips in a particularly forceful, precise motion. Hermione's loud moan was music to his ears.
'So? Will you admit it?'
'You were the one talking, I didn't say a word.'
'Mhmh, and you like when I talk, don't you?' Harry clocked the issue.
'So what?'
'So, I want them to know just whose witch you are. Can't let them think your husband doesn't satisfy you, can we? Men would come in droves to take my place.'
'And whose witch am I?'
Harry smirked in the crook of her neck. Point proven.
Now he had to test a theory.
'You're mine. My witch, my wife and my Soulmate. Everyone should see just how perfect you are for me.' Hermione's moan was almost a shout.
'See this? Such a good girl, coming on your husband's cock for the first time.'
Hermione's nightgown had been bunched up to her waist, her soaked white lace panties on display. Harry spared a glance away from her face, zeroing in on them- his eyes widening and his smirk growing.
'Look at that,' he slipped a finger where the elastic met her skin and snapped it back. 'These little panties gave me a few white nights in Grimmauld, did you know?'
'What?' Hermione was curious about what he was talking about.
'I saw them and the matching bra in your trunk by accident. Didn't dare take another look, but the image remained in my mind for months.' Harry's hand trailed up to her breasts.
'Can I?' Hermione nodded swiftly. Harry flicked one of her nipples and tsked.
'What a shame, there's no matching bra here. Did you do this on purpose, Mi? Going to bed with your little white panties and your bare little tits for me to play with?'
'Yes, yes, I did,'
'Of course you did. You're such a good girl, so pretty for me,' Hermione's mouth opened in a perfect circle, her soft pants quicker, and a sudden warmth on his cock made him aware that his wife was about to come again.
'Just like that,' his breaths grew heavier, his voice more gravelly in her mind. 'Come on my cock, Mi. My perfect girl, my Mate.'
A surge of need gave him the guts to ask something he would not have dared otherwise.
'Can I taste you? Please, Mi, let me taste you,' Harry pleaded, completely lost in desire.
Hermione nodded while breathing him in, her forehead pressed to his, and trailed a swift hand inside her underwear. Her fingers were sticky and shiny when Harry's mouth opened.
Harry's world exploded the second he sucked on them.
He vaguely felt Hermione's pleasure mounting with his, the magic around them heightening, building up and releasing a shockwave that made the walls tremble.
In the aftermath, they laid on top of each other, letting their heartbeats return to normal. His lap was completely covered in both of their come, so he quickly vanished everything and embraced Hermione tightly to his chest.
'Maybe I do have a knack for research, after all. I think it depends on the subject,' he commented.
'You're such an idiot.'
'I love you.'
'I love you, too.'
———
Hours later, Hermione was awakened from her peaceful slumber by an unseen force- like a thread connected to her had been pulled.
She stood from the bed groggily, looking around to see what had disturbed her. There, on her nightstand, lay a letter that she'd never seen before.
There, in the stark purple ink she used on the pages her diaries, and in her exact calligraphy, the back of the letter said:
'To: Hermione Granger, 199?
From: Hermione Granger, 2019'