Author's Note: Inspired by a question posted on the Harmony & Co. Writing Locker Facebook group: What tattoos would Harry get? Here's my answer.

Part One: Captivate

Captivate (verb)
to attract and hold the attention or interest of, as by beauty or excellence; enchant

It started with the lily. It was simple, delicate, vibrant. The flower was completely in bloom; its petals and sepals - six in total - opened to the sky creating a soft cloud of cream which cradled the bulby filaments. A delicate stem peeked from behind the petals and extended towards his fist with three leaves peppering the trail. It reminded her of summer, of the time when her dad would plant those same flowers in their beds to please her mum. It brought back memories of her younger self peeking through their kitchen window to track the flowers' growth day by day. She could almost smell their sweet scent when she looked at the rendering on his skin.

It was no longer than the length of the ballpoint pen she was chewing at when she first glimpsed it. There she was at the library of the restored Godric's Hollow (she and Ron had full access to the estate, of course), minding her own business and doing her work with the aid of the vast collection of books he had collected over the years, when she heard an apparition pop. She thought it was Ron who came back because he had left something behind (as was typical of Ron to be forgetful and her other best friend was away for work and not due to come back 'til a week later) so she came out into the foyer to greet him and help him in his search. She padded down the halls barefoot with the pen in her mouth and her thoughts trying to connect ideas for her latest Ministry project when she saw him and she saw it.

He was facing her though his head was bent down looking at the mobile phone on his right hand. His left arm was hanging loosely by his side so she saw the mark on his inner arm but wasn't quite sure what it was. Did he burn himself? Did he get hurt during his trip? She was about to run to him to check when the phone in her pocket chimed with the tone that was saved especially for him.

Here comes the sun

Doo doo doo doo ~

His head snapped up as the familiar Beatles song echoed through the halls of Godric's Hollow and a smile so bright illuminated his face. His arms fell open to take her in between them. But instead of hugging him, she grasped his left forearm and the pen fell from her parted lips when she gasped in worry.

"Harry! What is this? Did you hurt -" She turned quiet when she saw the ink lily on his skin.

He gently rested his hands at the sides of her hips and turned his left forearm up so she could better see the flower. He gave her a lopsided grin. "You worry too much, Hermione. It's just a tattoo."

Just a tattoo? Hermione thought as she felt her mouth go dry at the sight of the flower. It stunned her. She didn't know Harry was the tattoo-getting type, not that she had any problems with tattoos. She just never expected her best friend to get one himself. They're so permanent. She couldn't even imagine deciding what tattoo to get for herself since she didn't know what she would want on her skin for quite literally forever.

At her stunned silence, Harry's grip tightened on her hips and he bent down to level his eyes with hers which were still trained on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Hermione? Do you like it?" He asked. Her eyes glazed and she brought her hand down to trace the tattoo with an index finger.

Did she like it? My goodness, yes… yes she liked it. It was so captivating for it created such a startling contrast. The tattoo was so delicate, so exquisite. It was so lifelike that her fingertips gently traced its pattern for fear of breaking one of the petals. Harry, on the other hand, was anything but delicate. He was so strong. Years of Auror training, not to mention the years leading up to the war, made him that way. He was tall, muscular, capable. The fragile flower inked on his firm forearm was such a juxtaposition. And Hermione smiled, because it was also another testament of how sure and confident Harry was of himself. He willingly chose a flower, something so delicate and soft and what many perceived to be a sign of femininity, to be on his body forever. Hermione was amazed and simply captivated.

"I do, Harry. It's… beautiful. But why did you get a tattoo?" Hermione asked. Of a lily? She silently added. She had an idea but she wanted him to confirm.

He smiled at her and drew her further in an embrace with his right arm and extended his left so the tattoo would remain visible. "I wanted to be reminded of the people I loved and the people I've lost. I know it's permanent but that's part of the reason. Even if mum isn't with me right now, her memory will stay with me forever."

Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes. "Oh Harry…"

"It's been eight years since the war, you know." Harry whispered. Hermione nodded mutely and buried her face into his chest. The tattooed arm snaked around her to hold her firmly in place. "We lost so many people during the war and the years leading up to it. I'm… I'm okay now. I know that I've healed." Harry said and Hermione remembered. She remembered how destructive he was after Voldemort fell. He was so volatile, so depressed. Part of the reason, as his mind healer told him and he told her, was something called "survivor's guilt". He felt guilty that he lived through the war while so many perished. Harry thought that so many of his beloved friends and family were gone from this world because of him. But like he said, he healed. Years of therapy and Auror work plus support from friends like Hermione and Ron drove him out of the darkness and back into light. "I know it's not my fault that they died, Hermione. I know that now. But I still want to remember. I loved - no, still love them - so I don't ever want to forget."

She knew then and there she had fallen in love with his tattoo.

Hermione nodded her head and hugged Harry equally as hard. Through her tears and runny nose, she said, "Then it's perfect, Harry. It's the perfect reminder to have with you all the time. It's beautiful."

Harry gently pried her from her chest and brought up his left hand to wipe the tears away. She could see the inked lily at the corner of her sight. He gave her a lopsided grin and those eyes, the emeralds with gold and amber flecks, only got brighter. "The lily is only the beginning Hermione," he said almost slyly. "There will be more."

Hermione felt herself grin and nodded with dampened cheeks. "Then I can't wait to see them."

Next came the stag, and the moon, and the star. She was away to France for a business trip as was typical of her role as the head of Magical Research at the Ministry. She came back to London not at all happy since the talks on continued cooperation between her department and that of the French fell through. Les imbéciles had such ridiculous terms for the agreement and wouldn't settle on a compromise! She hated politics.

She also had a fight with her boyfriend, Lukas Simon, minutes before she took the international portkey back to London. He had been wanting her to meet his parents since they have been dating for the past six months but she had to cancel on him. Granted, this was her second time cancelling dinner with the Simons at their estate in Cambridge, but work rang. Since this deal with the French equivalent of her department fell through, her workload almost doubled. He wasn't impressed and vocalized that when she called him on a two-way mirror but what could she do? Her work was important to her and she had a lot of damage control to see through! Besides, it's not like his parents knew they were supposed to be meeting her for the weekend since Lukas insisted on surprising them. So really, no harm done and she could go meet them later.

Since she wasn't in any mood to face her boyfriend who was probably waiting for her in her flat, she went to the only place where she could get away from it all. After arriving at the Ministry and checking her mail, she apparated straight to Godric's Hollow.

It was uncharacteristically hot in Britain that day so cooling charms were on full blast throughout the house. She was thankful for this and it was the assurance she needed that the homeowner was indeed home. She ditched her cloak and shoes and walked through the halls in search of her best friend. She so badly wanted to hop into the shower and change into more comfortable clothes than the dress suit she was wearing but she wanted to see Harry first. After going through the usual suspects of rooms he could be in and not finding him in them, Hermione decided to check the backyard.

The backyard stretched to a forest which was a godsend for the Quidditch-loving Auror. He had Quidditch hoops built at the far end of the yard nearest to the trees. A quick glance upwards and Hermione spied a figure on a broom flying high above the ground. She couldn't see very well since the sun was shining into her eyes, so she called Harry down and saw the broom start its descent towards her. She stepped foot onto the grass from the glass door separating the inside from the outside and waited for her best friend to arrive.

Harry Potter gracefully touched down on the grass and her mouth went dry at the state of him. He was wearing denim trousers and… well, that was it. The heat of the April sun encouraged the Auror to remain shirtless as he was flying on his broom. Sweat glistened at the top of his brows, his temples, at the column of his throat, and down to his bare chest and abs and underneath those trousers too. He gave her a huge grin before he slung the broom onto his shoulder and started his walk towards her.

"Hermione!" He said in greeting, and dropped the broom to the ground when he was in front of her. "I'd hug you right now but I don't think you want to get all sweaty. How was your trip to France?" He asked with a grin, and his right arm instinctively moved on its own to run his hand through damp hair.

That was when Hermione saw it. It was quite a large mark on his right deltoid and her eyebrows squinted as she tried to make sense of the shape. "It was actually terrible and… Harry, what is that?" She asked.

He looked at her confusedly before noticing her unwavering and piercing gaze on his right arm. He gave her a grin before touching his right hand to his left shoulder and turning his torso slightly to give her a full view of the new ink on his muscled arm. "I got a new tattoo," he said.

Yes, he did indeed. Hermione gulped as she looked at the ink. It was a larger tattoo than the lily on his forearm and so, so intricate. A stag's head was at the forefront and its antlers were long and winding as a clear depiction of its age. Its eyes were bright and wise and peeked through the meticulously drawn fur all over its face and ears. Cradled between the buck's antlers was a full moon shaded darkly except for a silhouette of a lone star shining brightly in the night.

It was an homage to the true Marauders. It was Prongs, Mooney, and Padfoot. It was the father figures Harry had in his life whom he had lost along the way. The image was utterly captivating. As Hermione looked, her mind immediately spun a tale about a stag walking through a forest in the dark with only the moon and star guiding him on his way. Hermione felt like she could get lost in the illustration.

Hermione's hand itched to touch it. She so badly wanted to trace the ink with her finger, to know everything about the depiction of the stag, moon, and star. She wanted to know every dip of the muscles underneath that picture too, and... Stop it Hermione, she chastised herself quietly. Ogling her best friend's tattoo especially while he was shirtless was quite inappropriate. She drew her hands to a fist and forced herself to look away from the ink.

"It's absolutely beautiful, Harry," she whispered. "Marauders?"

He smiled, nodded, and relaxed his stance. He grabbed his shirt which was discarded on a chair in the backyard and put it on. Hermione was almost sad that the shirt covered his new tattoo. He approached her and gave her a one-armed hug and he steered her back inside his home.

He settled her into a couch in the living room and Acciod a cold drink for the two of them. She tucked her legs underneath her bum and settled herself in Harry's arm as was natural for the two of them. "You were saying that your visit to France was actually terrible? Do I need to hex someone, Hermione?" He asked with a grin.

It was the invitation she needed to launch into a tirade about the French head of Magical Research. Harry nodded and supported her ramblings with "Uhuh"s and "How dare they"s as she told him the headaches and pain points of her trip. After about an hour of much-needed ranting, Hermione finally was able to breathe easily and settled her head on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered.

He squeezed her tightly and kissed the side of her head. "No problem at all, Hermione. What are best friends for?"

Hermione didn't know why that comment made her so uneasy.

She apparated home later that evening after dinner with Harry to see her boyfriend waiting silently on her couch. She was startled to see him there and vocalized that but he only stared at her with stern eyes.

"Where were you?" He asked her silently.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at his demeanor and harsh tone. "Well, good evening to you too Lukas. And I was at Godric's Hollow."

Lukas Simon let out a bitter laugh which stunned Hermione. "Of course you were at Harry's. When were you ever going to put me ahead of him, Hermione? Am I not as important?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Just what are you on about? He's my -"

"Best friend," Lukas bellowed, raising from the couch. "Yes, I know as I've heard that a million times before! But I am your boyfriend." Hermione gasped. This was the angriest she had ever seen him.

"Lukas, calm down. What are you so angry about?" Hermione asked. She took a step towards him but he raised a hand in front of him.

"I can't, Hermione. I can't do this anymore. I can't be second best. I can't be second string. I know where your priorities lie and it's not on me or on us," he said harshly, running a frustrated hand through his blonde hair.

At his words Hermione felt tears of confusion building in her eyes. "Lukas, what are you going on about? Let's just… let's just be calm and talk this through," she said.

He shook his head fiercely. "No, I'm sorry. I'm done. I can't wait for you to realize what you really want," he said. "Goodbye, Hermione." And with that, he apparated from her flat.

Hermione's head reeled as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She looked awestruck at the now empty place by the couch. Numbly she walked to her bedroom and changed into her night clothes before securely wrapping herself in her blanket. She didn't know what to think and her confusion overclouded the hurt she felt by being dumped by her boyfriend. Just what did Lukas mean? Harry was her best friend. They've been through hell together. Of course Harry was important to her. But that doesn't mean Lukas was unimportant to her. Maybe… maybe he just wasn't as important to her. But she wanted him! Of course she wanted him otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to date him. So what did he mean by her not realizing what she really wanted?

Hermione drifted off to sleep that night with dreams of secure arms wrapped around her marked with a stag, a moon, and a star.

Over the next few months, Hermione became consciously aware of Harry's body. Or rather, she became aware of his tattoos. Because every time she would see him after an extended period of time apart, he almost always had something different inked on his skin.

She saw some of them in full, such as the small Firebolt on the side of his left index finger and the depiction of an owl flying - Hedwig, no doubt - which was added just above the lily. Some of them she could only glimpse in pieces and left her wondering what the full picture was. There was a lick of fire circling his left bicep but the ink extended underneath his clothes. It would be inappropriate of her to ask him to take off his shirt so she could see all of it so Hermione was left burning holes on Harry's left arm as she tried to imagine what that particular tattoo was.

It had become a sort of past time for her; something she would do when her mind couldn't concentrate and her thoughts drifted to her best friend. His tattoos were just too damn captivating, especially the fire! Was it a dragon's firey breath? Perhaps it was a Horntail unleashing its terror into the night. Or maybe it's just fire? Harry was allowed to get any tattoo he wanted; it doesn't have to hold any significance. Maybe it's just a design he really liked?

Hermione had so many questions about his tattoo but she kept them all to herself because really, she shouldn't be so nosy. He would show her his tattoo if he wanted to and so far, he had shown no inclination of doing so with this one.

But why couldn't she stop wondering? Why couldn't she stop thinking about his tattoos and thinking about, well, him? She tried to tell herself it was simply her curiosity that kept her up at night with thoughts of her best friend. That was the easiest thing to do since thinking otherwise would mean there was something she was unaware of and she couldn't have that. So, Hermione let herself think unabashedly about Harry and his tattoos because she was curious.

And then there was an attempt at Harry's life.

It had been years since the war, but dark wizards (some new and some old from Voldemort's reign) and unruly witches still existed. The Auror office and Harry have worked tirelessly to capture all Death Eaters but some still remained on the loose.

One afternoon, a particular Death Eater who had escaped after Voldemort's demise eight years ago decided to show his face and finally kill Harry Potter. Walden Macnair, whose fate remained "unknown" after the Battle of Hogwarts, disguised himself as a new Ministry of Magic lift operator to try and end Harry's life. It was known that Harry worked at the Ministry as an Auror, and he had in fact become even more famous because of it. His successes of sending dark wizards to Azkaban often made the papers so everyone knew what Harry Potter was doing for a living. And, if one had wanted to kill him such as the case of Macnair, the easiest way to do so would be at the Ministry.

He knew it would almost be like a suicide mission. But honestly, Macnair did not give a fuck. He was tired and so furious at what he had been reduced to over the past eight years since Harry bloody Potter defeated the Dark Lord. The Macnair family was a noble line of purebloods during Voldemort's reign. They had prestige, power, and money. All of that was taken from his family, from him, by that little fucker after the war. God, he hated Harry Potter so much as well as his mudblood and mudblood loving friends. They sickened him.

For eight years, Macnair ran and hid and stayed away from wizarding communities to escape being caught. Living with Muggles, those lesser beings, made him even more furious. It fueled his rage and he spent countless sleepless nights devising a plan that would bring him and his family retribution.

He thought it was fate when he learned his nextdoor neighbour in the dingy little flat in Muggle London turned out to be a wizard. Moreover this neighbour, one Joe Colton who was only nineteen years of age, would soon start work at the Ministry of Magic as a lift operator. He knew all this because Joe came home one night drunk after a night of celebration for getting the job. Macnair happened upon him outside his door trying to get in when the younger man drunkenly slurred a good evening to Macnair. Macnair sneered in disgust, but the boy continued rattling on about the cause of his celebration. Other Muggles would have dismissed this as drunken talk, but Macnair's interest was peaked when he heard "Ministry of Magic" in the boy's words. So, Macnair showed false kindness towards the boy and befriended him. And his plan came to fruition.

It was simple. He would kill the Mudblood (Macnair later learned of Joe's heritage, much to his disgust), take his wand, and disguise himself as him. Then, he would go into the Ministry of Magic as Joe Colton and do his job as a lift operator. And when Harry Potter comes strolling towards the lift as he was bound to do eventually, Macnair would kill him. He considered what spell to use. The Killing Curse would be most efficient but he had been stewing over the years and had created and added new curses to his arsenal. Harry Potter would suffer one way or another.

Joe Colton was killed the morning he was to start his new job at the Ministry. Macnair used the Avada on him since he wanted to do it quickly. He had considered brewing polyjuice to truly disguise himself as the boy, but had thought against it eventually. The potion was costly to make and he didn't know how long he needed to be given an opportunity to go in for the kill. Besides, Macnair thought he had changed a lot physically over the years. He was more muscular now with his hair longer. A bar fight yielded him a broken nose too. No one would be paying attention to a lift operator, so all he needed to do was keep his head down until he saw Harry Potter. He dressed in the uniform, pocketed his wand carefully, donned the stupid hat which was part of the uniform, and headed out towards the Ministry of Magic.

The morning was busy, as was typical for a Monday at the Ministry. Macnair did his job well, greeted witches and wizards who boarded his lift with almost mocking respect, and generally kept to himself unless he was spoken to. It was nearing lunchtime when she boarded the lift and his eyes almost bugged.

It was the mudblood best friend. She got on the lift at level seven and requested to be taken to the atrium. She had a stack of books in hand and was reading one of them with her head down. Macnair's fingers twitched towards the wand in his pocket. He could kill her right now but if he did, he would not get the opportunity to do in Harry Potter.

Macnair almost fell to his knees in delight when at level two, Harry Potter himself entered the lift. The fucker greeted the mudblood with a kiss, an actual kiss, on the cheek and a hug. He also grabbed the books the mudblood was holding onto in a blatant act of chivalry which made Macnair want to roll his eyes. The two shuffled to the back of the lift as other people boarded. Many of the other nobodies who entered with Potter said hellos to the mudblood. Macnair had to bite his lip to stop the malicious grin from spreading across his face. He clenched his fist to avoid grabbing his wand right then and there. He could kill both Harry Potter and his mudblood best friend. God, what a wonderful day this was turning out to be. He never thought he would say that about a Monday.

Things happened as if in slow motion when the lift reached the busy atrium. Harry waited a second before guiding Hermione towards the door of the lift after the other Aurors which had just filed out. But as he walked past the operator who was trying very hard to smother a grin on his strange but yet familiar face, Harry knew something was off. A quick look to the man's hand and Harry saw it was inching towards the wand sticking out of his pocket. Harry acted on instinct. He shoved Hermione to the side causing the witch to fall with a gasp and he dived down just in time to see the green light of the Killing Curse whiz past his head and hit a marble column. There was a scream of rage from behind him so he immediately cast a Protego shield just in time for another spell to bounce off it. He couldn't get to her on time though before another light, orange this time, hit the back of Hermione who was still crouched on the ground. Harry watched as Hermione's body turned slack and sagged on the floor. A yell so fierce erupted from his throat before he casted a flurry of curses and jinxes and the exploding charm towards the lift. He only stopped when his fellow Aurors came up behind him and almost wrestled his wand from his grasp. When his wand lowered, two Aurors headed towards the lift, wands drawn and shields up, to see the operator bloodied and bruised underneath the rubble caused by the Bombarda Maxima Harry had just cast. The man was apprehended and detained.

Harry turned to see two of his fellow Aurors tending to Hermione. A crowd had gathered around them and Harry vaguely heard yells and commands to call the mediwitches and alert Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, about what had just happened. He sank to his knees and looked at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted slightly. She was so pale too. He grabbed one of her hands and a strangled gasp left his lips at how cold it was.

"Harry," Amanda Roche, an Auror friend of his and also an old flame, looked at him gently. "Harry, she's alive. She's breathing, but faintly. The mediwitches will be here soon and they'll be able to help Hermione."

With shaking fingers Harry stroked Hermione's hair. "She has to be okay." He almost pleaded.

The mediwitches came running up to the group on the floor while other Aurors who were on the lift with Harry did their best to dispel the crowd. He was shoved aside by a mediwizard who quickly cast diagnoses spells on Hermione's still form before another one gently levitated her body onto a stretcher. The mediwitches were quick and efficient and soon Hermione's body was floating between them as they raced towards the hospital wing of the Ministry with two other Aurors as an escort. Harry was commanded to stay put.

Amanda came to stand by Harry whose gaze never left the group with Hermione until they were out of sight. She placed a hand over where the ink stag would have been and squeezed. "Harry, you can help her by finding out what curse she was hit with."

Harry's emerald eyes turned dark and his gaze shifted to another group of mediwitches who was still tending to the lift operator under the watchful eye of Aurors. The man's wand had already been taken and his hands were magically shackled as he was lifted onto a stretcher. He was conscious, Harry noted, and the man actually looked at him and sneered.

His strong legs carried him to the group and he stared down at the man who tried to kill him and had harmed Hermione. Harry couldn't place why the man looked familiar, but he didn't care. His identity was not important. All he needed from him was one thing only.

"You will tell me the counter curse to what you hit Hermione with or so help me God I will kill you once the Ministry is done with you," Harry whispered.

The man sneered again. "That's a threat, Potter. You can't threaten me!" He goaded.

"I don't give a fuck and no one here does either," Harry said coldly. The mediwitches and Aurors around pretended no threats were said and continued with their tending and watching with not even a flinch. "You hurt one of ours and for that you will pay. You can make this easier on yourself if you tell us what spell you used!"

"Fuck you, Potter," Macnair spat.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That's the wrong answer," he whispered. The mediwitches headed towards the holding cell with the man floating in a stretcher between them and two other Aurors standing guard. Harry promised he would make the man talk one way or another.

He needed to help Hermione.

He needed…

He needed her, he realized.

He needed her so badly and could not even imagine what life would be like without her.

The thought clenched his heart in a grip and choked him.

She was his rock. His foundation.

He could not live without her.

He needed her.

And so, he would do anything to help her.

Because now, she needed him.

Harry stood vigil by Hermione's bedside at St. Mungo's for the three days she was in the hospital. He only left for questioning Macnair and when he was forced out of the room by Ron and Ginny to rest at an actual bed with promises to alert him as soon as possible if there were changes to Hermione's condition.

The first two days were dire and scared the absolute shit out of him. Hermione remained unconscious and cold during those two days. The curse turned her very pale and she looked dead except for the very soft breaths she was taking. Her knees were bruised because of her fall and there were cuts on her arms and back of her legs due to debris from the spell fight outside the lift. They didn't know what spell was used on her and didn't know how to help her. All the mediwitches could do were force feed her potions to keep her vitality and tend to do the surface wounds on her body. But they didn't know how to reverse the curse. The wizard, whom he later found out was Walden Macnair, refused to tell anybody the counter. On more than one occasion Harry had almost turned his wand on the wizard in sheer anger and rage during questioning.

It was only after a heavy dose of Veritaserum did Macnair begin to speak. They would have used the potion on him sooner if not for the Ministry protocols around it. The matter was escalated by Harry himself until the potion use was finally approved. Macnair admitted that his initial plan was to kill Harry Potter and that Hermione Granger was a target of opportunity. He detailed his scheme and told them about the poor boy Joe Colton whom he had killed to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic under the guise of a lift operator. When asked about the curse, Macnair said that over the years he had developed a spell whose symptoms mimic that of the Draught of the Living Dead. What it does, however, was frightening. For when under the spell, the cursed would be plagued with their deepest and darkest fears - the stuff of nightmares - all the while giving the impression that they were under a peaceful slumber. They would be haunted until they themselves lose the will to live.

And when asked about the counter curse, Macnair gave a malicious smile and said what he believed to be true. There was no counter.

Mediwitches tried the Wiggenweld potion, the antidote to the Draught of the Living Dead. It didn't work. They tried casting Riddikulus over Hermione too, to banish any imaginary Boggarts that might be lurking in her head because of the curse, but it was futile. They tried to Rennervate her, feed her more "wake-up" potions but still, nothing.

If there was anybody that could help Hermione at that moment, it would be herself.

But since she couldn't, Harry tried to put himself in her shoes.

He tried to think like Hermione because she needed him.

And that was when he came up with an idea that wasn't yet tried by the healers.

The opposite of fear was joy. Happiness. That was why Riddikulus works on Boggarts, since the spell would transform the Boggart to an object found humorous by the caster. And humour leads to joy, to happiness.

There was another spell - a more powerful spell - Harry knew of that was pure, concentrated form of happiness and of hope.

The answer was simple almost as much as it was complicated to anyone but Harry.

So, after getting approvals from the mediwitches, Harry cast a Patronus charm over Hermione's still body.

He thought of the happiest he had ever been. He thought of the timeturner and of Buckbeak's flight with him and Hermione on his back as they raced to save Sirius. He thought of his 20th birthday when Hermione had surprised him with a new broom. He thought of his, Hermione's, and Ron's trip to Japan as their first holiday together after they all landed jobs after the war. He thought of another trip he and Hermione took to Switzerland where he learned to ski. He thought of her, of how the simple act of being with her made him so content and so indescribably happy.

With bated breaths, the mediwitches, other Aurors, and Ron and the Weasleys, watched as the stag materialized from Harry's wand and charged towards the unmoving form of Hermione. It was the most powerful corporeal patronus anyone had ever seen. It reared its mighty antlered head before disappearing into her. A light so fierce illuminated the large but cramped hospital room and a sickly orange cloud lifted from within her and dispersed into the air.

And then Hermione breathed deeply and her hand twitched and Harry knew his idea had worked.

He was about to hold onto her hand again when the mediwitches commanded everyone but the healers to leave the room. They needed to run more diagnostics, more tests. They needed to ensure she was okay and so he was forced out of the room with his friends.

Harry didn't know how long he waited for until he was allowed back inside Hermione's room. He almost literally ran inside when he was told it was okay to re-enter. One look at her and Harry knew it would be okay. Already Hermione's cheeks were more flushed and he could actually see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed normally. The mediwitches told him they had put her under a spell-induced coma to recuperate peacefully since her mind probably wasn't at ease while she was cursed. She would wake up on her own after much needed sleep and he would be able to see those chocolate brown eyes again.

So, Harry sat by the chair at Hermione's bedside, grasped her warm hand with his, and waited.

The first thing Hermione felt when she came through to the world was the weight on her left hand. She scrunched her eyes, blinked them open, and turned her stiff neck to the side to find the source of the pressure. She saw her hand encased in someone else's, this someone else whose head was resting on his arm as he dozed peacefully. His black hair was wild and sticking out from all over the place. She couldn't see his face but Hermione knew who it was. She smiled and felt tears coming to her eyes.

Her nightmare was just that, a nightmare.

The images she saw of Harry leaving her, of him dying horrible deaths over and over again were just conjurings of her deepest, darkest fears.

They weren't true and he was there with her.

She squeezed the hand holding onto hers gently and felt him stir. His head shifted and his tired, sleepy eyes behind skewed glasses blinked confusedly as he raised his head from resting on his arm. His other arm - the lilied arm, she noted - raised to adjust his glasses before his gaze focused on hers.

"Hermione!" He gasped. He raised from his seat and looked down at her, his eyes scanning frantically over her form. "You're crying! Are you hurt? What's wrong? Should I get the healers?"

She squeezed his hand again and smiled weakly. "I'm okay, Harry. I'm just… I'm just so happy you're okay. I was so scared." She said, and more tears pooled into her eyes.

A breath left him. "You silly witch," he said, and sat back down. "I should be worried about you. You had us all worried, Hermione. Do you… do you remember what happened?"

Hermione turned to face the ceiling as she tried to recall what transpired that put her at what looked to be a private ward at St. Mungo's. "I remember getting on a lift at the Ministry… and then you and Amanda and other Aurors got on as well. We got off at the atrium and then… and then you pushed me!" She gasped. Her head swiveled to look at him almost accusingly.

Harry's hand squeezed hers again while the other combed through his hair. "I know, I'm sorry," he said, his voice grave. "The lift operator - we later found out he was Macnair - was plotting to off me. He got into the Ministry and I knew something was off with him so I pushed you out of the way and jumped down just in time to avoid an Avada heading our way," Hermione gasped at his retelling. "But before I could get to you, he sent a curse to your direction and… and it hit you." His face was twisted in a rueful grimace.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione whispered softly.

"You were unconscious for two days, Hermione. The healers couldn't figure out what curse he hit you with." He continued. Harry's voice was soft, strained, and filled with anger. "We finally got approval to use the Veritaserum on him, and he told us. It was a curse he developed. The cursed would look like they were sleeping peacefully, similar to the effects of the Draught of the Living Dead, but they would be plagued with their worst fears. He… he said that there was no cure, and the cursed would just lose the will to live."

"Harry…"

"That was the single most scariest moment of my life, Hermione," he said fiercely. He turned his gaze on hers and held her eyes. "I thought I would lose you, but I knew that I couldn't give up. So I put myself in your shoes. I tried to see how you would approach this problem. That was when I thought to use the Patronus. I remembered you saying long ago that the Patronus is a tangible form of pure, positive energy. It is happiness, joy, and hope in one spell. I… I thought that would dispel the fear you were cursed with. And thank God it worked."

"Harry," Hermione breathed again. She extracted her hand from his grasp and brought it up to rest in his cheek. He instinctively turned his face to burrow in her soft hand. "I'm okay now. Thanks to you and… and to Prongs," she said with a smile. "I remember seeing him, you know. When everything was dark and I felt so miserable because… because of that nightmare. I saw him crashing through the illusion and he led me out."

His right hand came to take her hand back and he kissed her fingers gently. "I'm so happy you're safe. If you need to talk to anyone about… about the nightmares, then you know you can talk to me, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes darkened slightly as she was reminded of the visions she saw of Harry dead, or dying, or leaving her alone as she cried on the ground. She looked at the Harry who was with her now, holding onto her hand, looking at her softly. This was what was real.

"I know, Harry," she whispered softly. "I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it now, but I know I can talk to you when I am. Thank you," she said.

He smiled. He rose from his seat, bent over her, and withdrew his right hand from hers to wipe away at stray curls on her forehead. He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, lingering for just a second before tilting his head back and sitting down again. His hand went back to its place in hers, and he looked at her with a smile.

Hermione's brows were scrunched together as she looked at their interlaced fingers. She had noticed something when his hand was near her face and she could see more of the mark now that she was concentrating on his hand.

"Harry… did you get a new tattoo?" She asked.

He just smiled and turned over the hand which was holding hers. On the inside of his right arm, opposite the lily and the owl on his left, was a timeturner. The orbits were perfectly circular surrounding a sand dial framed with stars and moons. The two notches were placed symmetrically on either side of the metal rounds. Curved along one half of the timeturner, as if cradling it and protecting it, was an otter. Its sinuous body was twisted so that its long tail was by one notch of the timeturner while its head was by the other. Its small hands and feet were clasped together and its eyes were closed peacefully. A small, almost feline smile was on its lips.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered and she felt the tears pool into her eyes.

He simply brought her hand to his lips and kissed it again. "I was so scared, Hermione. I thought I would never see you wake up again, never see you smile again, never be able to talk to you again. I was so relieved, so happy, when the healers said the patronus worked. You were important to me… you are important to me, so I… I got this," he said, head gesturing to the ink. "They remind me of you. One of the happiest moments of my life was when we were on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius. We couldn't have done both of those without your timeturner. And… and the otter is your patronus. I thought it fitting, considering what I had to do to bring you back to me."

The tears did spell from Hermione's eyes then. She cried and laughed at the same time as she sniffled and used her other hand to wipe away her tears. Harry's mouth lifted at the corners as he watched her try to compose herself.

"Harry, you've got me blubbering like a baby!" Hermione chided as more tears continued to pour.

His face broke in an all out grin and he used his newly tattooed hand to help wipe away her tears. "Hermione, don't you ever, ever, scare me like that ever again. You can't leave me." His words, while said in jest, held truth and demanded promise.

She sniffed and turned her dewey eyes toward his. "I won't, Harry. I promise."

She was bored out of her mind. She had forced Harry to go to work since she was fine, really. He left with promises to return during lunch to keep her company. Ginny dropped by shortly after he left to check up on her and she was rewarded with the latest gossip (Ginny worked for the Daily Prophet). Ginny filled Hermione in on the full story with Macnair and Harry's wrath towards the dark wizard. Ron and Megan, his wife of two years, visited too before they reported to work and Hermione was told that the couple was expecting their first child. She laughed and cried some more and accepted their offer to be their future baby's godmother. But now that her friends were away to their jobs, Hermione was utterly bored.

It was about 11:30am when she heard the door to her private wing open. She thought it was Harry who had decided to break for lunch early, but one look towards the door showed that it was her ex, Lukas. She hadn't seen him since the day he broke up with her nearly four months ago now. She watched him walk towards her silently with confusion in her eyes.

His handsome face lifted into a gentle smile and his grey eyes held hers. "How are you doing, Minny?" He asked, using his old nickname for her.

Hermione felt a smile forming in her lips at the familiar term of endearment. "I've been better. How have you been, Luke?"

Lukas leaned back on the chair and looked at her with a grin. "Doing better. I've met a girl, you know."

Hermione couldn't help the gasp of surprise from leaving her lips. "Oh! That's wonderful. What's her name?"

"Her name is Adelaide, and she had just started in my department two months ago. I know, I know, I shouldn't dabble in office romance especially since she and I will be working closely, but I can't help it. She's brilliant, and beautiful, and I think I'm done for." Lukas said, his face turning wistful. "She had actually already met my parents. It was accidental, mind you. We were headed to my place after a night out for, you know, and my parents were there! They surprised me with their visit. One hell of a surprise that was. But it turned out for the better since they really like each other."

Hermione laughed. "Oh Luke, I'm so happy for you!" She said. And she meant it. This surprised her, because even as he spoke about this new girl who came after her, she felt no twinge of heartache or sadness. Shouldn't she feel something negative about this? Shouldn't that how exes feel? Their breakup was far from amicable too. In fact, it had actually blindsided her. But all the hurt she should have felt was clouded with confusion and… relief. Which, of course, led to more confusion. But she pushed it aside because she was far too busy with the rest of her life.

He grasped her hand. "I came by because I wanted to see how you were doing and… and to say sorry for ending things so abruptly with us," he said. His eyes turned downcast as he replayed how he broke up with her. "It was wrong of me to be so angry with you and to end things that way. I shouldn't have ambushed you in your flat. I'm sorry."

"Oh Luke," Hermione sighed and squeezed his hand. "It's not your fault at all. I was at fault for letting work always come between us. I shouldn't have cancelled on meeting your parents, it was rude and just not right. I should have tried to make more time for you. I'm really sorry for that. I realized after that… that maybe I should have prioritized you more."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It's all in the past. We're both sorry and that is what matters. But I gotta ask… did you ever figure it out?"

"Figure what out?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with confusion.

A sly smile lit up his face as if he was keeping a secret from her. "What you really want?"

Her brows furrowed. "I don't understand… I have everything I could ever want right now, Lukas. I have my family, a great career, even better friends…"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. But do you have someone you love? Who do you really want, Hermione?"

Hermione froze. "What?"

Lukas gave her a smile and rose from his chair. He bent down and kissed her forehead too, before squeezing her hand one more time. "Just think about it. You're a smart witch."

He turned around and walked out leaving a bewildered Hermione staring after him.

Not five minutes after Lukas leave did Harry Potter walk through the door. He had a scowl on his face and when he saw her his scowl changed to a look of alarm and then a frown. He immediately walked over to her bedside.

"Simon was here, wasn't he? Did he upset you?!" Harry asked. He leaned over the side of her bed and brought his tattooed arm to stroke her cheek.

Hermione's stunned expression softened. "Oh Harry, no, he didn't. We were… we were talking and… it was quite pleasant actually. He just said something which surprised me before he left."

Harry became less tense but the frown remained on his face. "I passed him on the hall when I was walking here. What did he want?"

Hermione's lips twitched at his straightforward question. "He wanted to see how I was doing."

"I didn't know you and him were still friendly with each other."

Hermione's face broke into a grin at his words. "I didn't either, until he came here. He apologized for how he ended things and he told me about his new lady."

The scowl returned. "Was he trying to make you jealous?"

Hermione laughed. "No, Harry. It was a nice conversation in fact! And even if he was trying to make me jealous, he didn't succeed. I am very much over him."

He relaxed. "Good."

The mood was lifted and the pair spent the next hour eating lunch which Harry had smuggled in past the mediwitches. The man had rolled his long sleeved shirt up to his elbows and Hermione's gaze kept drifting to the tattoos on his arms. She almost missed her mouth with her fork since she was staring so intently at what she considered to be her tattoo. Every movement of his as he ate caused the muscles of his arms to flex. It was utterly captivating and Hermione's eyes devoured the images.

Later that night, as Harry slept on a transfigured couch in her hospital room, Hermione allowed herself to really think. She thought about Harry and, well, his tattoos. Through the darkness with only a candle light flickering, she could actually see some of them as he dozed off in his sleep clothes. She was fairly certain she had memorized all of his tattoos by now, except for the ones she couldn't fully see and lied beneath his clothes. She knew every curve and every line and every dot and shade. If she were given a pad of paper and a pen, she felt as if she could draw them. Well, maybe not since her artistic talents were limited. But if she had a sketch artist draw the tattoos out for her using only her descriptions, she was confident the results would be almost identical.

That also meant, of course, that she had memorized Harry. It was hard not to since she stared at him a lot. She knew all of his tells. She could tell when he was irate, since his hand would be running through his unruly hair at least twice a minute. She could tell when he was angry, since those eyes of his would turn so cold and hard like gems and he would be so quiet. She could tell when he was pleased or happy, since that beautiful mouth of his would curve at the side and a little dimple would show on his cheek.

She knew every feature of his face and longed to know every feature of the rest of him. She wanted to know the dips and curves and peaks of his skin. She wanted to know every hollow and every rise of the body which she had so admired from afar. She wanted to see those tattoos up close and personal and finally find out where the fire on his arm led.

She wanted to see him.

She wanted him.

"Oh shit," Hermione whispered in the darkness and Lukas' words rang in her ears.

It was as if a cloud of confusion had cleared.

What she really want, who she really want, was Harry.

She couldn't even contest this realization of hers, and truthfully, she wasn't even surprised. What she was surprised about was how long it took her to realize, but the realization itself was like being reminded of a fact she had always known but had dismissed. It was like being reminded that water is wet and that the sun is hot.

She wanted him because he was Harry.

Because he was her best friend.

Because he was her saviour.

Because he was important to her.

Because he made her so happy.

Because her greatest fear was of losing him.

Because she couldn't live without him.

And because she loved him more than she had loved anyone else in the world.

Hermione smiled and her gaze trailed up his arm from her tattoo, to the illustration of the stag, and to Harry's peaceful sleeping face.

She realized now that she loved him.

And all she needed to do was make him realize that he loved her as well.

Because she knew that he did love her.

His actions and words and tattoo were a testament of that.

He just needed a little reminder that water is wet and that the sun is hot.

And Hermione was more than happy to remind him.