Disclaimer: The usual - I don't own any of the characters or world setting for Harry Potter, J. does, and I don't make any money writing this. Thank you JKR for letting us play in your sandbox.

This was just an idea I had to write down to get it out of my head so I could focus on Vanishing Princess again. It's a one-shot for now, but there is potential. I'll have to see what I can think up for it later. Maybe.

Harry Potter and the Grocery Run

"Oh shoot. I'd hoped Fortescue's would be open again." Hermione's voiced was laced with brightness, like sunshine had been turned into ribbon that she had carefully sewn overtop of the sadness and pain. Harry noticed, and knew that she had stolen that sunshine and made that ribbon just for him. She didn't want him to be sad anymore. Didn't want him to blame himself for the deaths of his friends. He tried to rise for her, tried to respond in kind, but his voice failed him and only dripped bitterness.

"I wonder if he'll ever be back." He said. He tried to smile, but only succeeded in tightening his lips in lieu.

She was wearing her rose-colored denim jacket, her favourite, over a fleece jumper and her most comfortable pair of jeans. Harry couldn't help but notice how well she filled them. Ever since that night in the tent... No. He wouldn't go there. She didn't want him that way, and that was her choice.

She took her hands from her pockets and took his hand in hers as they walked. He knew her smile was forced - could see it in her eyes. That just made the fact that she faked it just for him all the sweeter.

"I guess we'll have to wait before I can buy you a celebratory ice cream."

That brought a single ray of light into his gloom. She was always like that. Always there, always helpful, always brilliant. If anyone could pull him back to reality...

"It's just as well. I need real groceries. Meat, fruit, veg. I'll settle for sharing a small tub with you after dinner?"

"That sounds like a lovely compromise, Mister Potter."

"Mint Chocolate Chip, of course."

She actually laughed at that. A real, honest-to-magic laugh. It was like finding a rainbow at midnight.

"You know me so well, Harry."

Of course he did. How could he not? Seven years side by side, through laughter and tears, triumph and death. As if summoned by the thought, the faces flashed through his mind again. Fred. Remus. Tonks. Colin. Lavender. He tried not to let it show, but she knew. Of course she knew. He took a deep breath and tried to shove it all down again. She didn't need to see him wallowing after making the trip just to get him out of that dustbin of a house. He tried to smile at her again, but he could see in her eyes that she could see he was full of shit. Still, he did his best.

"Looks like Flourish and Blotts is still open. Fancy a book?" Even to his own ears it sounded like he was glossing over it. Like ice over a deep river at the beginning of spring. You could skate on it, but it moved and crackled and you knew you shouldn't be there.

"Well..." The set of her mouth told him she knew what he was doing, and would allow it for his sake. "Maybe just one..." She flashed that same tightening of her lips that he had tried to pass off as a smile. She was worried for him, but tried not to show him she was. Best friend anyone could ever want.

"Come on then, my tre-" Something set the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

His eyes were suddenly everywhere, searching, seeking... finding.

The sudden increase in pressure on his hand let him know she'd noticed and she too was scanning everything. It was too late though. It was a ragged, sneering man who looked late forties - which meant he could have been eighty as a wizard.

"Say goodbye to the mudblood whore, Potter." The sneer belched. His toady little eyes filled with sadistic glee. "Desperandum Admortem!"

He reached for his wand, but there was no time. He knew there was no time. Hermione had her wand out already, but she was facing the wrong way. She hadn't seen him. She couldn't see the horrid, bruise-purple energy that flashed toward her.

He took a step. A simple step. Right foot forward about a meter. Pivot the hips. Look her in the eyes one last time.

She spun to face him, eyes locked onto his, and he smiled then, a real smile. He could feel it warming his face as the violent hatred washed over his back. The pain of it buckled his knees, and he began to fall, and her face stretched in abject terror as she saw him drift toward the street. Her eyes snapped into the distance behind him, and she didn't even cast. She screamed in rage with her wand pointed, and he could hear utter destruction follow. He must have hit the street at some point, but he kept falling, falling into a deep hole as darkness closed in around him.

She studied his face again, searching for any clue, any hint, the slightest movement, but found nothing. He was quiet. Still. Too still. She turned back to the book in her lap - one of twelve in stacks on the floor around her chair - she'd been through nearly a hundred of them in the last four weeks, but had learned nothing that could help. Nothing about any dark purple spells or coma spells or anything. She'd even take any kind of hint as to why he had smiled. She saw his face again as he fell, the calm, peaceful smile she knew was just for her. He had saved her again. He always saved her. He'd been doing it since they met, since she was a frightened and lonely girl on a strange train to a new world.

She wiped her eyes again as the whirlwind inside her neared too close to the surface and forced water from her eyes. The handkerchief stayed in her hand at this point, there was no telling when she would need to dry her face.

The door opened and Ron walked in. She was a little relieved to see him taking some kind of interest in Harry's welfare, but she was also miffed at him, he'd only been there a couple of hours in the last four weeks.

"Come on, 'Mione. Let's go."

No 'How is he', no 'how are you', just hey, move it.

"Go where?" She snipped. As if there was anywhere else she should be.

"There's a decent pub just down the way, I fancy dinner and a pint."

"And I should just leave because you fancy dinner and a pint."

"He'll be there when you get back. Coma patients don't go flitting about, do they?"

She wasn't sure if it was his callous disregard or his patronizing tone that pissed her off more. She turned to look at him, disgust and incredulity warring on her features.

"You do know that's your best friend lying in a coma right there, don't you?"

"You do know you're meant to be my girlfriend, don't you?"

"What does that have to do with -"

"Oh please, 'Mione, don't give me that! You've been here four fucking weeks! I guess it just doesn't matter that I had dates planned, does it? Once again the Great Harry Potter just decides to take all the attention for himself! Doesn't matter what Ron wants, does it? You're meant to be my girl, 'Mione! What about me?"

She looked up at him, utterly gobsmacked. What about him? What about him?!

"What about me?" She asked him. Her voice was low and smooth and dangerous.

"Oh now you'll get all defensive and say I was being a git for wanting to go to dinner with you, like it's a terrible thing."

"It's a terrible, horrible, selfish thing! You insensitive prick!" She growled.

His eyes went flat and his ears started to redden and he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "Fine." He said.

"That's meant to be me lying there, Ron. Me in that coma. Harry - your best friend - is lying there unresponsive because he stepped in front of a curse meant for me. He deliberately sacrificed himself for me, and you want me to abandon him because you fancy dinner and alcohol."

She found her hand on her wand. She hadn't intentionally put it there. She forced her hand away from it, and took a deep breath as she stood, trying to calm the ocean of rage that was threatening to boil over into the real world.

"You know Ron, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever heard anything come out of your mouth that wasn't 'what about me' in some fashion. I suppose I should have known better than to think one brief glimmer of hope during the last battle was the beginning of something, when the entirety of your history has been something else. I suppose that's my bad judgement. Thankfully, I can rectify that oversight. Go to the pub, Ron. Go have dinner and a pint. Have several pints, since we both know you're going to anyway. When you're finished with that, why don't you fuck off entirely and never come back. Don't come around anymore, don't call me girlfriend anymore, and especially don't ever call me 'Mione again! I fucking HATE that! You fucking PRICK!" The rage washed through her and forced water from her eyes again. She wiped her face with the handkerchief again.

"Fine. Hope you're happy together. The bookworm and her stiff. Lame duck probably jumped at the chance for a coma just for some peace and quiet from you!" He wrenched the door open and disappeared down the hall, but whispered "Fucking nightmare." as he left.

She collapsed into her chair again, sobbing.

Why? He was just like the little kids at Primary school, trying to hurt her with words because they couldn't do it any other way. What in Magic's name did she ever see in him? He never deserved her, she could see that now. Just as she never deserved Harry. Deep down, she knew she'd only ever settled for Ron because he was the next best thing. Because she knew she didn't deserve harry, no matter how much she wanted him.

She kept the handkerchief rumpled in her hand as she picked up the book and began again where she left off. She'd go through as many books as it took to find something that helped. Anything that helped. She had to at least let him know. Let him know and then accept the consequences, be it a laugh and a "Good one, Hermione!" or even if he never wanted to see her again. She could live with that if he knew. It would hurt, but she could live with it.

It started with the train. Somehow he was back on the train, sitting quietly by himself in too much space, hoping against hope to meet some nice people, and absolutely terrified of it. What if Uncle Vernon was right? What if even among wizards and witches he was a freak? Every person who walked by the compartment made him jump in anticipation and fear, equal parts excited and scared.

"Excuse me, have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost his." Her hair was bushy and filled the volume around her beautiful little face, so serious, so earnest. It was her helping people face. He knew that face all too well.

"Nevermind." She said then. "I can see you're clearly unfit to be here. You should go to the back of the train with the other freaks, so no-one thinks you're a regular person. Imagine trying to fit in as though you were normal. I mean, really." She glared down her nose at him, scathing scorn dripping from her every nuance, every syllable. She closed the door again and huffed, then walked away, leaving him alone.

"But... we're friends..." He said to the door. "That isn't how..."

There was a terrible noise then, of crashing and breaking, and he instinctively shielded his head with his arms. Water sprayed on him, soaking through his robes and making the floor slippery. It was the bathroom. He was in the bathroom again. The troll swung its club at him and shattered the stalls in front of him after he ducked it. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline flooded his veins. He tried to pull his wand out, but bits of sink and plaster and water all over everything made the footing too treacherous, and he went down on his backside. The troll noticed, and raised its club for an overhand swing.

"Hey you!" She called. Hermione stood by the door, next to Ron. Ron had an amazed look on his face as he stared at the troll about to kill him. Hermione, on the other hand, blasted the troll with several hexes immediately, followed by a WinGARDium LeviOsa. The troll's club slipped from its grip as it brought it's hand down toward Harry, and a foul wind of rank body odour hit him instead of the small uprooted tree. The club then hit the troll in the head, and it crashed to the floor next to him.

"Why'd you bother, babe? Honestly, he's a nightmare. It's no wonder he's got no friends." Ron chided. Hermione looked at Harry, into his eyes, and laughed. She took Ron's arm and left Harry alone in the cold, water-covered girl's bathroom.

"Don't leave..." Harry said softly. "Please..." He reached out to the space she had been, and touched something cold and metal. He blinked, thinking that was a little odd, and saw the dirty old key with a broken wing in his hand. Instantly, the other keys focused on him and swarmed like angry hornets. He tossed the key to Hermione, who caught it and unlocked the door.

"Quick!" She said, ushering him inside. Harry ducked inside the door and closed it behind them just as a hundred tiny thumps jarred the door from the other side.

"That's my Harry!" Hermione grinned and crushed him to her, and he couldn't help but be relieved and happy. She felt so good. She smelled so good. "Well done." She stepped back and nodded to him. "Now, let's see what's next."

She took his hand, beaming happily as she did, and he started to relax inside. The warm sense of rightness he had lived with so long he couldn't remember what living was like without it flooded through him.

"Avada Kedavra!" Quirrel screamed, and Hermione dropped to the floor. He dropped to his knees and smoothed her hair away from her face. Her beautiful, rich warm eyes simply stared. There was no Hermione in them anymore.

"No! NO! NO!" He screamed. Tears washed out his vision, and he couldn't even reach for his wand. He struck out, lashing out with every ounce of strength his tiny body had, but Quirrell only laughed and gripped him around the neck with a fleshless hand of bleached bones.

It was such a tiny thing. So small and subtle that if she hadn't been looking directly at him, watching him, she wouldn't have seen it.

He seemed to sigh gently, and his face went somehow even more slack. A cold hand gripped her guts and crept up through her chest as she waited for him to take another breath. And waited. And waited.

The lights in the room went red. Alarms sounded.

She kicked her books away from the bed and pushed her chair back out of the way of the healers she knew would be coming, but she wasn't paying any attention to her actions. Her world was focused on Harry's chest and the fact that it wasn't rising.

The door slammed open to admit several witches and wizards, all in the warm, clean green robes of St. Mungo's. They all immediately began casting diagnostics and running scrolls of runes filled the air over the bed in several colours.

"Physicals are still green." One said in the clipped fashion of one who was concentrating on a task.

"Core erratic, possible destabilization in progress." Said another the same way.

"Reinforce core integrity, keep a running count of actual magic level." The witch in charge was s heavyset woman with a head of blonde hair that was more white than blonde and tucked into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Hermione couldn't see her face, the head medwitch's back was to her while she worked on Harry.

"Core depleted. Reserves at sixty percent and falling."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to avoid sobbing and distracting them. She was losing him. Harry James Potter was slipping away and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Years of suffering and sacrifice, months of running and hiding and evading. Everything they had done was just drifting away, and only four healers stood beside him when he had saved every magical life in Britain. His thanks was an unnoticed death. Another name on a list. She couldn't tell if her tears were more grief at losing him, fear at being impotent to stop it, or rage at it being allowed to happen.

"Fifty percent." The healer's voice rose in pitch.

"Administer three tears."

"We can't, chief. He has tears in his system already. Basilisk venom too."

"Shit. Set up bezoar infusion."

Two of the healers went into action. One pulled a bag of dirty brown liquid from the cart they had wheeled in with them, the other took a rune-covered bit of parchment from the cart and applied it to Harry's arm in the crook of his elbow. Another bit of rune-covered parchment went onto the bag of liquid. At a tap of the wand, there was a tiny flash from the bits of parchment.

"Depletion slowing. Forty-seven percent."

"Save him. Please save him." Hermione whispered through the tears.

"What's the core integrity like?" The chief medwitch asked.

"Holding at level three."

"Depletion at forty-five percent and holding."

"Alright, start pushing, slowly."

All four of the healers assumed a soft glow around them as they funneled magic directly into Harry. Seconds turned into minutes, stretching on and on and on. Hermione paced near the door, quivering like a wire under too much tension.

Harry's chest rose. The soft sibilance of air being sucked into his lungs was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

She began sobbing again, and didn't care that her legs failed to keep her upright. "Thank you. Thank you." She repeated over and over even after the healers had left the room again. She went to his side when she could stand again and kissed him. She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes, and his lips. "Don't you ever do that again, Harry, you hear me? Don't you ever leave me again."

She sat back in her chair and held his hand to her forehead as she concentrated on just breathing. The pain in her chest radiated all the way through her, into her fingers and toes. The thought of losing him physically hurt enough to make Lestrange's cruciatus seem like a tickling hex. The pain only increased as she held him. His hands were so strong, so capable. He had callus on his palms and fingers from quidditch and holding a wand constantly, and his fingers were so thick compared to hers, so... she kissed his hand again. She had to find some way to keep him alive, to bring him back. There had to be some way to keep even a piece of him, any kind of...

There was one thing she could do.

It was crazy. It was highly illegal. It was for Harry, so that was irrelevant. Would it work though? She thought through the logistics of it, and decided she needed more information. If it was a possibility, she would also need to modify the detection charms and alarms on him, so that needed research too.

She stood and kissed the palm of his hand, then laid it over his chest.

"Don't you dare go anywhere while I'm gone, Harry. Don't you dare. I'll be back as soon as I can." She kissed his forehead again and picked up her bag. The hospital staff didn't even notice her leaving.

It hurt to see her like that.

She was cold, smooth, and completely still. It had taken Madam Pomfrey minutes to convince him she wasn't dead, just petrified, but he still cried while stroking her hair after Pomfrey left. He sat next to her, hoping she could hear him so she would know he was there, but at the same time hoping she couldn't hear him as he told her the terrible things that had been done to him. He felt so weak, so helpless as he recounted it all. Some of it made him cry tears of rage, some of it made him cry tears of vulnerable pain, but some part of him knew that it was safe with her. Even if it did make him afraid of telling her in the first place.

He didn't know how long he sat there talking and touching her arm occasionally, but it must have been a long time. He knew it was after dinner because Ron showed up. Ron didn't say anything, he just pushed in front of Harry and lifted Hermione's robes, trying to peek down her shirt. Harry stood and shoved Ron into the wall and away from her.

"What the hell Ron?!" He shouted.

"Get lost, freak!" Ron shouted back. "I'm a pureblood and I can have whatever I want! My Mummy said so! I'm gonna take everything you have!"

Hermione's stone face moved. Her eyes grated open and looked at him.

"I love you, Harry." She said.

Ron's face went red and he raised his arm. Before Harry could do anything, he brought a hammer down on Hermione's head and she shattered into gravel.

"NO!" Harry screamed.

Ron laughed. "Ha ha! You should see your face! Why so glum, chum? Guess I'll go find a real witch!" He walked out of the hospital wing, still laughing.

Harry began trying to piece her back together as tears made it impossible.

His tears began to freeze to his face and he recognized the unnatural cold. He looked around quickly, and spotted Hermione on the other side of the lake, lying on the shore with Dementors swooping around like skeletal fishing birds. Sirius tried bravely to fend them off, but his patronus was weak and faltered. A Dementor swooped past him and his face blurred as it pulled at his very essence.

Harry pulled his wand out and reached for his happy memory, but instead of her smile, instead of the feeling of her softness nestled against him as she read a book, he found her empty eyes, her slack, motionless face. Gravel.

A Dementor hovered over her. Her back arched as it sucked her life away. He was failing her. she was dying and it was his fault. The Dementor swallowed the blue-white spark that came from her mouth and she collapsed back to the ground, tensionless. Her head tilted and her empty eyes looked through him again.

"NO!" He screamed, "NO! NO! NO! NO!" He beat the ground with his fist as punctuation, and collapsed into sobs, the pain in his chest threatened to consume him.

The research said it was possible, so that was the premise under which she operated. She took a few nights to study the charms on Harry, learning them inside and out so that she could fool them into giving a false signal while she... Magic's sake, was she really doing this?

She knew she could loop the charms and have them report what she wanted - what she needed them to - and that left waiting for the right time. The healer on Night Rounds always looked in at 2 am, so she would have to pretend to be asleep until he or she left. That would leave her about three hours.

She looked at the clock on her cell, and it read eleven twenty-eight. She would have preferred to do months more research and know the situation inside and out before acting, but time was of the essence. Nobody knew how long Harry had left or whether he would live or die at all, so it had to be now. He would not pass from this world, not completely. She would not allow it.

She reviewed the charms she'd learned for tonight - the detections on Harry, the one-way privacy shell, and the... the ones for her. The potion was in her bag - that had been a real joy to acquire. The old witch's shop in Knockturn had been just wonderful, much like the old witch herself. She was certain she'd paid too much for it, but denying any personal information to such a witch was worth the extra expense.

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then picked up the latest book and dove back into trying to find a cure while she waited for two o'clock.

The Night Rounds healer was a witch that night, maybe mid-thirties. She came into the room quietly, checked the detection charms on harry, noted her findings in his chart, and quietly left again. Hermione was leaned forward, head on her arms and clutching Harry's hand during the visit. As soon as the medwitch left, Hermione sat up and took more deep breaths. She cast Silencio on the door and the bed, then checked the hallway. It was empty. She closed the door again and hit it with four different locking spells, and then the one-way privacy shell.

She pulled the potion from her bag and quaffed the fluffy-tasting pink concoction in one pull. Her stomach spasmed, and she felt a hot need settle in her lower abdomen. She pulled her jeans off and set them carefully on the back of her chair, followed by her knickers on the seat of the chair. It was strange being half-naked while technically in public, but for some reason what would normally be anxiety and embarrassment was only anticipation. She took a few more bracing breaths, then altered the detection charms on Harry. She waited a few seconds to see if anything happened, but apparently she'd done it correctly. No alarms sounded, no reaction of any kind. In retrospect she noted it would probably have been a better idea to loop the charms before exposing her crotch to the world. Too late now.

She pulled Harry's sheet down to his knees, and her pulse raced. She paused for another couple of deep breaths, then lifted the hem of his gown. His legs were hard, defined muscle with a sparse coating of thick black hair. She'd seen him in his underwear by accident a few times while they were in the tent, and had always liked the look of his legs. She pulled the gown up to his taut stomach and lay it there. She had seen male sex organs before on the internet and in books, but the real thing staring at her from less than a foot away was a completely different experience. Her pulse raced again, and a heat rose into her cheeks that had nothing to do with temperature.

She looked up at his face, half-expecting him to be awake and looking at her, but there was no change. Gingerly she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his cock - most of what she had seen on the internet had described it as a cock. Nowhere except medical journals did she see it described as a penis. She had known it was called a penis since she was six, but she had to admit she had never thought of it as such. After she discovered the pleasurable feelings between her own legs when she was twelve, she had just always thought of it as a cock. It seemed somehow naughtier and made touching herself more intense. She was unprepared for how one felt in her hand.

"So soft..." She whispered. The velvety smoothness of the skin on it entranced her, and before she realized what she was doing, she had brushed it across her cheek. The feeling of it sent shivers down her spine. She noticed the scent then as well. It smelled like Harry, like the quintessential Harry she had been smelling since she noticed it in third year, but more. There was something else in that smell, in the background of it that stoked the burning in her belly and made her sex tingle. To her surprise and delight, Harry seemed to be growing thicker and longer in her hand. She ran her other hand through the tangle of black hair that surrounded it, then stroked the smooth skin up and down. How many times had she masturbated to this? He'd been awake in her fantasies, of course, and her fantasies couldn't have shown her his cock even in her imagination, because she'd never seen it, but now... This would definitely fuel future nights.

It was big enough to wrap her hand around but still sort of soft and rubbery, but a nice size. She looked at his face again, but still his eyes were closed, his face slack. She stroked it a little harder, and pulled the skin back from the tip. It was round and full, and the super-smooth skin over the tip glistened as it swelled. Curious, she took the tip in her mouth. Even to her tongue the skin was incredibly smooth, and the taste was unlike anything. Like licking Harry's neck after Quidditch, slightly salty, but with an indefinable tang in the background. She slid her mouth down him, taking as much of him in her mouth as she could, unable to get enough of it. A soft moan sounded in the back of her throat as she felt him continue to swell and harden in her mouth. She slid her mouth up and down him a few more times and felt a pulsing in her nethers as she did. She knew that feeling, and it was a prelude to shutting her curtains with silence and privacy spells.

She took her mouth off him and marveled at the size of him. It was one thing to know the numbers for what was average and above average, but an entirely different thing to see it - to feel it. His cock was hard now, like gripping a broom handle wrapped in silk - if they made broom handles you could barely get your fingers around. It was the size of her bloody forearm! A small, detached part of her brain knew that she stretched some, and still asked if it was going to fit. The rest of her had already climbed onto the bed and hovered her opening over his erection. She brushed his tip through her slit and shivered at the sensation. She was wetter than she'd ever been, and briefly hoped it was enough as she lowered herself onto him. She sank as far as she could and groaned at the beautiful fullness. She knew it would hurt. All the books said it would hurt. The medical texts said a part of her would tear, so she knew it would hurt. She hadn't counted on the fire in her belly not caring that it would hurt. A few quick breaths was all the time she could spare for preparing herself, then her need demanded that she drop.

It hurt. It definitely hurt. She could feel ripping in her most tender of places, but oh, the feeling that came when he was deep inside her. It was like masturbating when you were already sore. Yes, there was unpleasantness, but it was rolled together with such want, such need, such pleasure, that the pain only enhanced the experience. She grunted loudly, deep in her chest as her behind came to rest on Harry's legs. Her eyes scrunched shut and her hands made claws as they gripped the taut skin across his stomach muscles.

"Unnhh fffuuuuck..." She groaned. She could feel him in her stomach, deep inside her. She could feel the heat from his cock radiating warmth through her, and it raised her eyebrows and put her tongue behind her teeth in a tiny smile. Her hands went to her stomach and she could feel him in there. She sighed with the culmination of her fantasy - well, one of them - and opened her eyes again. Harry hadn't moved or changed in the slightest. She leaned forward to put her hands on his chest, and that simple movement moved him inside her and sent waves of pleasure through her whole body. The unexpected intensity of it caused another moan to escape. She shifted her hips again, thoroughly absorbed by the unbelievable feelings emanating from their union. Her mind all but shut down then, abandoned to the raw, fundamental power happening inside her. She shifted her hips, dragged them forward across Harry's lower abdomen, than slammed them backward, impaling herself on him again. Over and over she repeated the motion, and she could feel a hot pressure building inside her. It was like when she knew she was close to finishing, but so much bigger, so much more encompassing. All at once the pressure broke, and the universe went white.

When reality intruded again, she was curled into a ball on Harry's chest, still impaled on his thick length. The top of her head had lifted off, and she could feel the air directly on her brain. The fire in her stomach still burned, and the simple act of sitting up, of pushing herself off his chest sparked another buildup of pressure. She rode him helplessly, slave to the pleasure that demanded of her. The universe went white again in short order, and again once reality returned she continued her quest.

She began to worry that what she was doing wasn't working, and became slowly aware that beneath her grunts of pleasure there were words.

"Please Harry. Give it to me Harry. Please Harry. Give it to me please."

She felt the buildup again rising, rising toward her pleasure threshold, but then something changed. She felt him pulsating inside her, felt the jets of hot liquid splashing against her insides. The unexpected pleasure of it combined with the knowledge of what it was send shockwaves through her and lifted the top of her head off again. She came back to reality lying on his chest again, and the sheer enormity of the love she felt for him forced tears from her eyes.

"I love you, Harry." She told him as she kissed him. "I love you. I've always loved you. I will always love you."

She wanted him to open his eyes and tell her he loved her too. She wanted it more than anything. Then she wanted to fall asleep right where she was, feeling and smelling him and waking up on top of him. Her chest was tight with the need for it, but he did not wake up, he did not open his eyes, he didn't move.

She sighed and wiped her eyes before swinging her leg over him and climbing off him and the bed. She cleaned him up so the healers wouldn't notice anything amiss, then pulled his gown down again, and re-covered him with the bedsheet, then fixed the detection charms. She cleaned herself up before putting her knickers and jeans back on, then curled up in the plush chair, arms wrapped around her stomach and its precious cargo.

All that was left to do was wait and see if she needed to repeat her actions tomorrow.

"Kill the spare." The voice hissed.

NO! NOT AGAIN! Harry thought, and shoved Hermione out of the way. He felt the sickly green energy hit him in the back as he protected her. He felt himself hit the stone floor, and saw feet pointed at his face. He jumped back to his feet, but Luna's eyes were haunted, dead inside. She merely stared straight ahead and didn't acknowledge him at all. They were in a stone room with one door.

"No, not here. Not again. Please." Harry whispered.

Two large men in black hoods entered their cell and closed the door, both focused directly on him. Harry tried to back away, but they weren't giving him any room to move. One of them backhanded Luna to the floor, and Harry dove toward her, but the other one was too quick. He caught Harry's ankle, and the one who'd struck Luna grabbed a handful of his hair and hauled him to his feet. They switched their grips to having one of his arms in each of theirs, and they dragged him out the door and up the stairs to the large stone room where Hermione lay on the floor with Bellatrix kneeling over her.

"Get off her!" He shouted.

"Oooo, does Bella's little slave have a boyfriend then?" Lestrange cackled. Hermione stood and pulled out a wand with her right hand. Her left arm was bleeding, dripping a trail on the floor as she approached. Her arm read 'Bella's Slave'.

Hermione pointed the wand at him, and he felt himself ripped away from his captors and thrown mercilessly to the floor, hard enough to make stars dance in his eyes. Stabs in his chest told him he'd broken ribs. He was flipped onto his back, and lost all control of his limbs.

"Little boyflies, all stuck to the floor." Hermione giggled. "Will you rise to the occasion?" She cackled like Lestrange.

"Hermione, we have to get out of here! Let's go!" He pleaded.

She dropped her weight squarely on his crotch, her knees squeezed his sides. "We have to get out of here, let's gooooo!" She mimicked him in a whiney voice. "I've got a better idea, lover." She ground her crotch against his, and he had the natural reaction despite how badly he wanted not to.

"Hermione please, we have to go!" He begged.

"Hermione, please!" She cackled again.

Her face went from sadistic glee to frightened then, and her normal voice said "Harry? Is that you? You have to get out, Harry, I can't hold her for long."

"Hermione!" He shouted. "Fight it! Fight her! Get us out of here!"

"Harry, I-" Her face twisted back to sadistic glee.

"Fight it! Fight her! Get us out of here!" She mocked. "You can't go anywhere unless I say so, fuckstick. I finally coaxed that cunt to the surface, and I have you to thank, loverboy. Now you can watch me kill her." She grinned in his face, and her eyes were madness and rage.

"No Hermione, no! Run! get away! Get safe!" He warned.

"Harry?" She asked, frightened again. "Harry, she's closing in, I can't... I can't..."

"That's right! You can't! I WIN, BITCH!" She screamed with a triumphant grin while looking down at him, and rammed her wand into her right eye. Blood sprayed all over his face and into his mouth as he screamed.

Hermione fell onto his chest and didn't move.

The research had told her it would happen, but knowing you're going to throw up once a day or more for weeks and actually having to do it were two horrifyingly different things. She'd done the research, both on what to expect and how to minimize it. Luckily for her as well, she was a witch and had access to potions that negated the negatives. She had also researched the glamour charms necessary for hiding her bloated midsection when she became big enough to show, but she didn't have to use them just yet.

The end result was that she sat in the hospital next to Harry, working her way through a library's worth of books. She knew the exact date of conception, so she knew how much time she had left before she would be too pregnant to move around. She knew she had to get somewhere safe before then, as she couldn't just suddenly appear in public with a baby. In magical Britain, that was a scarlet letter and there was no way back from it. She would be ostracized, she would never get a decent job, and very likely she would be forced to leave. As it happened, that was what she was planning in any case. She still had yet to find her parents and un-obliviate them. There would be a hell of a lot of anger from them. They would feel betrayed and manipulated, but once she explained and told them that she'd done it for their safety and that it had worked, they'd be able to talk it out. It would take time, but she was sure they'd be able to understand. If she showed up very pregnant as well, she knew for a fact her mother would never turn away the opportunity to spend time with a baby.

She was six weeks along already, and according to the schedule she had written out that left her approximately thirty weeks to either find a cure for Harry or wait for him wake up on his own. After that, it was international portkey time. That was assuming her pregnancy adhered to standard gestation times. Not all of them did. She really hoped hers did, she had so much to do. In fact, it might be better to move the date back to 28 weeks just for a wider margin of error. She didn't want to be walking around looking for her parents and have her water break in the street.

She put the bookmark in the book and set it on the stack next to her chair and went to stand beside Harry. She rested her forehead on his and wished for the umpteenth time that he would just open his eyes and look at her. She ran her fingers through his hair and breathed him in, then kissed him again and stood up straight, stretching. One thing she had noticed besides the fact that some smells made her queasy now was that Harry seemed to have the opposite effect. Even when she came into the room already queasy from something outside, just smelling him made her stomach settle immediately.

There was a tightness just below her bellybutton as she stretched, and it brought a smile to her face. She put her hands over it protectively.

"I hope you can smell your daddy too. I want him to wake up and be with us, but if he doesn't, we may not get much more than remembering his smell. You can rest assured I'm doing all I can though. I want him with us more than anything."

The alarm on her cellphone rang then, just a double beep to let her know it was time to eat something. She had made a list of all the healthiest things to eat when pregnant and made a schedule of five small meals per day of only those things. Sometimes she really just wanted a bacon sandwich, but there was no chance of that for another thirty-two weeks at least. She took a small tub of Greek yogurt out of her bag and mixed fresh strawberries, blackberries, and peanuts into it, then sat back in her chair to eat.

The unthinkably potent shields continually wore away before breaking into a fine shimmering mist. To the left, a screaming horde ran after Neville across the bridge before being swallowed by the canyon as the bridge detonated. Harry felt a stab of pain for the loss of Neville. He was a good man. A true friend. A hero.

Hermione grabbed his hand as they raced through the castle toward the third floor girls' toilet. They had to get a basilisk fang in order to destroy the cup. They reached the bathroom, but as he spoke the parseltongue password, Hermione was ripped from his grasp.

"Harry!" She screamed, but it was too late. A pack of werewolves had her in their teeth and her clothing shredded just before she was torn apart and eaten. Her empty eyes stared at him briefly before the werewolf drinking the blood from her throat carried her head off into the hall.

"NO!" He screamed as he ran after it.

He ran into the courtyard where Voldemort was addressing the school in his overly-loud whisper. Some of the students were covering their ears against it, but he and Hermione didn't have time for that. They ran down the ruined stairs, jumping over the parts that had crumbled. A squad of death eaters with Tom at the front had made their way to the very steps of the castle, and neither he nor Hermione were inclined to allow them further. Harry opened with a barrage of cutting curses, and was delighted to see several death eaters fall, one without his head.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed. She was dangling in mid-air, her wand on the ground as the orange curse hit her and she screamed and screamed with her limbs jerking in ways they were never meant to. Her left foot exploded and she screamed. Her right foot exploded and she screamed.

Harry screamed and flooded the death eaters with Bombardas, but they just wouldn't go down.

Hermione's right arm exploded and she screamed. Her left arm exploded and she screamed. Her left knee. Her right knee. Harry tried to throw himself into the path of the oncoming curses, but she was too high up. Her torso dropped to the ground like a sack of grain as her face came to rest on his shoe.

Harry screamed and fired death from the end of his wand, but the giants were just too resistant. His magic wasn't having any effect.

"Harry! Achilles tendon! Bombarda! Both together!" Hermione called out to him. He nodded, and raised his wand.

"Bombarda maxima!" He yelled as Hermione did the same from fifty feet away.

The giant's tendon snapped with the sound of a shotgun, and it bellowed thunder as it fell.

"Hermione! Run! This way fast!" He yelled at her, but Hermione stood transfixed as the giant fell directly toward her.

"RUUUUNNN!" He yelled. He ran as fast as he could, but he wasn't getting any closer to her. She turned her head to look at him as the shadow fell on her. She reached her hand out toward him, and then she was gone, replaced by the side of a giant.

Harry screamed and fired at the giant over and over, but he had to take cover. He was too vulnerable out in the open. The dragons swooped low over the castle, breathing flame over the defenders.

"Harry! get down!" Hermione fired curses at an upward angle, and he knew there had to be a dragon bearing down on them. He ran with his head down until he could take her hand, then they both ran toward the doors. Other students were fighting death eaters in the courtyard, and there was no way through .

"Hermione! I'll cover you, run along the side wall and get to safety!" He shouted over the battle noise.

She nodded, and ran flat out with her wand in hand, firing curses as she went. Harry fired at the death eaters as well, but it was to no avail. A dragon landed on the courtyard wall and breathed fire directly at her. He watched the flames consume her beautiful hair and clothes, and her skin blackened before bursting into flame itself. She turned to look at him with empty, charred eyesockets before the dragon grabbed her in its claw, bit her in half and chewed.

She ran her hands over her invisible bump again absently, marveling at the life growing inside her, then cursed herself for doing it. She couldn't be caught doing that, she needed to stop. She looked over at Harry again, with another silent wish for him to come back to her. Not for the first time, she considered coming back to Britain once she was settled in Australia and stealing him. The care would be at least as good there, and she found she couldn't bear the thought of not having him near her, even in a coma. Only twenty-two weeks left.

She scritched her nails through his beard, scratching his face gently because she'd read that beards generally itched their owners. She kissed him again, and sat back down. The current book was "Darkeste Darkenesse: Werste of Spelles", and seemed to be a historian's account of the magics used in various battles from the ninth century until the fourteenth. She curled her legs under her and went back to reading, only to sit bolt upright three paragraphs later.

She found it!

"There are spelles of suche unfaylinge wyckednisse so as to be considred allways faytal, and chife amoungste these are The Killinge Curse, and Dispayre Unto Deathe, whiche is the specialte of the Selwyn Grimoire. The Killinge Curse is well-nown, and covred in other textes. Dispayre Unto Deathe - Desperandum Admortem - is considred far darker due to its methode of forcinge the viktim to livve threwe the werst nytemares his minde may conjure. Desperandum Admortem, lyke The Killinge Curse, has no nown countre."

Her sudden elation curdled and rotted in her chest, sending chills through her.

No known counter.

She sobbed once, a hopeless bark of pain, and tears flooded from her eyes. The book fell from its perch and joined it brethren on the floor, forgotten as she wailed into her handkerchief.

It was half an hour and multiple bouts of rage and despair before she finally settled. She had nuzzled her face into his neck, and felt safety and comfort in his smell and the tickle of his beard on her skin.

"Well, if there's no known counter, then I'll just have to find one." She kissed his neck and stood beside him.

She tried a cheering charm first, and there was no effect on Harry. She hadn't expected any, the cheering charm was a topical thing, a mood band-aid. She already knew a Finite Incantatem wouldn't work, that had been the first thing the healers had tried. She tried Finite Somnium, but again, there was no effect.

What would counter nightmares? What was the opposite of terror and despair?

Love and Happiness, obviously. She could kick herself for being so dim. She almost sat back down to look through the books again, but instead of putting her wand away, as she thought of Dementors. They were beings that took away happiness and left despair.

She turned back to Harry and thought of holding onto him as they sailed into the night on Buckbeak's back. She filled herself with the memory, feeling the warmth of his body in her arms, smelling the back of his neck, seeing the smile he turned on her. She felt the elation that she and Harry had saved both Buckbeak and Sirius, and that knowledge filled her with satisfaction and accomplishment as well.

She called it, and her silver otter burst forth from her wand to gambol and cavort through the air as it slid down an invisible slide from the wall shelf into Harry's chest. He seemed to take on a healthier glow for a moment, and the faintest ghost of a smile graced his lips before fading.

It was something. It was more than he'd shown in the last eighteen weeks, and she was disappointed it hadn't worked, but it also showed her she was on the right track. She had used her most powerful happy memory, what else was there? Maybe if she used Harry's happiest memory? She didn't know what it was he used for his Patronus, they'd never had a chance to discuss it.

Maybe there was a Patronus variation? She knew Expecto Patronum was used against Dementors, and Kingsley had used a Loquitur Patronum to warn them all during Bill and Fleur's wedding. Was there something else? Something she didn't know? No, that was impossible. She'd researched everything about patronuses after saving Sirius, so she wouldn't be unprepared again.

That the patronus had nearly worked was undeniable, that was definitely the right track. Her own happiest memory wasn't enough, so what else could she give him? She'd already made love to him, that was a brand new happiest memory... what if she took all the happy, loving memories of him and rolled them into a patronus? Expecto Patronum meant 'expected intercedence', and Loquitur Patronum meant 'Interceding talk', so...

She filed through her memories for all the times Harry had made her feel loved, all the times he'd stood up for her, all the quiet smiles, all the times she'd stayed at his side when they were in danger and he'd treated her as a partner, all the times he'd said something dumb on purpose just to earn a reprimand from her, the feeling of having him inside her, and she capped it off with a vision of the two of them holding their baby together. She suffused herself with every ounce of love she felt for this amazing man.

"Amare Patronum." She whispered.

A glow appeared at the end of her wand as a life-sized golden double of herself appeared beside the bed. It looked at her, then nuzzled Harry's neck and hugged him as she sank into his chest.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "Hermione!"

He was lost in blackness. He couldn't tell if he was in a large cave with no light or if his eyes were glued shut. He felt his eyes, and they were open, so he was simply lost and alone in the dark. He had no idea how, but he had to find Hermione. Had to. He began walking carefully, gliding his foot along the ground to make sure he didn't trip on anything.

"Hermione! Don't leave me!" He shouted. Had to find her. He couldn't bear to lose her again.

A golden speck appeared in the distance, and grew brighter.

"Hermione?"

He headed toward it, having no other direction to go, and it grew brighter faster. After an unknowable amount of time, the golden glow resolved itself into Hermione.

"Hermione!"

She turned around and started walking back the way she came.

"Hermione! Don't go!" He shouted. He forgot about trying not to trip and started running after her. "Hermione! Wait! Don't leave me again!"

She outdistanced him, and began to recede. She got smaller as he ran even faster, panic pumping his legs for all he was worth. He could make out a brightness in the distance, and she was headed toward that. She was being taken away from him again. He couldn't allow that. He needed her. She had to stay with him, he had to make sure she stayed with him.

He crashed at breakneck speed into the light Hermione had disappeared into, yelling for her.

Harry's eyes slammed open and he reached out in front of him.

"No Hermione! Don't go! Don't leave me, I love you! I can't lose you! Not again!" He shouted.

Her hands jerked to cover her mouth as tears poured from her eyes immediately.

He was awake!

She stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his head as she held him to her. His arms snaked around her and held her tightly.

"Don't leave me again, Hermione. Not again. I couldn't take it. I love you, Hermione. I'm so sorry I never told you. I'm so sorry. I was so stupid." He shifted his grip on her, and his hand slid over her swollen stomach.

His eyes went wide.

"Too late... I'm too late. I lost you. I lost. I'm too late." He whispered. He let go of her and buried his face in his hands as great wracking sobs tore their way free of his throat. It was the sound of Harry breaking. She knew that sound, she had made it when he died.

"Harry." She said softly. "Harry." She tried to make her voice carry every ounce of love she felt for him. "I love you too, Harry. I always have." She pulled his head to her belly and held him there as she stroked his hair. "I'm sorry too, I should have been braver and told you sooner."

He held her again as his sobs quieted. She was surprised how much it hurt to see tears on his face.

"You can't tell anyone yet, but this is our baby, Harry. Mine and yours. I promise I will explain, but keep quiet for now, the healers will be here in seconds." She kissed the top of his head.

He looked up at her, confusion shining through the tears.

She smiled at him and nodded. He nodded back, and the door opened to admit a team of four healers. All of them stopped mid-stride when they saw Harry awake.

He waved at them after wiping his eyes.

"What... what happened?" A medwitch asked Hermione.

"I found the spell that was used on him, but there was no counter, so I made one." She said.

"You made a counter?!" One of the older healers asked, incredulous.

"Yes."

The healer in front, who had walked in first, held up her hand and the others stopped talking.

"Miss Granger, what was the spell affecting Mister Potter, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Desperandum Admortem. Apparently it's a Selwyn family curse. The book said it was made to force the victim to live a constant nightmare until they died."

"It works." Harry said, looking up at Hermione. "I lost you over and over and over."

She turned to look at the others. "Heard of it? Anyone?" They all shook their heads, and the chief medwitch turned back to Hermione. "What did you do to counter it?"

"Well, I tried a patronus to begin with. I reasoned that if it's composed of a happy memory and can drive a Dementor away, it might be able to counter despair. Unfortunately, the best one I could conjure only put the ghost of a smile on his face and didn't do anything else. it did affect him though, so I started thinking about what might be able to get rid of despair. It took a while, but next I tried putting every scrap of love I could into a patronus and called it 'Amare Patronum'. It conjured a golden... well, a golden me, and a minute or so after it went into Harry, he woke up."

"Interesting. Would you mind casting it again once we look Mister Potter over?"

"Alright." She would really rather just get Harry and get out of there.

She sat down in her chair again and waited patiently for the healers to test Harry every which way.

"Well Mister Potter, congratulations are in order." The chief medwitch said minutes later, after dozens of diagnostic spells. "Apparently you have no survived two unsurvivable curses. I would like to keep you for observation overnight, but there's no real reason to keep you here."

"If it's all the same, I would really rather go home with Hermione. I think I've been in this bed long enough." Harry smiled at the medwitch as best he could, but his eyes sought Hermione's face.

"Very well. I will owl you with a date and time for a follow up exam if that's alright with you?"

Harry nodded. "That will be fine. Thank you."

The medwitch turned to Hermione, who then stood up and pulled her wand out. She concentrated on Harry, on his face, his smell, the feel of him beneath her, the way he protected her, way he made her laugh when everything seemed bleak.

"Amare Patronum." She said. As before, her wand tip glowed and a golden version of herself coalesced and wordlessly hugged herself inside Harry.

Harry hugged her as well as she melded into him, and ended up with his arms wrapped around himself as tears poured from his eyes.

"Oh Hermione..." He said, his voice twisted by his constricting throat. "I can feel you. I feel your... all this time..." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and then reached for his glasses on the side table.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, Mister Potter. That was very educational." The chief medwitch said. The other healers echoed the sentiment. The instant the door closed behind them, Harry cast locking spells and silence at it. He didn't give a single wisp of a care that he was in a backless hospital gown either. He crossed to Hermione and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her as lovingly as he possibly could.

"I can feel your love like a second heart beating in my chest." He said between kisses. He sank to one knee and looked into her eyes with tears coming from his own.

"Marry me, Hermione. Please. I can't bear a single moment without you."

She leaned forward and kissed him, desperate to have the moment last forever. "Yes, Harry. Of course yes."

They kissed for long minutes until Harry ran his hands over her stomach again. Tears filled his eyes as he looked into hers. "I'm going to be a father." He whispered. The look in his eyes was awe.

He sniffed and ran his hands over his face to wipe the tears away. "I need to get dressed and we need to get out of here so you can tell me about -" He looked at her stomach.

She wiped her own tears and nodded.

Harry's clothes were cleaned and folded on the side table and had been for months. He pulled his underwear on without bothering to hide from her, and she blushed harder at the rush of desire she felt from watching his behind as he dressed.

When he was finished he helped her shrink all her books and stow them in her bag, and then without any warning wrapped his arms around her again and nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. She hugged him back, content just to be able to. He kissed her there a moment later, causing her to shiver, and took a deep breath.

"Sorry. Just needed to... Just needed to." He smiled at her.

"I know exactly what you mean." She kissed him deeply, then took his hand. "Are we ready to go?"

Harry nodded. "I'm thinking of renting a room over the leaky for a day or two. We can't go to Gr - to Sirius's place, it's still an absolute bin."

"That should be alright, but not for long. We were ambushed in Diagon after all."

Harry nodded. "I had forgotten that. Let's just use one of their private rooms to chat and then head to muggleside for the night."

"That sounds better."

They left the hospital then, amid stares and whispers, and Apparated to The Leaky Cauldron. Harry paid Tom for the use of a private room, and once they were inside, they both cast multiple locking spells on the door, and multiple privacy shells and silence barriers and even Muffliato on top of it all.

"Alright, I think we should be alright to talk." Harry said.

Instead, Hermione dropped her glamour charms. Her swollen stomach and breasts plainly evident even beneath the loose fleece jumper she wore.

She could see the wonder in his eyes as he looked at her, and she nodded at the question in his eyes as he reached for her belly. He ran his hands over it and pressed his cheek to her bellybutton.

"Hello beautiful." He talked at her navel like it was a telephone. "I hope you're just like your mother. I love you both more than I thought possible." He looked up at her with tears in his eyes, and then stood and kissed her. He took a few deep breaths and wiped his eyes.

"It's not how I pictured it, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled." He kissed her again. "So... what happened?"

She took a deep breath and let it out. "I'll start at the beginning and tell you everything instead of skipping about."

Harry smiled at her and took a seat. She curled up next to him.

"After you jumped in front of that spell and I watched you fall - I thought you were dead there and then, by the way - I... I sort of... lost my mind a little. I remember not stopping until Selwyn was... past dead. I couldn't tell you what spells I used, or even if I used spells. Anyway, after I was sure there weren't any others lying in wait, I Apparated you to St. Mungo's and we were admitted immediately. Healers were everywhere for an hour or so, taking readings, trying to figure out what had been done to you. Your magic was draining and they couldn't explain it because there were no records of what you'd been hit with. They had no idea what was happening. So, they decided after an hour to put you in a magical coma, to try and reduce the amount of stress on your body and your magic, and that did slow down the drain a lot. I freaked out. I went to every library I could find for books to try and find out what the spell was that hit you. Well, you saw the stacks of books in your room."

"Thank you, Hermione. I can always count on you."

"Yes, you can. I love you, Harry."

He kissed her.

"So I'm sitting in that chair the first day or so, alternating between reading furiously and crying hysterically. Ginny showed up on the second day. She hung around for a little while, long enough to talk about what had happened. I'm pretty sure she looked under your gown while I was in the toilet, since your covers were rumpled when I got back. I was only gone a minute. She didn't talk much after that, she just looked put out, and left a few minutes later. I haven't seen her since. Ron showed up in the fourth week to try and drag me away, down to a pub for dinner and drinks. With you lying all but dead in front of us. Fucking arsehole. He pulled his usual 'what about me' - only this time he actually said "What about me?", and that was the last straw. I told him to fuck off and never come back. I realized then that he had only really ever said 'what about me' in some form or another, and I was so completely sick of it. You're free to go try to be mates with him again if you want, Harry, but I'm done with him. Neville and Luna, on the other hand, have both been in at least once a week, despite what they're both going through, dealing with the aftermath."

"How is Luna?"

"We were able to talk to each other about... about our stays in Malfoy Manor. I think she'll be alright in time. It might help... well, I was thinking of asking her to be the godmother."

"That's perfect." He kissed the top of her head again. "And Nev as godfather?"

"He seems the best choice."

"Good. I'm happy with that."

"So..." She took a deep breath and let it out. "A few days after Ron's visit, I was sitting quietly and reading, still looking for anything to help you, and I happened to be watching you, and you... stopped breathing. You died, Harry. The lights turned red, healers showed up in a panic, and I couldn't do anything. You were just slipping away from the world, and it seemed like nobody but me and the healers gave a shit. You were dead for three minutes, Harry. The three longest minutes of my life. Thankfully, the healers were able to keep you from leaving me completely. I resolved then and there that I would not allow you to leave me with nothing. You're too brilliant to not leave -" Her voice hitched, and she choked back a sob as she wiped her eyes. Harry turned to cradle her in his arms and stroked her hair. "Too brilliant to leave the world without leaving something of you behind. I went to Knockturn that day and bought a fertility potion. I waited until after the medwitch had made the night rounds, and locked the door, much like we've done with this room, and then I... I sort of raped you. Sorry."

Harry laughed and kissed the top of her head again. "You're the only one I'd trust to do so, love. Thank you for staying with me and making sure nobody else did."

"I can think of a few who might've."

"So can I, that's why I'm thanking you."

Hermione turned and kissed him, smiling. His eyes held nothing but amusement and gratitude.

"My plan was to spend another twenty weeks at most with you, looking for a cure. After that I would be getting too close to birth to do anything but go to Australia and look for my parents. I figure it will take a few weeks for them to forgive me, but at the very least our baby will have me and his or her grandparents. I was going to come back afterward and steal you, keep you in a private room in a hospital and keep looking for a cure. I got desperate and lucky instead, and here you are."

"It shouldn't have taken all this for me to tell you I love you, Hermione. I'm so sorry for that. I should have told you months and months ago when I figured it out. We could have been in Australia this whole time."

"Don't second guess, Harry. Things worked out, we're okay. Our baby is okay. When... when did you know? When did you figure it out?"

"When we were dancing in the tent. When you finally smiled it was like the sun turned on. It was the most natural thing in the world to just lean in and kiss you, and I wanted to so desperately that when I started to, I freaked out."

"Me too!" She said. "The crashing realization that I loved you and wanted you froze me completely, then I started thinking about Ron and what I was going to say, and by that point you had already stopped smiling, and I was afraid that I'd damaged our relationship by wanting -"

"And then Ron came back and the Horcrux and everything else happened. I didn't spend three days in the attic at Grimmauld being depressed over everyone dying, Hermione. I should have, and I feel guilty that I didn't. I spent those days not getting off the sofa because I thought I'd lost the only chance I would ever have with you."

"That was four months ago, Harry. My fiance." She smiled and kissed him. "I love how that sounds. You can put that behind you. It took us too long, but we got here in the end."

"I've missed all the funerals then. I... I'd like to stop at the graves before we leave for Australia."

"Of course, Harry." She hugged his arms around her.

"As for the future, I will have to go to Gringott's and apologize and pay for damages. I hope there's enough in my vault."

"We will go, Harry. Both of us. There is no you or me anymore. There's US."

Harry smiled as a warm feeling spread through his chest. "You're right of course. I think that should be our first stop, as that will let us know the state of our finances, and will make subsequent choices possible or impossible."

"Right. That's decided then. We should probably do that immediately, as it will tell us if we can afford a place to sleep tonight. I'd rather not go back in the tent."

"I wouldn't mind really. We could make some good memories there for a change."

"I would love to Harry, when I'm not bloated and ugly."

He tightened his arms around her, and rubbed his hands over her belly. "Hermione, you have never been more beautiful." He kissed the top of her head. "And I always thought you were beautiful. Well, after I started noticing beautiful, of course."

She began shaking in his arms, silently crying and holding his arms tighter around herself. He squeezed her and kissed the back of her neck, behind her ear, her jaw, and her mouth when she turned to him.

"We should get to Gringott's." He whispered. "We need to know what we're doing for a place to sleep because I desperately want to make love to you."

"Oh Harry..." She turned and got on her knees between his and kissed him deeply. "I'm already so..." She kissed him some more as she tugged his shirt upward. "Get your clothes off, the goblins can wait."

The end?