Chapter One – Grandmother Figg

Harry and Hermione return to Paravel for Christmas and finally enjoy some of the privacy they’ve been missing at Hogwarts.

Sirius overwhelms Harry with his Christmas gift.

Harry, in turn, overwhelms Hermione with his.

And of course, no epilogue is complete with out wedding(s) and births(s).

~~~

-Leslie, The Heir(ess) of Paravel

Days sped by, the first few weeks of school slipped away. Hermione’s birthday was drawing nearer. Harry had decided before they had even left Cornwall what he wanted to get her, but now, with her birthday only days away, he was beginning to have second thoughts. It wasn’t terribly romantic – giving a girl a broomstick. “But” he reminded himself firmly, “she so loved flying when we were in Cornwall, and she always seems eager to use the Firebolt…” After a great deal of inner turmoil, Harry decided that he would get Hermione the Nimbus 2000 he had seen advertised in “Which Broomstick?”. Hedwig had taken the order for him weeks ago, and the broom was now securely hidden under his bed in the boys’ dormitory.

But Harry wasn’t satisfied; he wanted to do more. Then he remembered the all the pictures he’d taken over the summer with the camera Sirius had given him for his birthday. Maybe he could have one of them framed. Harry rummaged in his trunk for the small box where he kept loose photos. He flipped through them – smiling at each moment, each memory. There was Hermione, waist deep in sparkling water, reaching out to touch Clio’s fingertips. And there she was again, flying, with a determined expression, through one of Sirius’s mad obstacle courses.

At the sight of the next picture, Harry caught his breath. It had been taken the day he and Hermione had made their memorable trip to Godric’s Hollow. Sunlight spilled across her face as she sat barefoot astride Arabella’s exotic Andalusian gelding. “A dazzling girl atop a dazzling horse…” he had thought to himself. And if in response, the dazzling girl in the picture looked directly at him. The wind blew her hair back from her face. The gelding stamped in impatience, ready to be off, but the girl restrained him, patting him soothingly - never taking her eyes off of Harry. And when she smiled, Harry’s heart gave a familiar lurch in his chest. Even in photos, Hermione smile moved him.

Harry rifled through another layer of photographs and came across a roll of undeveloped film. He wrinkled his head in concentration, trying to remember the last things he had photographed. And then he remembered, Sirius had borrowed the camera. “These must be the pictures Sirius took…” Harry mused. Curious to know what images Sirius might have wanted to preserve forever, Harry sent the roll of film with Hedwig to Hogsmeade for processing. With any luck, he’d have it back in the morning, and, better still, they might contain something just perfect for Hermione’s Birthday.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were eating breakfast in the Great Hall when the first of the post-owls began to arrive. Harry scanned them, looking for Hedwig, wondering how he was going to keep from Hermione the contents of the package Hedwig would be carrying. He was still wrestling with this problem, when to his surprise, he saw Arabella’s owl gliding toward them. Without pausing for a reply, it dropped a thick envelope squarely in Hermione’s lap and then zoomed away.

Hermione recognized the writing immediately. It was another forwarded letter from her mother, through Arabella. “It’s from my mother” Hermione said, staring at the envelope, but making no move to open it. At the sight of her mother’s careful lettering, Hermione had experienced a wave of unexplained dread. She felt a knot of fear tighten in her chest. In a flash of rapport, the fear and dread were instantly communicated to Harry who looked at her sharply.

“What is it?” he asked in concern.

“I don’t know, exactly,” said Hermione, slowly. “I just had the fleeting impression that this might not be, well….good news. Silly, really. Isn’t it?” she tried to say lightly, but wasn’t very convincing.

“Aw, go on Hermione,” said Ron, rolling his eyes, “just open it. It’s probably nothing but a birthday card…” Hermione nodded wordlessly and tore open the envelope, drawing out several thick folded sheets.

Hermione felt the tears beginning to well-up in her eyes. She sensed what was coming. For many years, she had feared something like this would happen.

Two large tears splashed the page. Hermione felt an arm around her shoulder, warm and solid. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to continue reading.

Hermione collapsed into Harry’s chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs. She was oblivious to the stares from students around her - oblivious to Hedwig landing nearby with a parcel for Harry. “Would you get that Ron?” Harry asked, quietly. “Just leave it on my bed, will you?” Ron nodded in silent understanding.

Harry stroked her hair and rocked her gently in his arms like a little girl. “Let’s get out of here…” Harry led her out of the Great Hall and onto the grounds. She leaned heavily on him, not caring where they went.

On a low hill overlooking the lake and Castle, they sat, propped against the trunk of gnarled elm. Back in the Great Hall, Hermione had only been able to gasp out parts of the letter before dissolving into tears. But here, sitting with her back to Harry, his arms firmly around her, she was able to tell him everything. “I’m so sorry…” he whispered over and over into her hair. She turned to look up at him. And he saw, not the confident older Hermione who was his girlfriend, but the little girl he’d met on the train, years earlier. A wave of pity swept over him. He fumbled in his robes for a clean handkerchief and gently wiped away her tears before letting her crush it tightly in her hand.

“Do you want to go see her? Do you want me to take you to Catherine?” he asked quietly. Hermione shook her head.

“No, not yet. I don’t want to see either of them just yet,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “Emotions too raw…I’d say something I might regret.”

Harry traced her cheeks with his thumb and whispered softly, “I understand.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead lightly. He understood exactly.

“Arabella…” Hermione thought quietly to him. He looked at her closely, into her unforgettable eyes, then said, “You’re right. Arabella is perfect person to talk all this through with. And Dumbledore won’t mind our going to her either.” Harry smiled reassuringly. “Your birthday’s on Friday. Let’s ask Dumbledore if we can leave Friday after classes are over and come back sometime late Sunday evening. How does that sound?” His voice brightened a bit and he became suddenly gallant. “Will you spend your birthday at Paravel with me milady?” Her throat was too tight for speech. She nodded and managed a weak smile, finding within herself an unexpected reservoir of courage and strength. She kissed Harry deeply, realizing that what she had found inside herself, was him - his courage and strength on loan to her at the moment she most needed them.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, and taking a deep breath, began to think of going back to the Castle and to class. But Harry stopped her, remembering what Arabella had once said about finding your center…Arabella’s words echoed. “You need a physical release…”

“Fly with me…” he said suddenly. She looked unsure. He continued, “Right now, don’t think, just do it…” There was a flash of light as Harry assumed his Phoenix form – Firebird, and streaked away. Hermione’s brain slid into neutral as she allowed herself to assume her falcon form – Talons. With a shrill cry, Talons sped after Firebird in a giddying race around the lake and grounds. They dove, rolled, twisted and spun in the air, then rose, in unison, higher and higher until Hogwarts was a mere speck below.

And then, the Firebird began to sing. An unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air around them. Just as it had once been to Harry, it was now, to Hermione, the sound of hope: phoenix song. Her heart swelled in her chest, threatening to burst.

The Firebird was drifting slowly back to earth, landing gracefully on a low-hanging branch of the gnarled elm. Hermione touched down lightly and immediately re-assumed her human form. But the Firebird did not. He sang to her for another five minutes perhaps, before resuming human form.

Harry dropped lightly from the tree limb and came to put his arms around Hermione. “Think you can face going back to class?” he asked. A genuinely beautiful smile spread across her face. The old Hermione was back, strong and sure of herself.

“At this moment, I could face anything, so long as I faced it with you…” She whispered. He kissed her deeply. Then, lacing her fingers through his own, walked with her back to class and to the sometimes harsh realities of everyday life at Hogwarts.

Hermione went to see Professor McGonnagal that afternoon and was relieved to discover that she and Harry would be allowed to leave Hogwarts together, provided they went straight to Paravel, where they would be under Arabella’s supervision.

Meanwhile, Harry had raced to the boys’ dormitory looking for the package Hedwig had delivered earlier that morning. As per Harry’s instructions, Ron had laid it on Harry’s bed.

Ron watched as Harry tore it open, then grinned. One by one, Harry handed Ron the now-developed pictures Sirius had taken of them at Paravel at the end of the summer. They were stunning. Somehow, Sirius had managed to capture Harry and Hermione in wizard photographs at exactly the moment they were transforming into their animal forms. In one frame, Ron watched as a version of Harry, standing on the lawn at Paravel, smiled and waved before suddenly turning into the now familiar sight of Firebird, a glorious phoenix.

In another, Harry watched curiously as a tiny speck, streaking across the horizon drew nearer and nearer. It was Talons, streaking toward him as if she meant to leave the frame. At the last instant, in a burst of gold light, Talons became Hermione - smiling sweetly, hands on her hips, hair blowing in a light breeze. “What a shot!” Harry said, passing it to Ron, who was equally impressed.

But by far, the most impressive shot in the group was one that captured Harry and Hermione together. At first glance, it appeared to be unremarkable - just a pleasant picture of a young couple. Harry and Hermione were standing on one of the terraces at Paravel with a fading sun behind them. Hermione had her back to Harry who had wrapped her in his arms, and was now whispering something in her ear. Whatever he said evidently pleased the Hermione in the photograph because her eyes lit up and she smiled. Leaning back against the photograph-Harry, the photograph-Hermione raised her arms, stretching them like wings. The photograph-Harry did likewise, catching her hands in his. Then, in a flash of light and at precisely the same instant, they became Firebird and Talons. His mighty wings eclipsing her sleek ones momentarily before the two figures soared away. “Wow” Harry breathed, handing it to Ron. Ron was astonished. When he could speak again, he handed it back to Harry and said with a grin, “She’ll love it…”

Harry conjured a heavy silver frame and slid the picture of them together carefully inside before wrapping it in tissue paper. Then, setting it aside, he took the rest of Sirius’s pictures and a few of his own and assembled them on his bed. He grouped and re-arranged them for a while before he was satisfied. Drawing out his wand, Harry conjured a leather album with gold letters embossed on the front. He traced his fingers across the cover and smiled. It seemed to infuse him with a sense of happiness and well-being.

Eagerly, he set to work, mounting each photograph in just the right place. From time to time, he made notations or sketches with the eagle-feather quill Hermione had given him years earlier. At last he was finished. He flipped through the album one last time, surveying his handiwork. “Ron’s right,” he thought, “she will love it!” Grinning, he fell to wrapping.

Hermione was never quite sure how she made it to the end of the week. She could hardly concentrate in class and rarely touched her meals. She cared little about her upcoming birthday - what she cared most about was getting to Paravel. Hermione needed to talk to Arabella. A thousand questions needed to be asked and answered, and not just about her parents. Ever since Hermione had received her mother’s letter, she had been plagued with doubt and uncertainty. Right now, at this precise moment in her life, Hermione knew that loved Harry and that she wanted a future with him. They had talked endlessly about the sense they both shared of being destined for one another. “But what if my parents had once felt this way, too?” Hermione thought to herself bitterly. “What if they shared the same hopes and dreams? They tried to build a life together and it didn’t last. Somehow, it all fell apart. If they couldn’t make it work,” she reasoned, “how can I be certain that Harry and I can make it work where so many others have failed?”

Hermione needed to talk with Arabella. She needed to hear Arabella tell her that Gordon and Catherine’s marriage was ill-considered from the outset, or that they were never really suited for each other. Hermione needed Arabella to tell her that she and Harry were a completely different sort of couple - that fate had indeed drawn them together, and that they would spend the happiest years of their lives together.

And so, on the night before her birthday, Hermione fell into a troubled sleep. Harry stood over her, in his father’s Invisibility Cloak, watching as unhappy dreams crisscrossed the face of the girl he loved. He leaned over her sleeping form, and through the silky fabric of the cloak, kissed her forehead and temples. She smiled in her sleep, her features gradually relaxing.

Silently, Harry laid Hermione’s birthday broom at the foot of her bed. He conjured a spray of orchids and laid them beside her with a note:

My darling girl,

Happy Birthday! Bring your present down to the Common Room. I want to see your face when you open it. I’ll be waiting...

All my love,

Harry

Easing quietly away, Harry headed back to his own bed in the boys’ dormitory, but couldn’t sleep. Although Hermione had never said anything to him about it, Harry knew that she must have been drawing comparisons between the relationship they shared, and the one her parents had once shared. Even though she was deliberately masking her doubts, he knew perfectly well what she must be thinking. He knew her too well. Just as he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what was happening to Gordon and Catherine would never happen to them. Somehow, he would make her see it for herself.

Eventually, as the sky began to lighten on that cold September morning, Harry could stand it no longer and slipped silently down to the Common Room.

***

What he had done, to be precise, was to disappear under his father’s Invisibility Cloak, slip into the girls’ dormitory and leave a birthday present at the foot of Hermione’s four poster bed. What was bothering him now, as he sat before the fire, was whether or not his gift would be well received. On the surface, giving a high-performance racing broom to Hermione Granger seemed a rather unusual way to celebrate her birthday. “Still,” he thought, “Hermione so loved flying this summer in Cornwall, and she needs an outlet here at Hogwarts – something to take her mind off her endless schoolwork.”

His mind drifted back to Cornwall. What a wonderful time they had had together. The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. Even now, these many weeks later, he was amazed at how Cornwall had worked its magic on him - on the two of them, really. His musing were interrupted the soft glow and sudden warming of the Cadeau Du Mer. “She’s coming…” he thought softly.

With a “pop” Hermione appeared out of thin air, landing gently in his lap. She was still in pajamas and carried her unopened broomstick and orchids with her. Her eyes danced and she leaned forward to kiss him. He smiled against the sweet curve of her mouth. “Happy Birthday” he whispered.

“Thank you, Harry” she said, gazing at him steadily.

She shifted in his lap and brought the unopened Nimbus 2000 across her knees. “Open it,” he said, running a hand through her curls as she tore at the paper. She gasped as the gleaming handle and gold lettering emerged. “Harry!” she breathed, “my own?”

He nodded, grinning. “I can’t believe it!” she said, tossing the paper aside and marveling at the magnificent broom. “You can’t imagine - you can’t possibly know how long I’ve wanted my own broom….ever since you taught me to fly this summer. Oh Harry, thank you. It’s perfect…” she said through floods of happy tears. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“You’re welcome…” he managed to blurt out in between enthusiastic expressions of gratitude.

Harry was delighted with her response to his gift. In fact, if she carried on a bit more, she might find herself unwrapping a Firebolt for Christmas.

When she had at last regained her composure, Harry handed her another gift - smaller than the Nimbus had been, and wrapped in tissue paper. “Harry!” she said, shaking her head, “you shouldn’t have…you’ve already given me the perfect present…”

He ignored her and said playfully in her ear, “Open it…” Hermione’s hands were steady as she tore at the paper, but the minute she glimpsed the contents, Harry saw them begin to tremble, almost imperceptibly. She gasped and held up a photograph of the two of them in a heavy silver frame. “It’s beautiful” she said softly.

“Wait for it…” Harry said. And before their eyes, the photographic versions of themselves had become Firebird and Talons, soaring out of sight, no longer in the frame.

She was overwhelmed. “That was amazing. How in the world did you…”

He cut her off with a smile, saying simply. “Sirius…” She looked down at him with shining eyes, unable to think of words to thank him properly. But words were often unnecessary between them. He knew how she felt, and hugged her tightly. In the stillness, he heard her voice echo deep inside him. “I love you, Harry.”

He pulled from beside him, one last package. “I’ve saved the best for last…” he said. She could hardly believe it.

“Another gift?” she said, beginning to feel overwhelmed by this outpouring of presents.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “but it isn’t really a birthday present.”

“What do you mean?” she asked softly.

“Call it a thank-you for what you gave me this summer…” She tilted her head slightly and raised one eyebrow. He continued quietly, “You gave me something and someone to believe in. You gave me a reason to look to the future with hope. You gave me a reason to dream again. You gave me your heart, and trusted that I wouldn’t break it,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “and I never will, Hermione.” His eyes were intent on hers. She looked away, and flushed. Somehow, he had guessed at least part of what had been troubling her these last few days.

Forcing her eyes back to his, she said “I know you never would…its just…”

He laid a finger to her lips, shushing her. “We’re not your parents. We’re not like any two people in the world, you and I.” He smiled, “Here, see for yourself.” With shaking hands, Hermione tore gingerly at the tissue paper. It fell away to reveal a leather-bound album. She gasped as her fingers traced the raised gold lettering on the cover, “Summer in Cornwall” she whispered softly. Underneath the lettering, tooled into the leather, were their initials, interlocked. Inside she found page after page of wizard photographs taken of the two of them that summer. More special than the photographs, though, were Harry’s notes and sketches. It was like reading a diary or journal of their time together. Sometimes he included poetry, or bits from their favorite songs. She could scarcely believe it.

Hermione reached the last page to find a picture of the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, dancing on the terrace the night of Harry’s birthday. This time there was no caption. The expressions on their faces seemed to say it all. On the opposite page, in Harry’s bold handwriting, Hermione read:

Warmth and certainty flooded back. In a flash of rapport, he sensed the change in her. She had seen their future together and recognized it, not as a dream, but as an unassailable truth. In that moment, she knew, as he did, that they would always be together - that the magic they shared over their summer in Cornwall would be with them for the rest of their lives.

Finis

Epilogue to Follow…