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Chapter One – Grandmother Figg


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“Harry, there isn’t anything between Ron and me,” she said softly. And she told him as tactfully as she could what had happened earlier that summer.    Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she told him how it was his face that filled her eyes when Ron finally tried to kiss her.  “I thought I felt something for him, and he for me, but I was wrong.  It’s been you – you all along, I just didn’t see it until someone else tried to fill that part of my life – a part that has always been meant for you.  Suddenly it became clear to me who I wanted to be with, who I wanted to run to - who I had actually been dreaming about.” Harry looked at her with a mixture of wonder and disbelief.     He reached up to brush the tears from her eyes, the curls from her face.  “This is no dream, Hermione” he whispered.   

Gently he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.  Deliberately, almost reverently, he kissed the tips of her fingers.  He felt her tremble.  Slowly, he turned her face toward his.  As she gazed into his eyes, he hesitated. She felt a shudder of emotion ripple through him, and yet, he waited.  Suddenly she realized - he was waiting for her consent.  He would not take advantage of this setting, this moment, or her innocence.  He wanted her to be sure of what she was doing.  A smile spread quickly over her face.  She had absolutely no idea what she was doing; she only knew that being with Harry felt right, as though from the dawn of time, he had been formed for her, and she for him.  Hermione traced his lips with her fingers and then with aching tenderness, she kissed him. In that moment, she gave her heart and her consent to him without reservation.  And Harry knew it - sensed it. Though not a single word had been spoken, he knew with absolute certainty that she was his own.   He laughed in joy and happiness.  With a voice that shook with feeling he whispered her name and held her close.  He was about to speak, to tell her he loved her, that he wanted always to be with her, when a shadow fell across them both. He heard and felt a rush of wings.

 

Harry turned to see Hedwig, who landed gracefully on his outstretched arm.  Tied to her leg was a bit of parchment.  “I can’t believe you’re back already!” he said in disbelief.  “I only sent you to find Sirius this morning and here you are back in the same day.  Thank you, Hedwig.”  Hedwig hooted softly at his praise and nipped his ear playfully.  Carefully, he removed the parchment from her leg. Hermione poured Hedwig some water from an iced jug in their hamper. Harry scanned the message eagerly, but at first didn’t understand, it said, “Turn around”.  He read it out loud to Hermione, who gasped and pointed to the cliff top behind them where two figures stood watching. 



 

A man in a long traveling cloak stood with his hand resting on the head of a large black dog.  Harry’s stomach gave a huge leap and he jumped to his feet.  Surely the dog was Sirius, but the other man, who could he be?  He shaded his eyes and looked again.  “Hermione!  I think it’s Professor Lupin.”  She peered at the figures.  The man waved.  Suddenly, the dog vanished and in its place stood the now familiar figure of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black.  Hermione scrambled for her t-shirt and shorts, pulling them over her bathing suit.  She and Harry made as if to walk up the cliff path, but before they had taken many steps, Sirius and Lupin vanished; then reappeared on the beach, only feet away.  Harry rushed at them.  Sirius nearly crushed him in a fatherly bear-hug. 

 

Hermione hung back awkwardly, but Lupin advanced to her, arms outstretched.  “Hermione! How are you? A bit overwhelmed I might imagine,” he said kindly.  “Professor Lupin,” Hermione began, “about those things I said to you that night in the Shrieking Shack, I’m really, really sorry.”  He waved her apology away with an impatient gesture.  “Only natural, under the circumstances, don’t think about it.”  Lupin turned to Harry, “And you, young man!  How are you?  Been putting that map to good use I daresay.” Lupin grinned boyishly.  Sirius turned to Hermione.   “Are you all right, Hermione?  You’ve had a number of shocks these last few days.”  Hermione nodded but didn’t answer immediately.  He went on, “Arabella wrote to me at Remus’s.  She told us everything.” 



 

“So, you didn’t know?  You didn’t know I was Arabella’s granddaughter when you were at Hogwarts?” Hermione cried.  “No,” Lupin answered.  “All we’ve ever known was that Arabella had a granddaughter with whom she never had contact.  She cut herself off from her daughter and granddaughter to protect them from Voldemort.  She even went so far as to live among Muggles so that she could protect Harry.  She is a remarkably unselfish woman.  She is even prepared to have a werewolf as a houseguest.” 

 

“A houseguest?” Harry burst out, “Are you staying then?”  “We both are” Sirius laughed, “Who did you think was going to give the two of you the additional training you need?  Snape?”  The sun was beginning to set and the waves, once calm, now crashed ever closer with the incoming tide.  Harry, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus (as he asked that they call him) gathered up the hamper, towels and broomsticks and began to walk back toward Paravel.  Hermione and Lupin walked ahead, deep in conversation about how to make wolfsbane potion, while Harry and Sirius followed at a distance.



 

“Are you all right, Harry?” Sirius asked.  “Better now, thank you” Harry replied.  The last time he had seen Sirius was immediately after he had witnessed Voldemort’s rebirth.  Sirius searched his face, and looked satisfied that Harry was indeed “okay” despite the horrors he had encountered.  Sirius, himself, was looking better as well.  The weeks at Lupin’s had done him a world of good.  His hair was no longer stringy and matted, but clean and neatly cropped.  His face had begun to fill out and he was losing the skeletal look brought on by his years in Azkaban.  “Harry, you have a lot of difficult work ahead of you, but I know you have the talent and heart face it, just as James always did.  I will be with you every step of the way, and I promise, I will do everything I can to lighten the burdens you carry.  Your father and mother meant everything to me, and I want you to know how proud they would have been of the man you are becoming.”  Harry nodded, tight-lipped.  Then he spoke, “Sirius, I want to know all there is to know about them and about you.  I want to know what you did together, how you met, what you did for fun…everything.” Sirius smiled, “It’s a good thing we have the whole summer.” 

 

“Harry,” Sirius continued, a bit more seriously, “you are going to have to keep a cool head and remain intensely focused in order to master the skills planned for you this summer.  It won’t do to lose your concentration or get….well, distracted by other things.”  “What other things?” Harry asked, although he was sure he knew the answer.  “Did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you kiss Hermione just before Hedwig reached you on the beach?”  Sirius raised an eyebrow.  Harry could only grin at him.  “You be careful, Harry.  Tread lightly where Hermione’s heart is concerned.  She may be the cleverest witch of her age Remus has ever encountered, but not where the opposite sex is concerned.   In many ways Harry, she reminds me of your mother - of Lily.  Like Lily, she is Muggle-born, and like Lily she is courageous, quick - witted, fiercely loyal, but extremely tender-hearted.  Have you realized yet that Hermione has been something of a late bloomer?  Probably, when you met Hermione four years ago, you could have never imagined that she would mature into the beauty she is today.  Mark my words Harry, when this summer is over, she will return to Hogwarts a new woman.  Unless I’m much mistaken, there will be an air of confidence and athleticism about her that, combined with her genuine and open nature, will cause a riot among the male population at Hogwarts.  Are you prepared for that?”



 

 

Harry answered somewhat stiffly; it was after all, an intensely personal subject. “Sirius, if you have the idea that all I want is some sort of summer fling and a few rolls in the hay, you’re wrong, dead wrong.  I am in love with Hermione – have been for some time.”  Sirius looked surprised.  “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”  Harry spoke in a low voice, “No one did, I’ve never told anyone, not even her; although I was about to when you and Remus turned up.”  Sirius moaned and put his head in his hands.  “Sorry Harry.  We had no idea.”   “Well, as my godfather, do you now have any advice for me?” Harry asked in jest, but was surprised when Sirius said earnestly, “Yes, tell her how you feel as soon as you can.  Always deal with her honestly and never underestimate a woman’s capacity for loving you, even when you don’t deserve it.”  “Should I be taking notes?” Harry asked irreverently.  Sirius cuffed him on the shoulder.  They continued with similar banter until they reached the house. 



 

Arabella came out to the lawn to meet them.  “At last, my houseguests have returned.  I can’t tell you how delighted I am to see you all re-united.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.  Sirius took both her hands in his.  “We owe it all to you.  Thank you Arabella”.  She became brisk and hostess-like.  “Now you two,” she gestured to Harry and Hermione, “need to shower and change for dinner, and you two,” she said, turning to Sirius and Remus, “need to settle into you rooms and freshen up a bit.  You will find your wardrobes full of an assortment of garments that may suit your fancy.  Try to find something nice for dinner.” she laughed.  Obeying orders, Harry and Hermione marched into the house, as Hopkins led Sirius and Remus to the guest wing opposite Harry and Hermione’s rooms.    As they reached their doors, Harry caught Hermione’s hand in his and kissed the back of it playfully.  “Back in a flash,” Hermione laughed and ducked into her room.  Harry stood outside her door for a moment, and then headed for his own room. 

 

Forty-five minutes later, Hermione emerged from her room to find Harry waiting outside her door in a comfortable arm chair.  He rose and crossed the floor to her.  “You look wonderful,” he breathed.  In her wardrobe, Hermione had found a slip of a sundress in a silk periwinkle that had exactly suited her now tanned complexion. She supposed Arabella had put it there for her. As she had held the weightless garment up in front of her mirror, she murmured, “Thank you, Arabella.”   Hermione’s make-up was minimal and perfect; her hair was loose and hung in shining waves down her back.  More remarkable than her outward appearance, was an inner happiness that softened her face and shone in her eyes at the sight of Harry.  Handsome in his dark suit and crisp white shirt, he offered her his arm and said “Shall we go down?”  He drew her arm through his and they set off down the long hall. 



 

They arrived, arm-in-arm, in the sitting room to find Sirius, Remus, and Arabella waiting for them.  Sirius and Remus rose as they entered, greeting Harry with affectionate slaps on the back and kissing Hermione’s cheek.  “Would any of you like a drink before we go into dinner?” Arabella asked. Harry and Hermione declined, but Sirius gratefully accepted a glass from Hopkins. Arabella joined him and they lingered a moment longer before Hopkins sounded the gong for dinner. 

 

Dinner was a delightful affair.  Hopkins brought course after course of only lightest, freshest seafoods and fruits.  Goblets of wine and mead passed often around the table as laughter grew louder and tales taller.   In the midst of their merriment, Remus said, “Aunt Arabella, you and Dumbledore must have been quite the troublemakers when you were younger…”  Hermione interrupted “Aunt Arabella? My grandmother is your Aunt?”  Remus looked at Arabella, startled, “I thought you said you’d told her everything?”  Arabella smiled “I thought you might have wanted to tell her yourself, so I hadn’t said anything yet.” Arabella paused thoughtfully as if deciding the best way to proceed, and then continued, “Hermione, I have a brother.  His name is Edward Lupin.  He is Remus’s father.  Your mother never knew I was a witch and she never knew she had a first cousin who was a wizard.  Remus himself never knew about your mother until I wrote to him last week.”  Hermione was wide-eyed.  She glanced at Harry who sent her a message of silent support.  Remus said quietly, “So Hermione, I am your first cousin, once removed.  Do you think you can handle having a werewolf for a cousin?” His voice was steady, but there lines of concern at his eyes.   Hermione rose from her chair and went to where Remus sat.  Wordlessly, she hugged him and said, “Are you kidding?  I’ll be the envy of every student in my year.  We all loved you.  You were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher we ever had!” A wave of relief swept over Remus.  Sirius called for a toast to the cousins, and Hermione assured Remus that together they could prepare the complicated wolfsbane potion that previously only Snape had been able to brew.  Harry laughed, “Don’t doubt for a minute that she can do it. You know she made a perfect batch of polyjuice potion in our second year….”   



 After dinner, they adjourned to a richly paneled game room.  Remus discovered an old turntable and records in one corner.   Arabella seemed to have some of everything, big bands, Motown, Sinatra - you name it, she had it, and Remus played them all.  Sometimes they danced, sometimes they just sang along.  Arabella had an amazing amount of energy for her age, and Sirius proved to be an accomplished, if somewhat reluctant dancer.  He looked more and more like the Sirius of long ago, like the picture taken of him at James and Lily’s wedding.  Harry and Hermione stood apart for a moment watching these three friends, these tired warriors, enjoy a moment of unrestrained laughter.  Harry’s moment had come.  Silently, he beckoned Hermione to follow him.

 

Taking both her hands in his, he backed slowly out of the room, leading Hermione through a set of French doors and onto a moonlit terrace.  “They’re really something aren’t they?” he gestured back through the windows at Sirius, Remus, and Arabella.  Hermione nodded. Harry went on, “You were wonderful at dinner with Remus.  Your accepting him as a cousin obviously meant a great deal to him.  You said just what he needed to hear.”  Hermione looked up at Harry, gratefully.  “Sometimes it’s hard to know the right thing to say.  I’m proud to be his cousin.  I hope he knows that.”  Strains of music drifted from the turntable to the terrace.  “Dance with me?” Harry asked.  Slowly, Hermione stepped toward him.  He held her lightly, and she rested her head on his shoulder.  They began to sway gently in time to the music Remus had deliberately chosen.



 

Back in the game room, Harry and Hermione’s quiet departure had not gone unnoticed.  “Did you see the way he eased her out of here?” Remus began, “He’s certainly smooth.” Sirius gave a low whistle.  With a grin, Remus said, “These are unsuspected depths. Did you see what I saw this afternoon, Sirius?”  Sirius nodded.  Arabella raised and inquiring eyebrow.  “It seems,” said Sirius, that their relationship is about to change, if it hasn’t already…”  He glanced at the young couple, wondering where things now stood.  “Did either of you have any idea they had feelings for each other?” Remus asked.  “I suspected,” said Arabella.  “Attraction between young men and women of this age is not exactly unheard of.”  Arabella seemed to think nothing of it, but Remus was concerned.  “Depending on how things progress between them, their little romance could interfere with critical training.”  “I thought of that myself, and broached the subject with Harry.” Sirius interjected.  “Harry has quite a head on his shoulders.  He loves Hermione (although he hasn’t told her yet) and respects her feelings completely.  He is not interested in a ‘summer fling’ as he put it.  He says she’s the one.”  “Hmm” said Arabella, “we’ll see.” 

 

“Arabella, do you think you could find a moment or two to have a heart-to-heart with Hermione?  It’s important that she not lose her focus either...” Remus began, but stopped as he saw Harry take off his dinner jacket and settle it on Hermione’s shoulders.   “Look at that!  He is fifteen years old, but is as natural with her as though he had played the dating game for years.  It’s like seeing James with Lily.” he said with a hint of melancholy.  “Do you know why he seems so accomplished when he’s had next to no experience dating?” Arabella asked, smiling.  “You didn’t ‘help’ things along did you?” Sirius asked, alarmed.  “Certainly not,” she said, a trifle annoyed.  “The reason he looks like such a skilled player is because he isn’t playing at all.  He genuinely loves her.  He’s not trying to seduce her; he just wants to be with her.  You two could take a lesson out of Harry’s book when it comes to women.” she said meaningfully strolled from the room. 



 

Remus and Sirius took her good-natured scolding well and turned back to the scene unfolding on the terrace.  They saw Harry whisper something to Hermione and then point toward an upper window.  In a moment, Harry’s Firebolt zoomed into view.  In a twinkling, they were gone.

 

“Did you see that?” Remus gasped.  “Do you suppose we should tag along to make sure they don’t leave the grounds?” Sirius wondered aloud.  “No! No! You missed it! Harry summoned the Firebolt without his wand!  I don’t think he even realized it himself!”   Sirius turned to Remus and raised his arms in a helpless gesture.  “You know that unfocused magic is sometimes the result of a highly emotional state, but usually anger, or fear.  I’ve never seen it happen this way, but I suppose it could.  At least now we know he can still do it.” And then, as an afterthought he added, “Perhaps this romance will make training easier, not harder,” he mused, gazing up at the night sky.          



 

As they had danced, Harry tilted Hermione’s face to his and whispered, “Fly with me?”  “Now?” she said, raising her eyebrows.  “Trust me,” Harry grinned.  With a look of concentration, he gestured toward his bedroom window and said Accio FireboltIn a few seconds, they saw it, whizzing towards them from an open window on the upper floor.  It came to a halt beside Hermione at the perfect height for her to ease onto it.  Harry mounted the broom behind Hermione, who once again sat sidesaddle.  His arms encircled her as he gripped the handle tightly.  “Ready?” he murmured into her hair.  “Yes, Harry” came a whisper that sent thrill up his spine.  Closing his eyes, he kicked off hard and sent the Firebolt soaring.  Higher and higher he took her until they emerged from the tree tops in the park to glimpse the tiniest sliver of new moon.  It was breathtaking.  Lingering for a moment to watch a “v” of wild geese cross the starlit sky, Harry turned and headed for the cliffs above the beach. 

 He set them down gently near a rocky outcropping that overlooked the sea.  He held her for a moment, then, taking a deep breath, said softly. “I love you, Hermione.  I don’t know when or how it began, but it feels old and ageless, like you have always been a part of me.  I’ve been on the verge of telling you about a hundred times, but didn’t because of Ron, then because of Krum.  Even if there hadn’t been anyone in your life, there were times when I swore I would never tell you.”  He looked away for a moment.  “Why?” she whispered.  He swallowed hard.  “Because of my mother, because of what happened to her when she married a Potter.”  His eyes were downcast.  “You know I have always been willing to face Voldemort with you…” Hermione began, but Harry cut her off. “You have always been willing to take risks for me and I’m not worth your life.” He said fiercely. “I could never live with myself if something happened to you.”  “And I could never live with myself if I thought I had abandoned you.” She interrupted him.  “Besides, it doesn’t really matter now does it?  Once I’m revealed as Arabella’s granddaughter, we will be equally susceptible to attack.  I would rather stand with you and fight, than face Voldemort alone.”

Her voice fell to the merest whisper, “I love you, Harry”.  And then, she stood on tiptoe to kiss the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.  It was as though she were blessing him, giving a benediction of sorts.  It was her way of letting him know that she loved the young man behind the scar, not the “boy who lived”, not Gryffindor’s  legendary seeker, and not the tri-wizard champion.  She loved “Harry, just Harry” as he had once described himself to Hagrid.  “Well then,” Harry began, grinning broadly, “it seems there’s nothing left for me to do but to carry on being madly in love with you and write you loads of awful poetry.”    He kissed her soundly.

 

Chapter Five – A New Era



 Harry.  Unbidden, a smile crept across Hermione’s face at the thought of him – the thought of the two of them together.  It was late morning, but Hermione was still in bed.  Curled up under soft blankets, Hermione hugged her knees and grinned at the memory of last night.  If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his breath on her cheek, see his face filled with light and love. 

 

When she agreed to fly with him last night, she thought they would only be gone for a moment, but they had been gone for several hours; the “moment” becoming the moment of a lifetime.  Dreamlike, she scarcely remembered their flight back to Paravel. She recalled in only a hazy sort of way drifting back up to their rooms from the terrace, Harry carrying the Firebolt over his shoulder.  She recalled, however, with perfect clarity the goodnight kiss at her door and laughed softly to herself.  Her soul seemed to sing with the joy of it.   She wanted to do something, to celebrate in some way, to do something amazing for Harry as a token of this newborn love between them.  And then it came to her.   In a flash of insight, Hermione realized she could give Harry the thing he wanted most in the world – a home with his godfather.  Filled with purpose, Hermione leapt from bed and headed for her shower.  A mere twenty minutes later, she was stuffing a note under Harry’s door that read “Meet me in the library. – H.”.



 

Harry had also slept in.  He stretched lazily in bed, then turned to look out the window at the sea.  Judging from the height of the sun over the water, it was probably 9:30 a.m. or so.  His thoughts drifted back to last night.  So perfect, so amazing.  For him it had been an emotional awakening.  Never in his memory had he been so loved, so unconditionally loved.  Best of all was to be loved by this girl - this perfectly marvelous creature loved him.  He could scarcely believe it. 

 A trace of Hermione’s perfume lingered on his jacket as he retrieved it from the floor where it had been tossed before he crawled into bed.  He buried his face in its folds, re-experiencing the joy of her closeness, the feel of her in his arms.  A small sigh escaped him and he too, headed for the shower.

 

He was just stuffing his feet into shoes, when a noise at his door caught his attention.  A folded bit of parchment lay on the rug.  He stooped to pick it up and unfolding it, laughed out loud.  “Some things never change…”



 

Harry strolled from the guest wing to the landing and climbed the marble stairs to yet another floor.  Here were Arabella’s rooms, and right at the back of the house, her vast personal library.  The library at Hogwarts was massive, certainly, but Arabella’s collection was nothing to sneeze at.  Over several lifetimes, her family had put together the most comprehensive private library in the wizarding world.  Unlike the dark, musty stacks at Hogwart’s, Paravel’s library was light, open and airy.  Huge tables were strategically placed near windows that could be easily opened when the weather was fine.  Comfortable armchairs were nestled among the bookcases, and here and there, a ladder was placed to allow access to higher shelves.  Portraits of Arabella’s (and Hermione’s) ancestors smiled benevolently down from carved frames. 

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