Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 14 - Healing Conversations

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Alyx grunted and found herself tied over a barrel, her bum flapping in the breeze. Bob walked over and smacked her bum using a large paddle.

"THANK YOU SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER?" Alyx shouted.

Bob smirked at the studio audience and waited for the polling machines to count the votes. Finally a signboard lit up saying "Hit her again — 4057, No more — 12"

Bob smacked her bum again.

"THANK YOU SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER?" Alyx shouted.

"Ya know," Bob said conversationally, "if only you had written the disclaimer you could have avoided this. I offered it to you and you turned it down!"

"Alright dammit, I'll do the effing disclaimer!" She grumbled.

Bob leaned down and released her from the barrel. Alyx stood up for a moment, then hissed as she realized what it was like to have a flaming butt.

"Now, disclaim!" Bob commanded.

"Fine!" she snapped, then turned to the studio audience. "Excuse me," she said sweetly.

The scene shifted and hundreds of Snapes dressed in spandex skated out onto the Skating Rink. Alyx, as mistress of ceremony pulled out a Microphone and handed it to one of the Snapes.

"The authors of this story wish to inform all people that read this story and survive the experience, that none of the Potter character belong to them. All things from the Potterverse belong to JK Rowling... And now, without further ado, we give you Snapes on Ice!"

Harry and Hermione sat down in the front row passing popcorn back and forth to each other. "This is boring," Hermione complained. "No monsters, no cannibals, no guns or rockets!"

"Wait for it," Harry said, then he groped Hermione who squeaked happily.

"Wait for what? You groping me?" she purred.

"No, that!" Harry said nodding at the now melted skating rink and the drowning Snapes.

Hermione leaned forward and threw a large switch that was labeled 'Do not touch'. A moment later there came a grinding noise and dorsal fins appeared in the water.

"Nice touch," Harry commented in admiration.

"OOOO I am getting so mad at you!" Alyx growled at Bob.

Bob nodded knowingly. "Yes dear, I know."

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 14

Haven Hospital (August 30th)...

Amelia stepped into the room quietly. The lights were low and the occupant of the one bed snored gently before turning over on his side.

She turned when someone tapped her on the shoulder and recognized Melinda McKinney, the same healer who had been helping Terry with his injuries. Melinda motioned her out of the room and, frowning, she followed.

"I'm sorry, Minister, but I didn't want you waking my patient. He's still very tired and needs his sleep," Melinda said.

"I assure you, Healer McKinney, I wasn't about to disturb him. I was, however, hoping to discover more about his condition."

Melinda scowled for a moment. She didn't like releasing information to non-family members, but her patient had no living relatives, and this was the Minister of Magic.

Reaching for the chart that hung just outside the door, she flipped it open with a practiced flick. "Very well. Mr. Pickerton was admitted this afternoon after having collapsed at work. He is suffering from a large peptic ulcer and blood loss, both of which appear to have been brought on by stress. In addition, he apparently hasn't been eating properly or getting enough sleep, which has only aggravated his condition.

"The ulcer has been treated with potions and has closed already. The blood loss was dealt with using blood replenishing potions. The underlying cause of these problems is beyond our control, however. He must work to reduce the stress in his life," she said, as she closed the chart and looked at the Minister.

"Damn," Amelia swore under her breath. "You're sure of your findings, Healer McKinney?"

Melinda turned frosty. "I assure, Minister, my colleagues and I agree on his course of treatment, including the issue of stress, a major factor in the formation of ulcers."

Amelia took a step backwards and flinched slightly under the healer's icy glare. "I meant no disrespect, Healer McKinney, it's just that Mr. Pickerton holds an important position in the Ministry and his loss to us will be keenly felt."

The sound of footsteps caused both the healer and Minister to turn. Coming up the hallway with a purposeful stride was Minerva McGonagall, looking very anxious.

"Good afternoon, Minister, how is Mi... Mr. Pickerton?" she asked, correcting herself.

Amelia suppressed a smile. "He is recovering, Minerva, but I fear that for his own health, we'll have to release him from his position."

Minerva's expression grew guarded, then pensive. "Really?"

Amelia studied the Headmistress carefully. She suspected that Minerva was up to something. "Of course, we'll keep him on as a consultant to advise us, but the Healers are adamant on this. He has to have a less stressful job."

Minerva smiled slightly. "If you don't mind, Minister, I think I have an idea Mil... Mr. Pickerton will agree with. It appears that the curse of the Hogwarts Defense teacher still holds sway, as I have been unable to secure a full time professor. I have several part time people here in Haven who are willing to handle specific years or topics, but are unwilling or unable to accept the position full time. I may be able to convince Mil... Mr. Pickerton to take over as head of the Defense curriculum. He'd have several teachers under him and be responsible only for sixth and seventh year classes himself."

Amelia smiled. She didn't need to be accomplished in Legilimency to see that the woman was trying to hide her feelings for Miles.

"Very well, Minerva. I'll let you explain to him that I'm putting him on one hundred twenty days leave and that we'll discuss his position with the Ministry in the future, when he's feeling better..." She paused as several healers ran past her and down the corridor.

Minerva nodded and turned to enter Miles' room, while Amelia followed the running healers, trying to find out what the emergency was.

Parliament Building, London (Late evening of August 30th)...

Damnation! Lucius Malfoy thought, as he took another swig from his brandy snifter. His plan was supposed to be perfect, but Potter had shown up late! And from what Hammersmith could tell, the gun had jammed! Lucius didn't even know if the damn muggle had done his job or not. Only two bullets fired? He was supposed to empty the gun into him.

Lucius snarled and spun, hurling the brandy snifter against a wall, where it shattered. A house elf popped in almost before the shards hit the ground and poured him another drink before cleaning up the mess. The little elf barely missed the foot that swung out to kick him.

A moaning sound distracted Lucius and he looked up at the far wall and smiled evilly.

"Ah, Hammersmith. I see we're awake," he said pleasantly. Smiling, he picked up a bloody knife and walked over to the man pinned to the wall.

Hammersmith was a mere shade of his former self. Lucius had been slowly torturing him since he reported the failure of his plan with Dursley. The man hung from the wall, naked and bloody, his head hanging limply. Every so often he moaned piteously. Lucius had been slicing off his fingers, one joint at a time, then cauterizing the wound with a hot iron. Soon, Lucius would start working on more vital areas, but he wanted Hammersmith to know the price of failure.

Casting a specialized hex on his knife, he began to shave the skin, layer by layer, from Hammersmith's chest. The man arched his back and screamed. Blood ran down his chest, but Lucius again cauterized the wounds with a flame spell.

"Lucius!"

Malfoy turned and looked at the fireplace, spotting Mulciber's head in the green flames.

"Ah, Mulciber, how are your legs?" Malfoy asked, sardonically.

Mulciber tried to hide his snarl. "Fine, Lucius, just fine."

Lucius placed his knife on the table and waited for a moment. When Mulciber didn't say anything, he lost his patience. "I know this isn't a social call Mulciber, and I know you're not calling to share your latest boy toy. So kindly get to the point or get your fucking head out of my sight," he said with barely concealed contempt.

Mulciber smiled thinly. "Now, now, Lucius. There's no reason to be insulting. I just thought you'd like to know that the Master was most curious when I reported the huge surge in magic over Surrey. As you are aware, the Master considers the region to be of particular interest. When I reported it was the result of one of your operations, he requested that I contact you and ask you to visit him tomorrow... with details."

Lucius paled for a moment, then nodded. "I will be pleased to meet with the Master tomorrow and explain what happened."

"Very well, Lucius, I will inform the Master," Mulciber said smugly, then he pulled back out of the fireplace and the flames returned to normal.

Lucius ground his teeth for a moment in frustrated fury before turning back Hammersmith. "If I have to report this failure, then I might as well enjoy myself until then."

Outside the Office of the Supreme Muggle Authority, the two guards stood, trying not to flinch as the screams rang out and echoed through the empty halls of Parliament.

Padfoot Manor (August 31st)...

Emma and Dan walked into the dinning room still sleepy. Both had spent a restless night watching over Hermione. She had slept with the help of a potion, but it had been a restless night for her. She followed her parents into the room, still groggy from the brew.

Remus looked up and scowled angrily at her presence.

"Any word?" asked Tonks in a hushed tone.

Dan shook his head. "No, not since midnight, when they sent an elf to report that he was breathing a little easier."

The door opened and more of the Brotherhood shuffled into the room. Several looked at Hermione and she flinched back from their stares. Eocho floated into the room a moment later and watched as people took their seats.

"What do we do today?" Neville asked. Ginny held onto his arm and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Even Susan and Terry seemed to be unable to grasp what had happened.

"You do what the Maglios would want you to do," Eocho said firmly. "You continue with your duties and your training."

Remus started from his seat. "You aren't seriously suggesting that we allow her to continue training with us!" he demanded, pointing at Hermione.

Dan jumped to his feet. "Now see here!"

"ENOUGH!" Eocho thundered.

Hermione leaned against her mother, tears sliding down her cheeks. She refused to look anyone in the eye.

Eocho's yell had silenced everyone and his quick frown had Dan and Remus returning to the seats. He then drifted over to stand behind Hermione, where he glared at everyone.

"Now is not a time for divisiveness! What happened, happened because the Maglios made an error, and then his mate compounded that error." Eocho sighed and drifted towards the head of the table.

"When the ransom note arrived, the Maglios became enraged and it shamed him greatly. He instinctively shut off his link with his mate because he didn't want her to feel the madness raging within him. He left the manor and returned to our source, the holy place of Derreenataggart, where he brought the rage within him under control. The Maglios recognized the danger he posed to himself and others around him and took the proper steps to control himself. In doing so, however, he shocked and frightened his mate by shutting off the link.

"After he returned, he was still filled with a deep shame and did not open the link to his mate. And she, not knowing better, assumed he had gone to accept the terms of ransom, thus starting the chain of events that led us to this point.

"Both are partially to blame for this. And both will need to deal with its aftermath. However, this is a private matter between the Maglios and his mate. If you must lay blame, then lay it at the feet of both."

Remus looked down at the table for a long moment. "Hermione... I owe you an apology," he said quietly.

"Remus... stop," Hermione choked out, then she shook her head. "A lot of what's been said is correct. My husband lies in a hospital room not a mile from here and I can't feel him because he's still in a coma... If I could take back yesterday's actions, I'd do so in a flash. But I honestly thought it was the right thing, to try to rescue Harry and his last living relative. I know, now, that it was a mistake. One which I will regret for the rest of my life."

"Do you feel anything from Harry now?" asked Luna.

Hermione shook her head. "No, nothing. And it feels as if a part of me has been cut out. I feel incomplete and lost now," she replied with shudder.

Luna nodded in understanding.

Draco cleared his throat. "Harry and Hermione were not the only ones who made a mistake in this. From what I understand, Miles ordered the mission without any of the standard pre-mission protocols. Caleb tried to put the mission off, but Miles wouldn't hear of it. I'm afraid Miles will have to deal with that knowledge when he wakes up."

Remus turned to look at Draco. "Wakes up?"

Draco nodded, then paused and looked a little confused. "Didn't anyone tell you? Miles collapsed in the war room yesterday. The on-duty healer took him to the hospital, muttering something about stress and ulcers."

"Who will take over for him?" Dan asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence as people thought.

"Caleb, I think," offered Draco. "I know that Harry was being trained to work as Caleb's second. The problem is both of them are field commanders. Neville and I don't have that level of training."

Remus sighed and shook his head. "Well, Harry's not going out on any missions for a while. It's something we'll have to discuss when he's better."

Luna turned to look at Hermione, who had been listening to the conversation half heartedly, then she reached out and touched her hand. "I feel your pain, Hermione, but it will be alright."

Hermione looked at the younger girl with haunted eyes. "Will it, Luna? Will it really? He's going to be so angry with me, and with Miles."

"His love for you is greater than his anger," Luna said softly. "Never doubt that."

"I hope your right, Luna," said Remus sadly. "The last time he got really angry he destroyed the Ministry building and nearly everyone inside."

Haven Hospital...

Miles opened his eyes and, for the first time in weeks, breathed a sigh of relief that the burning pain in his belly was gone. Then his eyes widened and he tried to sit up, only to feel a wave of dizziness wash over him. He fell back on the bed and someone opened the curtains, letting the morning sunlight filter into the room. He blinked in the bright light and couldn't identify the person.

"Who?" he croaked.

"Relax, Miles," said a familiar voice.

"Minerva?"

She nodded and handed him a cup of water. "Yes, it's Minerva, you fool of a man. Did you honestly think that pain in your belly was going to go away by itself? Merlin protect me from stubborn, stupid men!"

He winced and watched her carefully as he sipped from the cup.

Minerva sat on the chair next to his bed and composed herself before speaking again. "The Minister was here earlier, Miles, and I'm afraid that things are going to change, things you have no control over. The healers are insistent. You need to reduce the stress you've been experiencing. Amelia has placed you on one-hundred-twenty days leave, starting immediately. It's quite probable that you will never return to your original position. Amelia still wants to use your services, but as... what was that word? Oh, yes, a consultant. In the meantime, I can offer you a position that should reduce your stress levels."

He was shocked. "I've lost my job?" he asked incredulously.

She smiled slightly. "I'm afraid so, Miles. You need to slow down. You nearly killed yourself."

He nodded absently, thinking. "Wait a minute. This is Amelia's decision? Who will take over for me? And what happened with the mission yesterday?"

Minerva's expression grew guarded. "Yesterday's mission didn't go well. I don't know the details, but I know they took many causalities. Harry had to rescue them and he..." She broke off and looked away.

"Minerva what is it?" Miles asked in alarm.

When she looked back at him he was shocked to see tears sliding down her cheeks.

"They say Harry was badly injured by some muggle weapon. I was going to go to the manor after I visited with you to see if I could find out more information," she choked out.

Miles leaned back in his bed and his already pale complexion turned pasty. He had sent forty men into what he and everyone else knew would have to be a trap without even trying to scout it out first. Any blame for the causalities would rest squarely on his shoulders. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He knew he had mucked up big time.

When he opened his eyes again, Minerva reached over and took his hand.

"I know how involved you were in the war effort, Miles, and I know you don't really want to leave it, but it's for your own sake. Besides, if you come to work for me, I'll have you training our next generation of fighters," she said. Her attempt to smile faltered a little. Having Miles at the school appealed to her on several levels, but she didn't like the idea that her students might someday have to fight.

She proceeded to explain what his duties would be as the head of the DADA department at school, including the fact that he'd be personally teaching the sixth and seventh year defense courses, as well as an Occlumency elective, if enough showed interest in it. She had learned that Miles had taught Harry, Hermione and Susan last summer and those three had gone one to teach it to Ginny, Neville, Luna, Draco and Terry.

He watched, amused, as she spoke. There was a connection between the two. Not the same kind of connection that might exist between a pair of hormonal raging teenagers, but a connection nevertheless. With a bit of a smile he finally held up his free hand.

"Alright, alright... You've convinced me. I'll come teach. It's better than sitting in the town square with the rest of the old gaffers," he said with a chuckle. He knew he was being put out to pasture because of his illness, but he felt as if he deserved it because of the mistake he made with the mission.

Minerva released his hand and leaned back, inwardly very pleased with herself. She and Miles were contemporaries with a common history. She felt both attracted to the man and comfortable around him and with his knowledge and background, he'd make a superb teacher.

Padfoot Manor Grounds...

Tonks left the breakfast meeting and, after talking with Remus for a few minutes, went to find Hermione. Dan had said he'd seen her exiting the manor and heading for the pool. Unable to find her there, she had began to search.

After a quick look in the garden, she rounded a hedge and moved off towards the trees. Upon entering the small grove, she quickly spotted the young woman sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree and made her way towards her.

"Hermione?" she called.

She looked up when she heard her name and frowned when she spotted Tonks. "What is it? Has something happened?" she asked, worriedly.

"No, it's nothing like that," Tonks told her as she knelt down. "What are you doing out here?"

"Harry comes here sometimes. He said it soothes him. I brought some peanuts and was hoping to find Nutters," she explained.

"Nutters?"

"A squirrel. Harry named him. I've watched Nutters take peanuts right out of Harry's hand, but he won't come near me," she said, pointing at a small squirrel sitting on a branch in the next tree, watching them closely. "Maybe it's the lack of music. He always liked Harry's music."

"Maybe you should try tossing them a little closer to the tree. You might coax him down," Tonks suggested.

With a shrug, Hermione began tossing nuts at the base of the tree. "So, what are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you. I wanted to talk to you, away from the others."

"Come to deliver a harangue? I hope you don't mind if I pass. I think Remus took care of that well enough," she said, her voice trembling.

"A little too well, I think," Tonks said. Sighing, she sat down and crossed her legs. "Believe it or not, I know just what you're feeling."

"How could you?"

"Because I nearly got Remus killed last year. Remember? In that case, it was Harry yelling at me. He said many of the same things Remus said to you. I was his guardian at the time and having my ward dress me down for my carelessness was painful. But what made it worse was knowing that everything he said to me was correct."

Hermione chewed her lower lip for a moment. "I'd forgotten about that," she finally murmured.

"So had Remus. I won't make this any easier on you by telling you that the memories will fade with time. They don't. I remember everything vividly, and still the occasional nightmare about it."

When Hermione hung her head and refused to look at her, Tonks reached over and lifted her chin so their eyes met.

"No one understands what you're going through better than I do. But you're lucky. You're the most important person in Harry's life and he loves you. As Eocho said, mistakes were made all around, but you'll forgive each other, as that's what we do for the people we love. We forgive," she said, turning her hand to cup the young woman's cheek in her palm. "But there's something else, something much harder that you'll have to do, Hermione. You have to forgive yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Hermione whispered as tears began to slide down her cheeks. "He means everything to me and I nearly got him killed!" She collapsed against her friend and sobbed.

Tonks wrapped her arms around her and let her cry, knowing it would help. When Hermione quieted, she leaned back, placed both hands on her cheeks and raised her head to look into her eyes once more. "Sweet girl," she murmured, wiping away the tears. "The time will come when you and Harry will talk about this. And I think you'll find that he understands what happened better than you think. He'll know this wasn't solely your fault. Mistakes happen, you know that. But now you've learned that those mistakes can also have deadly consequences, haven't you?"

Hermione's lips trembled and she nodded her head.

"And I'll bet you've learned to be more circumspect about your actions."

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice a little firmer. "Everyone tells me how smart I am, but I've sure done my best to prove them wrong in the last month." She wiped her eyes and sat up straight.

"No one knows how they'll react in an emergency," Tonks told her. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty and we can look back with perfect clarity and see what we should have done. But you can't continue to beat yourself up over it. You learn from the mistake, take the lesson to heart, and do your best to move on. As I said earlier, it won't be easy. But I think you'll find things are a bit better once you've spoken to Harry. And I'm always here if you need someone else to talk to."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Thanks, Tonks. For everything."

"That's what friends are for. Now, lets go back inside and get you cleaned up. We can't have Harry waking up and seeing his wife a wet, blubbering mess, now can we?"

Haven Operations Center...

Caleb Newman sat on the small cot he kept in his office and tried to clear the cobwebs from his head. Ruefully, he admitted to himself that he was no longer capable of living on three hours of sleep a night.

He had been shocked and positively appalled when he discovered that the reason Ops Center had gone off the air was due entirely to Miles' illness. This highlighted, in his opinion, a glaring flaw in the overall command structure for the British Alliance. The lack of Miles being at Ops Center had ultimately forced Caleb to leave the hospital and return to the center. He had been waiting to receive word on his wounded, as well as on Lord Potter.

A knock at his door startled him out of his reverie.

"Come!" he called, then stood and walked over to small sink in the corner to wash away some of his fatigue.

He glanced over to see Johnson, one of the Ministry people who Miles had been using for grunt work.

"Good morning, Sir," said Johnson.

"I suppose," he growled as he eyed Johnson warily. Like so many soldiers and law enforcement officers, he was wary of paper pushers.

Johnson started the coffee pot, then straightened up his desk. "The Minister will be meeting with you later, sir, to discuss your new duties. Word has come from the hospital that Mr. Pickerton is recovering nicely. I've placed a file folder containing the causality count for yesterday's mission, as well as the necessary personnel information on the WIAs and KIAs on your desk. I've also rescheduled the morning briefing to mid morning," he said, then looked up expectantly at Caleb.

Caleb blinked in shock at the young man. "Excuse me? New duties?"

Johnson looked up from the pile of folders he was neatly putting into alphabetical order. "Yes, sir. As of this morning, you are assuming Mr. Pickerton's duties as Deputy Minister for Defense."

Caleb sat in the chair behind his desk and shook his head in denial.

Johnson continued to sort the folders as he spoke. "We'll have you moved into the Deputy's office probably by tomorrow, sir. And rather than keeping a cot in the office, I'll see one of the adjoining offices is cleared out and turned into a more comfortable place for you to sleep."

Caleb could only stare at the man and wonder if he'd really woken up after all, as the situation had all the elements of a nightmare.

Haven Hospital...

Hermione arrived with her parents at the hospital just before noon. Danni had informed them the night before that they would not lift the magically induced coma until noon today, at the earliest. Remus and Tonks had elected to remain behind, in the hopes they would be able to visit with Harry later.

Dan had them stop at the reception desk to find out which room Harry was currently in, then they followed the markings on the walls to the appropriate room. Just outside the door they met up with Danni McNeil.

Danni turned to face Hermione, her expression one of weariness. "I thought you might show up at this time. I'm about to go off duty myself, but I wanted to stay to talk with you," she said gently.

"How is he?" asked Hermione.

"We lifted the coma about a half hour ago. Right now he's in a very deep sleep. Fortunately, while he was under, we were able to regrow the three ribs we had to remove. The induced coma prevented him from feeling the pain of the Skele-grow, thank Merlin. As you know, he was shot twice at close range. Muggle weapons can do extraordinary damage but, in this particular case, the close range worked in our favor. The bullets tore through his right lung and shattered his ribs on their way out."

Seeing Hermione blanch, she reached out and squeezed the young woman's hand. "It could have been a lot worse, from what I understand. One of our Yank Healers explained that, with different ammunition, the bullets would have entered and shattered apart once they hit bone, sending metal fragments bounced around inside, causing massive damage. Mind you, his injuries are severe, but we think he'll pull through."

She squeezed Hermione's hand once more before letting go and continuing a bit more briskly. "We've repaired the damage to his lung, as well as his ribs. The problem right now is that the new lung tissue will take time to adjust to his body, so his right lung is not capable of providing him with as much oxygen as he is used to at the moment. This is strictly a temporary condition that will ease off over the course of the next week or so. However, for at least the next two weeks, he is not allowed any strenuous exercises and you should be aware that there is a real threat of infection. His left lung is currently providing him with the bulk of his oxygen, so he'll be short of breath for a while. We're monitoring the output of his right lung and when it reaches seventy-five percent, we'll probably release him."

When Hermione and her parents continued to stare at her with a mixture of relief and horror, she shook her head. "Well? Aren't you planning on going in?" she asked.

Shaking off the shock, Dan opened the door, allowing Emma, Hermione and Danni to enter before him.

Inside the room a series of magical devices monitored Harry's condition. He lay on the bed, pale and nearly motionless, seeming to struggle for each breath. Around his head was a blue translucent bubble. Rather than the normal hospital gown, his chest was covered in a large, self sealing bandage. The blinds were closed, giving the room an eerie appearance due to the glow from the monitoring equipment.

Hermione leaned against her mother and stared at him. He looked so helpless. This couldn't be her Harry! She had seen him sick and wounded before, but never like this. His fingers and lips were blue tinged, and he was nearly white.

"The bubble concentrates and gives him a higher percentage of oxygen than we get under normal breathing. We've had to increase his oxygen intake to compensate for his lack of a balanced set of lungs," Danni said in a hushed tone, then she turned to Hermione. "I know he looks bad right now, Hermione, but he's getting better, trust me."

When Hermione only nodded dumbly and continued to stare at Harry, she stepped forward. "Here, look at this," she said, pointing at two crystals on the table next to the bed. A pair of numbers floated over each. "The crystal on the right tells us how much oxygen his right lung is giving him. The one on the left is for the other lung. Look at the two numbers."

The right crystal displayed fifty-nine, the left one-hundred.

"This morning, Hermione, the number was down at thirty-two. He is getting better," Danni said gently.

Hermione sat on the chair next to Harry's bed. She watched him, while Dan and Emma conversed with Danni in hushed tones.

Then she felt something in her mind, almost like a tickle, but very faint. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward suddenly, watching him intently. "I think he's starting to wake up," she said.

Her link opened up a little more and she gasped in relief. She wasn't getting any coherent thoughts, but the link was there and she was getting a jumbled mass of confusing images and emotions. It took her a moment to realize that what she was feeling wasn't usually the ordered mind of her husband, but rather the confused reactions of his subconscious. Harry's shields were completely and totally down!

"Oh, Merlin! His Occlumency shields are completely down," she muttered.

Dan and Emma turned to her, alarmed.

"I thought they weren't supposed to go down, even when he was asleep or was unconscious?" Emma asked, worriedly.

"They aren't. I don't know why he's dropped them," Hermione replied, distractedly. She was trying to think of something they could do to protect Harry's mind.

Danni swore and her expression turned angry. "Of course! The induced coma would have done that. The coma reduces all brain function down to the barest minimum needed for survival. Why didn't I think of that before?"

Dan placed a placating hand on the angry healer's arm. "Probably because you were too busy saving his life to worry about it. The question is, can we speed up his awakening so that he can put up his shields?"

Danni shook her head. "No. As it stands, he's probably going to awaken confused and disoriented. He probably won't be able to raise them."

Hearing a sound at the door, Danni turned away from the Grangers and stepped out of the room.

Hermione reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. She wasn't sure exactly why, but something told her it was what she needed to do. As soon as she touched him, her vision grayed out for a moment and she could feel Harry very close by, though his mind was still a confusing array of random thoughts and emotions.

Her mind seemed to flow around his, encasing it, cocooning it. She immediately understood and brought her own Occlumency shields up to their full strength. Once in place, she began to work on building a secondary wall around her own, as an extra layer of defense. If Harry couldn't protect his mind at the moment, she would do it for him.

A soft light began to pulsate around them both.

Dan and Emma watched, startled, as Hermione's hair began to rise, as if charged by static electricity. When her eyes began to glow dimly, they both stepped back in alarm.

The door to the room opened and Danni, the Lupins entered. Remus took one look and he growled in the back of his throat.

"Hermione, what do you..."

"Shut up, Remus," Hermione muttered quietly. "Harry's shields are completely down and he's just barely begun to wake up. I'm using the bond between us to shield his mind for him. I've got to borrow some of his power to do this. It's not easy and I need to concentrate.

"Sweet Merlin, how does he manage this? I'm only borrowing a small amount of magic and it's the most intoxicating feeling I've ever experienced!"

The four adults exchanged a long look, then Emma stepped forward. "Dear, I know you're busy but is there anything we can do to help?"

Hermione started to shake her head when she suddenly found herself being levitated. She would have complained, but she couldn't break her concentration. Tonks lifted her up to Harry's level, while Remus expanded the bed enough for both to lay comfortably.

"I don't know if this is considered approved therapy," murmured Danni in amusement.

Dan shot her a grin.

"If he's waking, he's going to need something for the pain," Danni said, then turned to get a potion from a cabinet. Removing a bottle from the shelf, she walked back to stand next to Remus. "Is there really a danger of him being attacked by V-V-Voldemort?" she asked him.

Remus nodded. "Yes. Harry told me that Voldemort routinely tests his shields since that time he managed to get through. With no shields he'd be wide open for Voldemort to strike. Harry will be able to put up his own shields once he's awake enough. He was alright in the coma, since it suppressed his mind too much, but in his current state it can be dangerous for him."

Hermione settled in next to Harry, still maintaining the shield

"What do you think is causing the glow around them?" Emma asked the others.

Dan shrugged, Danni and Remus looked thoughtful, and Tonks just shook her head.

"If I had to hazard a guess," Remus said quietly a few moments later, "I'd say it was Hermione's Occlumency shield being extended to include Harry. Frankly, I have no clue how she's doing it. It's not even theoretically possible. It must be a result of their bond. She's borrowing some of his magic to increase her own shield to include him. I wish Eocho could see this. He might have an explanation."

Danni nodded. "There are some case histories of people who shared a consciousness via a soul bond, and it allowed them utilize the talents of their partner. I remember reading about one pair who shared animagus abilities because one of the pair was an animagus prior to the bonding." She had been informed of what occurred between Harry and Hermione and knew about their bonding.

Remus looked thoughtful, considering Danni's comments. It would be something to thing about later.

While her parents conversed quietly with the others, Hermione tuned them out, turning all her attention inwards and the slowly awakening mind of her husband. She was initially confused by the total randomness of what she was experiencing. Fragments of memories popped into focus and played for a moment, then vanished just as quickly as they had begun. In between the memories, she experienced waves of emotions. The first real indication that she had of Harry's consciousness awakening was when she began to feel an uncomfortable weight on her chest. The feeling increased until she was in pain.

"Harry?"

Nothing.

"Harry?"

"...W-W-Who?..."

A wave of confused images hit her, seeing Dudley flying towards her, explosions, loud noises, Caleb staring at her in horror. She shuddered back from the images. He was waking alright, and his mind threatened to overwhelm what she was doing. She had to bring him out gently, with as little disorientation as possible so he could bring his own shields back up.

"Harry, can you hear me?" she sent.

"...Wha... ...wha... ...what is this pl... place?..."

Hermione was about to answer when another wave of images washed through her. She blinked mentally at the one image that stood out in her mind, involving her with no clothes on, a roaring fireplace and a plush carpet in front of it, along with a bowl of strawberries and lots of whip cream. She thought it was a wonderfully romantic idea for another time, although she was puzzled by the excessive amount of whip cream. Driving the image away, she fixed her attention on Harry again. It was hard enough to concentrate when she was feeling his pain. His erotic images didn't help any.

"Harry? Can you hear me?"

"...hhurtss... ...'ermione?..."

"Yes, love, I know. Danni is preparing a pain relief potion even now."

"...wwhere...are...we?..."

"Harry, you were hurt yesterday. You're in Haven Hospital right now. You're waking up, but your Occlumency shields have fallen. I'm shielding you at the moment. Do you understand me?"

There was a moment of silence, then she felt his confusion lessen a little. She was about to say something when the pain suddenly receded to a dull ache and a sense of heaviness in his chest. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.

"...much... ...better..." he sent to her.

Much to her relief, she could feel his consciousness slowly ordering and bringing his mind back under control. She continued to borrow his power to maintain the shields, as her own power had been exhausted within the first few minutes. She trembled slightly and wondered at the depth of the connection she had managed to forge across the bond.

"Harry, did you understand me?" she asked again.

"...too tired, Hermione...," he replied. Even though they were talking mind to mind, she could feel his exhaustion in his words.

"No! Harry, you need to raise your shields, then you can sleep, I promise," she sent him, a bit desperate.

"...Shields?..."

"Yes, my heart, raise your shields," she sent to him.

She was beginning to get frustrated. She never quite realized how muddled a person could be before they woke up. There was another long pause and then she felt Harry struggling to bring his shields up. The power she was borrowing reduced to a trickle for a moment before flowing freely again.

This was the first time she had ever been in Harry's mind when he brought up his mental shields and she had to suppress a chuckle. His method for building them included a visualization of a muggle construction company as the walls were put into place. She could actually see Harry envisioning cement mixers pouring concrete.

It was a process so uniquely Harry, and so unlike her own shields, which she always thought of as granite walls like one might find along a river valley.

"Hermione?" His voice sounded stronger in her head and she assumed he was drawing on his magic to deal with his fatigue.

"Are you awake now?" she asked. Even though she didn't say a single word out loud, she couldn't hide the humor now that he was awake.

"I'm awake for now, but why are you in my mind? You didn't try another bonding thing again, did you?" he asked plaintively.

"No, I've been shielding your mind, love. You were in a coma, which brought down your shields. But it didn't matter as long as you remained in the coma. When you started to wake up, I used some of your power to extend my shields to include you."

"Is that even possible?" he asked, puzzled.

Hermione sent him the equivalent of a mental shrug, then she shuddered when Harry assumed control of their bond.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

"You've exhausted yourself, Hermione. I'm replenishing your core. Lower your shields and start to pull out."

She did as he told her, lowering her shields and moving her consciousness away from his. The bond slowly contracted and she felt a moment of extreme fatigue, followed by a rush of power that enervated her. For a brief moment she felt a sensation of stabbing pressure. She opened her eyes to find herself nearly nose to nose with Harry, who was looking at her.

"We have much to discuss. But right now I think you should talk to your parents and Danni."

Hermione frowned at him. "Can't you talk to them?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so, not the way my chest feels. It's almost like I can't quite catch my breath. Besides, I really want to go back to sleep now," he told her tiredly.

"Alright, I'll talk to them, hang on a moment."

Hermione turned to her parents, who stood at the end of the bed watching both of them with obvious worry and concern. When Harry opened his eyes and turned to look at Hermione, Emma moved up to the head of the bed.

"He's awake and his shields are up," Hermione told everyone.

Danni pushed her way past Dan and started running diagnostic spells. "Harry, do you feel any discomfort?"

Hermione glanced at Harry for a moment. "He says his chest feels heavy, like he has a weight on it. He also feels like he can't catch his breath, but the pain is mostly under control."

Danni's eyebrows rose up to her hairline, then she grinned. "That's helpful. You can speak for him using your bond, this way he won't run out of breath trying to speak. The feeling of weight and the shortness of breath will go away in a day or so, Harry. Now that you're awake, we can proceed with the rest of your treatment."

Harry nodded, then smiled at Emma when she reached through the bubble to smooth his hair back. He closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing into her touch.

Hermione blushed and looked at her mother. "He says 'Hi Mum, now I know where Hermione gets her wonderful touch from.'"

Emma blushed as brightly as her daughter and Harry closed his eyes again.

Hermione watched him for a moment, but when she tried to sit up, he rolled slightly and reached for her. She looked at the others, then shrugged her shoulders.

"Most boys want a teddy bear or something to hold at night. Not our Harry. He wanted his Hermione," Tonks quipped, grinning wickedly.

Hermione tried to glare, but her grin ruined the attempt. "He's sleeping normally now and his shields are in place. I'm not sure I could have held out for long against Voldemort if he had tried testing Harry's defenses now."

"Hmmm, you did, 'ermione," Harry sent sleepily.

Hermione turned to stare at him.

He opened his eyes slightly and looked at her. "That stabbing feeling... was him..." he told her as his eyes slipped closed once more.

Hermione shook her head and turned to look at the others. She didn't share what Harry said with them, thinking to wait until after she'd spoken with him about it in more detail.

"You did what you had to do, Hermione," Remus replied, his smile gentle. Then he turned to watch Danni, who was holding a board with a series of multi-colored crystals over Harry. Every so often she'd examine one closely, make an adjustment to it with her wand, then whisper something to a auto-quill, which jotted down the information.

"Well, Danni?" asked Remus.

She straightened and placed the board on the bedside table. "His lung is continuing to improve, but his temperature is slightly elevated. That could be a result of the wound and his subsequent healing, part of what Hermione did to him, or it could be the start of an infection. I don't know and we'll have to monitor him closely for a while."

Hogwarts Castle...

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the long shadows of late afternoon. From a distance, Hogwarts appeared as it always had, serene, calm, a place of welcome. It was only up close that the rows of piked heads and the cages used to house the women who serviced the resident Death Eaters became visible.

Lucius Malfoy entered the Great Hall with no small degree of fear in his heart. He now had to explain to the Master what had happened to his magic detectors and why. If Mulciber was any indication, the Master was not pleased.

He paused at the entrance for a moment, then cringed inwardly when his Master called out.

"Lucius!" Voldemort roared. "Get your sorry carcass in here."

He walked quickly to the large throne Voldemort sat upon. At the base, Nagini, Voldemort's pet and familiar, lay curled up, staring at the approaching human with dead looking eyes. Lucius stopped a few feet from the throne and prostrated himself before his master.

"You summoned me, my Master," he murmured.

The Dark Lord sat on his throne idly playing with a vicious looking, brown stained dagger. The handle of the blade pulsated with a sickly green light.

"A Blade of Mordoc," Voldemort said in a sibilant voice. "The only artifact known to be imbued with the essence of a Dementor."

Lucius paled and fought the urge to soil himself. The dagger was one of the most feared and dangerous dark artifacts in Wizarding history. The Dark Lord Mordoc was said to have created the blades for his cadre of assassins to use. One of its less savory features was that the blade only sucked out the soul of its victim upon removal. The magically renewing poison on the blade did not cause death, but pain worse than an Cruciatus curse, making the victims long to remove it from their flesh.

Mordoc's assassins were renowned for their cruelty.

"I have been quite lucky, Lucius. One of our overseas suppliers managed to find a stash of these blades. They will come in handy, I suspect."

Lucius cowered deeper, terrified of what was to come.

"Tell me, my friend," Voldemort said in a deceptively beguiling voice. "How is it my magic detectors were swamped both yesterday and on the day that Potter and his allies attacked my island prison?"

"M-m-my Lord," Lucius stammered. "T-t-this isn't my area. I can only guess as to what they are doing to swamp your detectors. I know the why of yesterday's incident, not the how."

Voldemort's eyes flared slightly. "Very well, tell me why it happened. And Lucius? It had better be good or I shall test my new toy on you myself."

"It was a trap for Potter, my Lord." Lucius replied uneasily, his voice almost whining. "We set a trap using his last living muggle relative."

"And did your trap work, Lucius? Did you bring Potter's body with you?" Voldemort asked dangerously, leaning forward on his throne and looking hungrily at Lucius.

Lucius shook his head, his hands trembled with fear. "Not entirely, my Lord. We know for a fact that Potter was injured, badly we think, but his allies managed to portkey him away before we could capture him. We've reviewed the entire event in a pensieve and there is reason to believe his wounds are mortal. If he has managed to survive, his injuries are serious enough that he will need much time to recover."

Voldemort nodded knowingly and raised a hand to stop Lucius from further explanation. Then he reached out with his mind to test Potter's shield as he did every morning. The connection blossomed like it usually did, then something strange happened, and so quickly, he wasn't sure it had happened at all.

For just a moment, a very brief moment, he felt not one, but two sets of shields guarding Potter's mind before the brat expelled him rather forcefully.

Two sets of shields? It was unheard of!

Voldemort scowled and turned to a nearby Death Eater. "Summon Mulciber!" he snapped, then he turned back to Lucius.

"Continue with your story," he ordered darkly.

Lucius bowed again and continued to describe how he had set up his trap and how they had managed to kill many of Potter's allies. He rushed through the description of how the trap was a mix of muggle and magical once he saw Voldemort's frown. He knew that the Dark Lord did not approve of anything muggle.

"And so there you have it, my Lord. Your detectors were overloaded when our trap was triggered," he concluded.

Voldemort nodded and looked up towards Mulciber, who had entered the Hall during Lucius' explanation.

Mulciber looked on, rather smug at having deflected his Master's anger away from himself.

"Mulciber, it was your recommendation that you oversee all magical happenings, while Lucius oversaw all muggle. Why, then, are you saying Lucius should be aware of how our magic detectors are being overwhelmed? Lucius set a trap for Potter, which triggered your detectors. I want to know how that is happening."

Mulciber shivered under his lord's gaze. He realized that he hadn't succeeded in deflecting anything.

"Well?" asked Voldemort again.

"I-I-I don't know, my Lord. I have people looking into it, but we're not sure how Potter's doing it," he stammered.

Voldemort scowled. He did not suffer failure well. He surveyed both men carefully. Lucius had yet to undergo the ritual of Anthrokrak, but Mulciber had undergone it twice now, the maximum limit he'd allow any of his inner circle to under the Rite. By rights, Lucius should have undergone the ritual by now, but his duties had not allowed for it. Lucius rarely failed him, but then he was a crafty bastard who made sure failure could not be pinned on him.

Voldemort's scowl deepened. He knew he couldn't kill either man, he needed them too much. But some sort of object lesson was necessary.

With a fluid movement of his wand and a whispered incantation, Mulciber fell to his knees, wailing in terror. He held his left hand in his right and stared at the three missing fingers. Voldemort had sliced them away, then healed his hand, making it impossible for those fingers to be regrown.

Next to him, Lucius collapsed, clutching at his face as blood seeped through his fingers. The two horizontal cuts, one across each cheek, would leave ugly scars the vain man would be unable to cover, at least in his Master's presence.

"I do not tolerate failure. I thought you both had learned that lesson by now, but apparently you have not. Let this be a reminder," Voldemort said angrily.

Haven Hospital that evening (Miles' Room)...

Caleb slowly opened the door, not really knowing what to expect. He had known Miles professionally for more than twenty years, having not only trained under him, but fighting side by side with him. Now, having taken over Miles' job, he felt uneasy.

What made him even more uncomfortable was what he was about to do.

"Caleb?" asked Miles from his bed.

Caleb nodded and walked into the room, taking a seat next to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Miles noted the man's neutral tone. "I suppose you heard what they are doing to me?"

Caleb nodded. "Yes. In fact, they're moving my stuff into your office and boxing up your belongings as I speak." He paused for a moment, then raked a hand through his hair. "What the hell did you think you were doing, ordering us on that mission? Do you know what it cost us? Do you?"

He stood and stepped back from the bed, trying to calm his fragmented nerves. "Sweet Merlin, Miles! You cost me nearly half my team. Twelve dead and another ten injured! And to top it off, Lord Potter nearly got himself killed rescuing us from a place he was no where near in the first place!"

Caleb looked down at Miles and noted how old and frail his friend seemed to be. Seeing the man's wide eyes and trembling hands, he felt a sense of shame. What the hell was he doing, yelling at a sick man?

He nervously wiped his hands against his pants.

"Look, Miles, I know you've been sick. But I don't think you need me to tell you how badly you missed the boat on this one."

Miles sighed heavily. "You don't have to tell me, Caleb, I know. I broke from procedure. I should have sent in elf scouts first," he said haltingly. "How is Lord Potter?" Despite his repeated requests all day, no one had given him any information about Harry.

"He was shot twice in the back with a muggle handgun by his own cousin. For the first three hours they worked on him they were convinced they were going to lose him. He's improving and I understand they've upgraded his condition to fair, but he's got a long road ahead of him."

Miles frowned. "Put up a privacy charm, Caleb," he said in a commanding tone.

Caleb blinked and set up several privacy and anti-listening charms.

Miles seemed to collapse into himself for a moment. "Caleb, a lot of people think that it's up to Lord Potter to take care of Voldemort. What they don't know is just how right they really are. What I am about to tell you is a state secret. Only the Minister and her deputies, Lord Potter, his Brotherhood and his inner circle know about it. Harry Potter is, according to prophecy, the only person who can kill Voldemort."

Caleb sat in the chair and stared at Miles for a moment. "I thought that was just rhetoric? Something for the public," he said.

"Yes," Miles explained, "that's what we wanted people to think. Putting the idea out there in the public's mind but never officially acknowledging it was a good way to protect the secret, or so we thought at the time."

Caleb shook his head in wonder. He knew Harry carried a heavy burden, but never suspected something like this! Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned back to Miles. "Alright then, I assume Headmistress McGonagall spoke to you today?"

Miles' expression grew guarded. "Yes, she offered me a job."

"Take the job, Miles. If you don't, you'll spend your days doing nothing but blaming yourself for this mess. Teaching offers a distraction. And if nothing else, you'll be able to spend your time training kids to survive if they get into a similar situation."

Miles peered at his old friend before nodding in agreement. Then he scrubbed his face with one hand. "Damn, I feel old and worn out," he muttered.

"All the more reason for you to get out, my friend," Caleb told him, the first trace of a smile crossing his lips since he entered the room.

Haven Hospital that evening (Harry's Room)...

Harry opened his eyes. As much as he tried to fight it, he felt a great weariness and taking naps didn't seem to help him much. He'd had two naps already today since he woke up with Hermione.

He looked around and spotted Hermione and Emma dozing in chairs, while Dan stared out the window, a cup in his hand.

"Hey," Harry said, his voice weak and trembling.

Dan turned around and, seeing Harry looking at him, he smiled. "Hey, yourself," he said, moving closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and my chest hurts," he replied, panting slightly.

Dan patted his shoulder. "Rest and don't try to talk. I'll find the healer and see if we can get you something for the pain."

He walked out of the room before Harry had a chance to form a reply.

He looked around groggily. He had vague memories of yesterday, and none from last night or this morning.

Hermione sat in the chair next to the bed. She had leaned forward so that she could lay her head on the bed while she dozed. He looked down at her, confused. He could have sworn that the bed had once been larger than it was currently. He reached out and used his hand to gently comb her hair, something they both enjoyed.

"Harry?"

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine once your dad comes back with the healer and a pain relieving potion."

She lifted her head and examined him. He looked better, but his lips and fingertips were still tinged blue. The crystal monitoring his right lung function was reading sixty-seven, up from earlier today.

Both of them turned when the door opened and watched as Dan led a healer into the room. The healer held a small vial in his hand and Harry looked relieved to see it. The noise woke Emma and soon both women were helping Harry sit up enough to drink the potion.

"This one shouldn't make you as drowsy as the ones you took earlier, my Lord," the healer told him.

Harry grimaced and glanced at Hermione. She turned to the healer. "He asks that you either call him Harry, or Mr. Potter, if you want to be formal about it. The lordship role is something he only does when he absolutely has to."

The healer's eyes widened, but he nodded. "I had been told about your bond and how you could speak for him. It's interesting to see it in operation. In any event, I'm the on-duty healer for this floor tonight. Healer McNeil was escorted home a few hours ago and given a strong dose of sleeping draught. She's exhausted herself taking care of Mr. Potter. If anyone needs me, I'll be at the duty station. You can either ring the bell or come to the station." With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Hermione watched the healer depart for a moment, then she turned to her parents. "Why don't you two go find some dinner? I have to talk to Harry, and watching two people stare at each other can't be all that interesting," she said, almost brusquely.

Dan and Emma exchanged a glance, then nodded and left the room quietly.

Hermione looked at the bed for a moment, then expanded it and climbed in next to Harry.

"How much of yesterday do you remember?"

Harry thought for a moment, remembering the sequence of events. "Almost all of it. The only thing I don't remember is how I got hurt." Then his eyes narrowed and he looked at her accusingly. "You went digging through my trash for that letter."

Hermione's eyes flashed defiantly. "Yes, I did. And I'll do it again if you ever pull that sort of stupid stunt on me again. You want to know why I did it?"

Before Harry could answer, their bond broadened and a flood of emotions came pouring through. He reeled under the onslaught of fear and an overwhelming sense of loss. When he had cut his bond with Hermione, his supremely smart wife had been reduced down to a few instinctual imperatives. She had acted as best she could under the circumstances he had forced her into.

She watched as Harry's eyes grew anguished. When tears began to rolling down his cheeks, she stopped sending him her memories of those emotions. She didn't want him crying and knew it wouldn't be good for him.

"I'm not blaming you, but you have to understand exactly what drove me to take the steps I did. I'll do anything to protect you, my heart."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, then he tried to pull her into an embrace but was too weak to accomplish it. Recognizing what he was trying to do, she rolled over until she was nestled in the crook of his arm.

After a few minutes, the couple had relaxed somewhat. Now it's time for the next phase, Hermione thought to herself.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why did you cut me out like that?"

She could feel him flinch under her. It was something he didn't want to talk about. He didn't reply for another minute.

"You're going to insist, I take it? You won't take my word for it that I'm not proud of why I did it?"

She propped herself up on one elbow and stared at him."Would you just take someone's word? Wouldn't you want to understand if you could?" she asked him archly.

He sighed and seemed to deflate a bit. Then she saw an image in her mind of the ransom letter. Harry was bypassing their bond entirely and using Legilimency to send her a faint echo of what he was feeling after reading the letter. She felt his anger explode into a towering rage and she shuddered back from it. It was like some primordial beast demanding blood and she could feel Harry's need... no, desire to reach out and cause pain and destruction. She could feel his magic swelling to greater heights and it was egging him on to destroy everything. She also saw the overwhelming shame he felt that such anger could be a part of him, and a desire to never let her know that he could feel that way. As the images receded and he canceled his spell, she could feel the bond again, and through it, a wave of fear. He was afraid of her reaction to what he had shown her.

She rolled away from him for a moment to think. Harry had shown her his beast, the same beast that had devastated the Ministry building in April, killing so many. She also saw his never ending fight to control it and his refusal to let it rule him. His abilities and the anger within him would enable him to be the most powerful Dark Lord the wizarding world had even know, if he so chose. But he rejected it utterly and wanted only to be Harry, Hermione's husband, father to their future children. She quickly caught his hand in her own and brought it up to her cheek, holding it there, bathing it in her tears.

She understood. His biggest fear was that she'd recognize the beast and reject him because of it. Harry tried to turn away from her, but couldn't break free from her grasp. She could feel his shame burning through the link.

"Harry... Look at me, please?" she sent. It was more of a plea than a request.

He turned to look at her and she leaned over him until her nose was almost touching his. "My heart, I could never turn from you or reject you. Not for any reason."

"You saw what I'm like, Hermione. Did you know that in the first war Voldemort only killed about a thousand wizards? I'm quickly closing in on his numbers."

"You're not him, love," she said, simply. "You feel and regret every death. Voldemort relishes them. But we're getting away from the point. Harry, your anger is a part of who you are. That you controlled it this time is wonderful. But why won't you let me help you? When I married you, I promised to help you in all ways and I want to do just that."

When Harry nodded, she sighed. She knew that while his head might understand what she was saying, in his heart there would always be some doubt due to his upbringing.

Thoughts of the Dursleys caused a sharp, hot anger to rise up, some of which leaked through the bond, causing Harry to look at her quizzically.

"Sorry, love. I was thinking about the Dursleys and my anger got away from me for a moment."

"Dudley didn't make it out of that trap, didn't he?"

Hermione blinked and wondered how to tell him.

"Hermione?"

"Harry... my heart... your cousin was killed by our own forces after he shot you twice in the back with a gun."

He closed his eyes and was silent for a long time. She knew he was using his Occlumency meditation to center his emotions, but the link remained open, unlike yesterday. When she began to wonder if he had drifted off to sleep, he opened his eyes.

"And so it ends..."

"Harry?"

"According to the ransom letter, my Aunt and Uncle are dead. And with Dudley now gone, I'm the last with Evans blood, the last with Potter blood."

"You are not the last Potter, Harry! Or did you forget that I willingly became part of your family not too long ago? You may be the last of the Potter blood, but that will last only until we decide to have children. And if it bothers you so much, I'll get you the antidote to your contraceptive potion and I'll cancel my charm."

Hermione's stern expression changed quickly to one of laughter as a image floated inadvertently over the bond. Apparently the idea of children appealed to Harry, although it seemed he felt they needed to practice more before having any.

As much as she wanted to maintain the current light tone, she couldn't.

"Harry... about yesterday... I found out that they lost a lot of men on that mission," she sent. Now her mental voice became very hesitant, almost afraid to say the words.

"I know... Caleb told me about it while we were in Surrey," he sent back to her, sounding very tired emotionally.

"How can you stand it?" she demanded of him.

"Stand what?"

"I know it was partially my fault our people died in Surrey. I know I am responsible for some of the deaths at Azkaban. What I don't know is how to deal with the knowledge!"

She could feel his mental sigh and his grip on her tightened slightly.

"You just do, Hermione. Each of us has to come to understand that as this fight goes on we're going to be involved in the deaths of friends... I started this war losing my parents, then Cedric and Sirius. The war cost me my childhood because of Dumbledore. Not too long ago I approved of a mission which could have resulted in Remus losing his wife. The mission to rescue the Patils? That man was the first man we lost on a mission. You learn to live with it, and to deal with it.

"In this case, there's only one thing you can do. Learn from your mistakes and push forward. A lot of people made mistakes yesterday... I should have never cut you off from me... You succumbed to panic over that fact... Miles ordered a mission with no prior planning... Oh, bloody hell, there is blame enough for all of us to share! The real question now is, what can you learn from it? What lesson do you walk away with?"

Hermione snuggled a little closer to him and pondered his words. He was right. For all her pride in her intellect, she had panicked.

"And how do you deal with it?" she asked.

Harry shrugged mentally. "I will let my wife help me more than I have been, of late. And I try to remember that, eventually, justice will win out," he sent.

"Justice?"

"Yes. Each and every one of those people deserved to live and would have lived had it not been for Voldemort. He will pay for his crimes."

She shuddered back from the images he sent. "Aren't you really asking for revenge?"

"I don't think so. In the beginning, I wanted revenge. For my parents, for Cedric and Sirius. But this war has grown beyond what I want. It's no longer me against Voldemort. We're merely representations of two opposing ideas. I want a world where a child born of muggles can grow up to be the Minister of Magic, and blood lineages mean little. And maybe someday Muggle and Wizard societies can merge... I don't think I need to tell you what Voldemort wants. So no, I don't think it's revenge. It's justice, justice brought on by a society that cannot survive Voldemort's racism."

Hermione considered his words silently for a while. He knew she was thinking hard about what he had said. Yes, there had been mistakes made all around that had resulted in people dying. She owed it to those who had been lost to see that a mistake like this never happened again.

Harry held her as best as he could and watched as understanding lit her eyes. He knew from personal experience that this wasn't the end of it. She'd suffer nightmares and a loss of confidence, but together they'd be able to work through it.

Hermione smiled at him, then moved off the bed and back to her chair just before the healer returned.

The healer looked at the enlarged bed and shook his head. "They told me this bed was acting up, but I didn't believe it. If it happens again, I'll call maintenance."

The healer pulled out the board with the crystals on it and examined Harry. After fifteen minutes he looked up and smiled in satisfaction. The man made a few notations on the chart, then walked out of the room. A few minutes later a house elf appeared, delivered a meal for Harry and disappeared with a small pop.

They conversed silently while he ate. He grimaced and wished Dobby had made the meal, as the hospital's food was awful. When he finished, another elf appeared and removed the tray. He looked over at Hermione and frowned at the bad taste in his mouth.

She laughed at his reaction.

They both looked up as someone knocked on the door, then pushed it open. The Johansen twins smiled as they walked in, one holding the door for the other, who was struggling with several items. A moment later, the Weasley twins arrived, one sitting in a plush office chair the other was wheeling in.

"Harry, old chap!" said George, pushing Fred.

"Heard you ran into a spot of trouble, Harry!" added Fred.

George began to take things out of Inga's hands and expand them to normal size.

"We figure you're going to be here for a few days..." said Fred.

"...And we thought you might want to get some work done," George added as he expanded a fancy wooden desk with inlaid panels.

Helga place a tiffany lamp on the desk and pushed the chair into place.

Hermione watched in confusion as the twins seemed to unload an entire office worth of material. A filing cabinet blocked the entrance to the bathroom.

Harry watched, trying to hold in his laughter as the twins continued to set up the office. Then he noticed Helga peeking out the door to the room.

Fred levitated a toilet seat and stuck it to a wall, while George was trying to figure out what to do with the still dripping tank.

Harry decided he really didn't want to know where the toilet came from.

Hermione finally broke out of her bemused state and stood up. "What are you doing?" she practically screeched at the red heads.

"We're just doing our part to help Harry!" protested Fred.

"Right! If he must be in this prison, and it seems he must, we thought we'd make him more comfortable!" added George.

Fred turned to his brother. "Did you bring any nymphs for him?"

George began to pat his pockets. "I have some shrunk around here somewhere. A happy patient is a healing patient!"

Helga suddenly pulled her head inside the room. "He's coming!" she whispered hurriedly.

"Oh, well Harry, no nymphs for you, I'm afraid," said George.

"It's just as well, Hermione would probably object to them anyway. Well Harrykins, it was fun, but we must run. Get well soon, mate!" Fred said.

Helga ran over to Harry and kissed his forehead, her sister repeated the kiss a moment later. "Get well," they murmured in unison. They then ran back to Fred and George, who disillusioned them, and themselves, before slipping out the door again.

"What in the name of Morgana was that all about?" asked Hermione, still looking at the office furniture now cluttering the hospital room.

"You know as much as I do, and that isn't much," Harry replied with a mental shrug.

A moment later the door opened, allowing Draco and Luna to enter the room. Draco stopped just inside the door and stared at all of the office furniture in puzzlement.

Luna walked over to Harry's bed and kissed him on the forehead before walking over to hug Hermione. Then she turned back to Harry. "You had us all very worried, Harry. I only just earned the right to call you brother and have no wish to lose you," she said in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

Harry smiled at her. She had an interesting way of looking at things... most of the time.

"He says he's not going anywhere so you don't have to worry about losing him," Hermione said, echoing Harry's comments.

Luna glanced over at Hermione and smiled. "In a way, you're more blessed than Draco and myself. We can talk like you do, but only with great concentration and effort."

"Have you tried looking into ways to increase that ability, Luna?" Hermione asked curiously.

Luna's brow crinkled a bit. "No, not yet. It may develop all by itself as the bond continues to mature. Right now we've discovered we can make our partner orgasm with just a touch."

Harry's eyes lit up and he looked at Hermione, who blushed and glared at him.

"No, Harry," she said firmly.

"But..."

"No," she repeated with less conviction.

Harry gave her a smoldering look.

"Fine, we'll talk about it. But not now. You're sick and shouldn't be thinking about things like that!"

Amused, Luna watched the two talk silently for a moment before Hermione turned back to her and gave her a look which clearly said "Men!"

Luna and Hermione talked for a bit, with Harry throwing an occasional comment in via the bond. Then he noticed Draco still standing by the door.

Harry leaned around Luna and cast a water hex at him to catch his attention.

"HEY! What did you do that for, you prat!" grumbled a now dripping Draco.

Harry chuckled softly and glanced at Hermione for a moment. Then she turned to Draco. "Harry wants to know why you're staring at the office furniture the Weasley twins brought here."

Draco frowned. "Well... If you must know, I'm trying to figure out how to move all my furniture back to my office," he said huffily.

The Potters blinked in unison before both began to laugh. Harry's laughter degenerated into a painful cough, causing Hermione to turn her attention back to him. By the time he had calmed, he was seeing spots, having difficulty breathing and his chest felt heavy again.

He lay back weakly on the bed and watched as Hermione helped Draco shrink down his furniture.

Luna watched Harry for a moment, then she leaned over and placed a hand gently on his bandaged chest. Her eyes grew unfocused and she whispered something quietly under her breath.

Harry blinked at her in surprise as the heavy feeling receded and he felt he could breathe easier.

"Hermione! Did you see that?" Harry practically shouted at her mentally.

Hermione jumped in surprise and her shrinking charm missed the target, landing between Draco's feet.

"Hey! Watch it!" Draco yelped, leaping to one side. Hermione smiled apologetically at him and turned to look at Harry.

"Harry? See what?" Hermione asked aloud.

"What Luna did!"

"I think he's just excited because I eased his discomfort," Luna said in a soft voice.

Harry nodded vigorously, his eyes wide.

Hermione walked over to the bed looking at Luna. "Eased his discomfort?"

"I felt his discomfort. I just made it easier for him," she replied nonchalantly.

"Hermione, I don't think she healed me, but she definitely made the heaviness go away. We should see if she would be interested in healer, or at least medic training. We don't have a healer in the Brotherhood."

Hermione watched him closely, noting how much easier he breathed. A quick glance to the crystals monitoring his lungs showed the damaged lung was now approaching seventy percent.

Harry listened for awhile as Hermione and Luna discussed what she had done and how it could apply to the healing arts. The weariness caught him by surprise and, rather than fight it, he let himself slip into sleep.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Sept 1st)...

Minerva McGonagall looked out with both satisfaction and pride. All of the tables in the dinning hall were filled to capacity. The first year students were an eclectic mix of children from the Haven refugees, foreign Auror families and the local Irish. Harry and Arthur Weasley had pushed hard at the Irish Ministry to get their accreditation. They had pushed even harder to ensure that they would be accepting Irish nationals this year.

There was one very popular Irish school that, like so many other old schools, only accepted the very best of pure blood or half blood society. Millsworth Academy received the cream of the Irish Wizarding youth, but that didn't bother Minerva in the least. The Irish Ministry scrambled every year hoping to place muggle born wizards, sometimes even resorting to sending them to other countries. The Haven School, with it's open door policy, solved that problem neatly.

Amelia and Arthur had joined Minerva at the head table for the opening feast. It was another victory, in her book, and in some ways one more important than the raid on Azkaban.

All of the children had gathered in the Haven town square, where the Hogwarts carriages picked them up for their trip to the school. There had even been a short speech in the town square by Sven Johansen, the mayor of Haven, welcoming the students and urging them to study hard.

Minerva stood and cast sparks with her wand to capture everyone's attention. Slowly the hall silenced as all eyes turned to the Headmistress.

"Thank you for your attention and welcome to the first ever welcoming feast for the Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite being new, we are a proud school with a rich history of culture and traditions that we brought with us from Hogwarts.

"Someday, many of us will return to Hogwarts, but Haven will remain to become our sister school, rich in its own traditions. Until such time, however, we will uphold the many traditions of Hogwarts and blend them with the new.

"This year we have students from nearly a dozen countries. There are differences between you. Learn from your classmates about those differences, but celebrate your commonality! All here are magical beings, none better than the other.

"Now, as you are aware, we've had some major faculty changes this year. Professors Sinistra and Vector, as well as Madam Pince, are no longer on the staff. Professor Flitwick will assume the role of Deputy Headmaster, as well as the Charms professor.

"Also returning this year are Professor Sprout, teaching Herbology, and Professor Hagrid, who will continue to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Hagrid also tells me that the seventh year students in his class may sign up for an extra credit project, overseen by the Irish Ministry of Magic. Its purpose is to study the newly discovered species of Irish Angels here in Haven. Interested students should see the Professor before the week is out. Participation in this project may earn you as much as a full grade on your NEWT exam.

"Madam Hooch will continue to teach flying, and she is also in charge of organizing four new Quidditch teams this year. We have Professor Flitwick and Professor Hagrid to thank for the fine new Quidditch pitch built behind the school.

"Now, to introduce some of our new faculty members. Professor Conal McDermitt will be teaching Transfiguration this year," Minerva said, then paused for a polite smattering of applause as a tall, blond haired man stood and smiled at the students. He looked to be fairly young and a good number of the girls, and some boys, sighed at his smile.

The man sat back down and immediately a dark haired woman with a creamy complexion stood up. Minerva frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "Proffessor Eithne O'Keefe will be our Divination teacher."

"Arithmancy will be taught by Professor Carolyne Newman and, yes, she is the wife of Auror Commander Newman, so mind your manners with her," Minerva said with a slight smile.

Carolyne stood as her name was called and tried to smile. She was a slim woman in her mid-thirties and looked more than a little flustered to be in front of so many people.

"Ancient Runes will be taught by Professor Olivia Ollivander," McGonagall said to another round of applause. An austere woman stood and smiled slightly at the students before taking her seat again.

"Potions will be taught by Professor Constance Longbottom."

Constance stood and stared out at those in the hall. She was older than McGonagall and her sour expression cowed many of the students.

"Muggle Studies will be taught by Professor Alicia Spinnet," McGonagall said with a smile.

When Alicia stood, many of her former house-mates cheered loudly, causing the young woman to blush.

"The library will be maintained by Mrs. Shaila Patil, and her daughter, Tripuri Patil, will assume the role of school healer." Minerva's voice held an echo of pain. She missed Poppy, especially now, at the start of the new school year.

Both women stood up and a lot of heads turned towards Lavender and the Patil twins. It was common knowledge that, following the end of the school term last year, Lavender Brown had been adopted into the Patil family. She had even assumed the name of Lavender Brown-Patil. Many students smiled at the three girls and then cheered for the new faculty members.

Lavender blushed under the scrutiny. She was used to having boys admire her, but not so many at one time.

Minerva paused, waiting for the students to settled down. "I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't mentioned the Defense Against the Dark Arts class as yet. There is a reason for it."

Her expression grew very serious. "Most of us have lost our homes and our countrymen now live under the cruel law of Lord Voldemort," she paused as several students yelled in fear. "We are at war! Our homes and our families have been threatened, friends have died or been lost. Because of that we are beginning a new program for our Defense classes.

"There will be a total of three defense instructors. Professor Miles Pickerton will head the Defense Department here at Haven. Under him will be Professor Stonefist, who has agreed to work part time with us, teaching the first and second years. Professor Stonefist is an Auror trainer. When he is not at the school he will be helping in our war effort, training real Aurors to fight this war.

"Professor Angela Mathewson will teach third, fourth and fifth year defense classes. Professor Mathewson is another person on loan from the Ministry and an expert in hexes, enchantments and disarming cursed objects.

"Professor Pickerton will be teaching sixth and seventh years only. With the approval of the Ministry, we have revamped the curriculum so that the sixth and seventh years will be taught the same spells and tactics as beginning Auror trainees. Professor Pickerton will also offer an elective course in beginning Occlumency for anyone interested."

While Minerva spoke, all three Professors stood and looked out over a silent student body. Minerva nearly choked on her laughter. Professor Stonefist was an imposing individual and his causal look around the hall had many students cringing.

"Finally, I have one additional announcement. Many sixth and seventh year students have volunteered to help out at the hospital or the Ministry during this time. Personally, I applaud their interest in public service and hope others will join in to help the war effort. In order to make life a little easier for those people who are volunteering, there will be no restriction to school grounds in the afternoons and on weekends. However, the ten o'clock curfew will be enforced. Students must be back at school by ten P.M. every night."

Minerva looked around at the many bright, smiling faces lighting up the hall and she smiled to herself. "Prefects, escort the first years to the student dormitories and help them get settled. Now, run along everyone. Tomorrow will come soon enough," she said, then she sat back down and sighed heavily.

"Now I know why Dumbledore always dreaded the welcoming feast," she mumbled, much to the amusement of everyone else at the table.

Padfoot Manor (September 3rd)...

The main door opened and Harry slowly entered the grand foyer of the manor house. Danni walked behind him, watching and ready to help if the need arose.

Harry's lung functions were nearly normal and, despite his maintaining a low grade fever, the healers had decided to release him, though they ordered several days of monitored bed rest at home. The potions he was taking for his lungs interfered with the potions for his ribs, so it was decided to let the bruising around his ribs heal naturally.

He was glad to get out of the hospital. He hated it there, but the dull ache in his rib cage reminded him he wasn't fully healed.

He smiled when he saw Hermione and most of his friends waiting for him. Danni had told them to take it easy with him, so it was a happy but subdued crowd that met him by the door, welcoming him home.

Hermione joined him, lifting his left arm over her shoulders and, Harry noted, trying to support some of his weight. He'd had little to do the last few days but lay in bed and think. He'd come to the realization that he needed to let Hermione in further than he had. It wasn't a comforting realization and he wasn't sure just how he was going to accomplish it, but he had to try.

He smiled at her and leaned his head against hers for a moment. He nodded his thanks to Remus when the older man mirrored Hermione's position on his right and they helped him climb the stairs to his bedroom. In short order he found himself on the couch near the window in the master bedroom.

Dobby appeared soon afterward and left him with a tray of sandwiches and a bottle of butterbeer.

Danni put several potions by his bedside, along with dosage cups, and gave Hermione the list of his dosage schedule. When she was finished, she moved closer to Harry and ran a few diagnostic charms on him.

"I still don't like releasing you with that fever, Harry, but Sylvia insisted. The simple fact is, we're still dealing with those people rescued from Azkaban and Healer August wants to free up the bed space. She was nice enough to put me on the day shift, so I'll be here every morning to check on you, then again in the late afternoon, at least until we get this fever knocked down. Now, Hermione, I want you to check his temperature at lunch time. You're to call me if it goes up, even by a degree."

Hermione nodded seriously while Harry grimaced to himself. She could be quite the nag when she wanted to be!

"I heard that," she sent, her tone icy.

"I'm sorry, love. I just hate being sick. You know that. Besides, it's true."

Hermione didn't reply, but he could clearly feel her huffing at him through the link.

Harry sunk down lower on the couch, his feet propped up on a foot stool and he thought the next few days were going to be difficult.

Hermione turned to glare at him, but stopped when she saw him nodding off.

Danni spotted him sleeping and she nodded approvingly. "It's best if he sleeps while his body fights this fever. That's why I had Dobby slip a little sleeping potion into his butterbeer," she said softly.

Dobby appeared then and lovingly laid a blanket over the sleeping young man.

Order of the Phoenix Safe-house, Cairngorn Mountains, Scotland (September 6th)...

"No, Albus, now shut up!" Moody said with a low growl. Dumbledore had been bugging him for days, trying to persuade him to join his crusade and so far all he had accomplished was to give him a headache.

"Look at you, Albus! You're nearly blind in one eye, thanks to the burn damage, your arm and shoulder are still a mess. And while you lay here healing, Potter is fighting back."

Dumbledore glared up at Moody. "Alastor," he said, his voice raspy, "what have you heard?"

Moody glared back at him for a moment. "The wireless reported that Potter and his forces attacked Azkaban island a while back. They rescued nearly a thousand prisoners and then Potter sank the entire bleeding island. Imagine that! He rescued all those prisoners, then he sank the island so the Dark Lord would never have use of it again."

Moody leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe, his one good eye bright with admiration over what Potter had done.

"And what of the Death Eaters guarding the island?" asked Dumbledore.

"Killed!" snapped Moody. This was an old argument between the two of them.

"See? This is exactly what I am talking about, Alastor! The boy is running amok and if he isn't reined in he is sure to become the next Dark Lord after he defeats Voldemort. One cannot defeat the Dark Lord by resorting to his own brutal tactics," Dumbledore said pompously.

Moody glared at the old man for a moment. "Albus, I don't know what has gotten into your head, but you personally killed Grindelwald and his entire inner circle. You also got the Ministry to agree to allow their Aurors to use the killing curse in the first war. And now, just because it's someone else leading the war, it's not right to use the same spells and tactics as your enemy?"

"That was different," Dumbledore snapped. "Times were harder then and we had to make hard decisions."

Moody shook his head in amazement and stood up. "There is no talking sense to you. 'Times were harder then'," he mimicked. "Excuse me for saying so, but Grindelwald never conquered Britain! Your countrymen are being killed every damn day and you claim times were harder back then? I don't know what happened to you, but you're not the same man I knew, Albus. You've grown hard and become twisted. And stop testing my Occlumency shields, dammit!" he snarled.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise as Moody effortlessly threw him out of his mind.

Moody walked over to corner and picked up a bag, which he proceeded to stuff with clothing, some potions and food.

"I'm sorry, Albus, but this has just gone too far. I want you out of the house by noon. Walk at least a mile before you apparate, this way I may still be able to avoid Voldemort's goons," he said, handing the bag to the shocked old man.

He started to reach for his wand, but the burn damage forced him to use his left hand. He froze when Alastor spoke.

"I wouldn't, if I were you. Not only do I have my wand out, but Nippers would also take steps. For old times sake, I won't kill you, Albus. Just leave," Moody said, nodding in the direction of the door. Nearby, a scowling Nippers watched Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded grimly. What else could he do? Moody had warned him on several occasions and he had ignored those warning. Moody was too well trained to cast an Imperious curse on, and he was an accomplished Occlumencer.

Albus stood and picked up the bag. He glanced one last time at Moody, then sighed and walked to the door of the small cottage and opened it.

Moody watched his every move until he was out of sight. Only then did he breath a sigh of relief.

Turning, he walked to a small desk. He really didn't want to get drawn back into the war, but his conscience was insistent. Reluctantly, he pulled parchment and quill from a bin and began to write a letter, warning Potter of what Dumbledore was saying.

"Looks like it's just you and me again, Nippers. But maybe Harry will have use of an old beat up warhorse like me, eh?" he said to the timidly smiling elf.

Padfoot Manor and Various locations (September 9th)...

Harry accepted the letters from Dobby and absently stuck them in his pocket. He would read them after this morning's dog and pony show. He adjusted his formal robes for what seemed like the fifth time while he waited for Hermione to come out of the bathroom. He tugged again at his collar, then walked over to the window and sat down, staring out at the grounds.

The last few days had been quite uncomfortable for him. Not because Hermione was fussing over him, but because his fever had proved to be tenacious and tough to get rid of. He still had some soreness in his ribs and he tired easily. Danni assured him that he was healing very well and the minor complaints would soon disappear. In the meantime, Hermione fussed over him and worried about his fever. And as much as he might vocally complain about it, deep down he found he rather liked it.

The issue of the mission that lead to his injury was also a cause for many deep conversations with Hermione. They had discovered the time honored wedded problem of how to explain something to your spouse without offending them. And they also discovered a way around it. Hermione thought of it, based on what Harry had done in the hospital to show her an echo of the rage he had felt. She called it 'sharing the gestalt', a fancy term for each of them showing the other a snapshot of their emotional state, using Legilimency.

For Harry, sharing his emotions in this manner was easier than trying to find the words to explain how he felt. Trying to put feelings into words made him feel woefully inadequate. Sharing emotions still made him uneasy, and there were things he believed about himself that Hermione couldn't shake. On more than a few occasions these sessions had produced tears from both of them.

For him, it was a purging experience. He didn't like doing it, but the more he shared with her, the better he felt. An unexpected result of these conversations had been an expansion and improvement in their bond. The link between the two had grown to the point where both had to learn to control their thoughts so they didn't overwhelm the other.

Hermione found the experience to be a bit overwhelming, as well. Harry appeared to be a very cool and collected individual, except when he was angry. That was one emotion he had little trouble showing. He also didn't mind showing her love and affection when they were alone, and little forms of affection when they were in public. What surprised her was his wall. He walled off a lot of his reactions that he felt might be construed as a weakness. He had started to build that wall with the Dursleys and then on through his Hogwarts years. As much as he tried, he couldn't bring the wall down now. It was part of him. He was able to help her peer over it, but only reluctantly. Behind it were all his fears and insecurities.

He sighed. They had talked last night and she had helped him work on that wall. It was a slow, painstaking process, where successes were measured in baby steps. Afterwards, she had taken him by the hand and led him to their bed, where she had made love to him for the first time since his injury.

He smiled, remembering it. Her beauty never failed to captivate him and steal his breath away.

"I heard that... It's interesting how your mind works, my love. First depressing thoughts, then downright randy."

"Are you almost done in there?" he asked.

"Almost. But seriously, don't let it depress you, my heart. We have a whole lifetime to work on this."

"Hmmm, that reminds me... You know, the whole year and a day, handfasting business?"

"Yes?" she asked, her tone a bit fearful.

Harry shook his head. "My heart, you are jumping to the wrong conclusions again. I don't want to terminate the handfasting. Well, I do, in a way, but not the way you are thinking of."

Now he had her curiosity. "What are you talking about?"

"If I remember right, if we stay together for more than a year and a day, then it's permanent. Right?"

"That's right."

"Is there anyway to make it permanent earlier?"

There was a long pause. "I don't think so. But why don't we talk about that later tonight? I'm coming out."

When the door to the bathroom opened Harry's breath caught. She was beautiful.

She was wearing the formal Potter family robes for the first time and the sight took his breath away.

The royal blue robe clung to her like a glove and a small version of the Potter Family crest rested just above her left breast. Around her neck she wore an elegant string of pearls with a sapphire pendant hanging down to accentuate the gentle swell of cleavage, just visible over the top of her robe. With her hair swept up in a sophisticated style, the sparkle of the matching sapphire earrings she wore could be easily seen.

She smiled at his thunderstruck expression. "You approve, my lord?" she said with a slight curtsy.

Harry bowed in return and smiled. "I do indeed, my lady. Thou art a gem among a field of dull stones and thy brilliance doth dazzle the eye and taketh away the breath!"

Hermione laughed, her eyes dancing mischievously. "Have you been reading Shakespeare again?"

He shrugged and placed her cloak around her shoulders. "It's something to... Well, it's not really reading, is it? I think it's more like spending time trying to decipher what he's saying. Now, shall we go?"

She nodded and he took her hand, kissed her palm, then led her from the room.

They met up with the other Brotherhood members, all dressed in their family robes and wearing their Brotherhood cloaks, in the Grand Foyer of the manor.

Harry looked them over with an approving eye before calling for their attention.

"In a little while we will be going to the Haven Hospital to visit with those people rescued from Azkaban. Meeting us there will be Minister Bones, the Irish Minister, Mallory, and a contingent of the Irish and International Press Corps. I didn't want this to become a media circus, but I'm afraid it has. I will remind everyone that, with the exception of myself and Hermione, no one is under any obligation to talk to the press. If you don't want to, then don't. If you do, be careful of what you say. No one wants a repeat of our fourth year and Rita Skeeter."

When he saw several acknowledging nods from the group, he removed his staff from its holster, expanded it to full size and apparated to the front of the hospital. The others followed a moment later.

Looking around, he noticed a nearby cluster of people and recognized Amelia, Minister Mallory and Healer August, the head healer for Haven. Not far from them was a larger group of reporters.

At the noise of so many people apparating, both groups looked up, noticing the new arrivals.

Amelia and Minister Mallory joined Harry and his party.

"Harry, you remember Minister Mallory," Amelia said with a smile. She knew how much Harry hated doing anything in the public eye and this entire event was going to be covered by the press.

"Minister," Harry said, reaching for Mallory's outstretched hand while flashbulbs popped.

"Lord Potter! A pleasure to see you again. And under such special circumstances," Mallory said, then he glanced at Hermione, noting her robes proclaiming her familial affiliation. "And I see more congratulations are in order."

Mallory took Hermione's hand in his own and kissed it. "I understand it was a private ceremony, Lady Potter, but I would offer you and your husband the very best wishes from myself and my country."

"Thank you, Minister," Hermione said demurely. She looked up at the tall man through her dark eyelashes and he smiled broadly.

"What are you doing?" Harry sent her, startled by her uncharacteristic behavior. Demure? Hermione was never demure! At least, not with him.

"Hush, love. I'm just charming the old goat's socks off. Besides, you're my husband, I don't have to act demure with you," she replied.

Harry coughed for a moment trying to cover his laughter. That turned out to be a big mistake. Coughing in front of Healer August earned him an appraising glance and he was sure she was itching to start casting diagnostic spells on him.

"Harry, we've already given a statement to the press about what we're doing here today and why. We've promised that, afterwards, we would let the press have some time for questions. In return, they will follow behind us quietly, and they promised not to disturb any of the patients," Amelia told him.

Harry nodded thoughtfully as Healer August led them into the building.

"I understand you dislike the publicity, my lord," Mallory said in a low voice while walking next to him. "Far be it for me to instruct you in the roles of leadership, but you are the leader of your people, and they need to see you. It gives them hope, you see."

"I know, Minister. I am uncomfortable in the role I find myself thrust into. But my wife has been pounding these lessons home for me," Harry replied.

Mallory smiled at Hermione. "A beautiful wife is a comfort, a smart wife is an asset. You, my lord, have been blessed with both."

When Hermione returned the Minister's smile, Harry chuckled mentally, but nodded to the politician.

Sylvia August led the party to the back of the hospital where a covered walkway extended to a series of long buildings. There, she waited for everyone to catch up.

"Can I have everyones attention please?" she called. "These buildings house patients rescued from Azkaban prison. As part of the original planning for the operation, we mistakenly assumed the prisoners would be in reasonably good health. We felt we'd be able to release the prisoners into Haven, where cots had been set up for them in the Town Hall and other locations.

"Unfortunately, the reality of the situation was far more dire. Most of the prisoners required immediate and extensive care. As soon as we realized the magnitude of our mistake, we had more than five hundred Haven house elves start putting up these buildings. Each building houses a hundred people. Time and space became a pressing problem, and we ended up placing people into buildings while the elves were still building them.

"As for the patients themselves, we're seeing a large variety of ailments, both physical and mental, though malnutrition is the most common ailment. All of the patients are suffering from it to one degree or another. Unfortunately, malnutrition opens the body up to a whole host of secondary illnesses.

"To those gentlemen and ladies of the press accompanying us today, I give you this warning. You are forbidden to ask any of the patients about their experiences unless they begin to speak of them first. For many, this has been a traumatic experience and these people will need the help of Empaths to clear away the traumas caused by their captivity," August said sternly.

Many in the press corps looked rebellious for a moment before being cowed by her stern gaze.

With that lecture in mind, Healer August opened the door to the covered walkway and led the party into the first building.

With the exception of bathrooms, storerooms and a staff station, the building consisted of little more than two rows of beds, separated by curtains. There was little noise, but plenty of activity, as house elves scurried about on their errands and staff and volunteers moved from bed to bed, comforting people.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Mallory mumbled under his breath as he visibly paled.

Harry grabbed his arm. "Minister, are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Mallory nodded and shook himself. "Yes. I'm fine, my lord. I suppose I was just unprepared for the reality of it."

Harry looked out over the sea of patients. "Yes, I can understand that. You, Minister, move in the rarefied circles of politics. This is more my reality, sir," he said with calm dignity.

Mallory eyed the young man, once again re-evaluating what he saw. He had heard about Potter's injuries. They had resulted in the delay of the tour for several days. He quickly found himself coming to realize that Harry Potter was someone truly unique, a hero who cared little for the title or the rewards that came with it.

Mallory glanced at Hermione and she smiled knowingly. She knew exactly what her husband was.

As Healer August pushed on, with the group following, Harry noted that at the end of each bed was a chart with the name of each patient written in big, bold letters. Some names he recognized, most he did not. And a few, sadly, were listed as 'unknown' with the patient comatose and unable to supply the information.

"Healer August? Were there any children among the rescued?" He asked suddenly.

August frowned, then sighed, shaking her head. "No, my lord, there were not. Children would have found that environment far too harsh to survive for more than a week or two. The youngest prisoner we've found so far is a twenty-one year old named Oliver Wood."

Many of the younger Brotherhood members gasped, recognizing the name.

"Wood? How is he?" Harry demanded, his face pale.

August was surprised at the demand, but waved her wand, summoning a chart. She read it carefully for a moment before turning to the group. "He's still suffering from malnutrition and it's effects and is grossly underweight for his age. He's also suffering from several opportunistic infections."

"Can we see him?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course. He's right up the hallway. If you'll follow me?"

"I take it this Wood fellow is someone you know?" asked Mallory in a undertone.

"Oliver was my house Quidditch captain. He graduated in my fourth year at Hogwarts," Harry replied tensely.

"I'm sure your friend will be fine. Quidditch is a wonderful sport. I was very pleased when we took the world cup a few years back," Mallory said proudly.

August stopped at one bed and turned. "Oliver Wood, my lord."

Harry stepped forward, followed by all of the former Gryffindors. Oliver lay on the bed, dreadfully thin. He was bandaged in several places where the healers were dealing with infections.

"Oliver?" Harry said softly.

The man opened his eyes and looked up. His eyes clouded with confusion for a moment before clearing. "Harry? Fancy seeing you here, mate."

He tried to sit up, but Harry pressed him back down. "Rest, Oliver. You're safe now, and you have friends nearby who will be here soon," he said before turning to the redhead behind him. "Ginny, get word to the twins about this. Also, send word to Minerva and Alicia."

Ginny nodded and stepped away from the group before apparating.

Hermione moved to stand with Harry. "You'll be fine, Oliver. The healers are fixing you up and you'll be out and about in no time."

Oliver looked up at Hermione, somewhat confused. He recognized her, but couldn't put a name to her.

Harry grinned. "Now, Hermione, don't confuse Oliver. He could tell you the name of every Quidditch player in the last century, but couldn't name his house mates unless they play on the team."

"I remember her..." Oliver said, blushing at being teased.

"Oliver, this is Hermione. You knew her as Hermione Granger, but she's Hermione Potter now," Harry told him proudly.

Oliver's eyes widened and he grinned. "Good going, mate."

"I wish we could stay longer, Oliver, but we have many others to see. Fred and George Weasley are on their way and we've sent word to Alicia Spinnet, as well as Professor McGonagall. You're going to get better, mate, and you have friends nearby to help you," Harry said, his voice catching slightly at the end.

Oliver nodded. Just knowing he had friends nearby was comforting.

"We'll come back and see you soon, Oliver," Hermione said, patting his hand.

Harry walked back out to the aisle and smiled gratefully at Healer August.

"Mr. Wood is expected to recover fully, my lord. He'll be even better now that he'll have friends visiting and helping. That's something we haven't had the time or manpower to do. We simply lack the people to compile a list of our patients or check for family and friends in Haven. It's a shame too. Knowing family or friends are nearby and having them visit helps in a patient's recovery."

Harry frowned, thinking quickly. "There are a great many students at the school who are looking for public service work they can volunteer for. I'm sure if you contact Headmistress McGonagall, she'd be more than happy to help."

Sylvia looked thoughtful. "An excellent idea, my lord. Thank you," she said with a smile. "Finding friends and family to help with patient care always works wonders on recovery time."

Harry motioned for Sylvia to lead them forward, smiling when he heard two loud cracks and cries of, "OLLIE!"

Healer August led them through the building and into one of the others. Harry stopped on several occasions to speak with patients, many of whom seemed to feel they had been personally rescued by him. It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling for him, so when Healer August suggested that visiting only two of the four buildings was enough, he gratefully agreed.

Hermione walked next to him, holding his hand. She could feel how uncomfortable he was. "Don't worry, my heart. This will be all over soon." she sent to him, while caressing the inside of his palm.

"I know, but can you believe this? We had nearly four hundred and fifty Aurors on that mission and these people seem to think I personally pulled them from their cages."

August ushered them into a room with a row of chairs and a podium. In front of the podium were a number of chairs for the press.

The Brotherhood and both Ministers sat behind the podium, while the press filed into seats in front. It was a subdued group of reporters filling those seats. Seeing so many ill people had a sobering effect on everyone.

Healer August was the first to step up and speak. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, as promised, we'll take some of your questions now," she said. Several hands were raised immediately and Healer August pointed to one man in the back.

"Michael Rourke, Dublin Daily. My question is for Mr. Potter. By the British Ministry's estimates, there were at least two hundred Death Eaters at Azkaban Island. How many were captured and were are you holding them?"

Harry stood and walked to the podium where he looked at the reporter for a moment before answering. "No Death Eaters were captured. They gave no quarter and received none. The few who remained alive were left to the mercies of their master."

A buzz went through the group of reporters and Harry frowned. "Friends, this isn't a duel under the Camelot Rules of Dueling, nor was it officiated by the International Duelists Confederation. This is war. The man on the other side of the wand is trying to kill you, not stun or disarm you. And if he can cause you pain in the killing, all the better, as far as he is concerned.

"There were over five hundred prisoners on that island and yet we only managed to rescue less than four hundred and fifty. Why? Because the Death Eater guards were indiscriminately killing the prisoners while they were fighting us.

"I would also remind everyone that capturing Death Eaters would have been impractical. There is no way to transport them across the Death Ward without killing them."

"But many of these guards were pure bloods!" shouted one reporter.

Harry pinned the man to his seat with a glare. "They were Death Eaters. Those same pure bloods would take pleasure in raping your children and forcing you to kill them under an Imperious curse. Blood means nothing! They have chosen to wage war on society, offering no mercy. We're playing the game by their rules."

The man gasped and felt himself pushed back against his seat. Harry's magic flared and his eyes glowed with his anger. "As far as we are concerned, wearing the uniform of Voldemort is a death sentence, no matter what your blood."

Another reporter stood up. "Mr. Potter, what can you tell us about this Brotherhood?"

Harry frowned, but before he could speak, a voice called out.

"I'm sorry, but that topic is covered under the Official Secrets Act. We are unable to confirm or deny anything you might have heard about it," Amelia said, standing from her chair.

Harry shot her a grateful glance.

"Minister Bones, what is the official position of the Ministry on capturing Death Eaters?" shouted Michael Rourke.

Amelia walked to the podium, which Harry gratefully gave up.

"The Ministry's position is a simple one. We are at war. We do not intend to capture Voldemort's forces, but to eliminate them. Some might think this is a harsh policy and that because Voldemort's forces are comprised mostly of pure bloods, we should be more lenient on them. But I don't agree. They have conquered our country, killed, raped and looted our countrymen, muggle and magical. They deserve no mercy and will get none," Amelia said harshly.

"What about those men who were captured in Northern Ireland?" shouted another reporter.

Brogan Mallory stood up. "The Death Eaters captured in Northern Ireland were interrogated using truth serum. Each confessed to killing at least one person, in many cases multiple people. As they were captured by Aurors acting in a military capacity, they were tried by a military tribunal and executed for their crimes. While we Irish might not fight with the same... fervor...as our British cousins do, we are no less committed to protecting our sacred soil from this scourge."

There was a moment of shocked silence from the press. No one had known about the fate of those captured in that raid. The news came as a surprise to the reporters who had grown accustomed to a lethargic and incompetent government.

Finally, Rourke broke the silence, "Mr. Potter, one final question, if I might. Rumor has it that you recently married. Is there any truth to that rumor?"

Harry stood and walked to the podium again. "To answer your question, yes. I am afraid all those magazines that like to label me as an eligible bachelor will have to change that title. I married Hermione Granger on the first of August."

Harry held out a hand and, blushing, Hermione stood and joined him at the podium, clasping his hand tightly. Several photographers took pictures and questions were shouted at the happy couple. Before things could get out of hand, some of O'Dalley's constables appeared and began to usher the press from the room.

After the reporters had left, Healer August stood and faced everyone. "I've taken the liberty of having lunch prepared for us in the VIP lounge. If you would all follow me, please?"

With the reporters gone, Harry was able to relax. He thought it interesting that both Amelia and Mallory were different people in front of the reporters than they were when the press were gone. Amusingly, both Mallory and Amelia noted that, press or no press, Harry was unchanged.

The conversation around the table was more relaxed and Harry was surprised to find that Mallory could talk Quidditch as well as anyone. After the meal, the Irish Minister made his excuses and left, leaving Healer August, Amelia and his friends.

Leaning back in his chair, he felt the crinkling of the parchment in his pocket. He pulled the two letters out and looked at them curiously before opening them. After reading the first letter, he grinned slyly.

"Amelia, would it be possible for you to join us for dinner tomorrow evening?" he asked.

"I can, Harry. May I ask why?"

"It appears that someone I invited to dinner has finally accepted. As this is more of a state visit, I think it would serve our best interests if you attended," he told her, his amusement obvious.

Amelia raised an eyebrow and readjusted her monocle. "And may I know the name of this individual?"

Harry looked up from the letter, his eyes dancing. "Consider it a surprise, Amelia, one that I think you will enjoy. Trust me."

Remus and Tonks both winced.

Hermione frowned. "Harry, what are you up to?"

"I'll explain tomorrow before our guest arrives, my heart. All you need to know right now is that we'll be entertaining some very special goblins."

Hermione nodded.

Amelia had watched the non-verbal byplay between them, but was unable to glean anything useful from it. "Very well, Harry. I'll attend your little dinner party," she said with a shrug.

Harry bowed slightly in acknowledgment. It's going to be an interesting evening, he thought with a grin.

Putting the first letter away, he opened the second. Within seconds his eyebrows had raised to his hairline. "Remus, Hermione?" he said, quietly. "I'm not sure what to make of this."

He handed the letter to Remus, who held it so that both he and Hermione could read.

Potter,
I just had an interesting conversation with your former Headmaster. The man has seriously gone around the bend. He believes you are going to kill Voldemort and take his place as the next Dark Lord. He also believes that he should be guiding you so that he can become the next Merlin.

Honestly, the man is not the man I followed in the fight against Grindelwald, and the first war with Voldemort.

Your little mix up with him in Haven cost him the sight in one eye, and one arm is so badly burned it might as well be useless. Despite all that, he wouldn't stop trying to break through my mental shields to convince me to join his side. As a result, I've kicked him out of where I'm staying. I'm positive he's heading back to Ireland, so practice CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

I'm old, Potter, I'm beat up and old, and I thought I could sit out this war. Now, I'm not so sure. I don't know what these old bones can offer you, but I'll support you.

Good show at Azkaban!
Alastor Moody,
Auror, Retired.

Remus read the letter again, then he looked up at Harry. "I'll alert O'Dalley that Dumbledore could be back in the country. He'll contact the Irish."

"What about his offer?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know," Harry replied with a shrug. "Maybe I'll pass it off to Draco and let him mull it over. I don't think Draco should be his contact, however. Moody would never trust a Malfoy and he will always see Draco as a Malfoy. Your remember how he was around Snape."

"Amelia or myself perhaps," offered Remus. "He knows me from the Order and he knows Amelia from his days at the DMLE."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea to start up some sort of underground movement back home," Hermione said.

Remus looked at her, his eyes bright. "Moody would be perfect for that, if we can convince him to do it. And if this letter is legitimate," he replied.

"We'll mull that question later. I think we can come up with a way of figuring out which side he's on... if it's him at all. Right now, I think I'd just like to go home and lay down for a while."

Hermione looked at him, concerned. "Are you alright?"

He smiled. "Truly, I'm fine. But this is the first time I've been out since I got shot and we did a lot of walking. I'm beat."

"Remus, make our excuses, will you?" Hermione murmured as she grabbed Harry in an embrace. Before he could even question what was happening, she tandem apparated them both back to their bedroom.

Harry stared at her in shock. "Why, you cheeky minx! You borrowed power from me to apparate us!" he exclaimed.

Hermione was already turning down the bed. "Of course I did. Now get out of those clothes and into something more comfortable. You'll feel better after you've had a nap."

He sighed, realizing the truth of her statement and started to undress. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He laid on his side because his ribs still twinged every now and then. The bed shifted and he felt Hermione climb in next to him. Her hands gently massaged his shoulder muscles and he leaned back into her touch. His last conscious thought was of how much he loved her.

Hermione let her hands slide down his back before dropping away completely. "I love you, too, Harry Potter," she said softly, then climbed out of the bed to go find Narcissa. She had an important dinner to plan for and didn't know what to feed goblins.

Author's Notes:

Well the last chapter was an interesting one. Some people loved it, others hated it. Some wanted Hermione hung out to dry, others wanted to burn Harry at the stake and still others blamed it all on Miles. Then there were the few who hated all the sissy talk about feelings. Lord, they're going to throw up all over their laptops from this chapter, aren't they? Of course, some of these same people seem to think it's perfectly acceptable to walk away from a life and death situation without the slightest mental scar.

(Bob here) It kills me how many people want to see Hermione permanently punished. T'aint gonna happen, people Look, three people screwed up and if you want my take on it, Miles did the biggest screwup of them all. Ultimately as the commander of the forces, he messed up. Now can we please get on with the authors notes?

~Alyx raises an eyebrow~ You're the one holding the AN's up with your rant, dear.

Yah yah Alyx... now hush and let me rant...

For the record, Harry and Hermione should be acting more adult from here on. We're getting tired of their temper tantrums and have threatened them with a nice time out in the corner for the next 3 chapters if they don't start behaving.

To the person that posted a review four days after we posted the last chapter and complained that we hadn't updated. Well, thanks. I would like everyone else to know we are deliberately delaying this chapter because of this person. No pudding for you fella (or should that be gal?)! MUHAHAHAHA!

Hmmm how many chapters will this story be? Frankly, Scarlet, I haven't a clue. Our chapters have been getting longer and I still can't really say how many chapters there will be. This chapter is a prime example. In our plot file the visit to see the rescued contained three whole plot points. The actuality of that section was 10 pages of scene. So the answer is, the story will contain as many chapters as necessary to get to the end. Helpful, eh?

Ok we spelt Whinging wrong. Shoot us. What do you want? Your money back? (Cackles wildly)

Ok, Crys, I read your review and I'm coming over, unmedicated, to visit. (Just kidding) As a point in fact, Dudley was being trained to kill Harry. The problem is the trap got messed up when the assault force showed up instead of Harry.

Special Notice: We are not responsible for any beverage you decide to spit up on your computer because you ran into something you thought funny. Read at your own risk or put a cover over your keyboard/monitor!

Someone wants to know if we have a problem with Christians. Not in the least, they make excellent lion food and are great at BBQs. But seriously, from a Wizarding standpoint I would say YES! They would have a problem with Christians, especially the rabid brand we seem to grow here in the US. Eocho would have a major problem with these little suckers as they are directly responsible for the death of his culture. So, do we have a problem with Christians? Not if they are well seasoned and cooked right! (And for those whose sense of humor was surgically removed at birth, THIS IS A JOKE!)

Musings was missing Susan and Terry in the last chapter. Unfortunately it's just not possible to ensure that every person appears in every chapter. For example, Dumbledore has been out of sight for the last few chapters and then re-emerged in this one. We tired to keep him out, but the bastard just muscled his way in. I have the bruises to prove it. (Alyx here. Aren't those bruises lovely, ladies and gentlemen? Give the man a smattering of applause, won't you? Eep! He's not going to let me get away with that one!)

(Shows Alyx the paddle from the Standard Disclaimer and watches her pale.)

Matt T. Thanks for the idea of drowning Harry. We've never done that before and it sounds almost as good as killing him off by dropping a ton of flobberworms on his head. We'll try to figure out a good way to drown him.

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 14 - Healing Conversations

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 14 - Healing Conversations

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 14 - Healing Conversations