AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The idea for this story came from the readers of FanFiction. While I do not belive entirely in the idea of a H/Hr pairing, I am strongly opposed to what occured in canon.
I have a 'best friend', whom I've known for 39 years now, who has two very beautiful, intelligent sisters. The idea of a relationship with either I find disturbing because they are, to my eyes, my sisters in all but blood. Thus, the idea of H/G is rather stomach clenching to me. It is far more probable for a Harry/Luna connection than an H/G pairing.
Also, as I am not sure of JKR's background with relationships, the constant bickering, fighting, and insults from Ron I believe would have left Hermione tolerating a friendship, rather than pursuing him as relationship material. Being 44 years of age, I've had enough experience in life to know from both observation and experience that a Hr/R relationship is simply the author's pipe dream.
The 'spectral intervention' is inspired by none other than Professor Binns, from canon. If a ghost can teach a course, hand out assignments, and mark them, then why not have the people who cared the most for you return to save your life?
Do I believe in soul-mates? Well, that's a rather personal and philosophical belief, but I will answer, and say yes. However, I do believe in our modern society the true interpersonal connections people once made are disappearing. We spend far too much time involved in introverted pursuits. In the 'boarding school' environment the characters from canon experienced, they are far more likely to forge true bonds of love. Combined with their inherent uniqueness in their magical abilities, there exists the probability that they are far more binding than traditional (muggle) relationships.
"Please tell me there is a reason you have drawn me here, rather than subject my psyche to observing the depravities of the young and foolish!", sneered a lank haired, darkly clad figure, his robes billowing in an unseen wind.
"Ok. How the hell are you doing that?", queried another, watching his robes move. His own long hair hung past his shoulders. Tattoo's were visible on his chest where his shirt hung open. Facination was evident on his features, and he stepped forward, waving his hand through the robes in childish amusement.
"Would you grow up!", snarled the former Potions Master, snatching his robe out of the reaching hand. "You've been gone longer than I have and you still don't have mastery of your own self. Concentrate on the matter at hand, you imbecelic twit!" His glower was met with a tongue sticking out at him. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Severus turned to the taller of those present, meeting a pair of brilliant blue eyes, watching the exchange in twinkling amusement.
"Please, can we just get on with this?", he begged, a hint of childishness in his own voice.
The spectral figure of Albus Dumbledore sighed. "Children these days!", he thought, and then motioned to the objects of their present meeting. "Tell me what you see."
Severus merely raised one eyebrow, meeting his gaze, unflinchingly. "Two juveniles sleeping off the effects of amorous activity?", he asked. Turning, he observed the two figures stretched out on the bed in front of them. One, bushy hair spread out around her was curled on her side, sleeping peacefully. The other lay flat on his back, snoring loudly, drool running down from the sides of his mouth. "Disgusting!", he intoned, a look of revulsion on his face.
"Now Severus!", chastized Albus. "We all have known the company of women at one time or another. It is not, rather, their present state I am inquiring about. Look closer." His eyes swept around to the six others present.
"I'd rather not!", huffed Severus. An undignified snort came from behind him. He sighed, raising his hand to his eyes, rubbing at them in a sign of tiredness and at being subjected to this indignity. "Must you, Lily?", he asked, softly.
"I'm too close to this Severus. You of all of us, knew them the longest, and perhaps the best. Please?", she asked, stepping forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered at the touch.
His shoulders drooped, resigned. Mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "...manipulative, conniving..." before his words trailed off.
A coughed, "whipped!", followed by the sound effect of 'whissh, crack!', was met by several sniggers.
"Must you all torment me further when I am dead?", groaned Severus. Outright laughter was stilled when Albus raised his hand, placatingly.
With a gesture, Severus began intoning a series of rather complicated spells, that none of his other companions recognized. Eyes brightened, and curiousity won out over heckling. His years of complex spell creation had not gone for naught, and though his 'friends' didn't understand all of what he was performing, they saw the results before their eyes. Through the covers over the two sleeping forms, the evidence they were seeking began to show, as a glowing, semi-spherical pulsing shape shone through the light blankets.
"There!", shouted Lily, pointing. "I knew I felt it!" 'There', was a long dark mark that twined sinuously throughout their patient's magical core. It pulsed darkly, and moved in a manner almost snake like.
"What, exactly, are we looking at? Damage to her core? Perhaps from the curse?" Sirius Black looked at the moving blackness in facination. Staring closely, it could be seen to pulse with the woman's heartbeat. Not answering, Severus moved to the other side of the bed, and performed the same procedure on the red-headed man. The same results appeared, but weren't quite as evident in his core.
Severus said nothing, but the frown on his face was worrying. Holding up a hand to forestall any other queries, he tried casting several other spells, each result making his frown grow deeper, as worry lines marred his normally stoic face. Several long, quiet minutes passed before he looked up to Albus Dumbledore's face, and nodded once. "Can I go now?", he pleaded, his eyes shifting slightly to meet the green gaze of the woman he'd loved his entire life. At the former Headmaster's nod, he closed his eyes, fading from view.
"Is it the same for them all?", questioned James, stepping up beside his wife, a worried look on his face. Dumbledore didn't turn to face them, but each present saw his slight nod. Groans were the only answer.
"Why?", asked Lily, a spectral tear running down her face. Her husband grasped her from behind, wrapping his arms around his wife in comfort.
Turning, Albus Dumbledore met each of their gazes with a serious look that most present had only seen when one of their famous pranks had gone too far. Tonks, her hair as changing as her moods, sat down on the bed, and gently brushed the hair from where it covered Hermione's face. The sleeping woman murmured quietly. "Harry!", she whispered, a small smile appearing on her lips.
As they watched, the brightest witch any of those present had ever seen, giggled quietly in her sleep. A brief glimpse of a pink tongue wet her lips, and she leaned into a dream kiss, her lips puckering slightly. Tonks shivered at the sight of the sensual movement. Suddenly uncomfortable at what she had witnessed, she stood, to be wrapped in the embrace of her older husband.
Dumbledore motioned for them to follow, and the six figures faded slightly as they moved, reappearing in the living room. Motioning for everyone to sit, he paced, a deep frown marring his normally pleasant features. "Albus", asked Lily, "what is wrong with their cores?"
Dumbledore stopped, and met her eyes, suddenly smiling. "The Power We Know Not! Love!", he chortled. Several groans of protest sounded at his cryptic answer, with rolling eyes.
"Really?", demanded Lily, crossing her arms, her foot starting to tap impatiently. "This is our son, and our world's hero's we're talking about here!" A dangerous glint sparkled in her eyes, reminiscent of a young bespeckled man, currently asleep about one hundred miles from themselves.
Albus Dumbledore sighed, and closed his eyes. No one really appreciated his wit, not even in death, it would appear. His twinkling blue eyes opened, as he gazed upon the faces of his most favoured students, now deceased, and still under his charge in the afterlife.
"To answer most succintly, is to delve most deeply into that which has plagued mankind for all time. What is love?" He looked at his students, and was slightly amused at how, even in death, he was still able to impart his wisdom. Seeing curiousity in their eyes, he resumed pacing, as he began to lecture.
"It has long been speculated as to the exact nature of love, but that is not exactly what we are here about." Stopping he turned to Lily. "Just what made you suspect Harry wasn't well?" His blue eyes pierced hers. A distant look came across her face, and she frowned. At her side, the shade of her husband chuckled, and she smacked him absently. That look of pensive thought had always turned him on, and she knew exactly what was going through his mind, dead or not.
"It was just a sense of wrongness", she answered slowly, pausing as she organized her thoughts. "Almost like he was fading." Her eyes met his, the questioning look in them making her eyes darken slightly.
Dumbledore's shade smiled gently. "Exactly!", he exclaimed. "Can you tell me the difference in a non-magical wedding and a magical wedding?" The only hint of the question's importance was a brightening of his twinkle.
Her husband answered. "The touching of the wands?", the slight question at the end signifying that while he knew the answer was correct, it wasn't quite complete.
"Yes, and also no", answered Dumbledore. His shade now stood, hands clasped behind his back, a faraway look on his face. "Our weddings, or bondings, have varied over the centuries, but the most signifying factors have been the similarities. The walk down the aisle, presentation of the bride to be, exchanging of vows and rings, and the kiss, signifying completion of the ritual. In Merlin's time, it was done without wands, for us, because wand use was still quite rare at the time."
"The added 'touching of the wands', originated about five to six hundred years ago, in an attempt by pure-bloods to signify the difference between us and muggles. It was meant to imply a meeting of our powers, our magic."
"Yet", he paused, his gaze refocusing on the five faces studying him, "if it was a true meeting of our powers, then 'arranged' marriages would have no significance. They were performed for alliances or continuation based on exchanges between the two families."
"Historically, though, there have been true 'marriages', or soul-mates", his eyes twinkled even more brightly as he stared at the spectral bodies of James and Lily, who blushed. "Together, you felt complete!", he said softly, and was met by nods all around. All of those present, other than the younger Tonks, had seen the love shared by their two best friends. It had been awe inspiring and humbling to see the feelings the two had shared for one another.
"My belief in not just love, or the ability to feel it, is not just in how it can raise you above what you think yourself capable of, but how it can change us! Change our very being." His eyes softened, and his former students bowed their heads in remembrance of how one young man had beaten the darkest wizard simply because he had cared. It had been Harry's love, not for himself, but those he loved, that had carried him through his final battle.
"I believe, at some point, our young Harry and Hermione actually intermingled their very beings, their souls, changing each other. In doing so, their very magical cores changed. His now sparkles with specks of delicious honey brown, while hers has the distinct gleam, often viewed in our favorite Seekers eyes!" Of them all, only the shade of Sirius rolled his eyes. Even in the afterlife, he was a consummate ladies man.
Dumbledore chuckled, not missing the gesture. "Essentially, because their core's are now part of each other, they seek that which completes them."
Sirius, in a moment of perversity for him, thoughtfully asked what was troubling them all. "Yes, but what of the others?" Ron adored Hermione, and all present knew Ginny probably had dozens of sets of children's clothing packed away somewhere. The most disturbing thing they had seen when spying on the Burrow's occupants, was her sleepwear. The underwear, with 'Property of Harry Potter' across her bum in sparkling letters was only one of perhaps thousands across magical Britain, but due to her closeness to said man, was a little possessive and presumptious. Lily had simply snorted in disgust when she'd seen them.
Remus butted in, as always the voice of reason amongst his peers, even now. "How can we change this?", he pointed to the bedroom where loud snores were still echoing down the hallway from where the two lovers slept.
Tonks snorted. "Figure out some way to record him snoring, and play it back to her? If she ends up with a bunch of kids like that, she won't get any sleep for the next twenty or thirty years!" Even Lily laughed at that. She had never figured her son would end up engaged to Ginny, after the weeks Harry and Hermione had spent in the tent. Unfortunately, Hermione in all her practicality, had over analyzed herself and dealt with her emotions similarly to an algebraic equation. Personally, as the girl was no longer a virgin, in her eyes she was no longer worthy of her son. If it wasn't for their weakening magical cores there was no way she would be present and considering forcing the two together. Her son's life was more important than her own sensibilities.
Sirius, in a moment of clarity, offered a solution to what he knew was going through his best friend's wifes mind. "I'll get the pup out there and show him how to have a good time!" Lily rolled her eyes, and turned a little green at the prospect. Sirius' definition of a good time was more in lines of utter depravity, as far as she was concerned.
"Fine!", she spat, as his smirk got to her. "Get him out there and get him some experience with women. If he'd had any to begin with, he would have seen the signs back in school that she fancied him. I can't believe that your son", she turned to the ghost of her husband, "is a total idiot where women are concerned! She practically slept in his arms on how many nights? The touches, kisses, holding each other. Really, he's even more blind than you were!" Her exasperation at her husband's relentless pursuit of her, despite her steadfastly refusing them until he grew up, was still discussed in their afterlife.
James' expression was wryly amused. "Well, he does come by it honestly!" Sirius laughed so hard he fell off his chair. Even Remus' body shook with laughter. Tonks merely tightened her hold on her husbands arms where they still held her in his arms. Love, eternal, they had pledged, and so it was.
Albus Dumbledore's eyes brightened with an etheral glow, as his merriment manifested in physical form. "I do believe that this is the first time I have ever said this. Maurauders, get to pranking!" With hoots of glee the four friends and respective wives faded from view, lastly followed by the ghost of one of the centuries most powerful wizards. His echoing chuckle finally roused the sleeping couple slightly, to the point where a bushy-haired witch stumbled out of the bedroom.
Pacing down the hall, wand in hand, her puzzled gaze swept around the living room. Unsure of what had woken her, she shrugged, then shivered at the chillness of the room. With a flash from her wand she lit the fireplace in an attempt to reduce the unnatural cold. Shivering still, she headed to the shower to get ready for the day.
The former Maurauders, true to form, began their greatest prank ever.
At the Burrow, Ginny Weasley was mortified as all her underwear bearing the words she personally cherished, a little creepily, faded and disappeared with their next washing. Her face bore a puzzled look as she cast several restoring charms, in a futile attempt to return them to their former state. In a corner the unseen phantasm of Lily Potter had a slightly maniacal smile on her face. At her side, her eternal partner chuckled at his wife's expression. She'd chided him for years over he and his friends pranks, but now saw the same glee they had felt at the culmination of their works.
Harry found witches and muggle women falling all over themselves trying to please him, and found evening company without even trying. It seemed at times as if they were responding to suggestions to how to win his attentions. He wasn't complaining, as he'd always been slightly awkward around women, and delighted in the amorous attentions he was the recipient of. Only once did he pause during a passionate kiss with a delightful raven-haired beauty, a waitress he'd only met a couple of days before. "Did you hear that?", he asked, raising his head. He could have sworn he'd heard the telltale chuckle of his Godfather. The girl answered by wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him in for an even deeper, breathtaking kiss. Her passion drove the question from his mind, forgotten in his raging hormones.
Ron, who'd taken to covertly consuming calming draughts to forestall his famous temper, never saw the long, pale, spectral fingers subtly altering the mixtures to be essentially useless. The results were him spending his nights back in his old room at the Burrow, frustrated at how he couldn't stop complaining and arguing with Hermione anymore. A ghostly figure of Severus Snape sneered down at him as he slept. He'd never liked Weasley, and took his normal perverse glee in tormenting the red head, even in death.
Hermione never saw who'd rearranged her pictures, subtly positioning the ones of her and Harry to the forefront on the mantle over her fireplace. Even in death, Albus's ability to subtly manipulate someone's mind remained. He'd implanted the suggestion for Hermione to do the task herself, and smiled at her now, as she slept.
They'd begun their sabotage of the duo's relationship two months ago, and it had taken less than a week to drive Ron from her bed. Now, the bushy haired witch slept soundly, a picture of her and Harry clutched in her hand, tear stains marring her pillow.
With a sigh, Albus felt a tear trickle from his own spectral eyes. He detested having to manipulate others, and yet had spent nearly the last twenty-five years of his life and death doing just that. Even in death he wasn't able to escape his greatest accomplishment, or in his opinion, his greatest regret.
"Go to him, my child!", he whispered, his transparent hand gently brushing her hair back from her face. "It will all be okay. The love you two shared is still there."
In her sleep Hermione dreamed, a thought nagging at her sub-consciousness. "Harry!", she whispered. Unseen by the ghost of Albus Dumbledore, who had departed, his mission accomplished, the heart of Hermione Granger remembered. Long embraces that just felt right, a hand holding hers, warmly, as a calloused thumb caressed her. A dance on a Christmas past. A heartfelt offer, to live out the rest of their lives together, away from the horrors of their present.
With the change in her heart, in the remembrance of that honest love, a long, etheral tendril reached out, searching. Sensing it's destination, the strand thinned, stretching, searching. To the northeast, another strand sought it's partner, as it too reached out from it's slumbering host. As the two joined, unseen, identical smiles graced the sleeping visages of two souls that were now beginning to feel complete, and whole.
Hermione Granger awoke with a tingling feeling she hadn't felt for a long time. Her relationship with Ron had crashed and burned in an epic failure, but that wasn't on her mind right at the moment. She had just had the most erotic dream of her young life, culminating in an orgasm of such epic proportions she was still trembling as the hot spray from the shower cascaded over her lean body. It wasn't that she'd experienced such a thing while sleeping that was now tumbling through her mind. No. Rather, who had been the other participant of her nocturnal fantasy that was still driving her hormones crazy.
"Why? Why? Why?", she demanded, stamping her little foot in frustration. "Why Harry?", she screamed, frustrated. Her only answer was the drumming of the water onto the bottom of the tub.
She'd long ago harboured a crush on her best friend, but using her mind, had rationalized to herself that such a pursuit was fruitless. She, in her own mind, was not the type of woman Harry preferred. She'd seen the signs. Cho. Luna. Ginny. All tiny girls, far more curvy than she was, and all able to connect with him in a manner she wasn't able. That had been the source of her own internal resolution. Harry couldn't love her, because all they shared was friendship.
Yet, during her rampaging hormonal dreams, simple gestures had turned into things she had forced herself to not think about for years. His eyes. Hands. The way she was the only person he unconditionally allowed to hold him or touch him. In her dreamscape one thing had led to another, fueled by glimpses of his lithe, quidditch hardened body. His tight bum, revealed only when wearing his quidditch uniform or more recently, on one of their rare group dinners at the Burrow.
She still remembered that night, as he'd stood up from the table to help Molly bring the remains of supper into the kitchen. Ginny had been busily engaging George in a conversation about the joke shop, and she'd caught the way the fabric of his clothes clung to his body. She'd turned to Ron, blushing as the heat of unbidden thoughts caused a sudden flush throughout her body. He'd mistaken the blush as being the result of his closeness, and possessively threw his arm over her shoulders. She'd actually felt repulsed at his touch, but had summarily dismissed it at the time, her time of the month looming around the corner.
Now, alone with her own thoughts and introspection, she wasn't so sure. If what she'd dreamt of last night was any indication, she'd faced a fork in her road of life, and had taken the wrong one.
Ginny screamed, frustrated, as she pulled her head out of the floo connection. She'd thought she'd pop over to visit Harry today, and found that for some odd reason it wouldn't go through. As she'd hollered again and again for Harry, she swore to herself (even years later) she'd heard a woman's laughter, as if from a long distance. Nymphadora Tonks chuckled, as she used her own spectral powers to disrupt the connection. She'd giggled like a child with a new toy when her other half had shown her how to perform the interference, and had gleefully spent the last two months doing just that. The girl's screams of frustrated anger were for naught.
They'd caught on to her schemes early, and knew she'd been dosing herself with fertility potions as much as safely allowed. At this point if Harry had even looked at her with lust she'd have gotten pregnant, a fate Lily would not wish on her worst enemy. As much as she and James had loved the Weasley family, the anger and jealousy certain members of the family displayed were not traits she wished her son to endure.
Ginny's hormones were now raging out of control, and they knew the first guy who was even remotely attractive in her eyes was in for the surprise of his life.
Harry had been having the greatest run of good luck with women he'd ever had in his life. He wasn't sure what had happened, but it seemed as if he'd almost been blessed with a Veela's charms for the last few weeks. He'd known exactly what to say when members of the opposite sex had approached him, and was pleasantly surprised when he'd been rewarded for his words. Now though, it seemed as if the luck had dried up.
He'd started having dreams of a certain friend of his, which he didn't mind, but they were presently driving him crazy. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get her out of his head, as if someone was constantly reminding him of her meaning in his life. And then the girls had started leaving him alone when he went out, and often times he received odd looks, as if someone had whispered derogatory things in their ears. Having a sudden sexual dry spell, after his recent conquests, had resulted in the longest string of cold showers he'd endured in his life. He was positive he hadn't been this randy as a teenager, but as he'd had Riddle in the forefront of his thoughts for years, that was understandable.
Standing under the cold stream of water, waiting for his condition to soften, he was nearly blue with cold when he finally felt he could get dressed and go out in public without embarassing himself.
He was still shivering slightly when his floo connection flared, and the object of his dilemma's stepped through, a determined and frustrated look on her face.
"Harry!", she demanded, arms crossed as she glared at him. "We have to talk!"
As he turned to meet her, their eyes met, and the spectres of Lily and James stepped out of the path of the tendrils of the connections straining towards each other. With a snap and flare that was visible to the live occupants of the room, the two met.
Hermione felt a flush like she'd never experienced as Harry's eyes met hers, and without a second thought they were in each other's arms. Lips met in a kiss neither could remember afterwards who initiated it, but both swore they could hear ghostly laughter.
Hours later, satiated for the moment, their two bodies drenched in sweat, Hermione snuggled against Harry's body, almost purring in satisfaction. Neither spoke of the past, trusting in the feeling that they were both now complete in a way that could never be broken.
Unseen, four former Maurauders raised ghostly tankards, shouting in glee and happiness at the union. To their eyes, the blackness once pervading the pair's magical cores was gone, and each now shone with a new brilliance. Harry's core glistened with specks of honey brown, similar to Hermione's eyes, and her's possessed a shimmer of emerald green.
EPILOGUE
Less than two months later Hermione and Harry disappeared from their friends lives for two years, returning only after they were sure the anger and hurt had disappeared. To everyone's joy they had a little dark haired boy in a stroller, named Everett James, and a little girl on the way, whom they were debating to name after Hermione's grandmother, or her mother.
Ginny, in her frustrated state, had met her old boyfriend Dean in Diagon Alley when she was shopping, and had practically assaulted him when she'd accompanied him home for what was supposed to be a casual dinner. To her own surprise Ginny's feelings for him far surpassed anything she'd ever felt for the Boy Who Lived, a fact she'd confessed in a rather embarrassed manner over drinks one evening with her long-time crush and his wife.
Ron had met and fallen for a tall, busty Chaser, and Rosalina Sanchez was now happily showing off her prize. A large, flashy diamond engagement ring. He'd only approached Hermione once, and reluctantly Harry had left the two alone. A rather red faced Ron had returned, and neither had spoken of the words exchanged between the two. Later that evening, Hermione had informed Harry that she'd simply told Ron that while she'd cared for him, she'd realized there wasn't the passion and fire she felt for Harry. Apparently it had translated into her being unable to be 'satisfied'. After that conversation Ron had disappeared for a few hours.
The next day Rosalina had emerged from their room, smiling brilliantly. Harry and Hermione had exchanged knowing smirks, realizing that sometimes stubborn people really need to be hit in the face with a beaters bat to reach an epiphany. Sometimes, the girl actually does come first.