Chapter One

AN: Hello, there! Whether you are a first time reader of mine or a returning fan, I welcome you to Agape! Named after the Greek word translating as unconditional love, this is a tale of two young lovers who will go to any lengths to ensure the safety of their child. As a solitary disclaimer for this entire story, I'll go ahead and say that I do not, in any way/shape/form, own Harry Potter or any of its related properties. Also, please note that this fic will be rated a strong M. Gore will only show in moderate amounts, but sexual insinuations and crude language are sure to be plentiful. Now that that's out of the way let's get to the damn story, yeah!

As Harry prepared for bed, making sure it was his normal sky-blue toothbrush and not Hermione's jewel encrusted green one that his clawed hands were squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto, he glanced up and spotted two glowing green eyes staring back at him from inside the recently cleaned mirror in his Grimmauld Place bathroom. Frowning slightly, Harry took a moment to study his relatively new appearance as he absently sawed the course white bristles back and forth across his pearly whites. After a moment's observation, the eighteen year old Potter snorted in amusement at the ridiculous image he made for. At five and a half feet tall, with the same messy black hair he'd had since forever reaching down to just above his jawline, Harry Potter figured he'd look a lot like most people had probably expected him to at this age if not for a few tiny, minute, negligible differences.

Like, for instance, what at first glance appeared to be fine, matte-black, elbow-length gloves that were actually just his perfectly normal hands which ended in not-at-all-strange diamond-hard, razor-sharp claws. Another difference was the soft glow given off by his emerald green eyes, which otherwise had remained unchanged since his birth.

'Nothing too weird there,' he thought, the glow being negligible, and save for when he looked into mirrors, it wasn't like he could see his own eyes anyways, now could he?

Harry's attempts at reassuring himself of his normality died a fiery death when his eyes were inevitably drawn to the two, once again, matte-black leathery wings which were folded up behind him. Harry scowled at the two appendages which, surprisingly unobtrusive as they were, still drew attention to themselves with proficiency more befitting one of those wailing, flashing fire alarms which had peppered his old muggle school. He was just glad that the damn things were flexible and compact enough for him to fold them down flush against his skin, allowing him to wear normal clothing as he pleased. Only in skintight apparel would they show up, and since he preferred t-shirts and robes over spandex and diving suits, keeping them hidden would prove easy enough should he ever eventually work up the courage to leave the house. Deciding that turning back now, after braving so much, would be cowardly, Harry spared his last addition a glance as he leaned forward and spat a mouthful of tartar fighting foam into the sink.

A tail. A bloody, surprise surprise, matte-black, six foot long, galleon thick, capped at the end in fur the likeness of a teardrop, honest to merlin, tail.

'Honestly,' Harry thought with a frown, 'at least the damn wings are useful'.

He knew he was being less than honest in his thoughts over his tail, but while the stone smashing power, lightening quickness, and perfect dexterity of the devilish appendage were useful, nothing beat flying.

Nothing.

'Except for sex,' Harry thought, as he finished washing his mouth out and returned to his overly opulent bedroom to find Hermione sprawled out across their mattress nude, innocently pretending to read what he thought looked like a Stephen King novel. He figured it out for the ruse that it was when he noticed the arching of her back. For, while her nudity didn't exactly give her desires away (they'd been so comfortable around each other for so long that clothing was always optional in private) Harry knew that if she'd actually been interested in reading her spine would be straight and relaxed, offering her the most comfort.

Instead of comfort for her poor back, the only offering being done presently was that of a great view from Hermione to Harry. As she turned her head and, abandoning what flimsy pretenses of reading there'd been and giving him an ironically devilish smile, Harry took a moment to study the woman to whom he'd given his heart nearly four years ago.

She continued to stun him with her beauty to this day, looking as if to have been custom-made just for him by the gods. He'd told her as much once, much to her at-the-time amusement and exasperation if he recalled correctly; sure they'd both been avoiding Death Eater spellfire at the time but there was simply no stopping him when he was in a poetic mood. Returning her sultry smirk with a waggling of his eyebrows that drew a giggle from her, Harry crawled up the bed until he was lying directly behind her and propped his head up with a hand. Unable to resist himself, he brought his other hand up and caressed her rosy cheek with the back of one of his menacing digits, although his heart warmed when Hermione only smiled and leaned into his touch. Adjusting his eyes higher, he smiled at the sight of her still-damp hair.

He still fondly remembered the mostly untamable mane of long hair she'd had back in their childhood, but found that the pixie cut she'd given herself out of frustration on her seventeenth birthday had since grown on him, despite any teasing he may have given her over it in the past. Her now shorter, straighter hair left her pretty face nowhere to hide, a nice bonus to what had originally been an action taken to eliminate a combat hazard after Hermione'd had her hair snagged on a twig one too many times whilst the two of them were out horcrux hunting. As his eyes trailed down from her head and traveled all the way to her toes, making a few glorious stops along the way, he noticed how her feet stopped before his own did, and once again thanked his lucky stars that she'd stopped growing before he had. Although the solitary inch he had on her seemed negligible, he was still glad that he hadn't ended up having to look up every time he wanted to stare into her beautiful chocolate colored eyes.

"Perfect," Harry murmured, the word which had slipped out during his studying of her adding a faint tint to Hermione's already warm face.

Even things that he wouldn't've thought he'd have liked before getting together with Hermione were now, years later, the physical qualities he preferred and found most attractive. One example would be her breasts. While he vaguely remembered staring at older girls' bulging cleavage back in his single days when he'd first been entering puberty, he now found himself thinking that Hermione's comparatively smaller chest was far lovelier.

As he did whenever he looked at her recently, Harry couldn't help but notice the changes which had been forced upon her, much the same as his demonic alterations had been forced upon him, by Voldemort via the dark rituals they'd been put through only a few months ago.

Instead of splicing her with creatures too foul to live on this plane of existence as Voldemort had with him however, Hermione instead was forced through ritual after ritual after dark, agonizing ritual in an attempt by the Dark Lord to fuse different magical artifacts he'd had in his possession with her very flesh. The grand majority of the madman's attempts were met with failure, the process being crude and Hermione's own will keeping any of the objects from successfully melding with her body. But, as weeks in captivity turned into months with no salvation in sight, her will weakened, just as his own had. And also just as had been his case, her rituals too were tweaked and perfected by Voldemort until the Dark Lord finally achieved the results he'd been seeking.

Harry was now staring at the end results of that evil bastard's meddling, and while he still thought that Hermione was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on, he was thankful that there had only been time enough for Voldemort to have three dark artifacts fused with Hermione before they'd escaped.

The Arreter Amulette, originally a cursed necklace consisting of a semi-sentient, fist sized ruby attached to a dull golden chain, took form post-ritual in Hermione as tiny shards of immovable ruby embedded around both of her eyes, giving off a permanent effect similar to eye glitter. Hermione, upon seeing Harry's gaze lingering on the alteration, lost a bit of the sparkle in her eyes and her smile began to shrink. Until, that is, Harry leaned forward and tenderly pressed a kiss onto her fluttering eyelids, one after the other. No matter what, the last thing Harry wanted to do was make Hermione uncertain of his adoration for her. While he would never again see her without the shards coloring the skin around her eyes, he thought that she looked even prettier nowadays anyway.

Moving his gaze towards the manifestation of the second object to be forged into her skin, Harry appreciated the sparkle given off by the diamonds populating Hermione's face. Ten studs traveling up the cartilage in each ear framed her already jeweled face, with a diamond tongue ring finishing off the Stone of Intent's new look. Whereas it had previously been an unimpressive, inelegant hunk of uncut diamond mostly hidden inside the end of a petrified oaken staff, the bedazzling appearance it now gave Hermione was breathtaking.

'If only,' Harry thought with a smile as the mischievousness returned to Hermione's face as he tugged on her sparkling earlobe with his teeth, 'the overwhelming compulsion to own mountains of jewelry had stayed with the damn staff.' Hermione's jeweled toothbrush and the sheepish look she'd given him when she'd bought it immediately came to mind.

The third and final artifact was less glamorous than the previous two, showing up as what appeared at the moment to be a thin coat of wet, black metallic paint covering her entire neck, spanning from where her jaw began down to her collarbone, and then curving to run along her spine in a thin triangular shape which stopped just above her shapely rear. He knew from experience that Arkay's Skin, the name of the ancient Scottish necromancer's robe with which she had become one, was currently in as deactivated a mode as it got. He also knew that if Hermione were to become agitated the 'paint', which was actually not wet at all but smooth to the touch, would begin to creep down her body, expand further and further as her duress grew until every inch of her light, creamy skin was hidden beneath it.

As Harry traced one of his claws gently down the strip leading to Hermione's bottom, not applying enough pressure to hurt her despite the fact that Arkay's Skin would make such a thing impossible anyway, Harry allowed his observations of Hermione to come to an end. Feeling a shift in the man she'd been in love with for many years, Hermione turned her head to peek at what he was doing and let out a startled, "Eep!" when she was suddenly spun onto her back. Finding no Harry next to her, she looked further down and fought a blush when she saw what Harry was positioned to do. As Harry began to practice his budding cunnilingus talent, making Hermione gasp in pleasure at the sensations, she forgot any lingering insecurities she may possibly have felt earlier when Harry had stared at her changes, and instead just let her head fall back as she lost herself in the moment.


Golden rays of morning sunshine barged their way in through long gaps in the thick burgundy curtains on the east-facing windows of Grimmauld Place, slowly dragging Harry back from the realm of dreams as they fell across his sleeping face. He gave a slight frown as he decided that he wasn't ready to wake up just yet, but as he went to turn around and burry his head underneath his pillow he caught sight of the woman lying next to him. It still blew his mind to think that, after everything they'd been through, somehow they'd still managed to eke out a pretty happy life with one another. After fighting side by side against the worst dark lord to have lived in the last thousand years, it would have been so easy for their relationship to crack and shatter. Luckily, instead of folding under the pressure and growing bitter towards each other, Harry and Hermione's relationship had been tempered by the conflict, leaving behind a deep trust and understanding of one another that had strengthened their bond to the point of being unbreakable.

As he was admiring Hermione, Harry's eyes were drawn to the golden band topped with a large diamond adorning her left ring finger. The only regret Harry had over taking a knee and finally asking her to be his wife three weeks ago was that he hadn't done so sooner, back when their friends had still been alive and able to attend their wedding. As it was, the day he'd slipped the beautiful diamond ring onto her finger was still the best of his life, despite only having McGonagall, who'd done the ceremony, there in attendance. It broke his heart to think that he hadn't given her the grand wedding she deserved, and his demon blood made him feel more than a little self-loathing over the fact that he'd let his mate down, but Hermione had still seemed to radiate happiness while he'd been reading his vows to her in Headmistress McGonagall's office, and the rational part of his brain pointed out that any public wedding would have been a disaster.

Harry's mild brooding was cut short when Hermione's bejeweled eyelids fluttered open, revealing her warm brown eyes to the world. He watched on as she let out a cute yawn that showed off her perfect white teeth and studded tongue, and Harry felt his face lose the slight frown it'd had and adopt a fond smile in its place. Hermione noticed Harry's content stare and felt her lips unconsciously forming a smile, which broadened when he returned the gesture and leaned in for a kiss. Hermione started to moan into the kiss, but abruptly broke away from her husband and scurried out of bed, almost falling to the floor when the silken sheets refused to release her. When she finally managed to break free of the blankets, Hermione quickly made her way to their bathroom and immediately curled up over the toilet and threw up; Harry's panicking form hovering around her the whole time. After forty solid seconds of sickness, Hermione finally held up a hand to silence a distraught Harry and show that she was fine.

Hermione, still in the buff, stood up shakily with Harry's help and made her way over to the sink. Then, after quickly rinsing her mouth out and pulling a bath robe from the hook on the door over herself, Hermione grabbed her wand from the bedroom and cast a general all-purpose diagnosis spell on herself. She waited, and then slowly placed her hands together until they began to glow a soft golden color, signaling to her that the spell had run its course. She then pulled her hands apart and scanned the magical readout that appeared, the floating, golden, cursive writing which hovered in front of her summarizing her physical health.

She paid no mind to the list of scars that littered her body, all of which were luckily either easily hidden by clothing or were faded to the point of being undetectable by the naked eye. She briefly noticed that her alterations didn't show up on the list, confirming to her once again that they were now, for all intents and purposes, as much a part of her as her eyes and ears were. Hermione even managed to hold back the despair that always crept up her spine when she was presented with proof that the dark rituals that'd been forced upon her had tainted her core, just as it had back when McGonagall hinted that both she and Harry just felt dark, and as it did once again when the spell detected it. However, no emotional fortifying on her part could have prepared her for the last item listed on the readout.

"What is it Hermione? What's wrong?" Harry asked anxiously when he saw Hermione beginning to pale.

Shakily, Hermione lowered her hands down and interlaced her fingers above her belly. Her eyes, which had tracked her hands' descent, quickly snapped back up to meet Harry's when he took a step forward and wrapped his toned arms around her slight frame.

Quietly, Harry whispered, "What is it, baby?"

When Hermione flinched at the word 'baby' he began to get suspicious, but speculation was made obsolete when his wife grabbed his hands and slowly placed them on her belly and said, "I'm pregnant, Harry."

The lovely Mrs. Potter seemed to have successfully short-circuited Harry's brain as her lover stood silently in front of their bed, dumbstruck. After a moment to process what he'd heard, Harry responded.

"Wha-really? For real? Like, with a baby and stuff?" Harry asked dumbly, shocked at the news. His eyes, which had been narrowed in concern studying Hermione's face before, were now wide open and trained on the flat belly his hands were touching at the moment. He started to gently rub his deadly hands over Hermione's abdominals, trying to feel the life tucked safely away inside. Carefully watching her lover to judge his reaction, Hermione felt a tightness in her chest loosen when Harry's surprised expression morphed into one of amazed awe. When his pawing of her belly showed no sign of stopping, Hermione brought her hands up and cupped her husband's stubble'd jaw and manually redirected his gaze back to her face.

"Yes, darling. With our baby. According to the spell, we're going to be parents!"

Hermione instantly transformed from a ground-bound biped into a spinning, flying missile as Harry picked her up and spun her around. He then just-as-quickly set her back down with an anxious expression on his face.

"Oh, Merlin! I'm sorry! Is that ok? Picking you up didn't hurt anything, right? Oh man! Me, a dad? God, Hermione, what if I'm terrible?! What if I screw our kid up?! How'm I supposed to know what ta- oh, oh! Books!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, his frenzied fretting coming to an abrupt end as he looked at Hermione in askance. "There've gotta be books written about parenting, right love? Right. Of course there are. Oh, but pregnancy! I've gotta read up on that too. Because you're pregnant. With my child…" Suddenly Harry's jaw shut closed with an audible *click* as his eyes focused on Hermione so intently that she jumped a little bit.

Hermione watched as Harry seemed to physically absorb the knowledge that she was carrying his child; noting how his eyes became slightly dilated and his breaths took on a ragged quality. He then silently, almost eerily, gently took hold of her sides and walked them back to the bed, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, upon which he gently lowered her down onto. He then gently placed one knee, and then the other, on either side of her, straddling her pelvis. By now his pupils were completely dilated and he was almost panting above her. Despite his odd behavior, Hermione wasn't worried in the least; not that she'd ever been afraid of Harry before, but especially because she knew exactly what was going on.

Their changes were still pretty raw, but the two of them had learned a lot about their new selves. While their most obvious post-ritual modifications were physical, she and Harry both knew that the important changes were ones that were much more than skin deep. Hermione could tell by looking into Harry's eyes at that moment that his demonic blood was influencing him.

Very quietly, Harry asked, "Is there anything you need, love? Anything at all? Something to eat? Drink? How's the temperature? Any soreness? Just tell me what you want and I'll make it happen," Harry said with tenderness in his voice, never breaking eye contact with his mate.

After they had escaped from Voldemort's clutches, the two had scoured dozens of libraries in search of information to see if there was any way to reverse Voldemort's work. While unfortunately most books had nothing on the rituals at all, and those that did have something all concurred that the changes would be permanent, they did learn quite a bit about their new bodies. Studying up on the relics which had been infused with Hermione proved easy enough, but the demon lore they researched was very varied. There was very little in the way of consistency in the tomes they read, making trying to figure out how Harry's changes might affect him frustrating. Surprisingly enough, information on demonic relationships, both familial and romantic, was pretty much the only thing that was the same across the board. Hermione knew that whereas before Harry would have been dedicated to any family he may have had and loved her and their child with all of his heart, his demonic blood ramped up his devotion to those of his blood and his mate to an insane degree. With her being pregnant, he simply wouldn't be able to help himself. She knew that for the next nine months Harry would be very possessive, clingy, and protective. She also knew that he would be treating her like a queen though, her wellbeing, happiness, and comfort becoming his highest priorities, not that they weren't already.

While Hermione knew that this behavioral oddity should make her feel cautious and uneasy, all she could manage was fond amusement and affection towards her suddenly clingy partner.

"No, darling, I'm quite fine right now. I'll let you know if that changes, however," Hermione whispered back, Harry's lips having descended down to less than an inch above hers while she'd been responding.

"Good," Harry purred back, sending shivers down Hermione's armored spine.

When his lips completed their journey and landed upon hers, Hermione knew that they wouldn't be getting much done that day.


After a lengthy session spent celebrating the joyous news, Harry and Hermione were once again up and out of bed, making their way to the kitchen to satisfy a different kind of hunger. Half an hour later and the two were sat down across from each other on either side of the ridiculously long table that in the past had been used to seat the members of the Order of the Phoenix. The dark oak of the masterfully carved table combined with the candlelit steak, baked potato, and green bean dinner Harry and Hermione had just made helped to set a romantic mood. Before they dug in, Harry, with a megawatt smile spanning the length of his face, raised his glass of pumpkin juice (Hermione decided to forgo wine and he was sympathetic) into the air in a toast.

"To us," he said, while staring into Hermione's eyes. "To our friends in the past," he whispered, dropping his gaze for a second in acknowledgement. "And to our family, in the future," he finished, speaking warmly and squeezing Hermione's hand which had grasped his own when he'd raised his glass.

As the two went to take a sip of their beverages in celebration, their eyes suddenly widened when a third party made itself known with a toneless interruption.

"Your jubilation is… premature, mortals."

Cold dread rushed through their veins, but neither surprise nor fear had the power to paralyze Harry or Hermione anymore; not after so many years spent waging war against the nightmarish forces Voldemort had commanded. Those years of hard won instincts took over now as the two tried to spring up and away from the intruder, but it was all for naught, as they found their bodies unresponsive from the neck down, not allowing them to do anything more than turn and look upon the one who had disturbed them.

Try as they might, neither could make out the figure with any reliable clarity. Though it was not obscured in any way, their eyes could only decide that the figure was a brightly colored humanoid; their brains seemingly incapable of processing the invader's true form beyond that. It was an odd feeling, but still not enough to halt either of the two's attempts to free themselves. However, with none of their wandless magics responding and even Harry's extra appendages paralyzed, the situation was beginning to look grim. Realizing that their situation wouldn't be solved so easily, Harry decided to engage the being in conversation in order to buy Hermione time to work out a plan of action to deal with their predicament. While he was great at thinking up effective strategies on his feet, he acknowledged that solving this problem might take more brain-power and finesse than he had to spare.

After conveying his plan to Hermione with a quick look, Harry turned to the incomprehensible being and asked, in a harsh whisper that promised pain, "Who are you?"

He got the feeling that the being was giving him a scornful look, but its lack of discernible features made it impossible to be sure. Still, it responded to his question.

"The closest word you have to describe me would be Fate, although I've come to you more in my capacity as Death."

The being's answer did little to calm the tension gnawing away at Harry, and a slightly panicked look from Hermione made it all but impossible for him to keep himself reigned in. As it was, his muscles still began to bulge, with green arcs of magic the likeness of electricity beginning to dance around him; a sure sign that his control over his demonic side was slipping. Thankfully he managed to keep from losing it, but his tone was noticeably more menacing when he next spoke.

"And what the fuck does that mean, exactly? Why are you here?"

The distaste in the being's voice was even more evident when it responded, apparently taking offense to Harry's line of questioning.

"I'll get straight to the point; lowering myself to this form is quite degrading." The self-proclaimed 'Fate' responded, before it swung one arm over and pointed directly at Hermione's belly. "Your spawn, as it stands, will not survive to its nativity. The dark magics you and your partner have been doused in will cause its premature death, despite whatever efforts or measures you may take to avoid it."

Fate's words couldn't have produced a stronger reaction from the two if it had tried. Harry, at what sounded distinctly like a threat against his family, finally lost control and entered a state he'd forsaken after the final battle against Voldemort. His demonic side began to take over, lengthening his canines, dilating his pupils, and turning his veins black from the dark magic running through them. Short arcs of green electricity danced over the top of his skin, casting the room in an unsettling emerald glow. Hermione's new appearance was no less intimidating however, an impressive feat considering just how deadly the male Potter looked at the moment. Where once had been a frightened nineteen year old woman now sat a humanoid the color of wet, metallic black paint. The glistening ruby shards which framed her glowing red orbs were the only things besides the sparkling white diamonds that weren't covered in the coating, standing out even more than before due to their now-dark background and luminescence. Crimson plasma began to leak menacingly from Hermione's eyes as a low growl escaped her husband's throat, signaling that the two were ready to pull out all the stops and go for the kill.

When the two's struggling suddenly dramatically increased, the entity quickly continued.

"Control yourselves. Despite the abominations the two of you have become, your efforts are in vain, on top of being pointless. I've come here not to antagonize you, but instead to strike a bargain. I am willing to change your progeny's fate, in exchange for your assistance," Fate explained, its voice having lost its scornful tone and instead becoming emotionless.

Harry and Hermione both calmed down minutely, although they still maintained their forms, weary of the inhuman entity in general, and not exactly trusting its words at face value. With supreme effort, Harry managed to calm himself enough to participate in the conversation once again, but Hermione ended up responding before he could.

With nothing but frigid coldness coloring her voice, an otherworldly looking Hermione demanded, "Explain."

While some of the derision seemed to return to Fate at the order, it still responded.

"Long ago, in a spontaneous act of stupidity, I allowed myself to be baited into creating three items of power. You know them as the 'Deathly Hallows'. I have since lamented their creation, but despite my powers over life and death I remain unable to reclaim them. This would not be a problem, except that when combined these objects allow a portion of control to be exerted over me, which is unacceptable. Your world is but one of an unquantifiable number of worlds, and it is in one of these parallel realities that my Hallows are in danger of being united by someone who wishes to exert their will over me. It is beyond my abilities to personally take a soul before it's time; interference of that caliber being impossible. Hiring an agent to do so for me, however, is well within my capabilities. So, my proposal is this. I will erect a barrier around your womb which will act as a filter to keep any dark magics from reaching your unborn daughter, protecting her from your malignant essences, and in exchange you will destroy the one who seeks my Hallows in this alternate world."

When Fate had finished its proposal, Harry and Hermione found that they could control their bodies once again, and Harry wasted no time jumping over the table to stand next to Hermione, still wary of the entity but less hostile now that he knew it meant them no harm. He figured that there had been ample opportunity for 'Fate' to attack them while they'd been incapacitated, and took its freeing them of their paralysis as a good sign, but he kept ready anyway. No need to leave any openings, lest they be exploited, although if it was telling the truth as he was beginning to suspect it was, Harry was unsure of how well he could defend against Fate should it attack.

While Harry kept vigilant, ready to spring to their defense at a moments notice, Hermione was thinking up and dismissing possible plans of action in her head at a blistering speed, until eventually she decided that more information was required before any decision could be reached.

"Before we decide anything, I have a few questions that need answering. For example," she said with narrowed red eyes, still in full battle mode, "what exactly is meant when you say taking a soul before its time is beyond your capabilities? You sure came down here and incapacitated us easily enough. Also, why couldn't you just retrieve your Hallows, if you regret giving them out so much and they can cause you so much trouble?"

Fate took a second to consider the questions, before it responded.

"My role is very well defined in existence. Actual creation and destruction are beyond my abilities, despite what most may think. All I am capable of is moving and changing. Souls, for example. What you perceive as birth and death is, in reality, simply the recycling of a soul, which I oversee. There are no real beginnings; no final ends. While normally I may have been able to interfere and stop the one who seeks to control me, he has taken steps that make his death impossible via the methods available to me. I believe you two are familiar with that which I speak of."

Hermione let out a quiet gasp and Harry frowned in unease; horcruxes were truly vile things. Their attention refocused on Fate when it began speaking again.

"As for why I am unable to retrieve my Hallows, the answer is the same. I did not create them. They were parts of me that I moved into normal existence, which have since grown into their own wills. They… refuse to be reunited with me." At this, Fate seemed to flash a quick bust of depression before it recovered. The two Potters noticed the slip, but made no comment. After a moment Hermione continued.

"So, while you can't take direct action in this instance, since the destruction of a horcrux is needed to kill the collector, you can move us to the dimension in question and have us deal with it. You mentioned," Hermione paused to clutch her belly protectively and was only half-successful in keeping the pain out of her voice, "that our baby, daughter you said, won't make it to term without your intervention. Correct?" Hermione asked while clutching Harry's free hand like a lifeline; to discover that they were going to be parents only to then hear that their child would not make it to birth hurt in a way neither could deal with.

Neither Harry nor Hermione could detect a hint of untruthfulness in Fate's curt nod. After taking a second to center himself, Harry squared his jaw and looked straight at the entity, and said, "One last question. Why us? If you truly have access to the entire multiverse, why choose the two of us?"

Fate was silent for a few seconds, taking the time to observe the two before it answered.

"There are a multitude of reasons for why the two of you were chosen. For the most part, it is because you have already defeated the one I need you to destroy once again."

Harry's eyes tightened at the admission, but Hermione seemed to have guessed at least that much already. They shared a look as Fate continued.

"Another reason for your selection is that you have no exact counterparts in that world. Neither Harry Potter nor Hermione Granger have ever existed there, instead Daisy Potter and Jasper Granger were born in your places. While a gender change wouldn't be enough to avoid a paradox in your case," Fate said while looking at Harry, "no prophecy was made pertaining to the 'Dark Lord's' downfall there either. Daisy Potter is nothing more than a talented witch. This lack of a prophecy is actually one of the very few major divergences between this world and that one. While not too important in itself, the lack of its existence there means that Voldemort was never defeated. You have to understand, there are some worlds so similar that you could spend a thousand years studying them and never find the one minute difference between them. Others are different to the point of being unrecognizable. The similarities between that world and your own make you two the best ones for the job."

The two Potters seemed to quickly discuss the subject using only eye contact and body language, until they both turned back to Fate and Harry asked, "When do we need to decide?"

Fate's, "Now," made them cringe, but they quickly adopted resolute expressions. Sharing one last fortifying look with Hermione, Harry intertwined his deadly fingers with Hermione's now normal ones, her armor having receded back into its deactivated state, and gave Fate a nod and said, "We'll do it."

Satisfaction tinged with relief wafted off of the being as it responded. "Good. Your possessions will go with you, and all legal issues will be taken care of, both here and there. Your age will be adjusted appropriately as that world is just a little more than two years behind your own; and before you ask, no, this will neither effect your daughter nor your ritualistic alterations in any way."

Relief and disappointment both flashed through Harry, but Hermione seemed to only care that her daughter would be safe.

"You will appear on the train heading to Hogwarts, with only the Headmaster knowing of whatever background story you decide on and your ritualistic changes. Take care in your cover's creation, for while I will make the appropriate documentation and memory alterations to back up your claims, once decided upon it will be set in stone. From there everything will be up to you two." Fate took another moment to let all it had said sink in before finishing. "Ready?" Fate asked.

Hermione had already hardened herself to do whatever needed to be done to protect her daughter, and Harry's resolve, even without the demonic influence, was never in question. As one, Harry and Hermione both barked out a forceful, "Do it." and then, in a flash of white light, they were gone.