A/N: First off I'd like to apologize for the lack of an update both Tuesday and Wednesday. I've had the worst case of writer's block the last two days, and haven't been able to get much out. Not to mention one of my evil housemates upstairs has been blasting his music so loud that I can't think straight, so that's been causing some problems too.

From now on I'm not going to be updating every day like I was before. It's taking a lot of effort to get out an entire lengthy chapter in the two hours I have before work each day, so my apologies for that as well. I'll do my best to do it every other day or every three days.

I've done some thinking, and I'll now be doing my replies through GreatestJournal. The trouble is that won't let me post a link to GJ, so it's going to be a bit annoying. If you go to GreatestJournal dot Com, type in the username "crystalh" at the top of the page. It'll take you to a userinfo page. From there click on 'crystalh' where it says it right next to User, and it'll take you to the journal with replies.

If this is too much of a pain in the butt for everyone just let me know and I'll do review replies at the beginning of each chapter again.

Under ordinary circumstances, the Order would have taken Harry and the teens to the safety of Grimmauld Place. Due to Dumbledore's death, the safe house was no longer safe. The Fidelius Charm had been broken moments after he had been murdered by Snape; leaving the former Potions professor free to tell the Dark Lord the location of the house. The Order's prior meeting there had been fairly risky, but the kitchen at Grimmauld Place was much larger than the Burrow, and there had been a large number of people in attendance.

Molly Weasley had felt that it would be in the best interest of the teenagers to keep them safe in her own home. Having experienced first hand how easily they could be found in London, Harry and Hermione didn't argue when Molly ushered them home.

Three tense days passed at the Burrow after Hermione had been discharged from St. Mungo's. Though Ron had come to terms with Harry and Hermione's relationship, he was still having trouble seeing it in front of his face every day.

Ginny was taking it worst of all. Despite Hermione's near-death experience, she was still determined that Harry would come back to his senses and proclaim his love for her. Any normal person would have learned from Hermione's unfortunate experience, realizing that it was dangerous to be with Harry, but Ginny had convinced herself that somehow Hermione had brought the situation upon herself. While she was polite to the couple when they spent time together, she had spent hours locked in her room, trying to discover a way to turn Harry's heart in her favour again. She couldn't believe that his feelings had dissipated so quickly, and was determined to win him back.

Mrs. Weasley, in an attempt to shield her children from any further emotional distraught, had given Harry and Hermione permission to stay in each other's rooms with the door closed. She remembered what she and Arthur had been like at their age, and would rather have them behind closed doors than flaunting their relationship in the faces of their children. Also, Molly knew about the nightmares that Hermione had been having, and understood that she needed Harry to give her some Dreamless Sleep potion when she had one. Occasionally Hermione didn't make it back to her own room before falling asleep again, so there were nights where Harry had gently lifted her from the floor, where she'd fallen asleep, placed her in his own bed and taken her place on the floor. Mrs. Weasley didn't mind this, as she was still thankful (in a morbid sense) that it had been Hermione, and not Ginny, in that alleyway. Of course, Molly had overlooked the fact that both Ron and Ginny were bright children, and they were quickly able to figure out what was going on.

It was this allowance that Mrs. Weasley had made that led to possibly the best 'Happy Birthday' Harry had ever received.

Still in the wee hours of the morning, Harry was fast asleep. He had been concerned at first about Hermione not being able to wake him if she needed any of the potion Healer Danby had given them, but he discovered that he was a lighter sleeper than he realized. He was now able to fall asleep easily, knowing that Hermione would come to him if she needed him. He would have preferred to share a room with her at least, so that she didn't have to wake up from her nightmares alone, but he knew that Mrs. Weasley would never tolerate that. Instead, Harry always fell asleep with his door cracked open, so that if he heard anything coming from Hermione's room, he would wake up and go to her immediately. That night was a different one. Hermione had not woken him up for any reason, and Harry had been asleep long enough to begin floating through a dream.

A soft, floral fragrance began to drift through Harry's room. He could smell it even in his sleeping state, and it began to gently coax him into waking up. Rolling over and rubbing his eyes, Harry looked around his room, searching for the source of the pleasant smell. He found nothing. As he was about to turn back over and go back to sleep, an ethereal figure entered his room. She was dressed in a long white silk gown, and she reminded Harry of when he and Hermione began to glow together. This figure was brighter than they had ever been, lighting up his entire room.

"Hello, Harry," she whispered.

He stared, unsure of what to say.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said, smiling at him. "You're seventeen today; today you are going to become a man."

Silently the beautiful figure slipped across the room, closing the door behind her. Clearly she was a witch since she was carrying a wand, but to Harry, she looked like an angel. She flicked her wand about, casting silently.

Harry looked at her, confused. "What did you do?" he asked. He tried to sit up, to face the witch-angel, but found that he couldn't. His wrists were magically bonded to the bed.

"Just a few charms," she winked. "You won't be able to move until I let you, and I cast another charm so that no one can hear what's going on or get through that door."

Harry couldn't help but feel a little worried, for reasons he could not comprehend. A beautiful angel had entered his room, confined him to his bed, and locked the door. He couldn't see anything wrong with this, but was still a touch apprehensive. "What's going on?" he asked, unable to do anything but stare at the beautiful woman.

She let out a giggle, and came closer to him. She lifted herself onto the bed with Harry, straddling his waist. "Now you really can't move," she winked.

Before Harry could protest—though what sane man would?—she had dipped her head to his, and covered his mouth with kisses. They were gentle at first, but the witch-angel began to kiss him more passionately, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth.

Harry's head was spinning, his temperature rising by the second.

The witch-angel sat back, a sly grin on her face. Her motions had caused the front of her silk gown to slide open at the front, giving Harry a generous view of what she wasn't wearing underneath.

"Let's Apparate somewhere else," she suggested, flicking her wand to undo his magical bonds.

Harry seized his opportunity to grab his angel by the waist and flip her over onto her back. Before she could react he had her hands pinned, and was straddling her as she had done to him. Her breath caught in her throat.

"You were saying?" he murmured, kissing her thoroughly before she had the chance to respond. He pressed his body against hers, acting just as wickedly as she had moments earlier. Harry realized at that point that she was more exposed than she had been before, probably due to his moving on top of her. His mouth went dry.

"I was saying," she said coyly, "that we should Apparate somewhere else."

"Have somewhere in mind?" he said, grinning at her.

She slipped out of his hold to stand in front of him, readjusting what he now realized was a robe and not a gown. She held out her hand to him and he gladly took it, sweeping her into his arms.

The angel nodded in response to his question and held tightly to his waist. She concentrated, and they Apparated elsewhere without a sound.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around as he still held onto his angel.

She looked up at him, smiling. "I created this place."

"How did you…?" he was confused. Harry took a closer look at his angel. "'Mione?"

"Well, who else, silly?" she grinned.

"Am I still dreaming?" he asked, looking around.

She shook her head. "You were pretty asleep when I came in, but you started to wake up when I suggested Apparating."

Harry was surprised. Hermione was still dressed in the white silk robe he'd pictured her in, but she wasn't glowing as brightly as she had been in his dream. She looked beautiful, and Harry could barely take his eyes off of her.

"Harry, look around," she prompted.

He did as he was told, and was amazed. Hermione had taken his idea from the hotel balcony and recreated something similar for him. They were in another room entirely, but it looked as though they were on a beach somewhere. There were palm trees, beautiful flowers, and the ocean looked so inviting. Right in the centre of the white sand was a hut of some sort. From where Harry was standing, it looked like it had four posts made of thick bamboo stalks, and there was a white canopy over it, billowing in the gentle breeze.

Hermione took his hand and led him towards the canopy, and parted the folds so that they could enter. Inside it was similar to the tent that Mr. Weasley had brought to the Quidditch World Cup in their fourth year. There was a huge pillow the size of a mattress lying on the floor, surrounded by smaller pillows. The canopy appeared to be bewitched so that from the outside you couldn't see in, but from the inside you could see out. Harry had a wonderful view of the water.

Leaning back on the giant pillow, Harry looked up at his girlfriend. "What are we doing here?"

She smiled, toying with the edge of your robe. "It's your birthday, Harry," she said, "don't you want to open your present?"

Harry was more than tempted, but he was still hesitant. The most beautiful woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing was offering herself to him, and all he could think about was days earlier, when she had been in the alley. "Are you ready for something like this, 'Mione?"

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Doesn't it feel too soon? After everything that just happened?"

Hermione sat down next to him, and he pulled her close. "Harry, we love each other. How can it be too soon?" she asked.

"I don't mean that, 'Mione. I mean after… after Draco," he said quietly.

"Oh… that." she whispered. Facing Harry, Hermione let a few tears slip down her cheeks. "That's why I need you, Harry," she grasped his hand. "I don't want to think about that anymore."

Harry held her close as they lay back on the enormous pillow, softly stroking her hair and placing soft kisses on her temple. "Then don't," he said, kissing her.

"Harry, please," she begged softly, "I need to get the memories out of my mind, and I can't take Dreamless Sleep Potion forever. We need to create new memories. We don't have to do anything more than we did in London, unless you want to, I just need to be with you."

Harry wanted nothing more than to do exactly what she was asking of him, but he wanted it to be for the right reasons. "'Mione, we can't just jump into this. Last time we were completely smashed, which may not be an excuse, but otherwise we wouldn't have done it. We can't do this if we're not ready. I don't want to hurt you," he looked at her, holding her tenderly.

"You won't," she promised. "You need kisses to make you feel better, right? Well, I need a lot more than kisses to get past this. Just let me touch you. You can help me get past this, Harry, please—"

Before she could continue, Harry had kissed her. He pulled her closer, entangling a hand in her hair and sliding the other one around her waist. Soon after they were entwined in each other's arms, lost to the world.

"Morning Harry!" Ron said brightly, pushing his way into Harry's room.

Harry groaned as Ron pulled up the blinds, letting the sunlight into his room. "Happy birthday, mate!" he said cheerfully, plopping himself on Harry's bed. "Mum says we're going to the Ministry today so that you can do your Apparition test. She and Dad are there now, arranging the cars."

Harry was listening to Ron, but he wasn't paying attention to the words. His mind was still on Hermione, and how she had begged him to help her heal her emotional wounds.

"—and Ginny's downstairs making a huge birthday breakfast, and… Harry, have you been listening to a word I said!" Ron said, staring at his best friend.

"Um… Apparition and breakfast?" Harry guessed.

Ron laughed. "Close enough. Come on, would you? We'll go get Hermione up and go downstairs. Ginny's been cooking for the last forty-five minutes."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, still fairly sleepy.

"Nearly eleven," said Ron, dragging Harry out of bed.

Harry dressed quickly and had Ron go on downstairs without him, claiming he wanted to see if Hermione slept okay. Ron headed down the stairs, knowing that Hermione's nightmares were a touchy subject with Harry.

Carefully opening the door to Hermione's room, Harry slipped inside. His girlfriend was sleeping peacefully, looking much like the angel she'd been in his dream. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, gently kissing her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw Harry, "Hi," she whispered back, almost shyly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just wanted to make sure," he said, "I was worried I might've hurt you earlier."

"You didn't hurt me in London, Harry, why would you have this morning?" she asked quizzically.

Harry seemed like he didn't want to bring up the subject, but he knew he'd have to. "I thought that maybe you might be more… sensitive? I don't know the word I'm looking for, but I wanted to make sure I was gentle enough."

Hermione chucked softly, reaching out to hug her boyfriend. "Oh, Harry," she sighed, her breath tickling his ear, "you never have to worry about hurting me. I can take a lot more than this morning, you know. You won't always have to be so careful."

Harry's mind began to wander at this, but he was quickly brought back by Hermione's kiss. She'd leaned over towards the edge of the bed, kissing him passionately, hungrily.

Harry broke away. "Promise?" he said tentatively. He didn't want to hurt her, but it was hard holding back.

She nodded. "Now get out! I have to get dressed for breakfast, and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't want you in here watching me change!" she smiled.

"Please, it's not like I haven't already see—" Harry was rewarded with a pillow in the face for his cheek. He ducked the next one and dodged out of the room, going down the stairs two at a time for breakfast.

At the bottom of the stairs he was rewarded with the delicious smells of a home cooked breakfast. There were plates filled with crisp bacon, mountains of fluffy, scrambled eggs, and golden brown toast. Ginny was standing at the stove, making pancakes. Harry could see that she had gone to a lot of trouble to make all of this, and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. It was clear she still had feelings for him, and here he was staying in her home with his girlfriend.

"Morning, Gin," he greeted her.

She turned around, smiling. "Morning, Harry. Happy birthday!" she quickly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "I hope you like bacon and eggs. It's all I'm really good at, I'm not making any promises that these pancakes will turn out right." She had been cooking the Muggle way. Ginny liked to do things more hands on than her mother, who was a master at making meals with her wand.

"I'm sure they'll be fine. Do I smell coffee?" he asked.

Ginny nodded. "I know you like it first thing in the morning, so I started brewing some when Ron went upstairs to wake you up." She pointed at a seat at the table, which was surrounded by packages. "There's a fresh cup there for you, and some birthday gifts came by owl while you were in bed. Is Hermione coming down soon?"

"Should be," Harry said, surveying the gifts, "she was going to get dressed when I left her."

Ginny nodded, turning back to the pancakes. Harry sat down, glancing at Ron across the table. He was already shovelling eggs into his mouth, pausing to take gulps of pumpkin juice and munch on a few pieces of bacon.

Doing his best not to laugh at Ron's eating habits, Harry took a few sips of his coffee. He relaxed in his chair, mulling over which package to open first.

"Pancake, Harry?" Ginny asked, holding the pan out to him. "They actually didn't turn out that bad."

"Thanks, Gin," he said, holding up his plate. He looked up at her, with a devious grin on his face. "So do I get a birthday kiss, or is a hug the best I get from the prettiest girl I've ever seen?" He knocked the pan from her hand and pulled her down to sit in his lap.

Ginny squealed in delight, thoroughly kissing Harry. His hand slipped from her waist to her bum just as Hermione came down the stairs.

"Harry James Potter, what in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?" she yelled.

"Kissing Ginny," he replied, capturing the redheaded witch's mouth again.

Hermione just stared at her boyfriend in shock. Ron looked up from the forkful of eggs he was about to inhale. He had been too absorbed in his breakfast to listen to what his best friend and his sister had been saying until he heard 'kissing' and 'Ginny' in the same sentence. "What the bloody hell?" he asked, staring. When he realized what was happening, he looked at Hermione hopefully.

"Don't even think about it," she threatened, still glaring at Harry and Ginny, who seemed oblivious to everyone else in the kitchen.