Beta Love: Glitterally (thank you, my friend, thank you.)

Disclaimer: HP and the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no money from the penning and posting of this story.

Ch. 14

Sunday Evening

Room 1, Eighths Tower

"It's not because of all this rubbish in papers. I was going to say something earlier, but I wasn't sure how you felt, and then the thing with Sirius and your parents, and the timing was never right. Hell, I'm not sure it's right now. But I love you; I've loved you for years, and I've never felt this way for anyone else." He paused for breath. "Please say something."

Hermione blinked rapidly to clear the tears in her eyes and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes, please."

"You mean it?" She nodded against his neck, tears trickling out. "Wait, don't cry; why are you crying? What did I do? I take it back. We can just be friends if that's what you want."

She shook her head against his neck and pulled back, sniffling. "No, no. I don't want you to take it back. I just have all these emotions welling up inside me and I'm trying to figure out what's real and not real."

"This is real, Hermione, I promise. I know my feelings for you; they've been real for years."

"What about all this?" she gestured to her eyes and hair.

"What about it? You were beautiful before, and you're beautiful now. You were one of my best friends when we were scared first years up against a three-headed dog and a mountain troll. You never left me, ever. I didn't just kiss you in that tent to make you feel better; I did it because I couldn't help it anymore. The only thing that breaking the spell on you did was make me recognize you on an even deeper level."

"The press is going to go nuts."

"So? They do that anyway. Better to be hanged as a lion than a lamb."

Hermione sent him a watery smile and found her inner lion that had so resembled a newborn kitten for the last few weeks. "I love you, too. And I wanted to say something, but once all this happened with the press blindsiding us and then the spell...I just didn't know if you'd want to deal with all that." She sniffed a bit and wiped her eyes. "And I was scared you'd turn me down. Plus, you went out with that Ravenclaw."

"Are you crazy? I only went out with her because you'd just been asked out by Draco and you'd friend-zoned me. I didn't know what else to do." Harry tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear and looked into her eyes. "And then she was so bitchy to you that even I could see it. I regretted the whole fiasco."

As he leaned closer, Hermione's breath caught. "I -"

"You gave me hope." His lips brushed softly over hers.

"When?" she whispered, tilting her head.

"When you said my name at the Halloween masque." The hand in her hair now cupped the back of her head, and he pressed his lips to hers. Hermione melted against his chest and slipped her arms around him. Finally, she was tucked into the warmth and strength that she would forever associate with Harry. His kiss was a sweet burn, and she moaned softly when he pulled her even closer, pressing their chests together. It was better than any kiss they'd shared before: the tent, the game, the Masque. There was no fear of rejection, no audience, just them and the honesty of the emotion they shared.

"Thank Godric. I've waited so long," Harry muttered against her lips. His hands slid down her back, learning her contours, as his tongue swept inside her mouth to tangle with hers. Hermione held onto him tightly, hands caught in his hair. He slipped his hand beneath her jumper to feel her warm, smooth skin and groaned. He pushed her back onto the pillows of his bed and fell forward over her. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't hear the knock at the door.

"Don't mind us." Neville's voice doused them with cold water.

They froze. "Bloody hell, Neville. Have you ever heard of knocking?" Harry growled as he helped Hermione sit up and straighten their rumpled clothes.

"Oh good, you've got that sorted out. And we did knock. Now, can you two go somewhere else so I can get some rest? Besides, you can't be in here much longer before the Prophet gets wind of it," Draco answered acerbically.

Monday Morning

The Great Hall

"Oh buggering hell."

Hermione heard Neville's mutter as she and Harry settled across from him at the table. "What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, Neville handed over his copy of the Prophet. It was opened to the Society section. "What in hell?"

A Marriage Contract?

As our devoted readers will no doubt remember, the infamous Sirius Black, current head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black threatened his daughter, Hermione Black (formerly Granger) and his godson, Harry Potter (the Boy Who Lived, son of the late James and Lily Potter) with enforcing a contract in his recent Howler to the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Owls to the couple and to Mr. Black were unanswered. However, Ministry records indicate that Mr. Black and the late Mr. James Potter signed a betrothal contract for their children in early 1981 with the provision that either of the signing parties could void the contract. The contract is of the boilerplate style that has been favored by Pureblood families for generations with very few alterations.

Generally speaking, Pureblood families have kept wealth concentrated amongst several elite families, primarily the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight. The Potters were somewhat famously left off the list in the 1930s but are widely believed to have been a Pureblood family until James Potter married Lily Potter nee Evans, a Muggle-born in his year at Hogwarts. Their young son, Harry, was the sole survivor of a brutal attack by Voldemort.

Young Mr. Potter and Miss Black have been close friends since their first years at Hogwarts; they were romantically linked in their fourth year while Mr. Potter was competing for the Tri-Wizard Championship. More recently, they appear to have re-kindled their relationship. Will Mr. Black insist that these two marry following their time at school? It is worth noting that both Miss Black and Mr. Potter were raised in the Muggle world; neither have indicated a willingness to fulfill the terms of this legally binding contract. As previously noted, Mr. Black has the power to void this contract. Miss Black has never fit the mold of a Pureblood, so one can only imagine her reaction to his Howler to Mr. Potter following her indiscretion at the Halloween Masque. As yet, we have no indication who the masked wizard may have been.

Also of note: a contract using the same format as the Potter/Black one was drawn up for Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Daphne Greengrass, also so-called "Eighth" year students at Hogwarts. Neither the Greengrass nor Malfoy families were willing to comment on the contract. A search of Ministry records revealed no further contracts for any other classmates of Mr. Potter and Miss Black.

Our legal expert, a managing partner of the firm of Northup and Slope, Obadiah Slope, says that both contracts are viable and enforceable. "These contracts are not unusual for this generation. What remains to be seen is if this current crop of young witches and wizards continue the tradition of arranging marriages. After all, they [the arranged marriages] have stood these families in good stead for generations. Although, with the late unpleasantness revolving around the notion of blood purity, we may well see a shift in priorities by these couples."

Indeed, we will report as these stories develop. Check the Prophet first for engagement announcements!

"I could kill him, Harry. I could kill him." Hermione's gritted teeth gave her words a hissing sound.

"So could I." He pushed his glasses up on his nose as he finished reading the article over her shoulder.

"When we ever decide to get married, we're not announcing it in the Prophet." Hermione set the paper aside and scooped eggs onto her plate. "We can tell the Quibbler instead."

Harry's toast paused midway to his mouth at her words. He set it down carefully. "When?"

She blushed. "Err, if. I meant to say if we decide to get married."

A glint appeared in his eye, and a smile tugged at his lips. "Oh."

Neville reached over and waved the folded newssheet in front of them. "Oi! Lovebirds! What are you going to do about this?" He jabbed a long finger at the article. "It's not just about the two of you anymore."

Hermione felt her stomach drop as she pushed her eggs around on her plate. He's right. It isn't just about us. Daphne and Draco might have serious fall-out over this article. She turned around to look at Daphne who was staring, white-faced, at the offending newspaper. The pretty blonde looked up slowly and met Hermione's eyes across the tables. She shook her head slightly and cut a glance at Draco just two seats down. He sat expressionless, ignoring the ebb and flow of the conversation around him. When she looked towards Harry, he was turning back around to face Neville and the Gryffindor table.

"What do you think, Neville?" he asked quietly.

"What do I think? I think we need to kick Sirius in the arse," Neville hissed. "This shit is his fault. I can't believe he signed a contract with your dad in the first fucking place; then he had to shout about it so the entire Hall heard." He crumpled the offending paper, disgusted. "Those bleeding reporters never would have gone looking if he'd kept his mouth shut."

Hermione nudged him with her foot, looking around the table. Breakfast in the Great Hall was unusually quiet and Neville's voice carried, despite his effort to keep it down. She jerked her head in the direction of the entrance. "Let's go."

Before she could outdistance them both, Neville and Harry each grabbed apples and followed her towards the D.A.D.A. classroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Listen, we don't have much time. I hope Draco and Daphne took the hint and are coming to meet us." Hermione paced the floor, waving off the apple Harry offered to her. "Neville, you're right. This is Sirius's fault, but we've got to handle the fallout. I don't think it matters so much for Harry and me, but the Malfoys and the Greengrasses might dig their heels in now that the contract is public knowledge."

An aristocratic drawl interrupted her. "There's no 'might' about it, Granger." Draco and Daphne slipped in and closed the door, this time muffling the room. "And we've got maybe fifteen minutes before Weasley gets here."

"My parents are going to have a litter of Kneazles," Daphne groaned. "They do not like to be in the papers."

"Bottom line, Granger. Is the only way out marrying someone else?"

A genuine look of remorse on her face, Hermione nodded shortly. "I can't find anything else, and even that's a gray area. When I dug deeper, I found that setting yourselves up independently won't work. It's either your parents call it off or you find a way to make it illegal to enforce it -and marrying someone else would make it illegal."

"I can't go home for the winter hols; I can't. My mum is going to want to plan the wedding," Daphne said quietly from her seat. "She was already freaked out about me walking off at the Masque with some unknown wizard, so she's going to want to set things in stone."

"So don't," Hermione said. "I'm going to stay here. It might be fun."

"We can all stay," Harry piped up. "Make it an Eighths thing."

Neville spoke for the first time since Daphne and Draco's arrival. "That's not a bad idea; we can say we're doing internships for professors. But Gran is throwing her annual New Year's bash this year, and I've got to go to that." He paused. "But you all can come. I'd really like the company." He was speaking to everyone but looked only at Daphne.

"I don't see any advantage to my being here."

"Drake, please," Daphne implored. "My parents will be better about it if you're here."

"Uh, have you thought to just tell your parents you don't want to marry each other?" Neville asked.

No one had a chance to answer because Professor Weasley walked in and stopped abruptly. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione smiled. "We were just talking about plans for the winter hols." She shot her classmates an altogether unnecessary warning glance.

"Uh huh. Of course not. I'm sure you weren't discussing the article in this morning's Prophet at all and any impact it might have on your holiday plans."

The Gryffindors flushed. Disgusted, Draco took over. "As you say, Professor. My classmates were thinking of offering their assistance with final renovations and readying the castle for the second term."

"Are you so anxious to return home, Mr. Malfoy?" Bill unpacked his bag, readying for their class. "I'd think you'd want to avoid Lucius for a bit; is he happy with you appearing in the paper two weeks in a row. Isn't he trying to rehabilitate the Malfoy name?"

"Well, if you note, I haven't been the focus of those articles. It's been mostly Potter and Granger. Daphne just managed to get her picture taken in a compromising situation."

Neville made an aborted move toward Draco, which was stopped by Daphne's hand on his arm.

"Draco, stop being an ass. I explained to my parents that all the eighth years were costumed identically."

A smile flashed across the Professor's face. "How very convenient for you."

Meanwhile

Grimmauld Place

Kate sighed heavily and folded the Prophet by her plate. Sirius won't handle this well. Or maybe he'll surprise me. She smiled when the wizard in question leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning, my lovely. Have I told you how much I enjoy having you with me? Are you sure I can't talk you into moving in with me?"

She turned and smiled. "I'm sure." After pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she continued, "you need to see today's paper."

"Did they find the contract?" He winced at her nod. "Hermione's going to be pissed."

"You think?" A very un-Hufflepuff like smirk crossed her face. "You know you brought this round on yourself. You can't blame either of them for this one."

Another wince. "No, I don't suppose I can. But if they'd just be more discreet, I wouldn't have been so angry. What was she thinking, leaving the Masque and snogging Harry?"

"Sirius." She sounded disappointed. "I love you, but you don't always think before you act. And this one is on you. How are you going to make it right?" Kate crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. She could see the wheels turning in that handsome, reckless head of his.

"Fine. I'll tear it up. I'll void it."

"That's my smart man." She uncrossed her arms and ran her fingers through his hair. "Do you want me to draw up a notice to the paper for you?"

"Please."

"And Sirius, you need to owl Hermione and Harry, let them know before it appears in the paper."

Monday Evening

Eighths Tower

Harry entered the Eighths Tower after Quidditch practice, sweaty, sore, and muddy thanks to an errant Bludger sent his way. Fortunately, he was fairly low to the ground when the blasted thing almost knocked him off his broom, prompting an emergency landing in a mud puddle. That's what I get for daydreaming about my girlfriend instead of paying attention! Glancing around the room at his classmates studying, he noticed the object of his affections was nowhere to be found. Shrugging, he decided to get cleaned up; maybe she'd be back by then.

But thirty minutes later Hermione was still absent. Harry headed to her favorite spot, a window seat in the back of the library. He permitted himself a small grin when he found her curled up with a book in her lap, reading for pleasure rather than content. He could tell because she only had the book and no quill or notebook for taking notes. Hermione always took notes when she was revising. He slipped silently to her side and whispered in her ear, "Whatcha reading?"

Startled, Hermione slammed the book and slipped it between her leg and the window. "Uh, nothing. Just a, umm, Muggle studies book. Just a bit of light reading. How was Quidditch practice?"

Harry leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss over her lips while reaching for the book. Hermione was faster than he was, tucking it behind her.

"Muggle studies, you say?" He grinned, their faces still close together. "Can I talk you into a bit of a snogging session instead?"

"We're in the library," Hermione's eyes widened, scandalized. "We can't snog in the library! That's practically sacrilege!"

Harry laughed quietly at her outraged expression. "I knew you were going to say that. But seriously, come with me. If you're done with your light reading and all. I want to hang out with my girlfriend and talk. Not whisper. Talk. And maybe snog a bit."

"Honestly, Harry." She shook her head, but gathered up her bag and headed to the Restricted Section to return her book.

Harry couldn't help but notice her destination. Muggle studies in the Restricted Section? I doubt that. He hooked her bag over his shoulder and held out his hand. "Ready?" As they walked out of the library, he continued, "I thought we'd try the RoR again. Maybe our luck will be better tonight." He winced. "Hope we don't run into the Ravenclaws again."

"I hear Felicity is dating Michael Corner now, so I think we'll be safe." Hermione flashed a grin at him. "They'll probably be in Ravenclaw tower, maybe snogging in front of their fire." She paused and then continued, "You know, I always wonder about those Ravenclaws."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the Ravenclaws are always curious about things and intellectual pursuits. I wonder how far they go with that."

"Ohhh. Well, you know what Gryffindor Tower was like: Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, I Never." Harry laughed softly remembering some of the good times before things turned so wrong. "What about the Hufflepuffs? Think they have fun like that?"

"Well, the Hufflepuffs are so helpful, you know. If you phrased it right, they'd probably do anything to help or make you feel better." Hermione smiled again. "I can't even imagine what the Slytherin common room looks like, much less them playing games and experimenting."

"The Common Room? Well, it's got a really cool view into the lake, but it felt kind of uncomfortable to me. I just kept imagining the glass breaking and the room flooding. Ron said the same thing." Harry paused, remembering back to second year. "And there were archways and dark furniture. It wasn't comfortable like Gryffindor. Seemed more formal, somehow. But I got the feeling those walls held secrets; you know what I mean?"

When they arrived at the Room of Requirement, Harry paced back and forth quickly and the door appeared, simple and unremarkable. Inside, there was a cheery fire with an oversized chair and ottoman positioned in front of it. He set her bag beside the chair and quickly pulled her down beside him, with her legs draped across his and his arm around her shoulders. "Perfect. Just the right size, like a chair and a half."

Hermione, uncharacteristically silent, leaned into his shoulder and hugged him close. She looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the chair. "Did you want to talk?" she asked softly.

He brought his head up and looked into her serious eyes. "I think we need to, yeah?"

"About the contract?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

Harry blinked rapidly and debated how to answer. "I don't ever want to imagine my life without you in it. And this thing between us - I don't want to rush it. But it just feels right, like, this is how it's always meant to be. So, when," his eyes glinted in amusement as he echoed her word from the morning's breakfast, "we decide to get married, I want it to be because we want to get married, not when a contract says we should."

"He'll tear it up, won't he?"

"I know Sirius pretty well. Yeah, he'll void it. He said he would. The only question is when. If he hadn't sent that bloody Howler…."

She winced at the memory. "I know. I'm not sure what he was thinking."

"He wasn't," Harry stated baldly. "His impulse control has gotten better, but when he gets angry, he flies off the handle really quickly. I hope his new girlfriend can help him tone it down, level him out a bit." He met her eyes. "Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive him?"

She started to pull back, but Harry wasn't having it. "No, no, please stay with me." She relaxed against his chest. "Talk to me."

"Maybe." Her voice was slightly muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "I think I might be able to forgive him for all of it, but he's got to give me some space. Let me breathe. Understand that I'm not Catriona. Let me come to accept all of this in my own time. Understand that I'm going to be my own person. And if we decide to ever get married, it will be because we want to, not because some contract says we should." Her head came up. "Can we snog now?"

"Far be it from me to disappoint you." Harry leaned down punctuated each word with a soft kiss on her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and finally her lips. With his final kiss, their lips met and held. They were done talking for the time being.

A/N: Rest in peace, Alan Rickman. Obadiah Slope is my nod to this talented actor. *Wands up