A/N: I am back! As always, I want to thank everyone who reads this story and a special thank you to the readers who kindly leave reviews.
This chapter picks up nine months after the previous one and is basically the set up for the last part of this story. Warning, there is some content worthy of the M rating.
I hope you enjoy...

Disclaimer: I must not tell lies... Harry Potter does not belong to me.


Chapter 28: Fire

Her laugh was resonating within the stairway as they made their way to the last floor. She seemed to be giddily happy and truth be told, he felt the same: slightly intoxicated, immensely happy, and more than a tad randy. All her fault it was, really. After a week they had spent apart because of a bloody mission in Wales, he had come back to Devon that morning foe he wouldn't miss Harry and Ginny's wedding for all the gold in Gringott's. And she had showed up wearing a maid of honour dress in a fiery red colour, with a tight bodice from where the top of her rounded breast teasingly peeked in a way that made him want to caress them and hold them in the perfect mould that were his hands. The bottom was made of many layers of fluffy fabric that stopped just at her knees, leaving her shapely legs bare and ready to be kissed. And then there were the vertiginously high heels of the open-toed shoes –fuck me shoes, Seamus had called them before Ron had punched his arm– that made her slender ankles so attractive, Muriel's opinion on the matter be damned.

And she had rubbed said legs, ankles, and fuck-me shoes shod feet –Seamus was right even if he wasn't allowed to say it aloud– around his own feet and legs, under the table. A few toasts and dances later and he had wholeheartedly agreed when she had told him to follow her upstairs to his orange lair.

And here they were, sneaking away from all the festivities, on their way to satisfy an urge that a week apart had only rendered more pressing. They passed by Percy's old room. Ron furtively thought that he hadn't seen Percy and his girlfriend Audrey since the dancing had began. As he came closer to the room, he heard unmistakable noises of two people in the throes of passion, or so it seemed, from behind the closed door. Ron stopped, visibly horrified:

"The twat doesn't know to use a muffling spell, does he?"

Hermione just burst into a fit of giggles, likely brought on by the three glasses of Champagne she had downed in the last hour. She just pulled him by the hand and they continued on their journey to the highest room in the Burrow.

When they reached it, she pulled Ron by his tie and shut the door close and sealed it with one swish of her wand. Even mildly drunk, she was able of outstanding magic.

They stumbled on his old, creaky, and too small bed, bouncing on the tired mattress. She was lying underneath him, in a cloud of fluffy fabric, her wild hair wanting to escape from the confines of the sleek bun it was held in, and her eyes shining happiness, love, and lust.

"You're beautiful," he told her before diving to take her red-painted lips in a searing kiss. Her hands snaked around his neck and brought him impossibly closer as her legs parted and he sank between them, cursing the layers of frilly clothes that kept their skins apart. While their lips were still attached he managed to get rid of the dress robes, undo his bow tie and unbutton his shirt. He was going to attack Hermione's dress when he stopped for a moment, realizing he had not the faintest idea how to remove the pretty dress without tearing it, something he was positive wouldn't be a good idea.

She saw his perplexity and kissed him one more time before reaching to his aid and undoing a well hidden zip. Underneath the red satin was her soft and bare skin, her round breasts teased in eager peaks, waiting for him.

In an odd mix of urgency and reverence, he descended on her and feasted on the soft skin, eliciting soft moans while her short nails dug into his shoulders. Slowly, methodically, he kissed, caressed and licked. His hand meandered south and underneath the many layers of frothy fabric before ascending her shapely thighs and finally resting on the piece of simple cotton that couldn't keep the heat and wetness underneath it hidden.
He pushed the encumbering fabric aside and his fingers went to work, touching, rubbing, plunging, and quickly bringing her into complete ecstasy.

She was left literally purring, her eyes half-closed, curls escaping the confine of the elaborate hairdo, and sporting a smile that got him even harder. He wanted her with an intensity that had never waned and that could have scared others but not him. her eyes opened, bright pools of chocolate and fixed on him.

"Take me!"

She had said it in a soft whisper but there was no mistaking the bossiness of the request, nor was there any need for him to be told twice. Slowly he worked on undressing her, her knickers the first casualty, followed by the mountain of ruffles that was her dress. She was naked except for the bloody red shoes that had started it all. His clothes followed and landed on top of the heap, until he was as bare as her. As their body melded in an age-old rhythm, as he surrendered to being sheathed in her glorious heat, as he felt himself let go, he could only think this was sheer perfection.


He didn't know how long they spent, lying together, basking in their post-coital bliss, but he knew they had to go back to the festivities before their absence became too conspicuous and people actually surmised what they had been doing. He slowly got out of the bed, missing instantly Hermione's warm and sleeping form, and started collecting his clothes and putting them back on, fuddling with the bow tie he was unaccustomed to. Once done, he went back on the bed and kissed Hermione's bare shoulder as she murmured:

"We have to go back, don't we?"

"Yes," he said as he used his wand to lift the Muffliato charm. "We do."

"A pity, really. I've missed having you hog the bed," she said in reference to the week they had spent apart. "Although Crookshanks does a decent job of filling up for you," she added teasingly as Ron proceeded to tickle her neck in a way that had her laughing uncontrollably.

She finally managed to escape his dexterous fingers and to stop laughing. She was trying to put the red dress on when they heard voices coming from the stairway leading to the room.

"I'm telling you, they're probably shagging like there's no tomorrow," came George's voice.

"And? How's that different from what you wanted to do five minutes ago?" Angelina countered.

"There's still time," George replied smugly and with what Ron expected was a waggle of his brows.

"Later," Angelina replied in a very low voice. "And I promise I'll make it worthwhile," she added flirtingly. "But for now, your mother has asked us to find Ron and Hermione, who have, it seems, mysteriously disappeared."

"Nothing mysterious, I'm telling you," George insisted before a a heavy silence fell, one Ron imagined was filled with Angelina's look of reprobation and George's look of pseudo-shame he had spent years perfecting to avoid his mother's sharp ire. It lasted just five seconds before the two burst out laughing, a sound that was becoming familiar again but that Ron had feared had been lost forever two years ago.

Ron saw that Hermione had listened too whilst she had been putting that extraordinary dress back on. They looked at each other and exchanged a quick look that was enough to communicate what to do next. And as George and Angelina's steps grew close enough for them to knock on the door, Hermione took Ron's hand and they Disapparated to a quiet corner of the garden.


It was a perfect early July day, warm and sunny, a perfect day for a wedding. As Ron and Hermione made their way to the heart of the festivities, her head resting on the crook of his neck, and her hand entwined with his, he noticed that the dancing was going strong. He estimated they had been gone for only thirty minutes and that nobody besides his mother would have missed them or noticed their absence.

They got on the dance floor just as the Weird Sisters -there were some advantages to being Harry Potter- were just finishing a lively number. Ginny and Harry were in the middle of the floor, their dancing completely off key with the music, as if there were dancing to a music only the two of them could hear. Happiness was too weak a word to describe what these two might feel. And Ron couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. Hermione, next to him, was also staring at the newlywed and he saw her reach to her cheek to wipe a wayward tear, one of joy, he knew.

"Soon, it'll be us," he whispered into her ear.

"If we ever set a date," she said sheepishly.

They had been engaged for almost nine months and had yet to set a date for their wedding . Neither seemed to be in a hurry, Ron not being one for organization and she caught between the preparations for Ginny's wedding and the demands of the Elf Centre.
The Centre was now running well, even if fewer than twenty elves had passed through its walls. Still, Hermione was proud of the fact that all of them had managed to find gainful employment after that and that the families they had gone to work for had been personally vetted and were paying the elves decent wages.

Her project of law to make all elves free creatures was in its final draft and she was supposed to give a presentation to the Wizengamot for their approval the following month. If the law passed, she would consider it one of the greatest achievements of her life. It would then be worth the long hours spent perusing old and grimy books. Of course, she had had time each time Ron had gone all over England and a few times to Wales to hunt the garden variety of criminal wizards. His job was dangerous, although less than chasing Voldemort had been as he loved to remind her, and it often took him away on overnight assignments, rendering their time together both rarer and more precious.
Saying their life was a bit chaotic at the moment was an understatement but she enjoyed every minute of it. And there was the very tangible benefit of mind-blowing sex when they found each other again after some time apart, she thought with a satisfied smile.

The music had stopped and they heard the familiar voice of Molly Weasley.

"Ah, here you are, you two. I've been looking all over for you."

Despite her reproach, the Weasley matriarch seemed to be in an excellent mood.

"It'll be you two soon," she smiled as she took one of their hands in each of hers. "Kingsley was looking for you, Hermione. He's over there talking with Andromeda," she added while pointing towards where Kingsley and Andromeda sat, deep in conversation.

"Not sure what Kingsley wants to talk about but we'll go and see him."

"Perfect," Molly exclaimed before reaching for her wand and quickly pointing it at Hermione's hair. "Sorry, Dear, your bun is falling apart," she explained as she swished and murmured a quick spell that put Hermione's hair back in the sleek bun. "Here, it's better. What did you do? Went for a little ride on Ron's broomstick?"

Ron spat out the drink he had been sipping on, his ears suddenly a violent crimson. Hermione gently tapped his back, shielding her own flushed face from Molly.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," she said in a much higher voice than her usual one. "Ron, let's go and see Kingsley."

With an amused smile, Molly looked at them walking away toward the Minister of Magic as she muttered to herself:

"Broomstick ride, right!"


"He keeps changing his hair colour, just like Dora did," Andromeda said with visible love for the toddler who was currently playing with Bill and Victoire.

"He does look like her," Kingsley replied in his booming voice. "She was one of our brightest, Tonks."

"I miss her," Andromeda said as she fought to control the tears that threatened to fall. "If there wasn't Teddy around, I don't know how I would have survived without Dora and Ted."

He gently covered her hand with him and the kind gesture was all that was needed to convey his sympathy.

"Kingsley, Andromeda," Ron's voice interrupted the moment.

"Ron, Hermione, here you are at last. Nobody could find you for a while..." said the booming voice.

"Well, we had..." Ron started.

"Things to tend to," Hermione added with aplomb as Ron played with his bow tie nervously. "Andromeda, so good to see you again."

Since they had moved into their own flat, their interactions with Teddy's grandmother had decreased.

"How are you doing?"

In anybody else's mouth, the question might have been a rethorical conversation starter. In Hermione's, it was a sincere concern and Andromeda had to appreciate the kindness.

"I'm well, thank you. Teddy keeps me quite busy," she added with an affectionate smile that made her features brighten and the loathed resemblance to her late sister disappear.

"By the way, Castor says hello to you, Ron."

"Castor?" Ron asked perplexed.

"Greengrass," Hermione completed for him.

"Yes, sorry, I always call him Castor," Andromeda added with an amused smile. "You, Harry, and Neville left an impression on him. He's also thankful for what you did for the hospital."

"Well, Ron said suddenly uncomfortable with the praise, we did our job."

"And very well," Kingsley added with almost paternal pride.

"It seems Cissy's son still works for him," Andromeda added. "According to Castor, he's a talented potioneer although Castor still doesn't trust him fully."

"He wouldn't be the first not to trust the ferret," Ron mumbled. "And mostly for good reasons," he added remembering how Draco had sent the memory of his interaction with Meads but hadn't come forward in any other way.

"No doubt," Andromeda agreed. "He did learn from that snake after all. Can't say I miss the man, she added with thinly veiled contempt for her late brother in law.

"What about Narcissa?" Hermione suddenly asked, wondering how the older woman was adjusting to widowhood, nearly nine months after.

Andromeda scrutinised Hermione with interest. She had long suspected there was some untold history between her sister and Harry and his two beat friends. She was aware that Narcissa had indirectly saved Harry's life. She was also aware that Draco had been responsible for Ron's near fatal poisoning a few years back. But there was more, she was convinced of it. Something that had pushed her sister to ask for her assistance two years ago, something that had forced Narcissa to strike an unlikely alliance with Hermione to seed the Centre the latter was now running.

"I didn't know you had an interest in my sister's whereabouts, Hermione. But if you must know, Castor has told me she still comes once a week to visit his ward. It seems there's a little girl to whom she's taken. Narcissa has also had tea with me twice in the last few months."

"Has she?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Ron, I've known her longer than anyone else at this point. I think with Lucius gone, she's trying to revive old relationships. She isn't my best friend but she's still my sister."

"Hasn't she also taken over Malfoy Apothecaries?" Kingsley asked.

"Yes. Successfully so, it seems," Andromeda said. "Anyway, it's almost time for Teddy's nap. I should go and get him. It was nice talking with you," she added with a kind smile as she rose and walked towards where Teddy was laughing happily with little Victoire.

"Kingsley, Molly told me you wanted to speak with me," Hermione asked.

"Oh yes. I finally got rid of Hobbes as the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures yesterday. You know I didn't approve of the cavalier fashion in which he fired you."

"I know, Kingsley," she replied gratefully. "And I appreciate it but I don't want the fact that I'm friend of the Minister of Magic to be perceived as the reason why things happen."

"Well, it wasn't the reason I got rid of him. I had someone in law enforcement to follow up on some cases you had mentioned where Hobbes had not done his job. That was enough to dismiss him. I just wish I could have done it earlier so that justice could be served more equitably for all magical creatures," he added ruefully.

"There was much to be done," Hermione said kindly. "And there still is,' she added thinking of her law project. "And while Hobbes was a complete...

"Arse," Ron offered.
"Yes, that," Hermione concurred and had Kingsley laugh. "Yet, he didn't dab in dark magic. How clean would you say the entire ministry is those days?"

"Well, we've worked hard these past two years but we still have a few pockets of people ready to subscribe to pure blood insanities or who can be bought for the right amount of galleons. But truth be told, I don't think we will ever fully get rid of all of them."

"I'm afraid you're correct," Hermione sighed.

"But that's not what I wanted to tell you. The direction of Department is now vacant and I need a replacement for Hobbes and I think you'd be the perfect candidate. So, this is what I wanted to offer you: heading the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I frankly can't think of a better person to do this."

Hermione was silent for a moment, absorbing what was proposed and the opportunity it would represent. Her proposal to the Wizengamot would also have more weight behind it. Yet, she thought she would still have to spend some time at the Elf Centre and handle a demanding new job and coordinate with Ron's unpredictable schedule. How much time would they have to spend together with such busy lives? She turned to Ron to gauge how he was taking the news and all she saw was undeniable pride and love.

"This is perfect for you," Hermione," he enthused.

And there was the smile she had fallen in love with what felt like a lifetime ago, when they had barely been children. Her decision was swiftly made.

"Kingsley, I'll be honoured to accept your offer," she graciously said.

"That's settled then," Kingsley announced in his deep voice as he rose. "I have found the new head for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."


It was a slow day: fewer potions to make which was fine by him. Elworth was also away and for the first time, he was trusted to be in charge of the potions for one day. He wasn't naive enough to ignore that Greengrass had some potent tracking charms on each of the ingredients used in the hospital. The downfall of Meads had resulted in many new measures, supposedly in the name of transparency. Truth was Greengrass had been caught off guard by Meads' arrest. Ah, the dangers of being benevolent. One thing he had at least learnt from his father.

At the thought of his father, his fingers instinctively went to the pocket watch that had been Lucius' and that he now wore. It didn't even keep time properly (that was why he still had the elaborate wristwatch he had received for his seventeenth birthday) but the shape of the entwining twin snakes under his fingertips somehow soothed him.

He went on reading the paper, revulsion stirring in him as he saw the two page spread on Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's wedding. And there were the pictures, radiating a silly happiness he found sickening. One caught his eyes, of Weasley and Granger. While they may not be as hideous as the ones he had sported at the Yule Ball, Weasley's dress robes screamed ordinary and did nothing for his too tall frame, Draco thought with a smirk. And then there was Granger in a dress befitting of a prostitute. He supposed this was a Muggle dress as no self-respecting witch would ever dress like this for a wedding. And the red of her dress matched the one he saw as he thought of her and as his fingers went to seek the soothing silver of the pocket watch. It had been nearly nine months but he hadn't forgotten she was responsible. He would find a way to make her pay for it. And he wouldn't use dark or illegal magic, as he had no desire to become a Squib. No, it would be just his brains, brains he knew to be more than adequate to figure our a way to make her pay, and pay dearly for his father's death. The belief made him breathe easier and as he used his hazel wand to silently set the paper ablaze, his resolve helped him find his calm back while he watched the dancing flames devour the evidence of his nemeses' happiness.

"That must have been some bad article," he heard a voice he had longed to hear for so many months. "Aguamenti!" she cast the spell with ease and neatly made the remnants of the burnt paper vanish.

"Astoria,"he greeted her in a voice that didn't disguise his surprise nor his pleasure at seeing her.

"Draco," she replied evenly. "Mum always says it's bad form setting things on fire. Of course, over the years, I've set a few things ablaze: ugly dresses, some curtains, and Daphne's bed once-that was an accident before you ask and she wasn't in it and she hated anyway. Mum thinks I'm mental and Papa, while more indulgent, thinks I should have my head examined for pyromaniac tendencies."

"Something to remember," he said softly before she burst into laughter. "Why are you here?"

"Quite the welcome! Well, I finally graduated from Hogwarts, with five NEWTS, mind you, and I will be working with Papa for the summer."

"Are you?"

"Yes. Is that surprising? After all, if I can use Papa's influence to get ahead, why shouldn't I?"

"I didn't say that," he replied slightly defensive. "I just thought potions wasn't your thing."

"It isn't," she acknowledged. "Although I'm quite good at it."

"No doubt."

"I will help Papa with his ward. More to help him promote his cause. If I can draw interest to it, then Papa can get more funding, which will attract positive attention to him and get him closer to find a permanent cure for lycanthropy."

"That's right, your master plan," he said in an easy tone, remembering what she had shared on the Centre opening night.

"What about you? Still working here?"

"I have to make a living, haven't I? Although your father could be more generous."

"Says the heir of one of the most profitable apothecary businesses."

"It's my mother's, really."

The defensive tone was back.

"Not yours. Why?"

She asked the question in her usual blunt fashion.

"I... It's neither here or now. Mother and I agreed it would be best for now."

"You are trying to get away from your name and make it on your own, aren't you?"

She had a knack to see through him like nobody else. While it should have annoyed him to no end, there was actually a comforting element to it. He could be himself with her and she didn't seem to mind.

"On something else, would you like to go to the Leaky for tea?"

Her abrupt change of topic forced him to focus on the request. She was asking to spend time with him, alone and likely in public.

"You want to be seen in public with me?"

"Is that a problem? Am I that embarrassing?"

"No," he defended himself again."It's just that I'm hardly company people seek," he answered truthfully.

"That's fine," she told him as she bent toward him and seized his hand. "I am not most people," she added before softly brushing her lips against his.

It was light, and could have passed for innocent if not for the fire he felt starting building in him. That's when it finally hit him: he was falling for her, falling badly, and there was nothing he could do about it.