Author's note: I've spent a long period of time with absolutely no language training whatsoever, so don't expect much from my English in this chapter, though I have tried to read some fanfic in that language before writing this. You can point out the mistakes and I'll correct them.

As usual, my scenes leave space for Rowlings' (that came first). We're at the end of chapter 21.

I want to thank vach dot tm profusely for the reviews. They were long and so very clever and as soon as I read them a lot of ideas came popping into my mind. It was entirely my fault if it took so long for me to write them. And in fact, none of them come in this chapter, but they will, later, and we'll all owe them to her/him.

Speaking of which, I'm awfully out of good, and I mean mind-blowing fanfiction, and hoping for suggestions. I've finished everything written by lorien819, DeliverMeFromEve, lena1981, and even DramioneInLove (you see, I'm not much picky regarding ships), to mention the best. If you have recommendations along these lines, I'm counting on you.

Haven

Her back would be a landscape of desert dunes and soft looking valleys, skin shining golden by the firelight. She'd be sated and half asleep, head and arms resting on his lap, cheek on his thigh, back totally exposed to his wandering fingers. Half-sitting with his own back to the head of the bed, Harry would drink on her beauty. He'd extend his hand to her oh-so-soft skin, part the brown-to-beige curtain of her hair and draw hieroglyphs on the creamy surface, and she'd shiver under his caress. And the warmth would be just so that he'd be grateful for this little heaven of him and her, and he'd know that this was meant to last, and no pharaoh would have been happier than him, knowing that his land of skin was his, and his alone, to love.

Ron's pathetic sigh drew Hermione from her reverie for just a second. She barely spent any time tracing his mood to the spectacular though predictable failure of his joke half an hour ago –she knew Madam Rosmerta's breasts had every male in Hogwarts drowning in hormones, but this was ridiculous- before drifting back to her own daydream. He'd appreciate the lack of bickering on her part, and it wasn't as if he hadn't done all the talking for the entire morning. In addition, while he was sulking, he wasn't talking nonstop, so it was even easier to drift away.

And she had reasons to. The girl was merely starting to process Harry's confession of the previous night –the memory still made her feel something very much like fairies' wings against her skin, and the sensation was so physical she was about to ask Luna about it- and she was finding herself alarmingly less-than-realistic.

She should not be thinking about this, at all. She knew Harry's senses were clouded. It was her role to keep them on track, though just remembering that made her heart sink. So that's it? I'm a mare until this works, then we're back to friends? It was her turn to sigh.

"… and then Lavender decided to feed the child to the dragons, in exchange for their powers" Ron concluded, matter-of-factly. "I'm not sure, though. Reckon my mom won't like the notion."

A heartbeat, then Hermione answered:

"Mmmmh".

The redhead looked straight as her, drinking his butterbeer pensively as her own empty gaze wandered to the window, mirroring the glorious spring day without really enjoying it.

"OK, what's up"

There was still a pause until she processed that his voice was no longer among that of their classmates. And another second until she turned to him. It took still some more time to realize that an answer was required.

"What… What do you mean, Ron?"

"You're past oblivious, today. And I mean Luna style. Twycross was going on and on about you and the edges of your mouth didn't even twitch."

"Should they?"

He only looked at her, as laughs and whispers echoed all around.

"Come on. I may have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but if you can't speak to Harry about whatever it is, then I'm your next choice, aren't I?"

She sighed.

"It's real hard to explain, Ron"

"Try"

The witch thought of it, but she didn't have the slightest idea of how to start.

"I'm just… processing… something… I'll come to terms with it"

His gaze assessed her swiftly.

"Pregnant already?"

"No!"

Though she couldn't fathom why she was that aggravated by his assumption.

"Figured. You'd tell me first, right? By the way, should you be drinking that?"

"It's nonalcoholic" she answered, rolling her eyes. "Shouldn't you have asked half an hour ago?"

"Good to know" he shrugged. "So, still sick?"

"Nah. Potions are way better than antibiotics"

"Anti-what?"

The wizard looked so flabbergasted that she almost laughed. Almost.

"See? That's about it, girl"

"When have you become the understanding type?"

That made him think.

"You know? I guess I might have caught something myself."

And yes, she chuckled this time.

"It isn't homework, right?"

"Not yet"

"Yet?"

"I don't really have the time and concentration to study that hard anymore"

It was admittedly troubling, not even Ron had anything funny to comment about it. Apart from thinking: Whose homework am I to borrow from now on? Or something along those lines.

"So that's it? You're worried about your future grades?"

"With a war out there? I… Well, I try not to be. I certainly have more important things to worry about."

"Don't punish yourself too hard, you're still Hermione."

A non-compromising sound from the back of her throat settled the matter until he added:

"So why have I been speaking to the wall for the entire day?" So you noticed? "I'm not a Legilimens, you know? You'll have to speak at some point… or not, whatever. I just hope Harry doesn't have too much to do with you feeling bad…"

"I don't feel bad"

"Don't you?"

She shrugged.

"Well, that's a relief" he stated. "I was almost sorry of standing by you, girl, in this whole scheme of things. You start being sick and earning less points for Gryffindor, and Harry…"

"Told you he was worried about the implications of this to my life, and of course he had good reasons to be"

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again until she just had to roll her eyes.

"What?"

There was still a pause until he worked the courage to ask:

"Please tell me you aren't sorry"

"What? Merlin, no! Whatever gave you the idea?"

"Hey!" he exclaimed, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just looking out for my friends. Harry really shouldn't stand any more… you know… concerns…"

There was a shadow passing through her eyes, then she crossed her legs and grasped the beverage, eyes fixed on the table.

"Can you please stop doing that?"

"What?"

"Worrying me without telling me anything. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the kind to pull teeth, yet I care, so this is really… really…"

"Ron…" she was sliding her finger on the sweating glass. "Would it be too bad if we married?"

"Who? You and me?"

"Don't be stupid, Ron!" she barked before muttering: "'In sickness and in health'… Harry said he wanted that with me"

Despite the room being full of people laughing and speaking and even shrieking, their corner was real, real silent for a sec. When Hermione managed to look up, she was surprised to discover that she couldn't read her friend's face. Which was unnerving, because Ron was usually way too readable.

"Well, that kind of settles it" he said at last.

"It settles what?"

"Your deal"

"My…?"

"Harry's, yours… To save his life…"

"It wasn't really a deal, Ron…"

"Whatever" the redhead said dismissively as he drank and looked through the window before wondering: "So what's the problem?"

"Is it not evident?"

"No. It really isn't"

"Ron, we are teens!"

"Can't muggles marry at sixteen?"

That gave her pause.

"How would I know? Never thought I'd need that info"

"So? Are you worried about bureaucrats?"

"Nah, Snape said he could marry us, I doubt he'd wait for the Dursley's permission"

"Snape what?!"

"I know. Weirdest priest ever. The thing is, we have someone to perform the spell…"

Then it hit her. They were talking about a possible teenage wedding, and they were more worried about the performer.

"You're missing the point" she concluded. "Entirely."

"No wonder. Weirdest talk ever"

"What I meant is: Ron, we are teens. How can he possibly know he wants me for the entirety of his life?"

"Well, how can you possibly know you want his child for the entirety of yours? Children are lifelong compromises, you know"

She blinked.

"Fair enough, but that's us trying to save his life, and adoption is a possibility"

"Is it?"

More like a crouch, really. She didn't know what she'd feel about her child in over nine months. If there was ever a child. In the meantime, she had other things to think about.

"We'll think about it when we get there" she said dismissively. "The thing is… Ron…"

She sighed deeply and looked to the window again, taking the butterbeer to her mouth.

There was the sound of wood against wood as another group stood, stretching and turning and moving against each other to reach the door.

When they left and she still hadn't spoken, he intervened.

"So it's a no. What's the problem, then?"

"I didn't say it was a no"

Silence. His expression had turned unreadable again for a second, but she didn't see it. She was looking through the window, again. Then she muttered something he couldn't quite catch.

"What?"

She frowned at him, knowing fully well she'd have to repeat what she hadn't wanted to say even once.

"I'm afraid he's not thinking with his right mind"

"Is there a wrong one?"

She looked south, which was eloquent enough even if he didn't want to get it.

"How do I know he likes me, and not… you know…"

"Well, I know he likes sex" Which made her look around, alarmed, but no one was looking in their direction.

She finally relaxed enough to answer.

"Well, right now he'd… associate me with… it, wouldn't he?" A blush extended from her cheeks to her cleavage and shoulders; cursing between teeth, she took her hands –one of them, still holding the beer- to her cheeks.

"Reckon that's a given. But why would that mean he doesn't like you?"

"Well, it's a life-changing decision. One has to know for sure"

There was no need for an answer. They both drank worriedly, until he started again:

"But… you know… as useful as celibate may be for keeping steam out of one's head when taking decisions, the clock doesn't move anti-clockwise… not even my mom's… You can always take time off from sex –please don't tell Harry I gave you the idea, he'll hate me-, once this works… or before, though you've given so much already that it sounds frankly stupid…"

She swallowed, which was all the nodding he needed, given the subject.

"I'll just have to wait 'till this works, then set him free" she said hollowly.

"That's beyond de-intoxication" Ron protested, "and I seriously doubt he'll agree to that. I'd be more worried about you, though"

She lifted one eyebrow inquisitively. She didn't really think she'd have to explain how much more prone men were to think with their southern head.

"I still haven't heard what you want" Ron explained.

"What I want." Her tone was sweet and dreamy as she looked at the table, where she was now braced, but she didn't speak beyond that, so he had to intervene.

"I know you wanted to save him –nothing new there- I more or less know you've kind of fallen for him, though I don't know how much of it is an act to get him to save himself…"

"You know" she interrupted, "you're finally starting to apply chess to real life"

"Thank you. But it's not as if you had a lot of men in your history so at least part of that act must be true. Even if judging by Harry's qualms, sex might not be as good for you as he'd want…"

"Hey!"

"Sorry" he eyed her warily. "I can't remember hearing your feelings on the subject, beyond 'I didn't say it was a no'"

She sighed. The witch was still half pissed by Ron's latest conclusions, and though she was also moved that he cared, she wasn't about to tell him that she was all fluffy and filled with pink hippogriff's feathers, it was not something she was proud of. Her failure to get her mind to work was no less than alarming.

"Please don't hate me" he added slowly, "but I'm getting this vibe… Harry's… proposal… is nuts; not really a novelty –every year you help Harry with something near-deadly and most of the time you don't agree to him doing it, yet you follow him anyway just in case you can save him-. This time you have a real choice. Not as if he could marry you without your consent."

There was a pause in which Hermione looked even more pissed and Ron, even more scared, yet he kept going.

"But it's as if unlike with the Ministry thing last year, this time you really, really wanted this… marrying thing… to have some sense…"

"I never wanted to marry at sixteen, Ron" she whispered with vehemence, barely remembering to not raise her voice. "It was never my plan. I was to finish Hogwarts, then get an apprenticeship or get into a muggle university, then maybe get a family. I'd have been perfectly happy without, though."

"Which is why you're so pissed, right?"

That he had dared read what she didn't want him to know, left her wordless and beyond pissed; shocked, really. Which gave him time to keep going.

"Yet, if I got it right… and maybe you've forgotten it because the entire plan is based on the opposite… but if I got it right, Harry might not even be able to sire a child, being a you-know-what. Yet you want to marry him? You wouldn't be able to have kids, do you know that? Magical marriage comes with magical help, but also without a back door… how do you call it?"

"I do not want to divorce Harry! Ron, for Merlin's sake…!"

"So with him, it's either having a kid at school or not having one, ever. Doesn't it bother you any?"

"No, actually!"

The witch was fighting the urge to stand and leave, until she wasn't. He had to follow her. By then she was ashamed and stubbornly hiding it, but she did not want to keep talking to him for the time being. Until Hogwarts, at least. He didn't push it.

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"Tonks!"

The woman turned back, all empty eyes and dull colors, and Harry nearly dismissed the idea that had just came to his mind. It was not a good one, and this wasn't the time or the place. If Sirius' name hadn't come to his lips a moment sooner, with the memories and the implications it brought for him –shelter, family- he would never have thought…

The wizard had called her on impulse.

Yet, deep down, the general subject had been in his mind for quite some time. Ever since Snape had asked him of his plans. Ever since he had asked her himself. 'Marriage would also give you the place and economic means to raise a kid' he had told her, and he meant it (in fact, he meant to support her as much as she allowed him to, with or without ceremony). Everything his would be hers, including his vault. A shelter, on the other hand… He owned Grimmauld Place, but it wasn't as if they could move there, if they wanted to keep things private; besides, it was far from the school terrains.

The place that had come to mind now, wasn't. It had been built to guard a student's secret. Well, they had a new secret to protect. It wouldn't even take the entire manor, they could fix and shield a remote part of it so even those who knew of the place, wouldn't discover it was inhabited again.

The very notion was either crazy or brilliant.

He'd bet on crazy. It was better to come up with something else –a pretext- and let the auror go.

Anyway, why would she have information on the subject?

But who would?

It wasn't as if he could ask Dumbledore or Lupin without being questioned himself. Tonks was much cooler and much less suspicious.

"The Shrieking Shack…" the boy croaked, swallowed, kept going, "do you happen to know to whom it belongs?"

She looked positively flabbergasted… well, as much as she could, anyway. She was pretty gone.

"That place where Remus hid?" she asked. "Dumbledore built it, right?"

So it was Dumbledore's, then. Harry's heart dropped to his stomach.

"But then, it was built including the school's terrains, and it was built to fulfill the school's purpose, so I'd say it's Hogwarts'. Just like the founders' relics."

Well, it must be better than the alternative.

"Does Hogwarts have an owner?"

Tonks' laugh then was so open and hers that Harry couldn't resent it even though it was at his expenses. The green-eyed boy was rather grateful he had been able to make his friend laugh.

"Hogwarts is an entity in itself, Harry. It's no one's. It'd be more accurate to ask if you are hers. An owner, really!" she remembered, shaking her head as she chuckled. "Like an ancient dragon, it owns its own treasures and lends them to whoever it wants." That kind of made sense, fitting with the way the sword of Gryffindor came to you. "About the shack, I could ask, just to be sure…"

"No! No, thank you, Tonks. It was sheer curiosity, that's all."

He was hiding a stupid smile. Nothing had been gained, yet he felt everything had. Hogwarts had always been his friend. His shelter. He was positive it'd lend his family shelter too, and it kept being the safest place in the world. "You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

It wasn't perfect as a plan. It wasn't as if he had always dreamed of having a Whomping Willow at his front door, and how were them to move a baby through the tunnel? Yet, if he convinced Hermione of taking help from the elves –he had thought of it ever since sending Dobby and Kreacher on that mission- there was a good chance they'd be able to finish Hogwarts, even with a baby.

He was dying to know what she thought of it.

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Hermione was still frowning when she felt his hand in hers and the soft pull –less physical than from the questioning green eyes-, and suddenly the pixies were back. Eyeing Seamus and Ron warily –they walked before them in the otherwise empty corridor, the quidditch talk, fascinating enough that they might not notice their absence until reaching the common room, at least- she let Harry haul her to the half open door of the empty classroom. Under protest –though she didn't protest-. She was still pissed that Ron –Ron, for Merlin's sake!- was being more rational in this than she was.

It would have been easier, if Harry had tried to kiss her from the start; but he knew her too well, so he just walked back until half-sitting on the professor's desk, hands joined to hers, so she had to stand between his knees. That way, her lips itched from wanting to kiss him –he was so close- yet she wouldn't. Because she was being rational, and today she had no excuse to be intimate.

"How'd you do, Hermione?" he repeated.

The wizard was quite obviously aware that the apparition test was the least of her worries. He could still be her best friend despite being her lover. And that was devastating.

"Do you have to be so perfect?" she bickered, in no way a compliment.

He blinked, then smiled and even through the glasses, his eyes lightened hypnotically. She closed her own eyes, wanting to stomp her feet and yell.

"You weren't fighting over me, right?" The girl refused to answer, though the way she turned her head was answer enough. "Talk to me, Hermione" he whispered, his tone urging her to do just that. "You have always been there for me, can't I do so for you too?"

His words weighted on her heart. When had he learned to do that? To coax her so?

"I've been thinking" she whispered. "About what you told me last night"

He didn't ask what. His hands stayed in hers, warm and pleasing, and he started drawing circles in the back of her hand.

"We are so very young, Harry. You have to realize that it's not wise to get into anything permanent… anything else, I mean"

"I do" he answered.

And nothing else.

"I'm still helping with the horcrux thing"

She could feel him shift.

"That's entirely up to you"

But his hands were still in hers, and his tone was welcome.

"I do, I want to… help."

"Then, I have an idea"

That made her look into his eyes. She thought there was a shadow, behind the shining green, but she couldn't bet. There was still a weight in her stomach, from that part of her that wanted him to insist, so she could expose her arguments and maybe –just maybe- convince herself.

"An idea?"

"You are the one good at planning, you must realize we must take some measures for… after"

That had her even more puzzled.

"Can you go out tonight?"

"Today is not…"

"I know, once every two days. I just want to show you something"

"Harry, you should be getting that memory from Slughorn, and I must be studying if we don't want McGonagall…"

"… to breath on our necks even more. I know. It'll be brief… I hope"

Well, she was curious now.

"Can't we go right now?"

"I'd want to get it ready"

Even more curious.

"I'll be waiting near the portrait, with the cloak" he proposed. "By midnight"

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Preview:

"Hermione, I never thought I'd have more sense than you do in any given subject. Don't you know feelings change? It's a given! No one can promise he'll feel the same way, no one controls feelings!"

Hermione was starting to get seriously pissed off. She knew she loved Harry. She simply knew she'd care for him for the entirety of his life… given the chance. The witch couldn't really imagine a situation in which she wouldn't be ready to take an Avada for him.

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(Preview means next update won't take that long, it's half written already)

'K, the shack might not be the soundest of ideas. Yet, it's original, right? At least I haven't read anything including it.

And now I'm starting a poll. Who wants marriage? Who doesn't? Even if you don't care:

Reviews, please?