Sorry for the delay.

I was engrossed in a very thrilling philosophical discussion with a reviewer, on the status of the human embryo. His review had initially compared it to organs and animals.

Using the dictionary, a bit of science and a lot of aristotelic philosophy, I had gotten him to admit the human embryo is a human being of rational nature. At which point he was pretty much cornered (and behaving accordingly), since the definition of person that includes rationality, the one he had approved of, is in fact "A person is an individual substance of a rational nature".

When he claimed infanticide (of newborns) is nothing more than theft of property, and demanded from me a reason why we should protect young children, he left me speechless (not the first time I realize that nazism was merely a symptom, we erradicated it and left the disease advance).

But to claim that definitions don't define and that the Founder Father of Logic was being illogical just because he didn't agree with him, wasn't as big a surrender as it was to deny me permission to PM him, especially when he keeps writing (4 more times!) even after making sure I can't answer (or even read his full PMs, the page comes blank).

Those were 201 looong PMs (around 130 of them, his), so you see, I was busy, and delightfully so.

But I'm back for the grand finale of Obliviate!

However, it seems that once again the very ending will be postponed, for so many things were happening that I had to turn this into several chapters. Merit (or blame) for it go to Farfrompukin, whose review made me change the course, if slightly. You might have noticed that it's almost completely opposed to other reviews. Though I found the virtuous middle path… I hope.

Special thanks to Time Keeper, Alina Nyx and dentsucree, who made suggestions for the ending, you'll see how they fit with each other and with my own preferences XD. Time Keeper also got the meaning of that blue ending, that earned him/her a special place in my heart.

Alina Nyx, it's so good to see my Revelio team here! I've neglected its English version for a while, but when I checked the reviews for the Spanish version OMG! Dozens of reviews for just one chapter? It got me writing that too immediately. And I'm giving the English version another chance, too, since you and some other people are giving it some love. I'm translating the next chapter specially for you, and counting on your kind feedback.

Trelawney23, I didn't get which priorities you meant, but I ended up including your line in the chapter, hoping that was your meaning. Also, I hope the answers to Farfrompukin and May are useful to you.

Farfrompukin, I also used your lines. The real me agrees that the father has as much right to decide over the children's welfare as does the mother, things I explicitly made them say in other story of mine ("A life for a life", chapter 11, if you want to check it out) and with which I've never been that coherent in this story. The thing is, Obliviate was meant to be Canon compliant –at least the blue ending and sequel-, and in Canon Harry doesn't know of any daughter he has with Hermione, which limits my capability of pleasing you: if we want him to have one, Hermione must have kept it from him out of a mistaken sense of friendship and freedom. I'm sorry you don't see her doing this, but her reasoning regarding it comes in the very first chapter of Obliviate. However, taking advantage of the fact that now she must rethink her choices… Let's see if you like it now.

May, thank you for your kind words. I liked a lot the way you put single and young parenthood, assuming them as feasible. And I agree: the world is mad enough without memory-erasing spells.

Having the urge to jump in defense of Hermione XD I must point out that she did not want to fix this life's issue, at all, it was Harry who asked to be obliviated and in fact her emotional reaction against it was rather violent precisely because she had already lost the rest of her family to it. But that was his choice, and she understood it in the context and is making her best to respect it.

As much as we fans want to translate his longing for a family, to wanting to have kids (and sure I'll be translating it as well ;)), most orphans long for someone to take care of them, not necessarily someone who'd need care; in fact they might fear parenthood precisely because they didn't have the role model. Though Harry would probably choose to care for his child, to make sure she doesn't end up being abused as he was, he might do so out of responsibility, not for his personal happiness, and Hermione doesn't want that. (She's also avoiding to Obliviate him again because I'm assuming that, like most things in the real world, tampering with memories might have side effects –serious ones- and she already used it on him once).

But she can't come back with a green-eyes baby girl, without anyone jumping to very accurate conclusions. So her only choice (apart from abortion) is to give the baby up. Adoption was also my way of leaving out there the possibility that, despite canon and epilogue, the events in Obliviate might have happened and there might be a child out there to prove it. (The first ending works with that perfectly).

The proper course

Harry slid on the slippery floor while trying to break his run.

"No race in the hospital halls" the mediwizard said coldly.

"Sorry, sir. I had a quick errand to run, but didn't want to miss visiting hours and..."

The gaze of the professional freeze him, and with reason, so he didn't mutter anything against him. Until he was denied visiting privileges, that is. Granted, it was Ron's turn anyway, but only because he had visited her first, and if Harry had seen her far more, the mediwizard didn't know that.

"This is absurd and unfair" he claimed seriously, crossing his arms before his chest.

Everyone stared at him, but didn't comment.

"He can go" Ron shrugged, hands in his pockets. "I... don't have that much to say to her, anyway."

"Nonsense, Mr. Weasley" the mediwizard uttered as he wrote absently, "you have been in the waiting room almost as much time as Mr. Potter here. Why have you done that, if not to meet your friend."

"Actually... I just want to know she's OK. Wouldn't know what to say to her right now anyway."

Harry mouthed a "thank you" behind the doctor's back.

"Mr. Potter can go later" the mediwizard concluded and left in a rush of bellowing robes that reminded them faintly of a certain potions professor.

The boys looked at each other for a millisecond before Ron was pulled with the doctor, running to reach him until he remembered that was what had given Harry trouble to begin with.

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"You look bad."

"Thank you, Ron" Hermione answered, nearly rolling her eyes; but it was somewhat good that some things never changed.

The mediwizard had just left; he had lingered, perhaps internally agreeing with the assessment he hadn't got to listen, and wanting to determine the reason. She was slightly red, and her breathing sounded wet. It didn't take a connoisseur to know that she had cried.

"You OK…? Sorry, stupid question"

She chuckled, then looked sadder than ever.

In her confused, frightened stand on the cutting edge of a blade, she had finally gotten one conclusion right: their feelings didn't matter. How was she to trust them? They had appeared in highly emotional circumstances, impending life changes –twice, but yet.

Furthermore, if it was clear that telling him about the child was the proper course of action, if she took it or not didn't have a thing to do with whatever new-old feelings he had for her now. She had never been waiting for Harry to declare he loved her, not for telling him about the child, not for anything else. And even now that it seemed possible…

In case he felt obligated because of the child (consciously or not), she shouldn't be with him.

The thought was killing her.

"He's right, isn't he?"

She lifted her gaze to Ron's.

"Giving her up" he waves at her midsection as he elaborates "isn't easy…"

Her gaze wavered.

She knew the right thing to do, was to give Harry some kind of saying in the child's welfare.

The paradox was: if he valued this child, he'd be revolted by her silence. If he didn't, he'd be appalled at her honesty, and at the general idea of having a child. The latter was the highest probability (though she had wondered back when Harry had accepted to be a godfather, but how many teenage boys these day were excited by paternity?) and what she had wanted to avoid from the beginning.

In not having told him back in Hogwarts, she had bypassed the second possibility, for good she thought, but she had created the first, exposing herself to all kinds of judgement.

If she told him now, there was a high chance not even their friendship would recover.

"That's not an issue" she shook her head at Ron, looking tired, "I made up my mind almost since before I knew of her existence."

She had. But she still had to find a way to ask Harry, preferably without really asking him. If he agreed that the best thing for the child was to be put for adoption, she'd follow her original decision without fail.

There was a ripple then, in her abdomen; she tensed.

"Sure? 'Cause you know, 'Mione, we're still a team, the three of us. If you have a daughter, then we all have a child to take care of and look after"

Despite the perceived intrusion in her life, she knew he meant well so she just answered:

"Thank you, Ron."

"I mean, if the dad wasn't such a coward…"

"Don't speak of him that way" she snapped, feral teeth briefly shining.

Ron seemed taken aback by the sudden change.

"You can't really defend him, right?"

"Told you to drop it."

"'Mione, if he left you…"

"Enough" she repeated, slightly too loud, and they both looked at the door half expecting mediwizard Soulwaker to come scold him. "He doesn't even know of it"

"He doesn't know of what? The birds and the bees?"

"He just doesn't, OK?!"

Both of their chest were heaving by then, the bickering they were forbidden from, surfacing naturally as it had always come to their friendship. Ron's gaze suddenly unfocused, then his eyes opened in surprise and narrowed in short sequence.

"Hermione, I can't believe… No… Listen… Whoever it is… you have to tell him" he whispered urgently.

"Tell what to whom?"

By then her arms were crossed, a frown in her forehead.

That he was right only made it worst.

"You cannot deny him even the knowledge that he has a daughter, he has a right to decide…"

"A right…?! Do you have the slightest idea of how much that 'right' weights…?"

"Partly because it's meant to be carried by two!"

"Well, I'm the one carrying her…!"

"Hermione, you're too smart for this, come on! This plan is rubbish, and you've been too hardheaded or… or too hurt... to change it but…"

She was redder than his hair, mouth open in affront.

"How can you…? How dare you…? You have no idea of how much…"

"I'm not judging you" he responded, hands in the air, looking scared yet determined.

Suddenly, her entire demeanor crystalized in a word:

"Leave"

A heartbeat, then he stood.

"I will" he answered, "before they have time to throw me out. But first you're gonna listen, because you're far too good and fair for this. Deep down, you know the father must have a say, you cannot decide over the child's welfare by yourself especially if you are deciding to make an orphan of her. See how that worked for Harry?"

Healer Boncoeur was already on the door, the frown in her forehead rivaling McGonagall's; but Ron was leaving anyway. And he had done enough. The last argument had left her livid, and in her head a single thought, a certainty: 'Harry will never forgive me'.

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"What you mean I can't go in now?" Harry growled.

He had been pacing like a caged lion since before Ron went to her, and his eyes glowed in defiance at the mere suggestion that his time to be with her had to be suppressed. The redhead looked positively scared, but managed to answer:

"She has some things to think over…"

"You did not upset her."

"She needed to be upset, mate."

Only the certainty that they would both be expelled for good, kept his fist from finding the redhead's nose.

"She's pregnant and sick" Harry whispered darkly, "and you couldn't withhold from…"

"She's making a big fat mistake that'll ruin three lives, and needs to straighten out her priorities before the kid leaves her body or she'll be lost for good."

Harry wasn't listening; his gaze followed the mediwizard as he rushed to her room.

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That day she saw her for the first time.

She hadn't known how developed obstetrical magic was.

She wasn't prepared.

Until then, she had had muggle ultrasounds. It was easy enough to ignore the screen. She had asked them to mute the beating heart. Not that she had a natural tendency to get attached, but why would she want to risk it?

With magic, she could close her eyes.

But it was hard.

She was curious.

And she opened her eyes.

There was a baby, flowing over her abdomen. A projection. Much like a patronus, except for its color.

She was ugly, as all babies were. Expressionless, and Hermione knew she would be so for months after birth. She yawned and stretched and stuck her hand into her mouth.

She resembled Harry intensely.

Hermione should have been prepared. Most babies resembled their fathers, nature's way to assure protection to women and children when they were at their weakest.

She was left with a record in her wand, ready to be played at any time.

She could, of course, get rid of it.

But it wasn't in her nature to get rid of anything.

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"Mr. Weasley, visits from you have been permanently forbidden" the mediwizard informed.

They had thought he had been hostile, before. They had been wrong. Harry had just remembered how dragons' eyes looked when the creature was protecting its eggs.

No one eyed the punished one, who wasn't surprised, himself.

"How is she?" Harry uttered.

"Fortunately, she has never suffered from eclampsia, or this row could have killed the both of them" sharp intake of breath from Harry, while Ron just frowned stubbornly and whispered:

"I knew she was not eclamptic."

That earned him a killing glance from his former mate that said: 'Oh, really? Are you a Trelawney now?' But it wasn't uttered aloud. Not that they could argue in front of the doctor, now.

"Her vitals changed briefly, which alarmed us specially since she's so close to term, but they are both fine. She just needs some time for herself."

"May I see her?" Harry asked weakly, needing the reassurance, yet half-certain he wasn't getting it.

"In fact, and against my better advice, she insisted upon it. You can meet in the chapel… as long as you don't run"

It was hard to find the place. Believers from the wizarding world were scarcer, if truer, than muggle ones, and almost no one knew where -or what- it was.

It turned out to be no much more than a room in the farthest side of that wing. It was different, though. When the boy went past the heavy door it seemed as if he had walked into another planet. The sterile halls gave place to a space clad in golden light yet half in shadows, smelling of fresh flowers and orange incense; practical footsteps disappeared in favour of echo and silence, and the crowd was replaced by a single figure sitting on a bank.

"Hi" Hermione whispered, the silence carrying the sound to him.

"You saw me?"

"'course not, Harry" she answered, still not turning. "I just know your footsteps"

He walked as silently as he could, though the echo still gave him away. Even after sitting next to her, he stayed quiet and still while he figured out that no ray would strike him is he spoke quietly. His eyes acclimated slowly to the peculiar distribution of light. He could distinguish stained glass windows, though not the images they showed. This shadow was now discernable as a pile, and that human shape he had mistaken for the chaplain, became a statue. A woman with a child, smiling as she leant over his raised little arms. His gaze went to Hermione. Light played with her features and with the colors of her hair, turning them golden. She had a book on her lap, fingers nervously grasping it. She wasn't bothering to hide her belly here, and he suddenly realized the similarities between both mothers: the one of stone, and the one of flesh. They both seemed, for a second, to him, unreachable.

"That's Eternal Flame" she commented.

Her chin signaled the spot of red light encased by a crystal bell balanced in front of the tabernacle.

"It was lightened hundreds of years ago" she complemented, "to signal the presence of the Eternal. It's weird to think that it's been here for lifetimes, and probably will be long after we've long become ash"

"But it'll still be a while till then… right?"

She smiled to him, but didn't answer. Not that she was planning to die, but… She still wasn't sure of how exactly was her plan to change. The paradox was constantly in her mind.

She had read orphans often feared fatherhood because of the previous lack of a role model. Was that Harry's case? He didn't even remember kissing her. He had looked at her as she slept so what? Maybe all boys did that. Whatever she did, she did not want him tied to her because of a child he couldn't even remember conceiving.

And what other choices she had? If she was to raise the child, and still preserve Harry's lifestyle (a resolve she had spent months clinging to and suffering for, which had cemented it in her heart), there was no choice but to disappear along with her daughter. The idea of not seeing him again was harder on her that death. The parting would be no less permanent.

"It's... Well..." Harry didn't seem to find a fitting word, "quiet here. Like in a library"

"Temples are designed to give an anticipated taste of Heaven" the know-it-all explained. "Peace and beauty. More so in hospitals, where people die every day."

Beauty was achieved, he thought as his eyes accommodated enough to see the white flowers adorning the sides of the banks and the altar. Bunches of them. He thought of all the people who realized who they truly loved with the closeness of death… or of some other life-altering event, he couldn't but add, if confusedly, as he looked at Hermione, so serenely beautiful under the eerie light. How many rushed marriages took place here? How many christenings of children that wouldn't survive much longer? He figured out that the rush must not mean they'd have to settle for second bests. To fulfill last wishes in the most beautiful of places was a meager comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

"Could you help me out, Harry?" she said cheerily.

"Always"

The answer had been automatic and heartfelt, and she blinked for a moment, the meaning of it flowing slowly but surely into her heart.

"I might have been… unfair… to someone" she whispered as she looked down, caressing the cover of the book absently. "Or several people. The father… Ron says he must have a right to decide..."

At the very mention, a beast in Harry's chest opened his eye, rose to its height and growled.

"He left you alone. He relinquished any right he might have had regarding you."

Each word sounded like a brick to someone's tomb. Hermione stopped, taken aback, then she looked into his eyes. She couldn't mistake the light there. She had seen some of it –truly, just a shadow- as he witnessed Cedric's dance with Cho, then as he saw Ginny with Dean. She had identified it back then, when it was no stronger than candlelight. She hesitated in naming it now that was a burning castle. Could it be jealousy? Or was he just being protective with his best friend, who had been hurt hard enough already?

Yet she couldn't stifle the hope.

"Yeah, well… He didn't know of the kid…"

His eyes were rebellious, but he didn't answer.

"So put yourself in my place… in his… If you were the father… What would you decide… concerning her?"

He looked disturbed, looked away. It was a long time until he answered:

"Truly?"

"Truly"

He sighed.

"She wouldn't be put in the system. I'd be there… for her"

"Even if you were too young? Even if you didn't have the slightest idea of what you were doing? As a parent?"

"I wouldn't beat her, starve her or neglect her. That's for sure. I wouldn't leave her in a cupboard, nor would I make her cook for me –maybe for education, but certainly not for my comfort. I'd do my best to raise her. I'd love her" he gasped for air before adding. "If just because she'd be yours"

Hermione shivered at the soft admission, and that was before he stared at her.

"He deserves a chance with her. But Hermione…" he was grasping her hand now, looking down at it, before staring deep into her eyes: "he does not deserve another chance with you"

His other hand came to slick her hair out of her face, and it was so hard not to give in… His eyes –so green- were deep on hers. Hypnotic. She leant on its palm. It was hard to understand his whisper:

"Would I be taking advantage if I…?

"Would I?"

His lips were right there, in front of hers, barely brushing hers, his breath a kiss, green eyes becoming everything she could see. He smelled of bright sunny days with a book on her lap.

She was right there, smelling of treacle tart and pumpkin and… well, the woody smell could perhaps come from the banks, and there were flowers everywhere to explain the rest but he was still in heaven as he leaned forth, finally joining his lips to hers.

It was a feathery kiss, first. Barely more than a tease. It left her lips tingling and craving. Then she felt his hands move behind her neck, as the other one held her by the waist and his lips descended again, and suddenly memories were flooding back to her, reconstructing themselves from echoes. His tongue on her lips, seducing them into opening. Her own perfumed sigh as she obliged. The smell of spearmint. The softness of his tongue in his careful, reverent, almost incredulous penetration. Her eyes fluttered closed as the mixture of experiences sent not only her lips but her whole body in overdrive.

And there was the noise. They both raised their wand, but it was only the chaplain, who in turn extracted his to mend the figurine he had just dropped. Hermione chuckled softly, amazed by the timing –and still overwhelmed-, as Harry, just then realizing they had been caught making out in a chapel, turned bright red.

"I'm Father Chandler" the other man introduced himself as he approached. "It's always good to see new people here." He extended his hand to Harry, who took it warily; his grasp was warm and firm, and his eyes, clear. "When's the little one due?"

"Tomorrow, in fact" the mother answered merrily –and a little breathlessly.

"May I give you my blessing?"

At her nod, the man drew a cross in her forehead and put a hand on her abdomen to bless it as well. Harry just realized he hadn't done so yet –touch her belly, that is. His own hand pricked, and he closed it in a fist.

It seemed as if the time for reprimands had past, but just to be sure, as Father Chandler left, he whispered:

"Won't he be scolding us?"

He had forgotten how far words were carried in here.

"'there are three things that last'" the Father answered, raising his voice as he turned to them: "'faith, hope and love; and the greatest of these is love' (1)"

Hermione beamed, as the stranger turned away and raised his hand in farewell, his speech continuing as he parted.

"Though it's also true that 'There is a season for everything, a time for every occupation under heaven' 'a time for embracing, a time to refrain from embracing' (2)"

Harry cringed as Hermione chuckled.

"'a time for keeping silent, a time for speaking'" the chuckle vanished, "'a time for war, a time for peace' (2)"

"Wait!" Harry called, suddenly inspired.

The chaplain was but a shadow by the door next to the altar; the green-eyed wizard ignored his own shame and approached him, leaving Hermione to wonder.

"You have a nice place here and… er… You see… We aren't married…"

Part of him was half sure the priest had let them off the hook simply because, with the baby and all, they were no longer just horny teenagers seeking refuge in darkness while disrespecting his place; he realized they might have looked like a family instead. So as he admitted this he kind of realized he would be scolded now. However, the man didn't seem to be even surprised. Harry's own befuddlement seemed to be evident in his expression, because the man laughed.

"We men of the cloth tend to develop observation skills" seeing Harry turn even more puzzled, the man explained. "None of you wear a ring. Besides, I am aware of your history. I'm the one who recognized her."

"You know who we are?"

He nodded.

"You don't seem… er…"

"Impressed? Oh, believe me, I am. What you did back in England saved a lot of lives, and your sacrifice in walking into the forest reminded me enough of my own Savior. However, in prayer I speak to the Lord every day, and in mass I become Him. That tends to put every other celebrity in perspective."

He had said so with humor and reverence, and Harry realized he wasn't in fact much older than Charlie.

"You won't be…"

"… selling this to the news?" the man laughed deeply. "Mr. Potter, we priest invented confidentiality. But we're digressing…"

"Yeah… er…"

"You were saying you had not married"

"Yeah… and…"

"I have a nice place here"

"Right…"

Father Chandler waited for him to speak. He waited in fact longer than he needed to, considering how obvious Harry's intentions were.

"Couldwemarryhere?"

The other man raised an eyebrow.

"You mean to marry her"

Harry nodded, his mouth dry.

"Does Miss Granger know of it?"

"Er… in fact…"

"Don't you think you should ask her first?"

Harry sighed and, seeing how he didn't seem to find words, he extracted a box from his pocket and showed it to the priest. It was still long until he managed to put his words together.

"I kind of already did but… she'll just believe I'm not joking when asking the question if I present her with a real plan" he sighed. "I realize she might be past needing a boyfriend. I want to be what she needs. So I picked up this sooner today, now I find this place…"

The priest muttered something that sounded a lot like 'providence' but when he spoke, it was only with caution:

"Aren't you disregarding your own feelings, son?"

Harry shook his head vigorously –while thinking of how strange it was to be called "son" by someone maybe ten years older.

"Have you studied your own heart?"

"I'm sure."

"Marriage here is forever" he pointed out.

"I wouldn't have her any other way"

"Now we're getting somewhere" The priest smiled. "We'd need to discuss things over tea, but that, just after she says yes"

Harry gulped and nodded.

"Admonitions needed to be read with weeks in advance" the man muttered to himself as he left, "I'd have to floo de Pope and secure a dispense. At least he must be already baptized if that Black was really his godfather…"

The green-eyed wizard sported a stupid smile as he got back to her, who in turn was watching him warily.

"What was that about?"

What was he to do? Propose on the spot? He swallowed hard and sat beside her.

"Just… you know… complementing his place"

She didn't seem to believe him, but let him grasp her hand anyway.

"Isn't she too small?" he asked. "To be born tomorrow…"

This time, she did caress her belly thoughtfully.

"Not one of us have gone through war unscathed" she said quietly. "Not even her."

"You're keeping her."

She nodded.

"Just because I said so" he verified, speaking through a stone in his throat.

Her brown eyes focused on his, and she nodded slowly. There was something in her eyes, as if she was waiting for him to connect the dots.

Which she was.

Leaving the conclusion to Harry was probably the least dangerous course. That way he had the chance of embracing or rejecting the notion without any certainty of it. He could turn his head if he wanted to. Sly or tactful, she wouldn't know, but it would leave him unharmed. She thought he had enough clues now –almost too many- to ask if he wanted to know, though she hadn't planned on giving him this one.

Dread and exultation mixed inside of her.

Dread, because there was a high possibility of him hating her after this. Judging her. Because, in her taking the burden of responsibility from him, she had taken also his ability to respond, his right to choose whether or not he wanted to be in his daughter's life. She could imagine him standing in horror, a hand tangled in his hair, confused, accusing, and with reason; her stomach churned at the thought.

Exultation, because it all would be over.

Whatever the result, one thing was clear: fairytale endings were not real (3). She'd keep the child, but not him. In the best case scenario, they'd still be friends.

Though a tiny part of her, that part that had woken up after that kiss, liked this limbo in which she was allowed to have him before having the child. If she couldn't have both…

However, instead of digging further, he just picked something from his robes, a very recognizable box.

"Harry, you don't have to…" the witch gasped.

"I don't" he agreed, his eyes greener than ever, "but I'd very much want to…"

Her heart beat painfully in her chest as he dropped to his knee. Golden light shone around them, as the quiet echo of his words seemed to fill the sacred place.

"I know these might not be the best of circumstances, but… Hermione, trust me when I say: you are the most important person in my life, my constant and my guide, and frankly I have no idea of why it took me so long to see…" he sighed heavily. "Hopefully, not too long?"

She saw his eyes through her tears, and her lips trembled as she opened her mouth. How had this happened? She couldn't say 'yes' without letting him know of their history together. (She couldn't say yes, period –she reminded herself-, these feelings weren't trustable.) But she still didn't know how to tell him.

"Harry, you must realize…"

"I don't really care" he interrupted. "Who you were with… what happened with him… that's part of your history and you may tell me when you're ready, but I don't really need to know. I understand you share a child now and if he's willing he must be a part of the child's life. I… I won't interfere –not that I could if I wanted to-. I just… I want a chance with you. Just… Just think about it, right?"

And before she could utter another word, he had walked away. She stood, but his name died on her lips as a hard contraction hit her and she couldn't but sit back down, breathing through her teeth, the still unopened box sitting by her.

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(1) I Corinthians 13: 13b

(2) Ecclesiastes 3

(3) But this is not reality, so don't worry: there's a fairytale ending, just… it's at the end. I'm a sucker for angst (I actually mourned not being able to use the entire song by Within temptation, as Harry's situation isn't nearly that hopeless), though I must leave angst to my other fic, Revelio, if I want this ending to be over at some point of the month.