Chapter Twenty-six: Wherein invitations are sent.
Summary: All sorts of preparations are being made, really.

November 26, 199_
Hogwarts Castle

Dear Mum & Dad,

I had another lovely time out shopping with Ginny and Luna, and I just don't know what to say, Mum. I know I never enjoyed shopping with you and looked on it as a chore, and of course now I'd do almost anything to go shopping with you again. But I took each of them shopping for their birthdays and the other one tagged along, and we had lunch out and everything. Made a day of it. And each time I got something for myself (under Ginny's watchful eye, don't worry, I still don't dress myself, I know I can't be trusted, and I'm still going by the 'everything has to match with everything' rule) but I think the difference is that I was really there for other people. I mean, there wasn't a huge list of things we had to get for me. I only had two things on my list, though I did get a few more than that, but somehow that meant there was less pressure for me. I mean, armed with Ginny and Luna, finding a cute little black dress with which to impress Viktor was easy, and armed with a letter of introduction from Elizabeth, walking into the master leatherworker's shop with Excalibur wrapped in a cloth (that I had just pulled out of my purse, but they didn't need to know that) was… well, it still wasn't easy, but it certainly wasn't as bad as it could have been. And most importantly, he can do me a scabbard in four weeks without a problem, and it will match my current belt that Augusta gave me.

But oh, the shoes we ordered! Mum, they're deadly weapons, I swear it. They're the stiletto heel of the wizarding world, Mother. Not so high. Not so pointy. So much sharper. Infinitely stronger. Mum, if we had had Dragon Teeth Heels when I was on the run with Harry and Ron I could have killed any number of horcruxes with my designer footwear. Of course, sometimes we did actually have to run, and I'm not sure that's any easier in heels made out of various bits of dragon than in heels made in an entirely non-magical fashion. At least, not on some surfaces. Well, no, that might not be true. I'll need to do some testing on this, actually. I'll report back when my first pair of shoes arrives.

But for each pair of shoes we also ordered a simple clutch in the same dragonhide that the cobbler makes - he has one style and one style only, but he's willing to work with the hide which not everyone is, apparently. Simple clutch made out of one roughly square piece of leather, folded like an envelope and sewn together. Then he puts a simple cloth lining in it which is so important because dragonhide is totally charm-resistant, so if you want expansion spells, you need to do them on the lining. And of course we want expansion spells.

Of course this is one of Ginny's side projects, but she pointed out something absolutely stunning that I hadn't even thought of before: If you have a very expensive bag, like the dragonhide clutch, and it's not something you use every day, but say it goes with the shoes, then on that bag you put a basic expansion spell on the lining, just giving you perhaps a bit more than a cubic foot, but then you actually sew a few things into the lining. A loop with some spells to hold your wand. A catch to hold your other everyday expanded bag which has all your basic essentials and all your emergency supplies, and if you've got to put something big in your purse, then you open the tiny clutch, and hold open your inner purse like it's a special, albeit removable compartment, and you're done! The simple expansion spell is super easy, and the sewing and other charms are fairly basic, even if you do have to do them all before you seal the piece. But Mum, it's a little piece of brilliance, I tell you. One of those simple things that is so obvious once it's been pointed out, but so lacking in presence in the world. I tell you, Ginny is a genius in this way, she really is. I'm glad I've got a ten percent share in her nascent company.

Oh, I almost forgot. There was something else I got while I was out. I don't think I've mentioned, but we made friends with the most adorable Hufflepuff first years on the train. Both of their birthdays were earlier in the year, so I went to find something for both of them. I wanted it to be a little fun and a lot useful. So I got each of them a catch-all bag of various wizarding candies and chocolates, and then I went back to the bag store and got two very sturdy leather belt bags in different designs and different shades. And then I took them home and charmed the hell out of them. Expanding lip, twenty cubic feet of space, the fragile float charm that keeps delicate things off to the side, emergency eject if they fall in, and the soft stack to allow books to keep their pages unrumpled. And then I emplaced the candy in the bags and wrapped them nicely. When I gave them over I promised to teach them the summoning spell and while one of them was definitely more interested in the candy than the bag, I know the gifts were well appreciated.

Luna's gift was shoes and a matching clutch. Though admittedly, we all had shoes ordered, and matching clutches, and they'll all be done in time for the Yule Ball.

Oh Mum, I'm going to a Yule Ball with Viktor. Again. And this time I'm not going to end it hiding on the stairs crying my eyes out because Ron is a complete git and Harry couldn't bear to tell him to go to hell. Then again, neither could I, so I shouldn't judge. This time, this time we are going to dance the last dance, and then go look at the stars while we (carefully) walk through the rose garden. (The roses one doesn't really have to look out for. It's the couples who think they've got a private moment to snog one might trip over.) And this time he won't have to retire to his ship, confused and disappointed. And this time I won't have to trudge back up to the Gryffindor Tower in abject misery, looking like a desolate raccoon. This time, I sincerely hope, there will be a happy ending all around.

At the very least, I will be in a gorgeous dress and will have deadly heels.

Because I know you'll want to know, I'm wearing Narcissa's dress and we've been experimenting with different colors. Haven't settled on one yet. But there will be a photographer again this year and this time I won't be stupid about it, I promise.

Love you,
Hermione

The Venerable Bulgarian House of Krum
The Learnéd House of Granger
The Noble English House of Black
The Ancient & Royal Welsh House of Pendragon
The Honorable English House of Potter
The Ancient English House of Peveril

join

on December 31, 199_
at three in the afternoon
at the standing stones
of the Pendragon Castle
near Crickhowell, Wales.

You have been called forth
in order to bear witness.

RSVP

by December 10, 199_
to Madam Ginerva Potter, Hogwarts Castle
and please indicate number attending.

A champagne toast will follow the handfasting.

A full reception will follow the coronation.

All wedding guests will be accommodated at the castle
for the duration of the festival.
Wizarding guests are invited to use the castle floo,
"Pendragon Castle, Wales."

Non-wizarding guests will have transportation provided.

Fleur smiled at breakfast as she opened the beautiful cream colored envelope that bore Harry's seal. She wordlessly handed the top card over to her husband as she read the details described on the second card. They had already agreed to stay for Christmas except for a brief visit to her in-laws the day after Christmas and a brief luncheon with her parents the day before.

She smiled even more broadly than before and nodded, when Bill asked if she would respond for them. And then they discussed ideas for wedding gifts.

Andromeda looked at the seal of a coat of arms she hadn't ever seen before but it didn't take much to put two and two together.

She had just received a letter from Harry Potter. Or possibly, she supposed, his new wife, the youngest Weasley.

She opened the envelope and smiled grimly at the contents. Her recent reinstatement into the House of Black hadn't changed much, except that she had gone and had Teddy's name changed, adding Black as a second middle name.

Andy hadn't seriously considered attending the festival, either. Why? Teddy was too young to remember it and under no circumstances would she attend something that made her husband feel like a second class citizen.

Still, she read the short enclosed letter.

November 28, 199_
Hogwarts Castle

Madam Tonks,

If it would please you to be escorted by elf to Pendragon Castle with your husband and grandson, Tricks, son of Kreacher of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black will be honored to be at your service henceforth, and the service of your honored husband.

Your servant,
Madam Potter

Your honored husband.

Andromeda Tonks stared at those words for a long time, weeping.

Mrs. Berhe took from the stack of usual bills and circulars a beautiful cream-colored envelope that had an actual purple wax seal on it, though she had no way of recognizing the impression in it. It must have given the sorting machines at the Royal Mail a bit of a trial, that. As she fingered the still-closed letter, she wondered.

But surely if it was from a witch or wizard it would have been delivered by owls?

She carefully opened the envelope without breaking the seal and saw within two stiff cards and one sheet of lined note paper, the sort they had sent Negash off to school with in September. She read that one first.

MUMMY!

Hermione's invited me to her wedding! Well, actually, all of us, you and me and Dad and Elsbet, and we can stay over at her house from the 30th to the 1st and go to the festival and everything! Please say we can go! Please, please, please, please, please! There's going to be quidditch and shakespeare and carnivals and everything, oh please convince Dad that we should go.

Love,
Negash

Mrs. Berhe grinned. They had already entered their names into the lottery specifically for squibs and muggle parents, but they weren't going to tell Negash or Elsbet unless they'd gotten picked. She would have to write a letter to the Quibbler and let them know their names could be removed.

Dudley checked his mailbox at Uni dutifully, though usually there wasn't much there except notes from professors and occasionally returned papers, and sometimes a care package from Mum. This time there was a fancy envelope with a wax seal that would have given his father hives. But the rest of the piece of mail was totally normal. Well, there was no return address. And the ink was purple.

But it's not like it was covered in stamps. Just a single first class one in the appropriate corner.

As Dudley stuffed the returned papers into his backpack and got a move on to his next class, he considered the front and back of the envelope. Really, the wax and the ink matched, which was a bit of a classy touch his father would never be able to appreciate, largely because his father had no class.

It was a hard lesson for Dudley to have learned, but he had.

He studied the imprint on the wax seal as he walked across the quad. Two lines crossed over a thing. Was that a pot? Were the two lines wands? Was this…? No. Harry never used a seal and he never mentioned he had an actual coat of arms.

Dudley was being silly.

He opened the letter carefully - it was so nice he didn't like to rip into it - and read… was this a wedding invitation? He looked at the second card. Definitely a wedding invitation. Then he looked at the half sheet of cheaper paper folded twice that almost fell out of the envelope when he took the nicer cards out.

D,

Do come. I'll have someone come pick you up at 9 AM on the 30th and we'll get you back on the 1st. I'd come myself, but I'm going to be on duty doing something or other, though I don't know what yet. Gin's organizing the wedding, since we just eloped, but I'd like you to meet her. I've been told often enough that I look the spitting image of my father, except for my eyes, but from what I see in the pictures, Gin looks an awful lot like Mum, which I suppose makes sense because I had a chance to look into my geneology, and Mum and Petunia are very distant cousins of the wizarding house of Weasley. Which makes Gin and I something like 14th cousins. I'll see if I can't book your extremely removed Uncle Arthur Weasley to come pick you up.

Do rsvp to Gin,
H

Well, that's a detail he didn't feel the need to share with his parents. Ever. Not that he would be telling them anything about this, except maybe that a friend from school had invited him to stay for New Years. They'd pester him, but he needn't mention it until the last moment and if he could just get them out of the house on the 30th in the morning, it would all just be tickety-boo.

If.

Dudley started considering what disasters he might be able to create that would afford him both parents vacating the property for at least ten minutes.

November 29, 199_
Hogwarts Castle

Dear Mum & Dad,

Well, I hosted my second family dinner last night and this time Viktor and I invited Narcissa and Draco, though apparently Draco and Luna aren't far enough along for her to accompany him. Still, I'm holding out hope for them. I think this new Draco I'm becoming acquainted with would benefit greatly by her, and I think possibly he might be worthy of her if he continues to grow into his responsibilities, which it seems he is continuing to do.

I had warned everyone on the invitation that it would be an entirely casual affair and specifically mentioned that I would be wearing jeans.

Let me tell you. Sofia and Narcissa both rocked denim jeans in a way I thought I'd never witness. I've got a lot to live up to over here, Mum.

Tampy and Pampy catered, which was interesting as they're still quite upset with each other, but I did ask each one privately if they thought they could work well enough with their twin in order to do this and each one privately assured me they could. I'm trying so hard with them, Mum. I don't want them to alienate each other and while I'm trying not to meddle I'm quite afraid that if they don't come to a peaceful place soon it will be too late. Pampy has privately confided to me that she's inclined to accept Mory's suit, though she hasn't firmly decided yet. We've discussed what will happen when he dies sooner rather than later, comparatively speaking. Apparently mated elves have a ten year mourning period, but after that they are free to take another mate and Pampy doesn't find the thought of being in mourning for ten years at all prohibitive. It seems perfectly normal to her, so I just tried to soak up as much information as I could about her culture.

Apparently status doesn't convey on her, just because he's Head Elf, and there are no requirements for her to be anything other than Pampy of the House of Black, but they will have to decide before the birth of children which house they will belong to. Apparently if there are twins they often go each in a different direction, which means after they come out of the nursery, they enter their designated house for training. But given Pampy's own situation, they might decide to keep any twins together. Sometimes the humans weigh in on this, sometimes they don't and either way I'm fairly certain the choice always lies with the elves in question, which makes sense. I mean, it's their children.

But anyway, dinner was excellent. I had worked up a menu with the Twins of traditional British fare served family style and it was lovely. Everyone was quite relaxed, and you know how difficult it is to fake that, so I trust it was true, even for the Malfoys, and we spent the loveliest time just laughing and trading stories. Ginny told stories about her brother Charlie's first year as a dragon keeper, and those were particularly good. I think you would have loved it, and I wish you could have been there.

After dinner we walked on the beach again and Sofia and Narcissa strolled arm in arm ahead of the rest clearly having private conversation and possibly plotting to take over the world, but in the best way possible. If they ever did, the world would thank them for it.

Gregor had herded Draco and Harry away next and lord knows what they were talking about, but it seemed animated.

And then Viktor escorted Ginny and I, and we talked about how Bill and Fleur were doing, Ginny and Viktor mostly trading information, but it was interesting to listen to, and it was wonderful to see everyone getting along. I suppose I had a small, sort of background fear that it wouldn't work, but of course that doesn't account for how keen Sofia and Gregor are to be… I don't know, a helpful and loving part of my and Viktor's lives. I suppose when everyone shows up bringing their best game and makes an effort and no one is repeatedly triggered by traumatic events… well, I suppose things go much more smoothly.

I… it's strange to ask you this. I don't know that I have the right to, but you know I've bonded with Harry and we're siblings now. And he has no family of his own - well, his uncle actively hates him, his aunt apparently feels guilty and has been acting strangely, and he's now on speaking terms with his cousin. If I understand correctly, after Harry saved his cousin from a dementor things rather shifted between them and they've been talking. I'm not sure if they'll ever really be close, but at least it's something. And Harry has requested that his cousin be invited to the coronation, and of course we'll find a place for him in The Curtain, and if he's going to be there, he may as well be at the wedding too… but where I was going with this. I don't want you to feel that just because Harry and I have sort of adopted each other that you need to adopt him as well. And I know you could never replace the parents he's heard about but never met outside of a magical mirror, wizarding photographs, and a few ghostly encounters. But if you ever had wanted a second child, a son, I think you have an opportunity to claim him, if you choose. He desperately needs love. He always has. And he's so grateful when he receives it, and I suppose he probably imagines he doesn't deserve any of it.

It's just a pinch over a month now, until the wedding and coronation. I should probably be more nervous than I am, but who has time? It's not that classes are so absorbing. I mean, it's not the second, third, or fourth time I've been exposed to the material, and so it's more of an intense, slow-paced review under supervision, and even DADA is a bit boring except for the practical bits. Thank heavens for Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions and the heaps of practical work that are involved, all of which is new for me. But the essays? They practically write themselves. And as much as I love Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, I had rather taught myself all of it out of the books last year. Under normal circumstances (oh, but what is normal?) I might be content to overachieve there, but then there is my independent study, which is all quite new material and goes as fast as I can take, and then my entirely independent research into the history, culture, and connection of the house elves, merfolk, and centaurs, the few crafty side-projects I have (no knitting this year, for better or for worse, but I'm deep into bag charming which is fascinating in its own right), the Shakespeare Curriculum Project I've been working on in the odd hours, and all the letter writing… And of course Viktor who often as not studies quietly nearby as I work or write letters, but of course there are those times when we're together and not studying and that does take quite a bit of time. (Dad, avert your eyes. Oh, Mum, he's so amazing. I would, at some point, just like to spend a few days in bed with him.)

So, all that's to say that since I don't have to actually plan the wedding, or the coronation, just show up and be a gracious hostess, I am free to get on with the rest of life and I have done so. But then, it's also easy to sort of forget. Sounds awful, but there you go. But I suppose it's actually quite good, because if it was constantly on my mind I'd be fretting like mad. And really, it's all well in hand. I get updates. Ginny, Narcissa, and Augusta are like some maiden-mother-crone trinity of high-performing excellence. Augusta is working all the ministry angles beautifully and everyone respects her and hops to when she says boo, Narcissa has whipped all the merchants and purebloods into line and spun things just so they're all begging to donate services and aid, and Ginny has organized all the wedding details as well as the souvenir details down to the dotted 'i's and crossed 't's. To whit, your wedding invitation is enclosed. I will tentatively relay your positive RSVP to Ginny.

Also, Narcissa, under Elizabeth's suggestion, has managed to round up every single Shakespeare-knowing thespian remotely connected with the wizarding world for me… Mum, Dad. Sir P_ S_ is going to direct A Comedy of Errors on my stage. And he's going to play the part of the Duke. This is clearly the part of this role I'm going to like the most. And with our beloved Picard directing I can almost guarantee that the play will be a comedy of errors only in the scripted sense, and not, as I had feared, in presentation as well. (It's why I chose that play, really. Because if wizards had just messed it up, we could play that off as just another humorous folly…)

But of course, day by day it's all coming closer and closer. I know there are plans and plots afoot for bringing your memories back, but I've quite intentionally distanced myself from that as well. You'd think I'd want to know more, do more… but after the first attempts, well, the first failures, I couldn't. And I had to be so discreet. I didn't want to do something stupid that would require further obliviation and thus perhaps complicate further a possible cure. So I used Harry's invisibility cloak. I came by night using spells and potions while you slept. And each day I managed to pass before you to see if there was recognition, and each day you met me as a stranger.

But one can only take so many weeks of failure. That was the beginning of June, in case you were curious, in case any of it took in any small way. I went home in defeat and found Viktor's first letter to me in more than a year. And I, who had been convinced that he would want nothing to do with me after how I had treated him, I was so indecently relieved to discover he had been writing me to no avail all this time. Which is rather horrible, as it must have been a terrible thing for him to have to endure, and yet there it is: I was relieved that he still loved me. Oh, not that I understood just how much or in just what manner, but he had been my dearest and most sane friend for so long and of course that's exactly the sort of thing the horcrux likes to twist, and it had done without me even realizing what was what. And so in the midst of such abject failure as I found in Australia, I returned to our empty house so full of pain for me to find… a letter. With a rose. And even though it felt like something was dying inside of me, when I read that letter and ended the charm on the rose, something else was being born, I think.

Oh, I've gotten so maudlin. I don't know why I still do this. My life is idyllic, now. I'm immersed in studying and surrounded by people who love me, I all but live with Viktor, I'm not in constant pain and I can almost sleep through the night, most nights. Why am I not happier, Mum? I have so much, and yet all I can think about is what I've lost.

I suppose I do still need to heal. And no one can do it for me, like Viktor tells me. It stays until it goes, and it only goes when I let it go.

I love you,
Hermione

"No, Mistress Pendragon," Mory said plainly and when Hermione furrowed her brow, he flinched.

"I'm not upset," she hastened to say. "I'm just trying to understand." She paused for a moment, considering her next words. "Do you know what sort of magic it is, if it cannot be affected by elves?"

"Yes, Mistress Pendragon," Mory answered, his relief clear in his tone. "It is the Pendragon blood. Woven all together in the New Palace."

Hermione blinked. "Interesting. Now, help me understand this better. There are parts of the New Palace that were built by hand, parts that were built with magic that was non-ritual blood magic, and both of those two parts can be affected by the elves and their magic, and then there are things that were built by ritual blood magic, and those can't be changed, altered, or affected by the elves. Is that right?"

"Yes, Mistress Pendragon."

"Right. So which bits are blood magic only?"

"The mist, the frenzy, the lethargy."

"Do you have any idea or insight into why those things?" Hermione asked, fascinated.

Mory harumphed. "The mist, to take an intruder wherever they want to go? And if they know there is a door inside the castle, they could go directly in! Directly to Mistress's chamber! Bad. Terrible. Foolish. And if they know that door, they may know others. The door to the study. The door to the stones! And then all is lost! Foolishness! Foolishness!" Mory was pounding his small fist on his knee as he sat on his stool before the fire.

"Yes, I quite agree," she said to Mory and then turned to Viktor who was sitting next to her, up on the couch. "Viktor, I don't see that we should necessarily reveal the secret doorways to anyone, and I think it could be wise if we used them only with great discretion. It's possible that someone may discover the properties of the mist… but then… there might be an expedient way of avoiding that. Let me…. Let me think about that. Um, for now, let's continue on. What about the frenzy and the lethargy?"

Mory scoffed. "Foolish, foolish. If one doesn't want to have sex or to sleep, one shouldn't force it. And too much use of the spells makes it difficult other places. Harder to sleep elsewhere. Harder to have sex. Foolish. Foolish. Foolish." Mory was shaking his head.

A dawning horror was growing over Hermione and she looked to Viktor to see that he, too, was troubled.

"We've got to get rid of all three, haven't we?" she whispered.

"Without a single doubt, Myon," he responded.

"Right. Okay. First things first. Mory - about how many times does it take for someone to sleep in a lethargy room or to have sex in a frenzy room for it to affect them in other places?"

"Stories say within a month of daily use," Mory replied, calm once more.

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed in relief. They'd only had sex in there the once.

"Okay. So. Um. Right. We have three weeks to work on dismantling it all, because I think it would be quite a good idea to do so before we have guests for nearly a month and I think Viktor and Master Harris and I… can… work… on… that… And my concern here, Mory, is that if we pull the walls down, there won't be any more walls. And creating permanent walls with doors is certainly a longer term project that will undoubtedly be quite expensive and so I'm tabling that conversation until I have sufficient income to blow it on something as utterly frivolous as the New Palace. But in the meantime, if we get the mist down, and we obtain sufficient quantities of fabric, Mory, do you think the fabric elves could create walls and doorways of fabric in all the standard places, properly reinforced of course, and also separate up the communal toilet into something like stalls with changing rooms attached so its actually usable?"

"Yes, Mistress Pendragon!" Mory said, grinning.

"Right," Hermione said, sighing and letting her shoulders sag. She took another deep breath. "If the fabric elves are entirely prepared beforehand, how much time would it take them to install the fabric walls?"

Mory gazed into the fireplace for a long moment. "I would work with them, and have the space elves join, and together… together we would do it in three days."

Hermione nodded and thought about this. "What do you need from me in order to have the fabric elves fully prepared for this?"

Mory answered more immediately. "We will have to measure and check the stores to see what fabric there is, and perhaps some new should be bought, but the Pendragons have no wealth that may be spent in stores. And fabric that is used for this project will be so heavily charmed it cannot be used for other things, save as wall coverings. If the fabric elves have three weeks to prepare, it is possible they could weave and dye some specifically for this, though there is no time for embroidery."

"Make it red," Viktor said quietly. "A bright, bold red. It would fit with the Roman Architecture and for your coronation you would look very good standing on a background of red."

"Right," Hermione said. "Make it red. Have the fabric elves start weaving and let Pampy know you have permission to buy more supplies using the Black vault. We'll get started tomorrow on making the New Palace less of a den of corrupting iniquity and erase the security threat entirely."

Mory rose and bowed deeply to Hermione, not something he had ever done before. At the lowest point of his bow he thanked her, and then disappeared.

The meeting was apparently over.

"Hermione, I am troubled, and I need to discuss something with you," Viktor said, reaching out to her from his seated position on their couch. She let him pull her gently up and onto his lap. She gave him a curious look and waited in silence for what he would have to say. Perhaps he wanted to be included more in the decision making?

"There are things… that you have said you do not wish to know about, but preparations are being made, and some of them are not small. It has involved increasingly large portions of my life and my attention and I feel more and more that I have been lying to you, and I do not like this feeling in the least. And yet you have said that you do not wish to know, and so I continue. But the unease does not diminish, Myon. I wish neither to lie to you, nor to upset you. That you are stronger than I imagine, I am confident. That this is also your weakest place, I already know. Tell me what I should do, Myon. Should I continue to lie to you, or should I upset you?"

She tightened her hold around his neck and kissed the height of his cheekbone. "Upset me," she whispered, pressing her forehead into his temple.

"Tomorrow I go to Australia," he whispered, looking straight ahead.

She exhaled and it took a moment to realize that her teeth weren't chattering only because her jaw was slightly open, and she could feel her back start to tense a moment before the shivering set in. She would have argued that she was fine, but she was shivering and not cold, a certain sign that she was starting to lose control.

She held him tighter and pressed her body against his, partly for comfort, partly to hide the shaking. "Thank you," she whispered quickly, keeping her jaw slightly open so her teeth couldn't make a sound.

She wasn't doing a great job at hiding her upset, though. Viktor's arms tightened around her, one hand rubbing her back and a single warming charm washing over her, the feel of Viktor's magic doing more to calm her than the warmth itself.

"I don't want this to upset me," she whispered.

"I know," he said softly, still holding her, still soothing her.

"Tell me everything," she eventually whispered.

Viktor started speaking. He told her how they had been planning, what they eventually realized, what they had to do, what they needed from her.

She huffed a tiny bit of rueful laughter when he paused, waiting for her response. "And how were you going to get my blood with my full consent without telling me all of this?"

"Very subtle lies that were making me very uncomfortable to even consider," he responded plainly.

"Sounds like that would have comprised the ritual."

Viktor sighed. "Another reason to be truthful. I might have been able to phrase it just so, but perhaps not. But now that I have your agreement, truly Myon, I do believe we will be successful. The ritual will work, there is only the other factor. And we have a plan."

He described it.

Hermione put a hand over her eyes. "Oh, lord."

"You think it will not work?" he asked. "The beginnings have already been put into motion."

Hermione sighed, her eyes still covered. "No, no, it'll probably work. I just… God, I feel stupid. Why didn't I think of that?"

He held her tightly for a moment, and then loosened his grasp. "Please let this be a very, very gentle lesson for you to always ask for help. Narcissa knew what question to ask. Harry knew the answer to the right question. I had the knowledge of the right magic. No one of us three could have done it alone, and neither could you have done. Yes?"

She nodded silently and then after a moment kissed him. It wasn't just a chaste kiss, but neither did it last too long. She rested her forehead against his.

"Thank you, Viktor. Thank you for going through all of this for me, and for keeping it quiet until now. When do you leave tomorrow? And when do you want to take the blood?"

"Tomorrow morning before you go for a run, after I make love to you, then I will take the blood. When it is singing and fresh. We leave tomorrow evening, after an early dinner. It will be the morning, and that is when we have an appointment with them."

"Then, I guess I have a letter to give to you," Hermione said sadly, remembering what she had written.

He kissed her lips briefly. "And I will take it. And if it goes as I suspect it might, I will burn it later for you."

Hermione looked at him askance. It was he who had told her to write it in the first place.

"Your parents love you, Hermione. They will not want a letter. Not when you can take Narcissa's portkey. If they are at all inclined, Narcissa will send a patronus."

Hermione's breath was short. "What- time- exactly-"

"Deep breaths, Myon. Deep. Eight thirty in the evening, in this time zone. Deep, Myon. Myon!"

Hermione came to lying on the floor between the two couches with her feet propped up on the coffee table, on top of a pillow, trainers off. Viktor was sitting next to her on the floor, his legs folded underneath him. He was stroking her face with the back of his fingers.

"Why am I on the floor?" she asked quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You started to breathe - hm, not sure of the word in English. Wrongly. Then you fainted."

Hermione blushed. Fainted? Fainted? Like some delicate flower that needed rescuing? How utterly embarrassing.

Viktor grinned down at her. "You are blushing. This is good."

"Why?" Hermione demanded tersely.

"Faint because there is not enough blood in head. Blushing means you have plenty, now." He rubbed her red cheeks and grinned wider. "Helps to elevate feet, of course. But I have ordered salt and water and lemon for you. This will help."

Viktor had made her drink it at the beginning of the month, too, his lemon saltwater concoction that he swore was good for dehydration. She had been ready for the worst, but had been surprised at how good it tasted. He pointed out that the more one needed it, the better it tasted.

Which made a certain amount of sense. Hermione recalled that directly after a long race her mother could eat lemons straight just for the electrolytes, and she couldn't even taste the bitterness.

Her mother.

Hermione closed her eyes, but it was no good. The tears were leaking out anyway.

Tomorrow. Evening. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe she could have them back again.

For a very long time she just closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. It almost worked, but the tears kept falling and Viktor kept wiping them away.

She sat up and drank slowly when he had fixed her a glass of his all-purpose restorative.

"No hot bath for you tonight," he murmured. "And no vigorous sex, either."

She glared at him.

"Myon," he said, drawing the word out and meeting her gaze quite directly. "You just fainted in my arms. This means you must be gentle and kind to yourself."

She wanted to argue. Really, she felt fine. Instead she closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths. Then she took several more.

Okay. Okay. Viktor hadn't said no sex. He'd said no vigorous sex. But the bath…

Eyes still closed, she spoke quietly. "The thing about the bath is that it helps me to calm down. Let go. And that would be very helpful tonight."

"Let me give you a massage, instead," Viktor said. "I know this is hard for you, Myon, and I don't want to make it harder still. Come. I give you massage. Come. Let us go get ready for bed."

He took the glass from her and helped her to her feet, then glanced at the clock.

She was cleaved to his side, her arms around him as he delicately fished the time turner out from under the jersey of his that she wore. He looped it around his head, too, and turned it back two hours.

He took the time machine off both of their necks and simply held it by its chain as he scooped Hermione up into his arms. Hermione decided not to fight it. She laid her head on his shoulder and melted into him.

"All jewelry comes off for massage," Viktor murmured as he walked. "And when you come out of the bathroom, bring to bed that cream you use on me before," he said, obliquely mentioning the time he tied himself to her bed. It made her smile.

"Alright," she said and regained her feet only at the door to her powder room. She wrapped her arms around his neck then, and held on to him. "Thank you for helping me to be reasonable," she said quietly.

He kissed the top of her head. "You're welcome, Myon."

Reluctantly she left his embrace and went in to floss and brush her teeth, wash her face and use the toilet. When she emerged she was greeted with the sight of Viktor, naked, stretching.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. The smile stretched slowly but completely over her face.

God he was beautiful.

She really didn't get enough opportunities to just ogle him properly; not total objectification, just a deep appreciation of his natural beauty.

God he was beautiful.

His thighs were as huge and muscled as one might imagine a flyer would need, and his calves only slightly less so, though of course proportional. His abdominal muscles as well were highly developed. His back muscles were a symphony of beauty and grace. He had once told her that really that's all he needed - legs, back, and abs, but since he didn't want to look totally lopsided he also worked his chest and his arms, though because they were less important it was all too easy to pay less attention to them. Apparently it had taken him the entire three years they hadn't seen each other to get his physique to the place he considered fully balanced.

Hermione privately considered that it had probably helped that he'd finished filling out and growing that last bit to bring him up to two inches beyond six feet. Now his hands, his feet, his cock, and his body were all in proportion.

Not that she'd been well acquainted with his cock before, but she was well acquainted with some of his physical on-the-ground awkwardness when he was younger, including his feet which he did, once in her presence, trip over.

Not that she had judged him for it, of course. Hermione had been all-too-aware of her own level of personal awkwardness to ever mock it in someone else.

Oh, he wasn't awkward now.

"Enjoying the view, Myon?"

She smiled, purposefully not meeting his eyes, but now that he was upright and, no, wait, he was kneeling down, and… laying back? Now, that, that was a hell of a quad stretch. He was lying on his back, his lower legs folded under his thighs, his arms stretched out above his head, and breathing deeply. His cock lay on his leg, half hard, his balls nestled around it.

"Yes," she finally answered. "Yes, I am." After a moment of watching as he continued to hold the stretch, she added, "You are crazy flexible."

"Yes," he said, echoing her. "Yes, I am."

"Lavatory's yours, whenever you're done being all bendy." She tore her eyes away and took all of her jewelry off, which felt a bit strange, but she put it all on her dressing table all the same, and fetched out the all-purpose repair cream and put it on her bedside table along with her wand, and next to Viktor's.

She put out her running clothes for the next day and then stripped and tossed her clothes in the laundry basket at the bottom of her wardrobe.

Viktor was in and out of the powder room quickly and she'd barely had any time at all to read a bit of her novel in bed by the soft glow of her blue flames. After she'd marked the place he'd taken it from her and put it back on the pile across the room.

"Start on your stomach." He piled up pillows underneath her torso, then rolled a single pillow to rest her forehead on, giving her face an open space for breath, while totally supporting her shoulders. "Put arms so," he said, gently moving them so they laid in a more natural fashion off to the side. "It is good? Are you comfortable?"

Hermione moaned in happiness. It was actually quite comfortable. "A little cold, without the blankets - ooh, yes. Thank you," she said, feeling the warmth wash over her.

The massage started at her shoulders and for a long while every exhale was a moan. When she'd stopped moaning for a whole minute, he began to speak quietly.

"I have taken a week of my vacation, starting today. I had considered many things to do with the rest of it, once I am finished in Australia, but I think perhaps when I return I will seek a meeting with your Master Harris of ritual blood magic. Do you have his address?"

"No," Hermione said simply.

"I shall ask the Headmistress to send it to me tomorrow. She has a plan, you know. If all goes well, and you use the portkey. She will excuse you from classes, from residency until Monday morning, so that you may spend time with your parents. To return, you call your elves, and then they know your parents' house and can retrieve them more easily, and also deliver letters for you."

Hermione's heart clenched at Minerva's thoughtfulness. "I'm so grateful Viktor, so very grateful for all you three have done for me. But, oh, damn," she remembered. "I was supposed to have a meeting with a portrait on Friday afternoon. But I suppose she'll reschedule that, as she set it up for me."

The room was silent for a long time. Viktor had moved down her arms, then down her back to massage out the pains in her arse before she spoke again. "Four days. Five, really, between tomorrow morning and Monday evening when I'll see you again, if all goes well. Not enough time with my parents, and too much time without you."

Briefly he massaged the backs of her thighs before telling her to roll over. There was a surprising amount of tension in her pectoral muscles, between her collarbone and her breasts.

"I will miss you keenly, Myon, but it will go by quickly enough, and then we need not be parted for so long again."

"Could you… could you stay?" she asked tentatively.

"I have considered this, but I think no. You need a few days to be just their daughter, and not also my lover, my intended."

"I see your point, and I'm not trying to change your mind, but just for the record, you don't stop being my lover just because we're parted by many miles. You started being my lover when we were parted by many miles, Viktor."

"Mm," he said, and she opened her eyes to see him smiling. "Yes. I suppose I shall have to write you long, desperate letters, pour out my heart and my cock to you, all over again every night and have them waiting for you when you return on Monday morning, as if you needed a further distraction from your classes that day."

"Will you? I mean, if it's not too much to ask? I'm never going to turn down an opportunity to have you write me one of your beautiful letters. Also, they're hot as fuck, Viktor."

He smirked, and his hands drifted down to her breasts where he continued his firm massage. "Warn me to stop if you are going to come, Myon," he said, and it was his only warning of what he was about to do.

His head sunk down to the level of her breast as he stood next to the bed and he held one particularly steady and his lips didn't kiss the tip, his tongue didn't tease the soft flesh, rather and for the first time, he sucked it into his mouth gently at first but with increasing firmness.

Hermione groaned loudly because if that wasn't the most perfect bloody sensation that was somehow connected right exactly to her wet pussy she wasn't sure what was. She was never so happy in her life that she was not close to orgasm because this could go on a good deal longer and that would suit her just fine.

And it did. He switched breasts three more times and used the warming charm quite creatively just on her nipples before she warned him that she was getting close. She wasn't super close, of course, but better to be safe than sorry.

Viktor kissed down her torso and had her shift a bit on the bed so he could kneel beside it with her legs over his shoulders. He groaned as he kissed her thighs and he groaned again as he went face first into her wetness.

She had both hands in his hair, her fingers combing through his long, slightly curly locks, her fingers alternately pressing and scratching against his scalp. His tongue, oh his tongue was certainly his best feature. It spouted poetry and licked her pussy.

Hermione frankly wasn't certain his cock would be able to compare.

Except possibly, she considered in a haze of lust, that when he fucked her with his cock he might also, just possibly, be able to speak at the same time, so she would get the best of both worlds.

And then the sensation was far too much to think of anything but what Viktor's tongue was presently doing, in that it was licking rapidly at the head of her clit even as it was driving her out of her mind. She moaned soft encouragements and squirmed a bit, though his hands held her hips absolutely motionless for his feasting pleasure. The closer she got to her peak, the louder he growled into her, and the louder he growled, the closer she got.

Finally she came, panting his name and the moment she pushed his head away gently he gave her two inches of space, one hand gripping her thigh firmly as he buried his face in it, the other hand, if the slight shaking of her other leg resting on his shoulder was anything to go by, was pumping his cock hard. Still, she could hear him when he muttered against her skin.

"Ungh, God, Myon, so beautiful, so perfect. I love you so much. Fuck, I love you so much. I would do- Oh, fuck-"

Her hands were back in his hair, scratching.

He whined wordlessly.

On a whim, she removed one hand from his person and used her fingers to open wide her pussy to him.

He growled. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so soon," he said, his voice almost unrecognizable.

And then he came, harshly whispering the word fuck against her clit.

She had written what essays she could and given them to Ginny. She had written a letter meant to be quick but that ended up rather longer to Elizabeth and a rather shorter one to Viktor that she had meant to be quite long. She could barely eat at dinner, and currently Harry was sitting with her on the sofa in her study with his arm around her, holding a vigil with her. Neither of them said anything. There was nothing to say. It would work, or it wouldn't. They would want to see her, or they wouldn't. And either Viktor would step out of the bright green flames in the fireplace and gather her in his arms as she sobbed out her horror and pain, or someone's patronus would show up and tell her to use the portkey.

The mantel clock struck eight thirty and ticked agonizingly past, every second measured in hours. She couldn't cry, but the dread was everywhere she mentally turned.

Then the room glowed bright. She heard the words almost without hearing them and sat there, stunned.

Harry hugged her harder for a moment, and then let her go.