The Ritual
Harry stared at the pages before him, his eyes aching. It had been a week since the battle at the Ministry. A week since he'd felt his heart get mercilessly ripped out. He still felt it, Hermione still lived, but they were unsure how much longer she had. She was dying and it was all his fault.
After he'd left Dumbledore's office, he'd gone straight to the hospital wing to check on his friends. He'd found Ginny there, Neville and Luna as well. Ron had been kept by St. Mungo's; the brains in the Department of Mysteries had done strange things to him and the mediwizards and mediwitches were taking their time to remove all the toxins and set him right. Hermione had not been there either, though.
Madam Pomfrey had pulled him aside, quietly informing him what had happened. They had sent her to St. Mungo's, but they had no idea what she had been hit with. The magical hospital had held her for some hours, but ended up sending her back to the DoM to see what the Unspeakables could figure out. The results were not encouraging.
The diagnosis was a magic-wasting curse, one that had no known cure. It would consume a person's magic, until death took them. His best friend had been placed in a magical suppression field, one which was vainly trying to slow the progression of the curse. It would buy them some time to search for a cure, but the medical staff held very little hope.
Harry didn't remember much after that, the next clear memory being when he woke up the following day in his bed, still dressed in the clothes he'd fought in. The clothes stained with her blood. He had showered for over an hour, rubbing and scouring roughly in an attempt to remove all the blood, both real and imagined. He'd scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until the water had turned cold. Despite all of this, he never felt clean, having failed to scrub the guilt from his soul.
Once he'd stopped trying to remove the upper layer of his skin, the hot tears having finished flowing, Harry had come here, to her spot in her favorite place. The Hogwarts Library was one of her sanctuaries, one of the places he truly remembered her being happy and alive. For months she'd been trying to teach him Arithmancy and Runes, to varying degrees of success, but just being here seemed to brighten her mood. It was also one ofthe largest in the world, so he began his search.
Luna had been the first to try to speak with him, she had even dragged Neville with her on one occasion, but while he would acknowledge them, his friends could easily tell he was just humoring them. They still stopped by, but only to ensure he ate. Ginny had tried to make him leave, until Madam Pince had chased her out. The redhead's temper had cost her any library privileges for the rest of the year.
He'd started with dark curses, wanting to identify the cause of her suffering. The restricted section opened for him, despite Harry not having permission to browse its shelves, and Madam Pince made no bother of his activities. She even allowed him to stay after she chased everyone else out, only making him leave when she did herself. The Hogwarts librarian merely opened the doors for him in the mornings when she found him slumped half-asleep against the hard, cold stone walls of the library entrance.
It had taken two entire days but he had found it, exactly as Madam Pomfrey had described it. He scrutinized the reference as if it held all the answers, its history and use, tracking every bit of information he could find about it. Then he began to devour every text he could get his hands on about magic cores, the lost art of power transfers, and other arcane healing techniques. He researched potions and charms, delving into every relevant branch of magic he could find. And, after five, long and sleepless days, he had something.
Odds were it would kill him as well, but when he saw her fall to the ground, bushy hair limp and askew, Harry had had the realization that a life without Hermione was not a life worth living. Therefore, he saw the risks as justifiable.
His idea had formulated into being when he'd begun to research rituals, an ancient form of magical healing. Most rituals took much more time and preparation than modern healing charms, yet generally performed a slightly cleaner healing. They had fallen out of use mostly due to the ease and expediency of the modern spells, in addition to the cost in preparation for the rituals. Working on that, Harry had looked over every ritual he could find involving 'sharing one's magic' or healing of any sort.
The distraught young wizard had found a promising ritual, one that functioned by pulling cursed magic from someone but it wouldn't work against this particular curse, as it had been tried and failed.
The very old manuscript did, however, mention another such ritual that had similar properties but dealt with the sharing of one's magic. Well, that was his hope.
Based somewhat on the much more common magical communion, which just shared the outermost or 'surface' magic of a magical, Magicia Communa was a complete opening of your being to another. The descriptions made him think of the difference between a river sharing water with an ocean versus where oceans shared water. It was incredibly risky, as it would effectively merge the Magic of the participants, joining them in a way very, very few were willing to endure. Memories, feelings, personality traits, and even thoughts had been reported to be shared after this ritual.
Every instance of the ritual being used that Harry had found was related in some form to a magical marriage, as a significant stage of the binding process. The important part was that while some rituals could give some of one's magic to another, kind of a jump start to augment healing, this one shared everything. His theory was that if he opened his core, all his magic, to her, a spell designed to wither a single core would be overwhelmed by their combined cores.
Either Hermione made a full and happy recovery, or Harry would die with her. It wasn't the 'him instead of her' trope that he would easily prefer. If the process failed, at least he'd not have to live without her.
Now the question was what to do about his theory. He wasn't able to tell Dumbledore, for the Headmaster seemed to have a plan when it came to him, though he would never admit to it. 'Coincidence' after 'coincidence' led to the younger wizard thinking his grandfatherly magical guardian had an ulterior motive, especially when one thought about how the centenarian wizard had informed him about the prophecy. One would think that telling a fifteen-year-old boy, less than an hour after his last link to his parents and his one shot at freedom had perished, that he was 'destined' to fight an insane, sociopathic, and incredibly powerful Dark Lord was the pinnacle of stupidity.
McGonagall was definitely on the old man's side, and while he appreciated Madam Pomfrey, the fact she had never enquired about his various older injuries and scars had him doubting her reliability as well. Pretty much every other instructor was out, but that was okay; they left for home tomorrow.
Home.
Harry had never called his relatives house on Privet Drive 'home', and given the welcome he expected, he doubted he ever would. He'd realized this last week that Hermione was his home, his rock and the one thing he could never live without. The young wizard had to figure out how to get from the train to Hermion-
The train!
Once Harry left the school, everyone would assume he was on the train. If he used a floo from Hogsmeade… and his father's cloak… he might just be able to make it back into the Ministry without anyone knowing any better. He would be able to, at least, make it into the Department of Mysteries, though he wasn't sure how he would go about locating his best friend once there. It was the start of a plan though. And for the first time in a week, Harry exited the library with a spring to his step.
"Hello, Mr. Potter."
Harry froze.
He glanced around, but the young wizard saw no one who could have spoken. Having just entered the DoM underneath his invisibility cloak, he was currently cursing the existence of the damn rotating Room of Doors. He had been trying to figure out which door to take when the voice interrupted his ponderings.
"We've been expecting you," the voice spoke, sounding as if it had originated from all around him simultaneously. "The door that you seek is the one two places to the right from the one directly in front of where you entered."
"And how do you know that?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Because beyond that door is your friend," the voice answered simply, as if the concept was incredibly obvious. "It's quite fortunate that you arrived when you did. I'm afraid her time is short, so please continue."
Figuring the jig was up anyway, Harry carefully removed his cloak and stored it in his bag. Moving carefully, he drew his wand and walked towards the indicated door.
He entered a small hallway with several doors on both sides, and each was equally as blank as those in the Room behind him.
One, however, was not.
About halfway down on the right side, a door just as unremarkable as the rest opened, a sliver of light escaping through the crack. Moving down the hall, he gathered his courage and slowly opened the door.
Inside was a small medical wing, more modern than the one at Hogwarts but still with the same sterile feel to it. He could practically feel the itchiness of the sheets and the distinct unnamable smell of healing potions. That thought immediately evaporated as he saw Hermione on the second bed on the left, several unfamiliar devices arrayed around her. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he ignored the robed figures in the room as he staggered towards the girl he loved.
He never noticed the exact point at which when he'd taken her hand, or knew how for long he stroked her hair. All Harry knew was that as soon as he touched her, it was like a piece of himself that was missing had returned. He sat there, holding her in his arms and just memorizing her peaceful face for quite some time.
Eventually his mind started to function again. He stared at her quiet, peaceful face and his determination redoubled. Harry knew he had to save her, and forced himself to turn to the hooded figures around him.
"You don't know how to cure her."
It was a statement, and even through the obscuring charms masking their identities he could feel their embarrassment. "You let me in here to say goodbye, didn't you?"
"Unfortunately, you are correct, Mr. Potter," one spoke, and he recognized the distorted voice as the same one that had directed him here. "We thought it best to allow you to say your goodbyes."
"I have a better idea. Why don't we save her instead?"
"Save her?" another arrogantly scoffed. "Did you not hear what we just said, boy? There is no way to save her."
"Stop it." The hard, commanding voice of the first figure brooked no argument. "Please explain, Mr. Potter."
So he did. He pulled out his notes and the list of references he had made. He showed the history of the curse, how it had been imported from Prussia with the Dolohov family. The failed healing attempts and the rituals that had been tried. Finally, he shared his discovery of Magicia Communa. He explained how it worked. The purification component that might be enough to evict the curse. After a slight prompt from the apparent leader, he also shared the expected results of failure.
"Absolutely not, it is far too risky," the one who had spoken early denied. "Even if it works, the magical energy needed would likely leave you both as squibs."
"Isn't that their choice?" another asked, this one's voice hinting her at being female.
"You know that there's a prophecy about him, we could be risking everything," the first argued.
"You knew?" Harry cut them off, his anger flaring. "You knew about the prophecy?"
"No." The leader held his hand out placatingly. "We knew it was possible you were mentioned in a prophecy, but never the contents. For all we know it could involve you saving your friend."
"It doesn't. Not if it was the one Voldemort was after."
"You know it? You could pick it up and hear it?"
"It tingled a bit when I held it, and I couldn't hear it when it was smashed, but Dumbledore told it to me. It was made to him originally." Harry looked at the gathered unspeakables. They seemed surprised, almost scared? worried?
"You said it tingled when you held it?" The leader asked, a mix of fear and awe bleeding through the charms.
"Yeah, was it not supposed to?" Harry was confused, why did they think it was such a big deal?
"Mr. Potter, if I agree to facilitate your ritual, would you do me two, no, three favors?" The calm had to be forced, as the leader spoke to Harry, he could sense the forced evenness.
"What favors?" Harry knew he'd probably agree anyway, but it was better to know the conditions up front.
"First, we will wake your friend long enough to inform her of the ritual, the consequences, and ask her permission. If she denies it then we stop. I will not allow this to occur against her will."
"She has to be conscious for the ritual anyway," Harry told him. "Plus I had intended to ask her to marry me beforehand, so I agree to this."
"Good lad." Pride seemed to seep through this time. The charms must be failing on his hood or something because the more they talked, the easier Harry could read him. "The second is to let us do some tests. Nothing invasive or dangerous. The two at the top of my list are a core check and to have you touch another sphere in a controlled environment. The reason for this is that you should not have felt anything if that prophecy was about you. If it wasn't it should have hit you with a massive blast of pure magic. That it tingles means it probably was not about you, but you should have been blasted as soon as you touched it."
"So you want to see if it does it on one we know doesn't apply? Just to see what it does?" Harry asked incredulously.
"No, nothing like that," the man rapidly assured him, "but the chance of that in this instance I would guess is pretty low. It will be controlled, it will be after everything else, and completely safe. Yes, if we're wrong it'll blast you with pure magic, but all it will do is knock you out for a bit. Well, more than a while, but we have ways to bleed off the overload and wake you faster."
"I see." Harry paused to consider. "I'll think about it. What is number three?"
"A conversation. Between the two of you and myself, after everything is done."
"So the only thing I have to do first is ask her to go through the ritual with me? Then after, we do some tests and have a talk?" Harry asked to clarify
"I'd like to at least do the core test before you go through the ritual, but yes." The leader still had his hand out to silence his companions.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want these things?" Harry continued to stroke Hermione's hand idly, taking comfort from the contact. Even with the slight itch of the stasis field, he felt better just holding her hand.
"Well, I have a theory that would explain a few things, these tests would allow me to confirm that." The man seemed to cock his head at Harry, then continued. "As for the conversation, part will be interviewing you two about the results of the ritual. The other… well, you managed to find a solution to a problem that the whole department couldn't solve. Granted, it wasn't something any of us would consider due to the requirements, but you did find it. It took not only researching the cause, but understanding the effects and thinking outside the box. Or flat denying its existence, not sure which to be honest.. And from what I've heard your girl there is even more brilliant."
"She's definitely that." Harry smiled down at her still form.
"So give that consideration, I'd like to interview you two for jobs here in the department."
"You mean work for the Ministry?" Harry looked surprised. "I'm pretty sure I'm fairly low on the Minister's list of people he likes these days."
"Oh, you are," The man chuckled, "but that just endears you to me more. You stood your ground, despite the attempts to dissuade you. Plus the Department isn't really part of the ministry. We were originally formed long before that, kind of a group of like minded fellows. When the Ministry formed, we made a deal with the then council of Wizards. We would be funded by and answer questions from the ministry, giving our knowledge to help progress wizarding society, but we would remain independent from them. They would not demand or order us to do anything we did not choose to do. And so it has been for hundreds of years, though many think otherwise."
"Interesting." Harry looked between the man and Hermione, he could almost hear Hermione's anticipation at the prospect. "I suppose a conversation would be a small price to pay for saving her."
"I agree, so what do you say we wake her and see?"
"I just hope it isn't goodbye."
"I doubt it will be. One question first, do you know how to contact her parents? It seems that someone has been intercepting our letters with updates on her condition."
"I know how to find them, though why anyone would redirect their mail is beyond me." Harry looked concerned. "Have you tried muggle methods or just owling them?"
"Just an owl so far, I was going to have a muggleborn member of the department try to catch them at the train, and if they didn't show up to try searching for them the muggle way."
"They are dentists in Crawley, Dan and Emma, I think she said their names are. I would have guessed that they'd have been told she was not going to be on the train." He looked down at Hermione's still serene form. "How long until she will wake?"
"At least a couple of hours." This came from the hooded figure on the other side of the bed, the one who was monitoring the devices around her.
"Then I would like to help your agent find her parents. They should be here when she wakes." He slowly stroked her hair again, staring into the soft features of her face. "There's something I should ask her father before she wakes as well."
Hermione struggled to understand what was happening. She was very groggy, and her memories were jumbled. She remembered going with Harry to rescue Sirius, and the battle. Then pain, nothing but pain. Now though, she could think, if barely. It was like her head was trying to swim in molasses, trapped yet still moving.
She cracked an eye open, wincing as the light seemed to blind her. The pain was back now, duller than before but still there. It felt like thousands of fire ants were eating her insides all at once. There was one spot that was better than the others, and she turned to see the Mop of black hair that belonged to the hand holding hers.
"H-Harry…" She managed, and then everything happened at once. He dropped her hand, leaping up and hugging her hard. She felt that same warm feeling spread through her as he embraced her, chasing the pain away. She saw her parents behind him, holding each other in support as they cried. Why were they crying?
"Hermione, listen, there's not much time." She turned her attention back to the green eyed boy in her arms. "You were cursed, a pretty nasty one. The healers, they, they can't fix it. There is a chance though. Before I get to that, there's something I need to say. When you got hit, when I thought you had died, everything changed for me. In that moment, I thought I would have to live without you, and every time I think about that I know I don't want that. I know we promised to always be friends, but this was more. It's been a week and I can't even think about what it would be like to live a lifetime without you… without you by my side, without you in my life. I've tried to imagine getting married, and it was you facing me across the altar. I tried to imagine my kids, and it was you holding them in your arms. I imagined meeting my grandkids, and it was you they call Grandma. I'm telling you that I love you Hermione, and want every one of those thoughts and so many more."
"Harry…"
"No, please, let me finish." He sat back a bit and held her hand in both of his. "You mean so much to me, in so many ways, but there isn't time for that. Hermione, I wanted to tell you this before I told you the rest because I want you to know that I want to do this. I want to try this. And I refuse to try to live in a world without you in it."
"You're scaring me Harry."
"I know, and I'm sorry." She managed to bring her other hand up to wipe away the tears starting to trail down his face. "There is one chance, but it has its own dangers. You were hit with a magic wasting curse, it's slowly eating your magic. It's an ancient curse, seems to be associated with the Dolohov family, and there's no known cure. I've spent the last week researching it and everything about it. There was one note about a ritual that was thought to possibly heal it, but it failed. Looking a little deeper, I found a related ritual, one that I think would work, and the unspeakables think it has a good chance as well."
"But?" Hermione knew there was a but coming, he wouldn't be so upset otherwise.
"It's a core sharing ritual, Hermione, used in Magical weddings years ago to bond the couple to each other. If it works, the ties would be very deep and permanent. So, I'm asking you, Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"
"Harry…." emotions raged within her, feelings long denied causing her belly to flip and toss. She'd denied her feelings for her best friend for so long, it was a struggle not to automatically reject that he could feel the same. "What about Cho, or -"
"Hermione, there's no one else for me. Every girl I've looked at, that I've thought I've fancied, I've been trying to find you in them, and failing because there is only one you."
"What… What will happen if it fails?"
"If it fails, with our cores bound, it would kill us both." Harry hung his head, whispering the last bit. "And I'm ok with that."
"What? How are you ok with that?"
"Because no matter what, I'd be with you. And life without you wouldn't be worth living."
"No, no, you can't sacrifice yourself for me, no."
"Love, I'm not sacrificing anything, I fully intend on living and proving how much you mean to me every day for the rest of our lives." The walls Hermione kept around her feelings started to crumble. "I fully intend on growing old with you, but if it does fail, at least I won't have to live without you. I'll be right where I should be, by your side, as we move on to the next great adventure."
"Oh, Harry." The walls shattered, leaving nothing but dust as they disappeared. She pulled him to her and kissed him soundly for his declaration of love.
"Honey," her mother interrupted them softly, "Harry has explained everything to us, even though he blames himself, we know he couldn't make you go on this rescue mission against your will. He's doing everything he can to save you, when others have already given up hope. If this is something you want, you have our blessing."
"I…Yes, Harry, I'll marry you, because I love you too." The silly shit eating grin that spread over his face as she agreed just endeared him to her more.
"Miss Granger," Hermione looked over to the hooded man beside her parents. "I wish you had longer to celebrate, but we only have a few hours before the pain suppressors wear off, and we can't administer any more. We need to hurry before you are unable to perform the Magicia Communa."
"The Magicia Communa?" Hermione turned to Harry, "That's a…"
"Yes, it is." Harry's face filled with determination. "It would figure you'd know of it. Like I said, life isn't worth living without you."
"I think we're missing something here," Hermione's father spoke for the first time. "What is so significant about this ritual?"
"It's more than just a bonding ritual daddy," Hermione's voice was ghostly in its awe, "It combines the joining of our magic, of our souls, and of our pain. It bonds so closely that should one of the pair die, so will the other. In the initial joining, it also has healing properties, healing old injuries and combining the celebrants as the best physical condition as they could be. I'm guessing that is what Harry is trying to use to cure me. The scary bit is that the one leading the joining can choose to direct the pain from that healing to be shared, or to shoulder it himself. It also ritually cleanses the participants, not just physically but mentally and magically as well, which again is the point of this. I know Harry, Dad, he intends to take it all upon himself."
"Of course I am, Love," Hermione's heart throbbed at his use of the endearment 'love'. "I have years of scars and poorly healed broken bones. Malnutrition. Probably internal injuries as well. I can't put that on you."
"Yes you bloody well can!" The shock of Hermione swearing froze Harry's protest. "You take far too much upon yourself and never ask for help. Well too bad, I'm giving it anyway. Mum's right, I chose to follow you into the Department, I chose to marry you. This will not be a one-sided marriage mister, I will do my part to support my husband. I will stand by your side and support you, just as you are supporting me."
"Yes dear," Harry responded, his tone falsely meek, and ducked her thrown pillow.
For the next two hours, chaos reigned.
It seemed small at first, as the magic swelled around the pair as they took their vows. A well of power swept through the room, flooding the head unspeakable and Hermione's parents with feelings of joy and euphoria. The wedding portion completed; they reluctantly left the couple to the dangerous part of the ritual.
Facing each other, staring into each other's eyes, they began the ritual to join their beings. In one voice, they began the incantation, the words of the lost language rolling off their tongues. Five minutes later the first pulse of magic escaped the warded room.
In Gringotts, in one of the oldest and deepest vaults, a cup exploded. It destroyed the vault and hurled the door across the chamber. When the Goblins arrived to investigate, they found the ancient Ukranian Ironbelly sleeping there had been struck in the wing, breaking it. Sending for a care team they checked the vault. Everything in it had been obliterated, the center of the explosion was determined to have been an extremely dark object on a shelf at the back of the vault. The explosion was so powerful that it had actually melted the walls of the vault, adding three feet of width to the chamber, four feet to the door frame, and smoothing the walls like glass.
The wind streamed around the couple, its currents charged and crackling. They spoke separately now, each reciting their part of the oaths. To have and to hold. To support and Cherish. To love and honor. To share and complete. As each vow was completed, a golden thread stretched and bound them, creating a web of connections between them. Each spoke of their love, how it had grown and thrived. Harry spoke of the hippogriff ride, of watching her descend the steps for the Yule Ball, and watching her fall. Hermione spoke of the troll, of feeling him beside her when she was petrified, and of his fight for her after she fell. They sealed their vows with a kiss, and magic pulsed once more.
In Little Hangleton, Albus Dumbledore was approaching a rundown shack when it decided to blow itself up. The Hogwarts Headmaster was hurled over a hundred yards as the shack exploded. It was rather fortuitous, as by the time he landed, the shack no longer existed. The blast had created an open area over fifty yards across in the process, creating a brand-new clearing in the thick forest that had housed the shack. It took the old wizard a couple hours to regain consciousness, and another two to determine that the object he had been looking for was no longer there.
As the second wave of power ebbed, they could almost see the power rising around them. They were at the center of a column of power that crested like a broken fire hydrant. The spillage of power lapped at their feet like waves on a beach. They stared into each other's eyes as they moved on to the next part of the ritual, their chants once more in sync as they rested their heads against each other. It was fifteen minutes after the unspeakables had left the ritual room, and everyone waiting outside staggered as a third massive wave of power escaped.
In Islington, London, a magical vortex was created when a necklace imploded in the Black family home. The power released collapsed most of the wards and the building around it. Just before the eruption killed him, the ancient house elf named Kreature smiled, muttering to himself that his master's final order had been completed.
From the lapping waves of magic, fire erupted around them. The room filled with power feeling of steam and smoke. Around the couple a pyre ignited, bathing them in its essence. They felt it begin to build, burning higher and higher, yet they held fast to each other. They felt an old broken leg fix itself on Hermione, from an accident on her bike when she was seven. Harry had two broken legs rehealed, both from his time with the Dursleys. As each old injury was healed, they both remembered what had created it. Rippers old tooth marks made Hermione growl in anger, while she cried when the scar from the basilisk was healed. Together, they relived every bump and bruise, every cut and lash, all while pain pounded upon them. Yet they never parted. They held each other and together, made it through. As the fires reached their heads, the pyre burned the magic attached to them. Spell upon spell was burned away, old compulsions and obliviations, Dolohov's curse and a magical binding became ashes. The darkness behind Harry's scar went last, but with the most pain. Both teens threw their heads back as their vision greyed from the pain, but still they held each other, and finally they were clean as the fire burst from them. Every magical in the ministry staggered like they had just been hit in the head with a cricket bat as the power wave crashed over them.
In Hogwarts Castle, the whole building shook even though few were around to feel it. In the seventh floor corridor, the wall glowed across from the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy as almost a thousand years of discarded books, brooms, Knick knacks, illicit magical objects, and failed experiments turned the room of Lost Things into a room of ash. Less than twenty minutes later it sparkled as the castle elves cleaned the mess.
From fire came stone. The earth rose around them, engulfing them as it compressed them against each other. Their clothes had been burned away by the fire, yet there was no embarrassment. The stone began to press, to forge them as one, like coal will become a diamond. The fire had lingered, heat trapped within stone, and the forging continued.
Their magic cocooned them, then merged together under the force. In their heads, they saw through the others eyes. Harry experienced the joy of knowledge, while Hermione felt the rush of flying. She saw his patronus memory, their hug after second year, while Harry's gut was crushed with the experience of menses. He could feel her blushing embarrassment and joy as she saw his reaction to her dress at yule, and she cried as she slept beside him in the cupboard under the stairs.
And once they were forged as one, the rock shattered. Every employee felt another pulse of power, and everyone associated with the Ministry Wards was stunned as they screamed and whined at the power pressing against them.
At Malfoy Manor, an impromptu meeting was interrupted when their master's snake began to glow next to his throne. The snake seemed to scream before bursting, releasing a shockwave that killed everyone present as every bone and organ ruptured. When Aurors investigated when Lucius failed to appear for a scheduled meeting with the Minister, they found thirty-one people dead in full death eater regalia, including one they identified as Mafloy himself. They found a thirty-second pile of blood-soaked robes, this set only contained only a severed hand and a bone instead of the skin bags of goo the rest contained.
The couple gasped for breath as the pieces of rock rained down around them. While Harry's first instinct was to check on Hermione, he had to stop as he realized he could feel her. Not just where they still held each other, but in his mind. He felt her over analyzing things, and her concern for him. He felt the wave of reassurance and calm from him affect her. And knew they had succeeded. He sensed her joy and amazement at their new reality, and sent joy and love right back to him. Smiling, he adjusted their position slightly, and kissed her. Magic gathered around them and that perfect kiss. Finally shattering the wards and erupting into the surrounding Ministry like a bull in a china shop.
In downtown London, a 6.3 earthquake shook the whole city, centered around the hidden Ministry of Magic. Every department reported injuries and damage, though no fatalities. Below the ministry, in a warded room whose ancient protections had shattered after the hours long ritual, two smiling and joyous teens held each other.
They didn't look anywhere but the other eyes, staring in awe at the other. They basked in the intimacy of their beings joining, and the love pouring from the other. They kissed and caressed; their bodies joining as they completed the ritual at last. The unspeakables cracked the door, checking they were ok, and seeing the auras flaring around the two as they lay on a bed of magic, simply shut the door and left them to settle their new found bond in peace.