A/N: Many thanks to trecklar and mysticsemaj for looking this over. Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 10: So What Happens Next?

Whatever Harry was expecting, it obviously wasn't that. "But…but what about Ron? I was sure that you two fancied each other. I mean, you guys chatter back and forth like his mum and dad do."

"Harry, arguing with someone doesn't mean you love them. My parents engage in playful banter all the time, but it's just that—playful. When we 'chatter,' as you call it, Ron isn't playful about it. If anything, he's either doing it to force-feed his opinions down my throat or to put me down. He knows that he's hurt my feelings several times, but he never seems to care. I might have fancied him at one point, but that didn't last long, not long at all."

"But Hermione, I'm pretty sure that he fancies you. I…I mean, he hasn't said as much, but I'm fairly certain of it just the same."

Hermione began to get angry over the direction of this conversation. "Look Harry, I don't particularly care if Ron is pining over me or not. If you like a girl, you don't treat her like he's treated me. Ron has a lot of growing up to do before anyone will take him in a relationship."

Harry's nervousness was now evident in his tone, "Okay. I guess I can understand that, but maybe he can change. You know? He's a pretty decent guy once…"

Hermione interrupted before he could continue, "Harry, just stop. I don't like Ron, and I don't see that changing. And I know what you're doing, Harry. You won't be able to distract me that easily." Harry merely nodded and looked away.

"Look Harry, I know I sort of sprung this on you, and I'm sorry. After what I just saw from your dream…" Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, but Hermione softly placed a finger over his mouth. "We'll talk about that later. I need to talk about this now.

"Anyhow, I saw everything from your mind that happened in the Department of Mysteries. After seeing what you went through, I couldn't hold back anymore. What I saw scared me, and I reacted. After we kissed like that, I had to tell you, and it felt good to get it off my chest."

Hermione attempted to calm her fears and jitters before asking the million-galleon question. "Now as for you, I want your honest answer." Her voice was soft and loving, but her inner demons were feasting on her nerves as her eyes glistened with unshed tears behind their lids. Harry looked away from the sight, knowing what she was about to say, "Harry, do you love me?"

Harry didn't answer, nor did he even move. She tried to continue to get him to answer—to get some sort reaction from him, "I mean, if you don't—that's fine. Just tell me. I can take it, Harry, and nothing will change if you don't. I…I know you meant well with Ron and all, but don't try to push him on me. I just want to know—I need to know. I love you, Harry. Do you love me?"

The last question almost came out as a plea. She was babbling before, and she knew it. But she really didn't care. Harry was still sitting there motionless with his head in his hands. She got down on her knees on the floor as Harry was sitting on the side of the bed. She looked up at his covered face, pulled his hands away with little resistance, and looked into his now bloodshot eyes. "Harry. Answer me. Please?" Theirs eyes captured each other for a few seconds. Before he turned his head away slightly and closed his eyes from her view, she saw that his normally readable eyes showed emotions of sympathy, concern, and…fear?

"I…I don't know, Hermione. I really don't." he replied unsteadily.

"What do you mean, 'you don't know?' Either you love me, or you don't."

"I'm saying, Hermione, that I really have no idea—not the slightest clue."

Impatience was starting to win the battle against her fear of rejection because she thought the question was a fairly simple matter, "How could not know, Harry? I mean honestly, you have to have some sort of idea how you feel about me, don't you?"

"Hermione, I have no bloody, fucking idea how I feel! How am I supposed to feel? What do I have to compare it to, Hermione? 'Cause I have no idea." Hermione was completely dumbfounded while listening to his rant. "I have nothing to measure against at all. The Dursleys aren't the most affectionate of people, you know—especially around me. For almost the first eleven years of my life I was hated and loathed. Then I actually make some friends that Dudley can't scare away when I get to Hogwarts. I got the first hug that I can remember from Mrs. Weasley during the summer of my second year when I was twelve! Twelve, Hermione! From what I hear, most kids get a hug from their parents almost every day. And then I get my first real kiss of any kind from you at the end of fourth year at the bloody train station. Next I have my first real…I dunno…romantic kiss, snog, whatever you want to call it…with you no more than ten minutes ago." The tears that Harry swore would never fall again, that would show him as being weak, could not be contained as they flowed freely down his cheeks and onto her hands that held his. "What am I supposed to think, Hermione? What am I supposed to tell you? Am I supposed to tell you that I love you like that when I'm not even sure what it is that I'm saying? Because I can't, Hermione…I just can't, and I won't."

The pieces of his admission finally came together in her mind, and her eyes precipitated as well. She lunged herself at him; forcefully knocking him back onto the bed. She held him tightly around his neck as her breaths came in broken hiccups, "I'm so…so sorry, H-Harry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have done that to you. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

Harry still looked slightly peaked, but his temper had abated. If anything, he felt bad for venting on her like that and tried to settle her. He stroked her hair gently as he held her close, reveling in the feel of her embrace. "It's okay, 'Mione. I shouldn't have launched on you like that. I'm sorry. You had no idea."

The two comforted each other in silence for a while before holding each other at arms length again, each gazing into the other's eyes. "Harry, do you mind if I ask you a few more questions. It won't be anything like before. I promise." Harry seemed uneasy about the prospect of more questions, but he nodded. "How did you feel when we were…you know, snogging earlier?"

Harry eyed her momentarily and then wore a vacant expression on his face as he began sifting through his memories. His eyes remained unfocused as he answered, "I dunno. I guess I kind of liked it." He smiled for a second, "No, I know I liked it. It felt better than just about anything else I can recall."

Hermione blushed after hearing his reply. She knew she felt the same way about it. She pressed onward though. The next question would give a more telling answer, "How do you feel about having shared it with me? Does it bother you that we kissed like that?"

Harry dug again in his mind briefly before saying anything. "No, not really. If anything, it put me more at ease—made me more comfortable with it. In a way, I guess it felt kind of natural. Since it was with you, I was able to allow myself to just relax and feel the moment, to enjoy it?" Harry focused his attention on her once more with his face showing avid concern. "Why? Does that bother you?"

She gave him a wide, genuine smile, and his face lightened considerably. "Not at all. I felt the same way. I wasn't worried about it. It just felt right."

"So what does that mean? What do we do now?"

She placed a hand on his cheek, "As for where we go from here, I say we follow our instincts, do what feels comfortable, and talk about it—a lot. Maybe somewhere along the way you'll find the missing pieces. And for what it means, it means that there is still plenty of hope for us yet."

(Recap of end of Chapter 8 is in italics as a refresher)

"Permit, please," the main said with a hint of disdain. Lupin was unsurprised by the move and ignored it. He handed the permit over with no visible reaction. The man eyed the permit suspiciously then pointed his wand at a spot on the globe that looked to be Athens, Greece. A small number appeared over the wand's tip, and the wizard made note of it.

"Everything looks to be in order. Follow me, sir." He followed the security wizard into a larger room that contained what looked to be the largest single collection of fireplaces on the British Isles. The man stepped over to a work area. He looked at the number that he wrote in a blank at the bottom corner of the permit and slowly poured what looked like regular green floo powder into a measuring pan. Upon being satisfied with the mass poured, he transferred it into one of a stack of rolled parchment cones. The wizard grabbed his wand again and waved in a circular pattern over the cone. "Pervectum Greece. Athens. White Stallion." The powder in the cone changed colors from green to blue. He stepped in front of the fireplace and handed the filled cone to Lupin. He began what seemed to be a very rehearsed script.

"Mr. Lupin, you have granted permission by your Ministry of Magic to travel to Greece on holiday. I have presented you with an accurately weighed container of preprogrammed floo powder for your use to travel to said destination. Simply pour the powder into the flames and drop the container. When the flames turn blue, step into the floo, turn toward me, and say 'go.' You will then begin travel to your destination. The approximate floo time to your destination is one half hour. Keep in mind that your destination is two hours ahead of us and you should arrive there at approximately 4:30 pm local time. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

The man stepped aside, "Proceed."

Lupin eyed him for a moment then stepped in front of the grate. He poured the contents into the lightly flickering flames and dropped the cone in. The flames rose slightly but felt oddly cool as he stepped in. He turned around and the wizard game him a nod to continue.

"Go." and he was off.

Remus' knees buckled slightly as his feet hit the grate at his destination and stepped out. His supposed 'steel-lined' stomach was in a state of near upheaval. 'Ugh. No wonder there was a line at the small apothecary window just inside the hub. Sales of motion sickness potions alone could pay for the hub's operation.' A voice to his right roused him from his thoughts.

"Kalo' mesime'ri. Diabatirio parakalo'."

Remus merely looked at the man like he had monkeys flying out of his arse. (A/N: This is in deference to one of my first reviewers on I've been waiting for a spot to slip that line in. LOL.)

The man in black robes turned slightly and pulled a square-folded parchment from a small stack and opened it, revealing a golden sun medallion with an onyx stone in the middle suspended by a simple gold chain. The man looped his hands inside the chain and offered it to Remus and gestured for him to put it on. Remus pulled it over his head somewhat warily, but reasoned that he could sense nothing out of place with the man. The man handed over the parchment that held the medallion, and Remus examined it. He was astonished that the symbols and characters on the parchment faded only to have English written over top.

Visitor to our Land,

The Ministers of the Hellenic Republic welcome you to our country.

The Hellenic Ministry of Magic is providing to you, as a courtesy to non-Greek speakers, a universal translator amulet for use while in our country. Please return it prior to your departure.

To accept this amulet, please press your thumb over the amulet's identification number located on its back and then press your thumb to the lower right of this parchment.

Enjoy you visit to our nation.

Solerna H. Vikousis
Ministress of Magic

Remus pulled up the amulet and placed his right thumb over the ID number, pulled it away, and then placed the same thumb on the specified corner of the parchment. Ink began scribbling writing in the three blanks on the parchment. The ID number of the enchanted necklace, today's date, and Remus' loopy signature donned the magical parchment. 'Most impressive,' he thought.

Remus returned the filled parchment to the man. The man repeated his earlier request, only to have the sound muffled by a copy of the same voice stating in perfect King's English, "Good afternoon, sir. Passport please." Now Remus was truly impressed. He pulled his passport from his robe and handed it over. He heard the man ask, "Pou' Pa'te?" only to have the Greek speech fade totally into the background behind the translation, "Your destination?"

"A brief holiday in Delphi." Remus responded, and handed over his generic travel itinerary. The man nodded stamped his passport.

"Based on your reaction to me, I take it that this is your first time here?"

"First time abroad actually," Remus replied shyly.

The man nodded his understanding. "The exit is over there," he said, pointing at a set of doors on the far wall, " and will lead you out into our main wizarding marketplace known as Kondino' Dro'mos, or Short Street. I suggest you pick up some of the literature on the stand closest to the door before you leave the Flooport. It contains information on local customs both magical and muggle, maps, points of assistance for magic travelers, as well as other points of interest. At the very least pick up the map, it'll show how to get back here for the return trip. You may want to walk across the street to the Athens Branch of Gringotts if you need to convert any money to muggle Drachmas. Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir." Remus answered

"Safe journey, and good day then."

Harry and Hermione, now fully awake and their issues resolved after their impromptu snog session, padded downstairs for a late lunch.

"So what do you like to have for lunch, milady?" Harry asked as he spun a saucepan by the handle.

'You.' she thought deviously but instead answered, "I dunno. What's the specialty of the house?"

Harry blushed as he could've sworn he'd caught her saying, 'You.' But her mouth didn't move when he heard it, so he thought he was imagining things. "Well, let's have a look." Harry spun around quickly to hide his redness and began rummaging through the icebox and the cabinets with his back to her. "I've material for soup, salad, and sandwiches, or steak and kidney pie with veggies. The latter will take some time to prepare, mind you. Other than that, we'll need to do some shopping soon."

"Soup and a sandwich would be fine," she stated offhandedly. "Do you need some help?"

"What, no salad? What kind of girl are you?" Harry asked playfully.

"Just because I don't eat a salad with every meal makes no less a lady," she chuffed. "Besides, I'd like my sandwich with lettuce and tomato if you must know."

Harry chuckled and returned to preparing their meal. "Alright. And don't worry about helping; I've got it covered. You need to relax a little after the night you had."

Hermione sat down and tried to steer the conversation a little from the table, "Speaking of last night, how did it all happen?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," he answered tonelessly, all playfulness now cast aside.

"I know you'd rather not talk about it, but I need you to, Harry. I need to know," she placated, not wanting him to withdraw again. "You were angry with us last year because we weren't able to give you enough information so that you could get a handle on the situation, and I understand. It just wasn't my information to give. Now you're holding the information, and I'm asking. Will you please talk with me about this so we can work through this together?" Harry's chin dropped to his chest. When he sighed, she knew she had hit the mark. She knew it was hitting a little below the belt to play on his sympathies for how he treated everyone last year, but he needed to talk about this—if only for his own good.

Harry continued fixing lunch as they sat in silence, but she knew he would talk soon. Harry placed everything on the table a few minutes later: Two sliced ham and cheese sandwiches on wheat (Hermione's with lettuce and tomato) and a bowl of tomato soup. Finally Harry spoke up, "Look, I know we need to talk about what happened last night and earlier today. Just keep in mind that I'm not used to talking like this." Hermione nodded, trying to get him to go ahead. "To be honest, Hermione, I'm not exactly sure how Voldemort was able to pull you into my dreams. And for him to be able to curse you through my dreams like that scares the daylights out of me. That's why I asked Professor Dumbledore for Occlumency lessons again, and he agreed. The reasons I want you in are twofold: The first is your safety. I want to make sure that I can keep him from hurting you again. But if for some reason I fail to throw him out of my mind, you'll have the skill to keep him out on your own. The second is the one we talked about earlier. There are things that I want to talk with you about, things that can't fall into the wrong hands."

"You mean the prophecy, don't you?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's the main thi…" Harry's brain froze, and he looked at her intently. "Wait a minute. How did you know I was talking about the prophecy?" Hermione's hand covered her mouth as she let out an audible 'Eeep!' as she figured out how her tongue had betrayed her. "Well?"

"Well what?" she lamely tried to recover.

"How did you know that I was speaking of the prophecy? And don't give me this song and dance of how it was a good guess. The way you said it told me that you knew exactly what you were talking about."

Hermione decided it was better to admit that she'd been caught than lie to him. She pulled away her eyes to look at her fidgeting hands. "Okay. You're right. I was coming down the stairs, as you were finishing up your conversation with Professor Dumbledore. I heard you say that you were going to tell me about the prophecy when I completed some lessons in occlumency. That's why I agreed to it without objection. But why are you asking for extra training?"

"When you get a good basis in occlumency, I'll tell you," Harry's voice was still subdued but carried hints of sadness and guilt.

After finishing lunch and clearing the kitchen, they went back up to his room. Through the use of several cleaning solutions and liberal amounts of elbow grease, Harry's bedroom was clean. The room was still shabby by Hermione's standards, but the remnants of Harry's self-imposed jailing were now gone. By the time they both showered, it was the tea hour. While they didn't partake of the customary, they still sat down for a quick snack and a pair of sodas in Harry's room.

"Now that we're done in here, what are our plans to for tomorrow?"

'Dear Merlin, have pity on my aching bum,' thought Remus as he got off the bus in front of the Vouzas Hotel. 'You would think that buses would have better seats since they're one of the most used methods of travel.' Remus continued to grumble as he took his small bag from the transport's undercarriage and entered the 6-story muggle building. The foyer was a large but simple room with modern furnishings and a lightly varnished wood floor.

"May I help you, sir?" inquired the desk clerk.

"Yes, I have a reservation for this evening under the name Remus Lupin."

Ah yes, you have a single on the fifth floor, room 515." The man turned around and pulled a small keychain from a set of pigeonhole boxes. "Here is your key. Go up the elevator to the fifth. Your room should be almost directly in front of the elevator. Shall I call for an attendant to take your luggage?"

"No thank you. I travel lightly," Remus stated. "But I do have a question. Could you tell me what time the Archaeological Museum opens tomorrow? I am to meet a colleague there when it opens."

"I believe it opens at ten in the morning. Check the local travel brochure in your nightstand to be sure. It should have their schedule."

"Thank you," said gratefully and made the trek to his room.

Remus inserted his key in the lock's tumblers and turned it over. The lock gave an audible click, and he opened the door. The room was dimly lit by the remnants of sunlight that filtered in through the closed vertical blinds. The room was indeed a small one but had the basic muggle comforts: air conditioning, television, and small recliner. He wore a puzzled expression. 'I thought this was supposed to be a Class-A hotel? Rather Spartan if you ask me,' he thought as walked toward the other side of the room. He pulled back the blinds and was blinded by the change in lighting levels only to be left struck dumb a moment later. Remus walked onto the balcony with his mouth agape. In front of him was a majestic mountain sunset that projected upon him hues of yellow, orange, red, and violet as Apollo's namesake fled slowly behind Mt. Parnassos. Remus gave a low whistle and murmured to no one but himself, "I can truly see why this is called the land of the gods. You may be quirky, you old bat. But you've definitely got style."