He'd made a headstone out of a large rock he found, setting it on the very top of one of the dunes looking out over the ocean. It was a bit of a trek from the cottage, especially since Harry had to help Hermione balance in the thick sand and Ron was carrying Dobby, but they made it and kneeled down in the sand on either side of the hole. Luna had stayed behind, noting she'd said her thanks to him already, as as he was their friend, she felt it was better if she didn't tag along.
Ron handed Dobby over to Harry, who cradled him into his chest for one last hug before lowering him down into the grave. It wasn't too deep since he couldn't imagine just dropping him down in there, but the couple feet had been a pain to dig with the sand being so loose at the top. But it had done him good to do it, and alone. He wasn't sure what he'd find when he got back to the cottage, but Luna was sitting on the couch, knitting something and humming to herself, Fleur had started on dinner, and Bill had apparently gone to Muriel's to let everyone know they'd made it there okay and fill them in on what happened. He hadn't expected Ron and Hermione to be sitting next to each other and laughing like nothing was wrong, but after his split second of anger subsided, he couldn't be mad at them. They weren't as close to Dobby as he had been - he hadn't meant as much. So it was natural that they wouldn't feel as upset.
But if that were true, they didn't show it at his gravesite. Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears as she offered to say a few words, which surprised Harry greatly.
"Dobby, you were the bravest house-elf I've ever known and probably ever will know. You saved Harry's life not only once, but twice, and you always did your best to do the right thing. Always optimistic, and you gave us a chance to really win this war, Dobby. I'm just… sad that you couldn't be around to see the other side of it. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Not just ours."
Harry wiped tears from his own eyes - he couldn't have said anything more perfect if he tried. "Thank you, Hermione," he managed to get out, taking one last look before pulling Malfoy's wand (ironically) from his pocket and pointing it at the headstone. Slowly, the words carved themselves into it: Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.
They took turns pushing handfuls of sand over his body, with Harry doing the first symbolically as his closest friend. One they were done, none of them wanted to move. Harry picked up a shell from one of the dunes and placed it on top in place of flowers before finally standing with a shaky breath and reaching for Hermione's hand to help her back down to the cottage.
The smell coming from the kitchen was exquisite. Fleur was making some sort of stew and made Harry's stomach growl loudly, but Hermione claimed to still not be hungry and just wanted to sleep. He hated being away from her, but he was hungry, and he could tell she wanted to be alone for a little bit anyway. After escorting her to their room and helping her change into her pajamas, setting a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion for her to take when she was ready, he tucked her in and kissed her softly.
When he appeared back in the kitchen, there was a lull in the conversation that made it clear what they'd been talking about. Fleur placed a bowl of stew in front of an empty chair with a soft smile.
"Did she take the potion?"
"Not yet, I don't think. I thought she might want some time alone. We're… not even used to being around this many people, and I think she's still in shock a little," Harry explained as he started eating. "This is amazing, Fleur."
"Family recipe," she grinned before sitting down next to Bill and nudging him in the side a little.
"Look, Harry," Bill began, "I'm sorry about the whole marriage comment. I didn't mean that you two-"
"I know," he interrupted. "It's fine. 'M not offended or anything, we just haven't really talked about anything like that or… even about after the war."
"I think you two are perfect together," Luna piped up with a soft smile.
"Thanks, Luna," Harry said with a blush, looking into his bowl and trying to change the subject. "So, everyone in the Order's all caught up?"
"Yep." Bill sat up straighter with talk that he was more comfortable with. "They have no idea where the sword was or how it ended up with you, but it's a relief, I guess."
"Definitely. I want to talk to Griphook, too. In the morning, of course. How are they doing?"
"He refused any treatment," Fleur explained. "I'm not sure if that means he's fine or not, but Mr. Ollivander wasn't hurt too badly, either. Just shaken up, I think. Like Hermione. I gave them food and Dreamless Sleep potion as well, just in case."
Harry sighed. "I need to talk to him in the morning, too."
"Take a break, mate," Ron offered.
"I can't."
"You can, believe me. One day's not gonna change the course of the war. It's you he wants, remember? As long as you're safe, we can buy some time."
"But innocent people-"
"May be dying anyway. But I don't think that's his goal. It's terror. Strength. Just… let's make a plan, all right? Don't rush into anything. Enjoy some relaxation." He lowered his voice. "Spend some time with Hermione when you're not on the run." Harry's jaw clenched, but he knew Ron was right.
When he finally went upstairs to bed, Hermione was fast asleep, and the vial of potion was empty on the nightstand. Harry hadn't been sure if she was actually going to take it, but for her sake, he'd hoped she would. He closed the door, stripped down to his underwear, setting his own bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion Fleur had insisted he take with him on the nightstand, and crawled into bed with her. She was snoring softly, and he had no problem pulling her against him without waking her up.
As exhausted as he was, he didn't want to close his eyes. As much as he wanted this damn day to be over, as much as he knew he needed to sleep, he fought it for a little to enjoy Hermione relaxing again. It was crazy to think that 48 hours ago, they were losing their virginities to each other, and now… the last 48 hours had seemed like months. He wished they could stay here forever, but they couldn't. He pushed her hair out of her face, running his fingers through a couple of her curls. This was what she deserved, not running for their lives in a tent in the woods. But he'd make it up to her. He had to. But not tonight. Maybe not even this week. She needed to rest. She needed to heal.
Eventually, his eyes drifted closed, but it only seemed to last a few seconds before memories of her screams jerked him awake. But there she was, asleep in his arms, safe. Half of his vial of potion was gone before he attempted sleep again.
When he woke up, it was a little shocking to see sunlight gently streaming through the window and over their bed. It had been a long time since he'd had a window, and he blinked slowly as his eyes adjusted. Neither of them had moved from the position they fell asleep in, but as Harry began to stir, so did Hermione. And for once, they didn't have anywhere to be, nothing to do, no one to run from.
Hermione rolled over and pulled him into a kiss before she even opened her eyes, and he couldn't help but kiss her back. It was a few seconds before she even pulled away and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to open them. And when she did, Harry's breath caught. The way the morning sun was catching in her irises pulled out flecks of gold from the brown that he hadn't even known existed. He kissed her nose, her forehead, her cheeks, before her lips again, and she giggled.
"Good morning to you, too."
"I never noticed how beautiful your eyes are," Harry said honestly. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been sleeping for a week," she sighed, yawning at the end.
"Good. You need it. How's your arm?" He'd been careful to sleep so she wasn't lying on it all night, and he knew it wouldn't be better, but progress was progress either way.
With a lot of focus, her index finger managed to twitch a little, and Hermione gasped. "Well, that's something! I'll just have to keep up with the potion. Maybe there's some sort of physical therapy we can do to-"
Harry just kissed her again with relief. After the emotional whirlwind that was yesterday, knowing that something was going right was too exciting to ignore. "Sorry," he laughed as he pulled back.
"Don't ever apologize for kissing me. How long do you think we can stay in bed before they get suspicious?" Hermione asked, situating herself as best as she could to settle her head down onto Harry's chest.
"A while, probably. I honestly have no idea what time it is, but you can rest as long as you want."
"Good," she grinned, but groaned when her stomach let out a loud grumble in protest. "Well, there goes that plan."
Harry sat up, sliding the blankets off of him a little and Hermione took a moment to admire the view. "Let's get some breakfast in you and another nerve potion if we can. I'm not sure what the recommended time between is, but I'm sure Fleur knows."
"Twelve hours, I think. I feel like I read something in one of our Potions books or a library book… honestly, I've read so many at this point that they all blur together."
"Here, I'll get dressed and then I'll help you."
"Do you have to?" Hermione teased, resting her head on the pillow as Harry got up with a shiver and slid his pajama pants back on.
"Believe me, Hermione, I'd love nothing more than to stay naked in bed with you all day. But you have to eat, and there are other people in the house." His shirt found its way over his head. "And it's way too cold to walk around without at least something on. And I'm not about to share the view."
Hermione blushed, but smiled. "You're…"
"What?" Harry grinned.
"Something. I don't know if I'll ever get used to you saying things like that to me."
You probably shouldn't, was the first thought that came to Harry's mind, but he wasn't about to say that. He really wanted this to work. He wanted to prove himself wrong. To prove his fears wrong, his anxiety, his history. But only time would tell. "Do you want me to stop, then?"
"No."
"Didn't think so." He finished dressing quickly and helped her out of bed. Luckily, she was still in her pajamas, so he didn't have to look at all of her skin he couldn't do what he wanted with while they were here. She sat on the edge of the bed and he slipped some fuzzy socks on her feet before helping her down the stairs.
It didn't seem like anyone else was up yet, and when Harry looked out the windows out over the ocean, the sun was barely peeking above the sparkling water.
"Wow," Hermione whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It's beautiful."
"I've never been to the ocean before."
"I'm sorry this was your first time."
Harry turned his head to look at her, her eyes shining in the sun, dressed in warm pajamas and fuzzy socks, her hair kind of a mess with curls sticking out in nearly every direction. "I'm not."
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "And you say you're not good at romance."
"I never said that. I said I didn't have experience."
"Want to make some coffee and we can go take a walk?"
Harry's eyebrows raised. "Really?" He'd never figured Hermione as a "walk on the beach" type.
"Sure."
A few minutes later, Hermione was sliding her socks off and draping them over the arm of the couch while Harry held her coffee. She insisted that she'd be fine waiting for the others before breakfast; she just wanted to enjoy their alone time for a little bit. The water was freezing as it flowed over their toes, but in a way, it felt good. It didn't take too long for Hermione's hair to start whipping Harry in the face as he walked next to her, no matter how much she tried to turn her head the other way or try to tame it, so much that she ended up just getting frustrated as Harry laughed, eventually putting it up with a hair tie.
As soon as they finished their coffee and made it back to the cottage, everyone was awake and most were at the table already, looking a lot warmer than Harry and Hermione were.
"Oh, Hermione, Harry, good morning! Just in time, too. Sweetheart, can you watch this for me?" She let Bill take over the pan she was cooking with and made a beeline to the first aid kit that hadn't moved from its spot on a desk in the corner. Fleur quickly pulled out another vial of the nerve regeneration and healing potions, shoving them into Hermione's hands. "Take both of those. Full things, too. I'll run another diagnostic after breakfast." Then she went back to cooking, muttering about how they'd only had this many people over once before.
"Mr. Ollivander, how are you feeling?" Harry asked as they sat down at the table. Griphook was still missing, he noticed.
"I've been better," the old man sighed. "But a little bit of fresh air is always good for healing, they say. How about you? Did you have a good walk?"
"We did, actually. Thanks." Harry smiled as Hermione took her potions, chasing them with a long drink of coffee. "What?" he asked Ollivander, who was eyeing him curiously.
"I sense a change in you, Mr. Potter."
"A change, sir?"
"In your magic." His eyes flicked between him and Hermione a few times as he almost looked in the space between them. "Curious."
"I actually wanted to ask you a couple things later… maybe we can talk about it then? I'm not imagining what you're seeing is necessarily good breakfast conversation?"
"Depends on the company," Ollivander grinned, patting his arm softly. "But you're right. Later, later."
Harry and Hermione had a little trouble adjusting to the volume of people in such a small space after spending so much time alone, so they mostly kept to themselves, always touching in some way to ground each other. Ron had even stopped by to check up on Hermione, mostly on the insistence of Mrs. Weasley, who was using him like an owl for information on how everyone was doing. But there were only so many bedrooms, so he couldn't stay the night, at least. It was kind of a relief when it was over, if they were being honest. Fleur's diagnostic spell revealed that the nerve regeneration potion was indeed working better than she hoped.
After breakfast, Harry stopped by his and Hermione's room to grab the wands he wanted Ollivander to look at, wondering about what else it was he'd noticed and what it had to do with Hermione. Surely he couldn't tell that they'd been intimate, right? He knocked on the doorframe - Ollivander looked like he was rearranging the clothes in the dresser.
"Mr. Ollivander?"
"Ah, Harry. Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley, it's a pleasure to see you again. I never got to thank you properly for your help in my escape, so thank you."
Ron just grinned, trying to shrug it off. "It was nothing really. But you're welcome."
"You said at breakfast you wanted to ask me about something?"
"Yes," Harry answered, and Ollivander sat down in the armchair while Harry sat down on the bed. "Would you mind identifying these wands? We need to know if they're safe to use."
"Of course!" He took the first one and turned it over a couple times in his hands, inspecting the tip. "Walnut. Dragon heartstring. 12 and ¾ inches… unyielding. This belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry nodded in confirmation as Ollivander handed it back, always amazed at how he remembered every one. "Treat it carefully."
"And this one?"
"Hawthorne. Unicorn hair. 10 inches. Reasonably pliant…" He frowned, putting the wand to his ear as if listening to it. "This was the wand of Draco Malfoy."
"Was? Is it not still?"
"Well, perhaps not, if you won it from him. I sense it's allegiance has changed." He handed it back with a grin.
"You… talk about wands as if they have feelings… can think."
Ollivander's eyes twinkled mischievously. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wand lore." He glanced at Hermione with a wink she didn't understand. "Which, interestingly enough, is what I wanted to talk to you about."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Wand lore?"
"Yes. Miss Granger, you can be here for this, too." He beckoned her forward, and Harry scooted over a little bit to make room for her. "Does Mr. Weasley know about your relationship?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged quick glances of shock before Harry answered. "Yes."
"I can sense it, Mr. Potter. I'm not a Seer, but I can… see your magic intertwined."
"You've got to be joking," Ron's voice sounded from behind them, but they ignored it. Hermione sat up a little straighter, proud that her theory had been correct.
"And… what does that mean, sir?" she asked softly.
"Well, in short, it means you both have the potential for greater strength than you currently could have possessed otherwise. Your magic, your energy, enjoys this bond. And you two can feel it as well, I presume?" They nodded.
"And the long version?" Harry questioned.
"It means whatever you want it to mean. If you look too deeply into it, you'll find stories of soulmates and soul bonds, but… I've never believed any of that is necessary. That is, I'm not saying it has to last forever, you know. You do with this bond what you will, but you've already benefited from it, have you not?" He nodded his head towards Hermione's injured arm. "You've only had a couple regeneration potions and you can move a finger. Usually things like that take weeks."
"You're saying… Harry's magic is… healing me?"
"Not exactly. But the increase of power is giving anything that affects you a little added boost. On the downside, that may be why you require this much nerve regeneration in the first place. There haven't been many studies as to the negative effects of magical bonds, but… one can only assume."
"I don't understand," Harry chimed in. "What does that have to do with our wands?"
"I was hoping you'd ask," Ollivander smirked. "Now, it's an immensely complex subject, as you can imagine, but there are three materials that I use to make my wands: unicorn hair, which is yours, Mr. Weasley, dragon heartstring, Miss Granger, and phoenix feather. The qualities that attract these cores is what helps the wand choose its owner, to keep it simple. Separately, they're all immensely different and similar in their own ways, each one as powerful as the witch or wizard holding it, but the real magic comes with bonds. Now, I've never seen one as powerful as the one the two of you have, but you've also been friends for a very long time, and that does have an effect.
"Much of wand lore is based on a variety of different cultures, as witches and wizards come from all over the globe, and in nearly every one of them, the phoenix represents the same thing: hope and rebirth. Much like you're trying to do now, Mr. Potter."
"But you said… his wand has the same phoenix's feather. How can he represent the same hope and rebirth?"
"I never said it has to be positive. The good side of this war sees in you what the dark side of the war sees in him."
"And the dragon?" Hermione interrupted, suddenly very interested in a topic she'd never gotten to study before.
"In many parts of the world, the dragon has come to be a symbol of sovereignty and power. It can get complicated, though, because it's changed so much through the years - it used to be an adversary in many cultures, but now it's found a better name for itself in the Western countries as we've studied them and learned more about them."
"But dragons are enemies. Every one I've ever come into contact with has tried to kill me."
"We're not talking about real dragons, Mr. Potter. Phoenixes are easier because they're much more tame and willing to cooperate with research. Dragons, however, are a different story entirely. They're-"
"Fierce." They'd almost forgotten Ron was there. Harry and Hermione turned around to see him leaning against the wall, listening closely. "That's what Charlie says, anyway. They're powerful, fierce, smart, the devil if you cross one - just like you, Hermione."
"Which is why the dragon heartstring chose you." Hermione blushed. "Because dragons are such powerful creatures, wandmakers have spent lifetimes finding a piece of them to put into wand cores, many of which didn't bode very well, mostly because it seemed that every piece differed between species, males versus females, young dragons versus adults. Except..."
"The heart."
"Yes, Miss Granger. The strength of a dragon's heart was infallible. It never faltered, never wavered. In addition to being a symbol of love and emotions, the heart also carries a deeper understanding, a deeper intelligence that falls beyond books. Unfortunately, such is the case with Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, they are more prone to an allegiance with the Dark Arts than the other two, but they do not lean that way on their own accord. You, particularly, Miss Granger, could have been sorted into any of the four houses at Hogwarts, could you not? But you're in Gryffindor with Mr. Potter, who I hear was almost sorted into Slytherin."
"I didn't want to be. I chose Gryffindor," Harry explained, trying to figure out how that mattered.
"Why?"
"Because… I knew I didn't want to be in Slytherin. I knew it wouldn't be good for me. In my… heart."
"Now, about this bond," Ollivander continued as the revelations flicked across Harry and Hermione's eyes, all three of whom ignored Ron. "It's always been there, I believe. You three were drawn to each other for a reason. All three wand cores represented in the three people that are saving the world. There's no coincidence to that. But you two," he pointed between Harry and Hermione "created something stronger. Are you familiar with the concept of feng shui? It's not just about rearranging your furniture; it's about connecting your energy with the energy of your environment. To create balance. That's the basis, at least. It's far too much to go into right now. A lot of feng shui symbols are dependent on something - weather conditions, season, geographical location, things like that, but there are two symbols that you will find throughout that form perfect harmony."
"The phoenix and the dragon," Hermione whispered.
"Precisely. These two beings, while powerful on their own, take on a new meaning when united. They are the complement of the other, truly becoming one single being, the unity of… well, of the perfect couple. Yin and yang, the… the fundamental rule of the universe!" he laughed.
"Bloody hell, even your wands want to jump each other?" Ron couldn't help but laugh, to which Hermione turned to him with a sneer before addressing Ollivander again with wide eyes.
The perfect couple? Did that mean that a part of the universe destined them to be together? "Is that… why there's a lot of lore on soulmates?" She looked at Harry as she said it, and he looked just as shocked as she did.
"It is indeed. Which is why I said not to look into it too much if you don't want to get ahead of yourselves. Obviously there are many people with your same wand cores. And soulmates don't necessarily have to be romantic. Friends, parents, siblings - soulmates can be anyone, Miss Granger. Either way, it's curious that you and Harry have formed a relationship when you were destined to be a part of each other's lives in some way. And that… that power you've created, this unity you've created, is coming at a time when the world is at its darkest. When the hope of the phoenix and the power of the dragon are needed the most."
"You're welcome!" Ron called. "I got them together, you know."
"Then you may be more in tune with things than you realize, Mr. Weasley," Ollivander said with a wink.
"The only part you had in us getting together was leaving us alone," Hermione laughed, shaking her head.
"At any rate, the bond between the two of you is definitely not something to ignore. Not right now," Ollivander continued. "Use it and you'll have a leg up. Something else he doesn't have."
"Speaking of which... what do you know about the Deathly Hallows?"
Ollivander's smile faded as his gaze moved back to Harry. "It is rumored there are three. The Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, to protect you from your enemies, and the Resurrection Stone, to bring loved ones back from the dead. Having all three makes one the master of death. But few truly believe that such objects exist."
"Do you? Do you believe that they exist, sir?"
"Well, I…" he faltered, "This isn't lore we're talking about anymore. I see no reason to put stock into an old wives' tale-"
"I know one exists. You told him about it. You told him about the Elder Wand and where he could go looking for it."
Caught in Harry's trap, Ollivander sighed, looking down at the floor. "He tortured me for… for months. I had no choice. Besides, I only conveyed rumors. There's no telling whether he will find it."
"He… has found it, sir."
"If that's true, you have a much harder fight ahead of you, Mr. Potter."
"That's what I was afraid of." After a pause, Harry stood from the bed, helping Hermione up as well. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Ollivander. We'll leave you be."
"Anytime! Don't be afraid to ask questions."
They were quiet as they left the room, only speaking again once they got downstairs. "I want to look back through my books to see what I can find about that… bond. If it can help me heal and make us stronger, I want to do what we can to strengthen it." Harry and Ron exchanged a look that said they had an idea of exactly what they could do. "Oh," Hermione frowned, glancing down at her own body before looking at Harry. "I felt that."
"Felt what?"
"That. That… I don't know what it was. Whatever you were thinking about. That… current."
"Oh, bloody hell, I'm not sitting in on this while you feel each other up from the inside. I'm going to Muriel's," Ron laughed. "See you later, Harry. Enjoy your… strengthening." He looked between them a couple times, then turned and left the kitchen.
"Did you really feel something?" Harry asked softly. Hermione nodded. "That's weird. Not sure if I like that," he laughed.
"Were you thinking about the same thing I was?"
"Probably. But… we can't. Not… not here," he whispered. "It felt weird enough to shower with you with all of them here, I can't even imagine…"
"Well, we do have a tent…"
"Hermione."
"What?! We do. It's not like they're going to let us leave. It's… just for… research." Though she couldn't help taking a glance up and down Harry's body.
"Research, right," Harry snorted. "You're hurt."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Harry Potter, are you actually refusing?"
"No! No… I just…" But he had already run out of reasons as to why it wouldn't be a good idea. And it wasn't that he didn't want to, but after everything that had just happened only the day before, he couldn't imagine being able to get in the mood in the first place. But then he remembered how good this morning felt, just lying with her, having coffee on the beach, and besides the fact that his eyes had lingered on Dobby's grave as they passed it, he could forget, just for a little bit. And with Hermione pouting just enough and looking at him with pleading eyes, there was no way he could deny her. "Fine. But you do the talking, all right? I'll get nervous."
"Luckily one of us is decently mature," she smirked.