A.N: I've been on a Dark!Harry reading spree recently. Somehow it's always something to do with Voldemort or Harry 'losing it'. Either that or it's smut. I guess that's my frustration right now, just to give you an insight on where I don't want this to go. Thank you for all your interactions! My update schedule is anything but regular, but it will be steady.

Upon waking, Harry immediately made his way to the Black Library. The space itself was brilliantly warded. In some time past they had tried to bury it, a silly idea certainly, but they had found it impossible. Once added, volumes kept there were impossible to steal or take with you. Only the current recognized scion of House Black would be able to take a book anywhere, and even then transfer of ownership was heavily prohibited. Technically, he might for example gift one book to Hermione on a momentous occasion.

But beyond that all the books, including the new additions, would stay where they were. And they would be undetectable unless Harry cared to repeat the ritual that had allowed Hermione to visit in the first place. To anyone else, the massive library looked like just another unappealing guest room.

Taking one of the tomes on advanced countercurses, he wondered why he had avoided it so far. Maybe Hermione's speech on the circumstance of his rescue had put things into perspective. He clearly remembered feeling a deep sense of disgust at anything to do with so called dark magic. Sirius and his distaste of anything to do with the Black family name had of course been a big hurdle. Not to mention Dumbledore and how he drilled into Harry the light and the dark. But maybe things wouldn't have been so dire with so many lost if he hadn't been so dismissive.

It helped, he realized, that he had a partner in crime.

In his reading he found it helpful to look at things through the eyes of his old nemesis. He was very practical, in hindsight. Why bother with the intricate magic when you could just stick to the unforgivables? But it did lack a certain sense of style, or character. There were only so many ways you could experience fear at the thought of ultimate pain or irreversible death. And it's not as if Voldemort's talents were any less than Oril. The Dark Lord had always lacked imagination.

There was no easy way to test his new curse, even if it seemed an interesting alternative to the disarming spell. He threw it against a wall in the practice room on the 4th floor a few times. It was very quick. Only an expert would dodge it if well placed and unparried. But they had a press conference to attend, and he wanted to look the part.

His wardrobe looked a bit samey. Very blue and very grey. He frowned as he put on one of his striped waistcoats, and his Auror robes on top. With a wave of his wand he recoloured one of his shirts to a dark burgundy. That was already a lot more fashionable.

"What do you think, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher approves of master's darker tones," the elf said gleefully.

"Still isn't it though. It's Wednesday, and we won't start work until next week I imagine. Do you think Hermione would be up for a shopping trip?"

"I am sure mistress Granger would be thrilled."

"Hm." He straightened his glasses. "And I need to get her a gift. Any ideas?"

"Flowers always please the ladies, master Harry."

Harry chuckled. "Well it seems like you have some good advice on occasion. What were her favourite again," he mused.

By 12:40, he popped in at the Burrow where Kingsley would deliver their portkey. They barely had time to greet Molly and Arthur before Kingsley made his entrance. He gave them both a firm handshake.

"From what I hear they're going to push the 'grand return' angle fairly hard. As long as you don't go into any rumours of promises made, you should be fine. And it doesn't please me to tell you, but your relationship with Ginny will definitely be one of the questions. There are already rumours floating around about… well, old stories as you know, you two."

"It'll be our pleasure to confuse them on that account," Harry said.

"There is something else," Kingsley continued. "As you might or might not know there are four Wizengamot seats opening up in September. They've got it in their head you both might make a joint run for it, the Lord's seat and a public one."

"Well I'm flattered," Hermione said. "I thought they were quite fearful of the evil muggleborn encroaching on wizard politics last time they spoke about it."

"You know how public opinion goes," Kingsley said with a wave. "But my advice, even if you are open to it, don't give them too much."

"Well," Harry said, looking back at Molly and Arthur. "I think we're all set."

"Good luck, dears."

"Go show them," Arthur added.

They portkeyed into the Atrium, which had been cleared for a dozen feet around them, surrounded by reporters and attendants. Some were waving flags with Granger and Potter on them. Lightning bolts, 'Welcome Back Heroes'. Anyone who wasn't obliged to be at work had assembled here, and many at work had probably turned on their wireless to listen in. Harry knew Ginny was doing exactly that with the Harpies.

He took Hermione lightly by the shoulder as they followed Kingsley to the podium.

"Excited?" he whispered.

She rolled her eyes.

"Welcome," Kingsley started, amplifying his voice, "I do not wish to waste too many words on what can only be good news. After eight months of recovery, we are pleased to welcome back two heroes and icons of the War. Witches and wizards: Hermione Granger and Harry Potter!"

Applause, tears, cries of support. Hermione pushed him forward; he was going to return that favour very soon.

He cleared his throat. "I am very lucky to be alive here today. I've often said that I owe my life to the people who supported me. This is no less true now. I'd first like to express my thanks to Jeffrey Alwain, my partner who lost his life in the perilous mission where I was injured.

"But my survival I owe to none other than my closest friend Hermione Granger," he said, smiling at her. And if she was slightly misty-eyed, who could blame her?

"You've already heard the stories of how she saved my life during the War. Today you have been once again witness to that. She put her life in danger to save me from a terrible curse."

He extended a hand. "Hermione?"

She took it and affectionately leaned into his shoulder, whispering "Bastard."

"Good day," she said with excitement in her voice. "I'm sure you're all very happy to have Harry back." The crowd laughed and cheered. She pulled him forward so he was standing next to her in front of the podium. "But I can assure you no one is happier than me. He has been a pillar of hope for us all and will continue to be. Being able to help a friend in need is a gift in itself. Thank you."

Looking back to Kingsley, Harry remembered. "We'll now take some of your questions," he said.

Flash flash. Flash flash.

"What kind of curse were you hit by, and how exactly did Mrs. Granger save your life."

"We don't know," Hermione answered, "but thanks to an expert from the States I was able to undergo a procedure to help Harry."

She undid a button on her shirt, exposing the dark red scar on her chest. Harry moved his tie aside, knowing this would probably be the choice front page picture in the Daily Prophet and every other paper in the nation.

Flash flash. Flash flash flash flash.

"Mr. Potter, any details about the mission you were undertaking during which this happened?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential under the ICW Hit-Wizard regulations."

Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Mr. Potter, any comment on your marriage and Mrs. Potter's current affair?"

"Me and Ginny are on good terms. As for any current relations, I'd rather not comment. It's been a crazy few days."

Flash flash. Flash flash.

The same reporter interjected again. Alexandra? From Witch Weekly. "Any truth to the rumours you and Mrs. Granger are pursuing an affair of your own?"

Hermione leaned forward. "My relationship both professional and personal, has and always will be close with Harry. As for whatever scandals you choose to print, that is up to you."

Martin Sedwick, editor of the Wizardly Tribune, lifted his hand. Harry pointed to him to speak.

"First of all, welcome back to the both of you. Has the news of the open positions on the Wizengamot motivated you at all to take a more active role in policy making? And are you aware of the deadlock on many issues you previously championed?"

They shared a meaningful look before Hermione answered.

"It definitely has been on our minds. But as Harry said we have been back for a very short time. In the short term, please look forward to us resuming our previous positions at the Ministry."

She shrugged at him, indicating it was a good point to stop.

"Thank you," he said. "You'll be seeing a lot more from us."

Following the usual post-interview chaos, they retreated to a waiting room near the Minister's office. It being equipped with a floo connection made it an attractive spot to recover from the public exposure. A few minutes later, Kingsley entered.

"Well, no surprise, they loved you. Good job on your return!"

He took out three glasses and a bottle of Ogden's. "Can you drink?"

"We can," Hermione answered, taking two glasses and handing one to Harry. They sat down in the arranged chairs.

"Were you serious? About considering the positions?"

"To be honest, King," Harry said, swirling the liquid in his glass, "seeing what happened while we were gone was a bit disappointing."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"I can understand that," he answered. "My position has been something of a necessity more than something I was entirely suited for. So you have my apologies for not doing more."

"We get that," Hermione said. "I'm certain the Wizengamot was all too happy to go on with business as usual when people weren't looking."

Kingsley guiltily smiled. "Well, if either of you do decide to step into politics, it would be my pleasure to assist you."

"We'll keep that in mind," Harry said. "Thanks, King."

"Always a pleasure," he said downing his drink. "But I have some business to attend to. See yourselves out, until soon."

As soon as Kingsley left, she finished her firewhisky and stood up. He smiled at her impatience.

With a flash of green fire, they appeared at Grimmauld Place. She followed as he went in the direction of the library. When they were inside, he looked back and let out a deep breath. She threw her robes on one of the armchairs and walked up to him.

"You were really something," he said.

She put her arms around his waist and sunk her face into his chest, finding warmth and sighing with satisfaction. He gently stroked her hair, it was pleasantly springy.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she mumbled into his temporarily burgundy shirt.

"Let me take you shopping."

She looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

"For clothes. I've been looking at my wardrobe and I don't think I care for it. I think my tastes changed a bit almost dying a third time. Also, call it a way to start repaying you."

"I can pay for my own things, thank you, but yes I've been thinking along those lines as well."

"Is tomorrow all right?"

"Perfect."

They called Kreacher for some tea and snacks and set to work on Oril's collection. They hadn't really 'studied' together in a long time. While Hermione was at Hogwarts, Harry was stupidly busy learning the intricacies of Auror field work while simultaneously hunting down Voldemort's rogue Death Eaters. There hadn't been much opportunity for casual perusing of forbidden tomes.

But even after, he had to admit, their friendship had tepidly simmered. Neither needed the other too much, and after marriage and career, little time was left for each other. Her joining the DMLE, and their latest near-death experience had pushed them closer together.

It wasn't long before Hermione's eyes settled on some interesting bit of reading.

"Oh, look at this one."

The large open tome was turned to a page with anatomical and symbolic illustrations, accompanied by walls of handwritten script. 'The Maegi Eye', was written at the top.

"Reforms the eye into a magically enhanced organ. Sounds very trendy."

"Have you never wanted to fix your eyesight?" she asked.

He smiled, looking at her lips covered in a warm shade of pink. "You mean like your teeth?"

"Yes."

"I guess it never bothered me," he answered. "And what if my eyes come out all red and mean looking?"

"We could test it out on an animal."

"Poor Crookshanks?"

She sat up with a start. "Oh God, poor Crookshanks! I forgot all about him. He must be with my parents."

"Want to go get him?"

She glanced at her watch. "Four thirty already. Yes I suppose that's a good idea… Oh I guess I might have forgotten about my parents as well."

"I'm sure Molly wrote to them."

"Are you?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. "You might have a point."

"I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Stepping closer, he felt a strange attraction to her. Although looking at her he couldn't really say it was strange in any way.

"Say hi to your parents for me… and Crookshanks," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"I'll do that."

She exited the library, looking back with a glint in her eye. With a pop she left.

Fitful hours of study behind him, he sat down in the adjacent office with a fresh cup of tea. He rubbed the scar on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt to get a better look at it. Some spark left him when Hermione wasn't around, cold calmness replacing it instead. She ignited something in him that felt like a distant memory, something he was supposed to remember – but couldn't, not quite. It was almost maddening.

-M-

"We're so happy to hear from you, love," Monica Granger said to her daughter. "We barely had any news."

"I should've known," Hermione said, petting Crookshanks' bristling fur.

"Well you're here now, that's what matters," Wendell Granger said. "So that's really how you ended up in this situation? Helping Harry?"

"Yes, dad. He was dying."

"I really wish you'd tell us when you take it upon yourself to risk your life," Mr. Granger said with more than a hint of annoyance. "We are your parents."

"There was no time. I would have if I could, I swear."

"Well let's forget it now," Monica said resignedly. "How is Harry doing?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a smile. "It's strange but I feel we've really reconnected recently, even more than before when I got my new job. Oh… he might be getting separated. Ginny didn't have the patience to wait around, but he's doing fine really. He's very stoic. He says hello."

"Hermione," Wendell said with a serious expression, "I hope you're not falling into that trap again. I'm sure your mum wouldn't like for you to relive that. Coming home with red eyes –"

"It's not like that!" she said sternly. "It's not set in stone, but we're thinking of running for office, as a joint thing?"

"Really?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Yes. I mean, you should see how they've done exactly nothing while we were gone. If we don't act directly things will just go back to what they were. We're going shopping tomorrow, I can visit with Harry for tea."

"I suppose that's all right," Mr. Granger said. "It has been a while."

"Does it hurt much?" Mrs. Granger asked.

She rubbed the stretch of discoloured skin from her collar to above her navel. "The scar? No. It's fine, better than getting one because some arsehole tried to hurt me."

"Right," Mr. Granger said. "Well, we're glad you're all right. You said you've moved back in with Ronald?"

"I have," she said, leaning back in her chair. Crookshanks purred a low howl. "He's been quite selfish to tell you the truth. Somehow I have to come to terms with him waiting for eight months. And he keeps looking at me like he's expecting something. I'm not going to apologize for saving my best friend."

The Grangers shared a meaningful look and smiled back weakly.

"I'm sure it'll work out," Mrs. Granger said.

"Yes," she sighed. She stood up, still holding Crookshanks. "Thanks for the tea, I'll see you tomorrow."

The day out turned out to be more lively than anticipated. Despite being the middle of the week, a throng of reporters had found and followed them. Thankfully, Madam Malkin had a strict no-press policy, and in the safety of the closed shop they were free to decide on the additions to their wardrobe.

"Hm," she mused. "Not too frilly?"

The coal black dress suited her better than the darker ones. Most daring were the straps near the middle, but she made it look good. "It's different, but nice, if you don't mind the cleavage."

"I don't," she said, looking in the mirror. "At least the shoulders are covered, wouldn't want Molly to have a heart attack."

"No we wouldn't," Harry laughed. "Let's do the other one, the blue and white."

She changed again. This one was more decent looking, ending a few inches above her ankles.

"I could see that one being a big hit. And it fits my new dress robes."

"Speaking of which," she said, turning to the back of the shop. "Madam Malkin?"

"Yes, Mrs. Granger?" the elderly witch said, trotting over.

"I think it's time Mr. Potter got fitted as well."

She took out the dress robes, which he put on, and started to transfigure them into tighter measurements. In a matter of minutes, he was wearing the form-fitting dress robes, white and blue to match hers, while Madam Malkin directed the magical tape measure around him. Hermione looked happy at the sight of them in the tall standing mirror.

"I must say that's quite stunning, Mr. Potter," Madam Malkins exclaimed. "You'll both make quite the bang at the next function."

"You do wear it well," Hermione said.

"You mentioned tea with your parents?" he remembered.

"Of course, I guess we should get moving then."

"I think we'll take the shirts on hand and pick up the rest later," Harry said.

"Very well. Mr. Potter, Mrs Granger, always a pleasure to see you."

They apparated near the Granger household, content to walk the rest of the way.

"So this shopping trip," she said with a grin. "Enjoyable, but does it have anything to do with what Kingsley and the reporters said?"

"Somewhat," he answered, appraising her reaction. "I figured you would be on board anyway if I proposed us aiming for a position in the Wizengamot. Am I wrong?"

"No, I feel the same way. I'm more surprised at you changing your mind, Mr. 'I don't want to go into politics no matter what'."

"Maybe I have changed. Or maybe it's everyone else, I don't know, but I am serious. Should I be worried about your parents wanting revenge for what I did to their daughter?"

She laughed. "They better behave themselves. You'll be fine, they always liked you."

They knocked at the Granger house, more a villa with adjoining dental practice. Mrs. Granger answered the door and let them in.

"You look well, Harry. How've you been?" she said, motioning them into the living room. "Wendell is finishing up with a girl's orthodontics."

"I'm sure Hermione told you all about what happened," he said, sitting down. "I owe her my life a few times over now."

Mrs. Granger politely smiled as she served the tea.

"So you're thinking about going into politics?"

"It's just an idea," Harry said.

Just then Mr. Granger entered from the annex, showing the same polite smile.

"Hello, Harry."

He greeted them and sat down at the white tablecloth covered living room table. A slight awkward silence settled until Mrs. Granger spoke up. "We were just talking how Hermione and Harry were thinking of going into politics."

"Right," Mr. Granger said with a smile. "You did say something about that."

"Well it's just an idea right now," Hermione said dismissively. "We went shopping for clothes earlier. It was quite fun trying some new things."

"Find anything you like?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"We did," she answered, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "I'll have to send you the pictures when we premiere our new dress robes."

Harry covered her hand with his own and looked Monica in the eyes. "I'm very sorry your daughter had to get in danger on my behalf."

"I'm certain we couldn't stop her if we tried," she responded.

The clock in the living room ticked loudly seven seconds forward.

"You couldn't," Hermione answered.

Her parents talked about what had been happening while they were gone, on the muggle side. Apparently all the talk was of terrorism and weapons. The neighbours had gotten married and the gossip was they wanted a child. After they had tea, Harry and Hermione left, waving enthusiastically.

But in the Granger home as the tea grew cold, Wendell felt anger well up in him. His wife could see it and brought a reassuring hand to his back.

"It's happening. Again." he said.

"Maybe it's not as bad as it seems, love."

"Did you see the look in her eye? Like she was looking at Christ resurrected!" He stood up and paced, trying to calm himself. "I thought this obsession with Harry was over when she settled down. Now she's getting into politics with him? In that godawful environment?"

"And what do you want to do about that?" Monica asked tersely.

"Do? We can't bloody do anything. She –" With a heavy sigh, he sat back down and shook his head, trying to nervously fit his wire-framed spectacles in a better position. "We've forgiven her. I just hoped she'd be more reasonable."

"Wendell, all we can do is wish her the best. Ronald has a stable, normal job. She'll probably calm down, it's only been a few days."

"Then why did she come over with Harry instead?"

"I don't know, love," Monica said resignedly.