Chapter 35

Hermione

Harry and I come to a stop when we enter the kitchen to find Kingsley and two young Wizards I don't recognize.

"Morning," Harry says hesitantly.

Harry tilts his head in Ron's direction, barely more than a twitch. Despite rolling his eyes at him, Ron picks up his plate and moves to the head of the table. I love being able to feel Harry's emotions because you'd never be able to tell the relief he feels at not being stuck as the centre of attention just by looking at him. His disquiet floods into me like the Thames, but on the outside, Harry doesn't even twitch.

He slides into Ron's abandoned spot, and I take the only remaining seat across the table from him. This kitchen, it's pretty big. And the table was designed for sixteen people without magic, yet this morning every seat is taken. It didn't really occur to me until right this moment that we're collecting houseguests like my gran collected tea cosies.

Even Draco is at the table, though I'm pretty sure that's because Mrs. Weasley told him that if he didn't eat with us then he didn't eat at all. How very Beauty and the Beast of her.

And with Draco here, even though he hasn't stepped foot into the attic yet, it makes our sparring uneven, so I was thinking about popping down to the Burrow and making the walk to Luna's house to ask if she wanted to spend the rest of the holiday with us too.

What makes it even weirder is somehow, I've started thinking of the townhouse as my house in the last few weeks. The place I share with Harry, and really, it's too early in the day for these types of emotional revelations.

Crookshanks rubs against my legs, and I lean down to pet him absentmindedly. He's spent most of his time exploring the house since we brought him from my folks' place the other day.

"Happy Birthday, Nev," I say, and the other Gryffindor grins at me around a bite of sausage.

"Thanks!" he says with glee.

"Did we miss an Order meeting or something?" Harry asks when the chatter fails to pick up around us. We're expecting people tonight for the party, but that's still hours away yet.

"Not exactly," Sirius says, and I can't read his tone of voice.

"We had the morning off," Kingsley advises us, his expression utterly bland. He moves his outer robes to the side to display not just one wand but two.

"We thought we'd see what all the fuss was about," says one of the two strangers with a very unconvincing smile. "Training with the Chosen One." Mockery drips from his voice, and his eyes gleam with malice.

I open my mouth to tell them to go to hell, but Harry beats me to it.

"We won't go easy on you," Harry says, and all three Aurors give him a challenging glare.

"Bring it, little boy," one of the unknown Aurors says with a smirk

Harry's responding smile makes my blood run cold.

Bloody fucking hell.

Draco is hovering in the background.

He doesn't announce himself when he enters the training room. That would be against his nature. Draco only does things that give him an advantage. I have no idea how long he was there before I saw him lurking in the doorway but not quite in the frame itself. He could have been in the hallway for half an hour listening to us grunt and snark. I watched him out of the corner of my eye for at least five minutes before Harry finally called him out.

"You're welcome to join, Malfoy," Harry offers, leaning heavily on the wooden sword balanced on its tip at his side. Harry isn't precisely gasping for air, but he's undoubtedly breathing harder than average.

Draco takes one step inside the door, then promptly leans up against the wall.

"No thanks, Potter. I think I'll watch you get your arse kicked instead."

Harry was already advanced for his age at fifteen. Now, with three years of additional practice and how Nate has brought the sword into his duelling technique, Harry is nothing short of magnificent to watch. Hence, why we have three Aurors on the other side of the room prepping to go mano-a-mano with us.

I can't wait to see Draco's expression. He's going to pee his pants when he sees Harry fight.

Four days Draco has been with us now.

Four long days.

On day three, he found his way to the library.

I didn't say anything to him but handed him a book on advanced potion making for medicinal use. He took the chair across from me and opened the book to page one. When he left only to return a few minutes later with quill and parchment, I wordlessly reached into my bag and pulled out one of the Muggle spiral notebooks we bought for note-taking, handing him the green covered pad of paper and a pen.

"Easier than a quill," I told him, flipping open my current notebook, which was already half-filled. I slid the Bic pen across the paper, letting him see the way it works.

He stared at it, and me, for so long I started to tense, waiting for the impending explosion or insult.

Instead, he mumbled, "Thanks," so quietly I barely heard it. Without another word, he flipped the lined paper to page one and began to take notes. I left him there at almost midnight when Harry came to collect me for bed.

Frankly, I was pleasantly surprised Harry allowed me to be alone with him. He's gone a little caveman since that binding sealed us together. But later that night, when we lay entangled in the dark, I thanked Harry in hushed tones for letting me fend for myself. He told me I'd already pummeled Draco once. He knew I would punch him again if it came down to it.

True right I will.

Plus, there's that vow to take into consideration. I'm pretty sure harming me would validate it, then we'd have a dead Malfoy scion on our hands, and that wouldn't be good for anybody.

Draco left his notes and the book in the library, and I peeked at them on the way to the attic this morning.

Thank Merlin he never took to Riddle's ideology as fully as he pretends he did, even in the past timeline. His mind is…brilliant. I can see why Snape thinks so highly of him, even if they hadn't been connected since Draco's birth. One day, thirty years from now, some random student is going to find one of Draco's potions textbooks in a cupboard and jump to the top of their year in that subject.

He slinks around the house as quietly as a snake, observing and gathering data. Unlike Ron and Neville, I don't have any worries about Draco betraying us. No. He's here for the duration. I've seen what becomes of him if he strays. So has he, through Harry's warnings.

But Draco is a planner by nature. Admittedly, while his personality is intolerable, it's one of the things I can appreciate about him. Even though he came of his own free will, with (in my opinion at least) probable heavy encouragement from Professor Snape, he's been thrust into unknown territory. I understand the need to strategize before making a decision.

No. After all, is said and done, four days feels about right to me.

Harry finds the entire thing hilarious.

Personally, I think Harry is just eager to get Draco on the training mat, so he has an excuse to rough him up a bit. Ron is practically salivating at the thought. Draco is welcome to lean against the wall and watch for now, but Nate won't let him stay that way for long, and neither will my boys.

Nate steps into the middle of the room, calling the assembled people to order. He puts his fists on his hips and turns to look at the smirking Aurors.

"Are you here to train or duel?"

There's a gleam in the younger Auror's eyes I really don't like. I'm going to wipe them before they leave, I think. Make them think they spent the morning picking flobberworms.

"If I said train?" Kingsley prompts.

"Then I would assign you each with a team of duelers to teach them what you know. They need to learn different fighting styles. So long as you don't undo any of the progress we've made, I think this would be a great opportunity for everyone."

Kingsley nods at that.

"And if we said duel?" the other asks. I still don't remember their names.

"Then I'd stand out of the way and let you at it. They still need to learn different fighting styles, and some of them learn better by doing rather than watching."

By some of them, he means Harry. Harry has always been a trial by fire kinda guy.

"I think we should do both. The duelling won't take very long. We fight till he gives in, then we can show him what he did wrong," one of the strangers says with a smirk.

Nate is smirking too.

He pivots on his heel to look at me.

"Do you have the phoenix tears?" he asks.

Professor Dumbledore passed me a vial the other night after the meeting. 'Just in case' he said with a wink. Just in case Harry accidentally nicks someone with that sword is what he meant.

If Harry draws blood with the Sword of Gryffindor, it isn't going to be by mistake.

I nod my head and summon my bag.

"Essence of Dittany too. Plus, the regular array of pain potions and skelegro, blood replenishing, etc. Just in case."

"Do you really think that's necessary?" stranger boy asks, his face becoming drawn.

Nate looks him in the eye, and I can see why he was chosen for the task force. He has a no-nonsense way of dealing with things that make people on the other side of his bland and snarky smile take a step back in caution.

No wonder we like him so much.

"If you're duelling, yes. No permanent disfigurement. No fights to the death. But the Death Eaters aren't going to pull their punches. I don't want any of you to either. We've been doing two a day practices for a week now. It's a good time to introduce another element."

Kingsley, who has already discarded his outer robes, flexes his neck left and right.

"We work and train in teams," Nate tells the Aurors, "but because we all know the main reason for this visit is to see what Harry is made of, I'll let him decide."

He turns and looks at Harry.

"Single person combat, or…?"

"Teams," Harry says without hesitation. "If we're going to simulate a real attack, Ron and Hermione are always at my side."

Draco's scoff is so loud I bet it hurt his throat. Ron's chest seems to double in size.

Teams were a good answer. Perfect even. Because if Harry had said he'd duel the Aurors alone and left me on the outside to watch him play without me, we'd have had our first fight as a married couple, and it would not have ended well for him.

"Unless you don't think you can handle three underage Wizards all by yourself?" Harry taunts.

He's insufferable. He really is.

Kingsley crows with laughter, delight rich on his face.

"This is going to be fun," he croons, and Harry grins right back.

I'm already regretting this.

Nate claps his hands together then rubs them in excitement.

"Get the real sword," Nate instructs Harry.

"I'll get it," Ron offers.

"Meet us in the backyard, Ron. I have a feeling we'll need more space to move."

Ron gives a nod of acknowledgement and jogs from the attic. We changed the wards when we were adjusting them the other day, so Ron is the only one who could enter without an invitation.

I'd like to think he's learned his lesson about walking into rooms without knocking when Harry and I are alone inside them.

"What sword?" the obviously stupid stranger says as if he's just now realizing Harry's been wearing a sword strapped to his back. I still haven't caught his name. From now on, it's Stupid.

"You're training him to fight with the Sword of Gryffindor?" Kingsley asks, and there's a look on his face, something, that I can't really read, and I'm not sure I like it one bit.

"Yes," Harry answers in Nate's place. "I need all the advantages I can get, and it's come to me twice when I've required it. Once I simply asked for it, and it appeared. Dropped into my hands by Fawkes of all things. Hogwarts can have it back when another Gryffindor needs it more than me. Call it a hunch, but I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon."

"Let's move," Nate says, and we all head towards the attic door, making our way to the garden. Remus and Sirius grab all our first aid, then shrink the table and bring it with us.

The back garden is large and magically enhanced. Sirius said he and his brother used to fly their brooms out here when I'm positive the neighbour's yard isn't wider than five square.

Everyone is getting set up when Ron reappears slightly out of breath and hands Harry the sword, grip first. He pulls the fake sword from the scabbard on Harry's back while Harry tightens his hand around the real sword's hilt.

Ron swings it here and there, its weight in his hand half of what he's used to before he sits it on the table with our first aid and refreshments.

One of these days, Ron is going to carry a broadsword across his back. Together, they'd be the scariest Auror team on the planet: the Chosen One and his Lieutenant.

But not today.

Today it's just Harry and his blade.

Harry and the Sword of Gryffindor have some sort of connection. I can't explain it. Neither can he. But when Harry grips the sword in his hand, they sort of meld until you can't see where Harry's power stops and the sword's power begins. Astonishingly he's picked up the ability to wield it far faster than any of us expected. He'll practice an hour or two on the duplicate, then pick up the original, and his magic will be almost perfect.

"You aren't really a kid at all, are you?" Kingsley asks, walking around Harry in a slow circle. Harry moves his head to follow Kingsley's progress but doesn't rotate his body.

"No," Harry answers honestly. "I'm not."

If the guests in our garden didn't know that yet, well, they're all about to get a first-hand demonstration.

Ron pulls both of his wands from their holsters and takes his spot behind and to the right of Harry. I do the same, and take my place behind and to the left. If we were surrounded, this would allow us to each cover our own corner while guarding each other's backs.

"Everyone get behind a shield," Sirius demands. "I don't want any trips to St. Mungos because a rogue hex hit someone in the face."

One by one, shields go up around the spectators to protect them from whatever is about to happen. My heart is thudding out of my chest, and my hands are getting sweaty.

I don't think they'll try to kill us. Kingsley won't, at least. But the others? Since he was eighteen months old, people have looked at Harry as someone to be followed, or challenged. It would be more than worthy of a pint at the pub to come in with witnesses who claimed that you beat Harry Potter in a duel.

And if one of them happens to be a Death Eater and we just don't know it yet…

Harry looks over his shoulder at me.

Stop thinking so much. It's the three of us against the three of them. When have we ever lost when it was the three of us together?

Ummm, when we died? Seriously Harry! Don't ask stupid questions!

Plus, Ron's skills are not anywhere near what they were the last time I fought people off with Ron and Harry at my back.

Harry faces front again, rotating his shoulders.

The Aurors bow, never lowering their eyes. We return the gesture, my stomach filling with butterflies.

Stop fretting, love, he thinks. This'll be fun.

Harry is bouncing on his toes. Ron's excitement is catching.

I shake my head to clear it of Harry's thoughts of fun and almost lower my wands in exasperation.

That's when they choose to strike, and Harry's calm flows through me like the Draught of Peace.

Shields erect around us. Physical incarnations blooming red and gold with roaring lions on the front. They ring when the first spell hits them.

"Shit," Ron hisses, the impact making his bones rattle.

"You said not to pull our punches," Stupid says, grinning ear to ear. The second curse shatters the shields completely.

Red crashes with blue mid-air, and purple sparks explode around us as Harry's spell hits one of theirs.

The Aurors concentrate on Harry, assuming correctly that he's the strongest dueler between us three. But they ignore Ron and me at their peril, and I hit one right between the eyes with a jelly-legged jinx.

Harry pelts them with the big guns, spears and knives, and snakes made of fire, while Ron and I shower them with childhood prank jinxes that wiggle through their defenses. I smack stupid in the gut with a tickle jinx, and he falls to his knees, grabbing his belly until his partner ends the charm. Ron cries out a Steleus, and Stupid Two bursts out into sneezes.

Kingsley circles his wand above his head then slams it into the ground, causing the earth the shatter and quake beneath us. Harry leaps over the cracking landscape, lunging forward with the sword. They weren't expecting it, and they scramble away like bowling pins before they remember that Harry isn't the only one with magic at his fingertips.

Harry is lifted into the air and thrown back to land at my feet. He's laughing inside my head as he slides on the ground and shoots a stunner under their shields.

The water from the pitcher on the table rises into the air and multiplies, surging towards us in a torrent. I transfigure the wave to feathers, and Harry pushes them back the way they came, attacking our attackers' pointy end first. They manage to block all but one, which embeds itself in Stupid's arm.

He cries out in pain, then throws the crushed feather to the ground.

Kingsley shoots a ball of raw energy that his fellow Auror explodes in a shower of shards. Kingsley lifts his arms above his head and claps his hands together, shoving them in our direction. Razor sharp energy blasts our way. Ron jumps in front of me, that new shield spell he's been so proud of thrumming to life in his hands. He grins at me over his shoulder, then tenses and collapses to the side as a Petrificus Totalus takes him, still with the grin on his face.

Harry throws his hand out to the side and shoves a frozen Ron out of the field of battle. I see from the corner of my eye as Remus and Sirius snap him up and casts a finite on him. They grab his shoulders when he tries to re-enter the fray. He's tucked safely behind their shield charm.

"One down," Stupid hollers, "Two to go."

Every rock resting inside the garden shoots into the air like a mass of bullets, firing in our direction. Harry closes his hand into a fist and yanks his hand in towards his body. It pulls me into his chest while he thrusts the sword into the air. The sword shields us from the sky while I shield us from the edges.

While rocks and sticks slap smartly against our barrier, Harry tilts my chin back with the tip of his wand and kisses me for all that I'm worth. I moan at the addicting sensation, the adrenalin, and excitement pumping through our mixed blood. Before I've got my wits about me, Harry spins me away and uses the sword and wand together to throw out multiple stunners at once.

His face is alight with happiness. Sweat is dripping off his brow.

I'm too busy watching Harry to pay attention to myself.

I cry out in pain when the curse slashes against my side, then fall to the ground, holding the now torn skin of my flank together. The expression of surprise on Stupid's face is undoubtedly a match for mine.

Hermione! Harry screams in my head.

The entire garden freezes.

Harry takes one look at me, and his fear and anger surge through the bond. It consumes me until I'm dizzy and nauseous and can't tell my vision from his.

The garden itself splits in two, as double sight gives me both my perspective from the ground and Harry's bearing down upon his enemies.

I'm okay, I try to tell him. Finish it.

Then I'm back in my own head again and what I see is a horrifying sight to behold.

The whole thing took less than a second.

Harry seems to suck all the oxygen from the yard. He takes a breath, and his power inhales with him. The light around him dims like a black hole consuming everything in its wake.

I feel Ron slide to the ground beside me, his hands over mine, his body shielding me from the impending detonation. I stretch my back, so I can still see around his form.

I am NOT missing this!

Harry explodes.

Magic surges from him in every direction. Stupid and the other unknown Auror collapse to the ground in a painful heap, their meagre powers no match for Harry's strength. But Kingsley summons a silver barrier and buckles down behind it. His body pushes back a foot or two, but he manages to stay on his feet.

Harry takes three steps forward, cold determination in his eyes, lifting the sword in front of him. He blocks a shot of purple, yellow, blue, before twisting backwards on his toes, swinging the Sword of Gryffindor in a glorious arc, and slicing Kingsley's shield in two. With his next step, his wand is at Kingsley's throat.

"Yield," Harry says in a demanding tone of voice. His chest is heaving with exertion.

Kingsley drops his wand, hands open in surrender.

"I yield," he confirms in his deep and soothing timbre.

Harry drops both sword and wand to the ground and pivots to the side.

The other occupants in the garden, who had been watching the duel with a sort of horrified fascination on their faces, slowly come alive again.

"Shit," Nate says harshly, taking in the blood rapidly seeping between my fingers.

Harry ignores him. He calls the Essence of Dittany to him, dropping to his knees beside me. Ron starts mumbling under his breath, but Harry gives him no attention. Nate skids to a stop beside us, his hands filled with every first aid potion available. "What the…?"

Nate twists on his feet, examining the grass.

I twist my head around on my neck, following Nate's eyes on the ground. There's a perfect circle around me. Scorch marks cover the grass in a thousand different directions, but not a single spark danced over the line where my invisible bubble held.

A bubble I did not create. I know for a fact that Ronald couldn't have done it.

I look at the circle again, hissing when I pull on the wound in my side.

That is a neat trick, and I have no idea how Harry pulled it off. I wonder if even he does, or if it was one of those strange fantastical things that seem to happen only around Harry Potter.

Harry grabs the bottom of my shirt and rips it like its tissue paper so the wound over my hip is exposed.

It's ten inches maybe, and deeper than I thought.

"Somebody help me with this!" Harry demands in a panic, and Nate gently pushes Harry to the side. Ron grips my fingers in his, offering me support. Now that my adrenaline is leaving, I'm starting to feel the sting. Remus drops down beside us and brings a pain potion to my lips.

"She's fine, Harry. It's just a scratch," Remus tries to comfort him. Harry runs his fingers over my head, pushing my hair to the side.

"It barely even stings," I assure him with a smile.

Or a grimace.

Okay. It's a little more than a sting. More like a burning fire where my kidney should be, but Harry doesn't need to know that.

Bugger.

My hands are shaking, and my vision goes white as Nate and Remus poke at the wound.

Then suddenly, all the pain is gone, and Harry sways on his knees.

"Bloody hell, that hurts!" he swears.

That bleeding, annoying, self-sacrificing…he closes off the bond.

"Harry James Potter-Black!" I demand, trying to sit up as Nate drips the dittany on my wound. "You give me back my pain right this instant!" Remus shoves me back down and holds me there with a palm on my forehead.

Harry shakes his head, and you can actually see him push the physical pain away. Like when he described his occlumency to me, he shoves the pain into a box and forgets that it's even there. Another skill he learned after years of systematic abuse. Abuse that didn't stop when he came to Hogwarts.

Suddenly I'm furious with Dumbledore.

"I have a higher pain tolerance than you," he insists with eyes tightened in agony. He climbs to his feet and searches the onlookers, heading straight for the kid that hit me.

Harry grasps the front of his robes and shakes him until the poor bloke looks like he may pee himself. It's horribly ironic, since Harry is probably seven inches shorter and three stone lighter than him.

"What did you hit her with, you daft prick?" Harry growls.

"A-A cutting hex," he stammers, looking to Kingsley for help.

"What happened to no maiming huh?" Harry demands, a hand wrapping around Stupid's neck.

"How was I supposed to know she wouldn't block it?" he squeezes out between weakening breaths.

"Harry," I hiss at him, but he ignores me completely, instead slowly strangling the life out of the poor idiot Auror.

Kingsley takes a calming breath before closing the distance and peeling Harry's fingers from the young Auror's throat.

"Why don't you guy's head back to the ministry? Your shift starts soon anyway."

Stupid practically jumps on the spot and runs coughing back towards the house, Tweedle dumb following him in a rush. Kingsley chuckles under his breath, his calm finally bleeding into Harry's demeanour.

Harry shoves his hands through his hair, all of his earlier enthusiasm depleted.

"Don't let them go," I yell. "I want to wipe them first."

Kingsley laughs outright now, shaking his head in exasperation. He flips his wand and his fellow Aurors drop on the spot, snoring in a peaceful slumber.

"You know that's still illegal," he asks me, and all I can do is shrug.

Harry rubs at his side where the wound is almost closed over my hip and comes to hover over me.

"That feels better guys, thanks. But she's still a little lightheaded. Give her one of the replenishing potions too."

Oh, it feels better, does it? It's not like it's my body or anything. Stupid, overprotective, annoying, patronizing…

"Stop being so damn bossy," I snap at Harry.

Harry runs his fingers through my hair, not bothering to respond.

"We should get you guys some armour," Nate says conversationally as he magically heals my wound.

"Absolutely," Sirius agrees. "It'll be too expensive to kit out the entire Order, but the main forces definitely need some."

Mrs. Weasley pops into my frame of vision, wringing her hands in front of her.

"Refreshments, dear?" she asks, looking towards Harry for instruction. "Maybe a nice spot of tea?"

Has the world gone mad around me? Because when I crawled out of bed this morning, ending up bleeding in the garden while half the Order talked pell-mell around me wasn't on my list of things to do.

Harry bites his lips together, his chest heaving in silent laughter.

"Bloody hell," Draco breathes from outside the circle and I look up from my spot on the ground. He takes a tentative step closer, examining the chaos left over from our duel. "What in the bleeding hell was that?" he demands, his eyes wide and his hands trembling. "When in Merlin's left saggy tit did you lot learn to fight like maniacs?"

His face, it's everything I thought it'd be and more. It's better even than when I punched him. And I'm bleeding on the ground and too worked up to appreciate it now—such a waste of a perfectly good reveal.

Or was bleeding. I think that's pretty much stopped. I try to sit up again, only to have Remus put more pressure on my forehead. I smack his hand away, and he smiles at me fondly.

"That," Kingsley replies, grinning like he just won first prize in a science fair instead of having his ass handed to him by a teenager, "is what happens when a Mate falls in battle, and her partner is one of the strongest Wizards alive. You have excellent control, Potter. I really thought you'd kill us there."

I can't contain my scoff.

I mean, honestly. If Harry were going to kill you, he would have. He was never out of control. Not really.

I don't think so anyway.

"Remember that, Malfoy," Ron growls, still on his knees beside me, "the next time you get the bright idea to betray us. I'd be happy to hide your body after Harry gets through with you."

Draco scoffs in disgust; his lips turned up in a sneer.

"I can't betray him Weasel, or are you too dim to understand the finer points of a Vow of Fealty? I'm at his mercy until the stupid oaf releases me."

Ron starts to growl deep in his chest, shooting to his feet. Harry starts to laugh, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his nose. Remus and Sirius each grab one of my hands and haul me to my feet. Sirius pushes my hair off of my face, then wraps his arm around my shoulder, dropping a kiss onto my forehead.

"Nice job, Pup," he whispers into my hair, before passing me to his Godson.

"You okay, baby?" Harry whispers into my ear.

Ummm, baby? That is a horribly demeaning term and why do I like it so much?

"Yeah," I say back shakily, watching as Ron and Draco get nose to nose. Ron is screaming about purebloods shagging their grandmothers, and Draco is asking how Ron likes sleeping in a pen.

The twins pass knuts back and forth as each win points in their unknown scoring system, over bets made who knows when.

"Ronald realizes that he's a pureblood too, doesn't he?" I ask conversationally.

"Ron doesn't realize anything that would equate him as equal with the Malfoys." He drops a kiss onto the top of my head. "I think it's time we took a day off, what do you think?"

I tilt my face to watch him, and he stares at me from under his lashes, ignoring the chaos erupting in the garden.

"A day off? I repeat dumbly. "No training? No studying. No trying to take over the Wizarding world."

"None," he agrees with a soft smile. "I'm actually rather tired of blowing thing up so be honest," he says with a shrug. "I could use a break. After all, it is my birthday tomorrow."

"What did you have in mind?"

His eyes flick to the others before giving his attention back to me.

"I'm assuming I can't keep you in bed all day to help you recuperate?"

I bite my bottom lip and Harry pulls it out with his thumb.

"No. You may not. I'm already healed and it will barely even scar."

"Fine then. What do you want to do?" He asks me softly.

I tilt my face to watch him, and he stares at me from under his lashes, ignoring the chaos erupting in the garden.

"I've still never been to the cinema with a boy," I say thoughtfully, thinking about our conversation in the bath.

"Draco needs a second wand too," he says by way of agreement. He bends his neck and kisses me, uncaring of the audience pausing to watch.

"You wipe the morons," he says. "Make them think they stunned each other. I'll talk to everyone else."

Harry runs his fingers through my hair, before I peel away from his side. I squat next to the sleeping Aurors while Harry wades back into the fight.

"I think that's enough for one day," he says as I watch him from the corner of my eye. "Everybody get dressed in Muggle clothing. We're going into London." Harry points before Draco even finishes opening his mouth to complain. "Malfoy, you're coming if I have to Imperius you to make it happen. Mrs. Weasley, you too. I'll meet you in the kitchen in half an hour."

He turns to face Kingsley.

"That was fun," Kingsley tells him, and the smile returns to Harry's face. They start walking in my direction. I wake the Aurors from their slumber, and watch with amusement as they climb to their feet. "Yeah, it was." Then his face hardens into a scowl. "Just tell your friends next time not to hurt my fucking wife."

Kingsley gives him a sharp nod.

"Same time next week?" he asks, offering his hand to Harry. Harry shakes it with enthusiasm. He grins at Kingsley ear to ear.

"Looking forward to it, Sir," he says.

Harry links my fingers with his then pulls me from the garden.