A/N
This was working up to being a 16k chapter lol. So I cut it in half. But the night is still young, friends, and there is much to accomplish.
Thanks Happily for the great Beta! And SapphicScribbler for the new pretty!
Chapter 46
Harry
"Are you ready for this?" Hermione asks, squeezing my hand as the carriage comes to a stop in front of the castle.
"As I'm ever going to be," I sigh, looking out through the window at the image of the castle bathed in moonlight.
"Meaning no," Ron says with a laugh, "but you don't have a choice in the matter."
I groan in frustration then reach for the handle on the carriage, but Nev shakes his head and beats me there.
"I need to go first."
Not this. Not now. I don't have the patience to put on any more of an act than pretending I don't want to scream all night long.
"Really?" I ask in a dry tone. "We're doing this?"
"Really," Neville insists. "Professor McGonagall was right about one thing. So was Draco. Everything you've done thus far has been with a very specific purpose. The titles and the way you've presented yourself since," he seems to choke on his tongue. "Since. It's even more important now that we're out of the Townhouse and back amongst the public. I'm assuming you weren't Lord Black," his eyes flick to Luna with her head in a book. She's not paying attention, and even if she was, she seems to know everything anyway, strange seer that she is. I distinctly remember her telling me she's glad they sent us back all those months ago. "You know, last time?"
Mi bursts into laughter, and I huff out a chuckle. Neville looks distinctly uncomfortable. It's the first time any of them have acknowledged what happened last night and what was revealed.
"No. Sirius was never cleared, Cedric was killed in the final task, and the Ministry told the world that I was a disturbed, publicity-seeking imbecile and Voldemort was for sure dead. By this point last time, I was the laughingstock of the Wizarding World. You lot were the only ones who would even talk to me."
"I wish you'd stop saying that name," Ron mumbles under his breath.
Maybe we should. After all, it's how we got caught. If Riddle placed a taboo on his name last time, there's a good chance he'll do it again. I'll mention it to Dumbledore.
Neville gives a sharp nod.
"This won't be all that different then," he jokes with a smile. "Once word gets out, people are either going to obsess over you or hate you."
"So yeah, no difference," I snark.
Mi squeezes my hand again.
"The Weasley's and Longbottom's have always been in service to the Potters, at least back when such things were done. From here on out, if we're in public together, I'm to take the lead. Ron, as your second, will be at your back. One of us will always enter a room before you. Always."
Merlin, now not only does he sound like his Grandmother, but he sounds like Nate too. One morning, we got a horribly long lecture that boiled down to the first through the door is usually the first person to die, so never lower your defences. Now, between Gran and Nate, it sounds like I'll never be allowed to enter a room first again.
"Please tell me you're kidding," I beg, but I can tell from the gleam in his eyes he's not.
"What do you think Gran was pounding into my head this morning? 'Etiquette when in service to a pureblood lord' was her mantra."
This is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted Nev to gain confidence.
"But I'm not a pureblood lord," I insist.
"No, you're not. The most powerful wizard in Britain is a half-blood with a Muggle-born Mate. The time has come to pick a side, and we need to give them a reason to pick yours. Suck it up, Harry, cause it's going to be a long school year."
With that ominous declaration, Neville pushes open the door and steps outside. I wait for his signal, then sigh as I climb from the coach.
"I'll give you tonight," I tell him, "but I'm not doing this all school year. I refuse to be as pompous as Malfoy!"
"Help Hermione from the coach," he instructs, rolling his eyes and scanning the crowds of students embarking from their carriages. One of his hands is behind his robes, fingering the blade at the small of his back.
"Allow me to be of service, my lady," I say with a joking bow when Hermione pops her head out next. She grasps a hand around my proffered fingers and gingerly climbs from the carriage. There's a double-take or two when I link our fingers together, but I resolutely put it from my mind as Neville assists Luna from the coach.
Ron takes up the rear, his shoulders pulled back and his spine straight. He used to slouch, so long and lanky that he unconsciously made himself smaller. Not anymore. He doesn't move until I start walking, Neville at our front.
I come to a halt on the bottom steps of the Hogwarts entrance, staring up at the castle. Neville, with some weird sixth sense he's garnered over the summer, comes to a stop as well, a foot on either step and looks back over his shoulder at me.
Student's bitch and grumble as they flow to the sides to avoid where I'm blocking the walkway.
"I'm not sure I can do this," I say with my heart in my throat, thinking about being trapped inside these walls and at the mercy of people I no longer trust.
We aren't trapped, Harry, Hermione says for me alone. We could leave right this instant if we wanted to. We have backups of our backups, ways to communicate with Sirius and Remus, and several methods to leave the grounds. It'll be okay.
"Yes, you can," says Neville in a gentle voice before pushing ahead and leading the way up into the castle. He doesn't even give me a chance to respond. It's either follow or get left behind. When did Neville become bolder than me? But I guess he's always been brave. He's simply smart enough not to get dragged into situations that'll get him killed. The first time he did, following me into the Department of Mysteries, he made it out at my side in one piece.
He deserves more credit.
Hermione squeezes my hand, and I can feel her disillusioned rings on her fingers.
"We'll be fine."
Famous last words. At her urging, I pick up my feet and march up the stairs.
The entrance hall is ablaze with torches and the echoing footfalls of students stomping across the stone floor. The doors leading to the Great Hall are thrown wide, and students file in to await the Start-of-Term Feast. My stomach clenches at the sight of the four house tables and the enchanted starless black ceiling, my gloom shining back at me from the reflection of the sky.
I used to love sitting at the Gryffindor table. It was the first place I ever felt like I belonged. Now, I hate the thought of my allies being so far away. Hermione is right. House tables don't exactly foster school unity. No wonder blood purity is still such an issue. You put the majority of the purebloods in the same schoolhouse, then don't allow them to socialize with any outside their ilk.
The Great Hall is chaos contained, as students bustle from table to table, shouting to be heard over hundreds of voices and sharing stories of summer. Eyes follow us as we make our way haltingly through the bustle, stopping here and there when one of our names is called. At least the stares aren't hostile this year. Curiosity is more like it.
Don't forget envy and lust, Hermione adds to my thoughts with a snigger. You look very fanciable, Harry. All you boys do. I'm probably the envy of the Hall this evening. That, or they all hate my guts.
Boys surround Hermione.
My paranoia has spread amongst our friends, that's for sure. I'm surprised Mi is tolerating it, to be honest. Hermione is holding my hand, Ron's arm is around her shoulders, Neville is walking in front of us, his hand behind him to grasp Hermione's fingers and clearing the way forward, and the Twins have taken up the rear. They weren't even in our carriage with us but just blended in behind as we hit the entryway. Luna, I feel behind me, between the twins and me. I meet Nate's eyes across the room where he is seated at the teacher's table, and he smirks at me, noticing without conscious thought how we've taken a position of defence.
The only Weasley not with us is Ginny, whom we haven't seen since we departed the Express.
On the one hand, it's incredibly annoying, Hermione answers my non-verbal query. But on the other hand, I kinda like having my own personal guard.
I laugh out loud at Hermione's mental admission, and some of the tension finally releases from my shoulders.
"I'll see you guys later," Luna says dreamily as she drifts off to the Ravenclaw table.
Hermione slides onto the bench in the middle of the Gryffindor table, and the others take seats around her.
I remain on my feet.
"Stay here," I say, leaning down towards her but my eyes scanning the head table. I turn my face to meet my wife's eyes. "I'll be right back."
"Harry?" she questions, and I swear she rubs against the inside of my head like a cat.
"I'm going to go have a little chat with the Headmaster."
Her immediate worry eats along my spine. She lifts her hand to cup my cheek, and I swallow back my fear of everybody seeing and instead lean into her touch. Catcalls and whistles fill the air from those close enough to see, until Neville snaps at someone to shut the fuck up.
Well.
"You shouldn't go alone," Nev says, already rising from the bench. Ron follows him.
"I'll be fine, guys. Stay with Mi. Start spreading the word about the meeting after the feast. Tell people it's McGonagall's request. That'll make them more willing to wait for us."
It takes me staring them down before Ron finally lowers back onto the bench, Nev, a heartbeat after him.
Please don't bite his head off. I don't want to start the school year off with you in detention for the foreseeable future.
I chuckle under my breath.
I'll do my best.
I bring her hand to my lips and drop a kiss onto her palm before I turn and straighten my robes. My heart is thundering in my chest as I make my way to the head table, dodging curious glances and hellos as I go. My house rings are visible on my fingers, even if my wedding ring is not, and it's making me dizzy the way people's eyes flick to my hands, then my face, then away again before they get caught gawking. I'm the only Head of House currently enrolled at Hogwarts, and I'm, well, me.
Tomorrow is going to be a thousand times worse. I don't know what I was thinking, agreeing to come back to school. Hermione better realize how much I love her.
We're still missing about half the teachers at the head table. Professor Grumbly-Plank, whom I'm assuming is making her way across the Lake with the First Years, and Professor McGonagall are both nowhere to be found. Flitwick is probably with the choir, prepping them to sing. But Snape and Dumbledore are sitting side by side, their heads bent together and talking in low voices.
Snape snaps his jaw shut and glares at me as I pass the house tables and continue my trek to where the Professors dine. I sense it as he attempts to breach my defences, but my Occlumency shields hold strong, and I smirk in his direction.
Better luck next time, wanker.
Dumbledore smiles as I approach, already partially lifted from his chair.
"Headmaster, may I speak with you for a moment?" I turn to look Snape in the eye. "In private," I add in clipped tones.
Dumbledore is rising from the table before I finish asking my question.
"Of course, Harry." He looks at the man beside us. "Severus, if you'll excuse us."
"Certainly, Headmaster," Snape says with elongated vowels and ice in his voice. "I'm sure Potter has a need of you, to save him from whatever mess he's made for himself, this time."
Dumbledore closes his eyes and breathes heavily through his nose before pushing in his chair again.
"This way, I think Harry. We'll be less disturbed back here."
I follow him to the hidden door that leads to the antechamber, where the other contestants and I met after our names were drawn from the Goblet of Fire last year.
So little has changed since I was last in this room, yet everything is completely different. Most overtly, the man standing in front of me. Once, I thought of him as a saviour. The grandfather I never had, trying to protect me from myself. Now though? I don't think he's a villain, but I don't trust him anymore. Not like I once did.
"So, my dear boy. Did you pull me aside as a witness while you admired the furnishings, or did you have something you wanted to say? As fine as the stonework is, we do have other things to see to tonight."
His flippantly dismissive tone catches me off guard. He's usually more placating than that, especially when he knows I'm upset. Good. I don't have the talent to mince words anyway.
"I want to know how you could possibly justify putting Hermione at risk like this? The excuse you gave Professor McGonagall about Mi's last name changing is bullshite, and we both know it. It would take you less than a minute to adjust Hermione's name on the rosters."
He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he does so.
"Speak plainly, Professor. No word games, no twinkling of your eyes, no flattery or other misdirections. Convince me why you think this is the best thing to do."
He breathes in harshly through his nose, before giving me a small smile.
"Don't be foolish, Harry. It doesn't become you. Yes, I could change her name on the roster, but her name makes little difference in the grand scheme of things. The Bond has certain requirements, and one of those is physical closeness. Do you believe I'm not aware of Mrs. Potter-Black's nighttime jaunts before you knew of your Bindings? I can't have you coupling all over the castle, and I can't have Mrs. Potter-Black sneaking in and out of the boys' dormitories every morning and night. You must share a room. Your union, blessed by Magic, must come out, for both of your sakes."
I laugh darkly at the excuse. Playing to teenage boy's hormones. Smart.
"You're saying you're announcing the Bond so that we can shag?" I ask bluntly.
"Don't be crude, Harry." Dumbledore looks down his nose at me. "But essentially, yes. You wanted the truth, and that is the truth. I know you've figured it out for yourself, the intricacies of your union. It's not only physical. It's emotional. Magical. You must be close to her for your well-being as well as hers. And that closeness comes at a cost. It is going to cause rumours and innumerable complications. Complications that would rouse even the mildest man to irritation. You are not a mild man. Excuse me, Harry, if I don't quite trust your temper.
"Since I can't have you or Hermione, for that matter, hexing every person that insinuates your impending parenthood, the easiest thing for all is to give the reason for your young marriage. It is for your benefit, first and foremost, that we announce the Bond."
"No. It's not! Convenience for convenience's sake is not a good enough excuse for putting Hermione in danger, and you know it. Don't you feel bad at all, about putting a target on my wife's back?"
His shoulders sloop slightly, so small I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't taken to studying his every gesture, and pouring over in my head every interaction we've ever had.
"That is regrettable. But it must be done."
"For the greater good, huh, Dumbledore?"
His blue eyes flash, his back straightening just a tad. I can almost hear his brain whirring behind his half-moon glasses, hearing that old motto slip from between my lips.
"The fact that this gives our side a stronger foothold is just an accidental benefit, I'm sure. The Chosen One with a Bonded Mate, sealed an hour before Voldemort's return. A happy coincidence, that its news will certainly move the public's opinion to our side of the aisle," I say in my best Draco imitation.
He doesn't rise to the bait. He looks down his nose at me, and once upon a time, I would have withered like a dead plant in the sun under that stare. But I'm not that same boy anymore. He saw to that.
"What exactly are you accusing me of?" he asks with a curious lilt to his voice.
"I'm accusing you of using the information to your advantage and putting your schemes above my wife's safety. You told me once, that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. I'm asking you for that help now." I take a step closer, my hands shaking at my sides. "Help me keep her off of Voldemort's radar. Please, don't do this, Professor."
His shoulders soften, but it's the only indication he gives that my pleas haven't fallen on deaf ears.
"I'm sorry Harry, truly I am. But it's quite out of the question. I know you loathe being the centre of attention, and after last year, I know you wish nothing more than to slink back into obscurity. But, if I may be so blunt, as wondrous as it is, the Bond makes you dangerous, and I can't have a threat as big as the one you possess wandering the halls without giving fair notice. You're a magnet for trouble, and it's only going to get worse."
That's...I let out a painful sigh and smack my hand against my leg.
"Me? You're blaming this on me," I say with a dead voice. "But you can allow professors with Dark Wizards attached to the back of their heads, and Death Eaters in disguise, or not so disguised, not only to walk the halls but have authority over students. Authority that they use to abuse, demean, and demoralize any student who they see fit. You can allow underage students to be thrown into deadly competitions which they are nowhere near prepared for—"
I cut myself off with a snap of my jaw.
Dammit. I'm yelling and proving his point.
I suck in another shuddering breath and run my hand over the blade strapped to my thigh. This isn't the time for that fight.
"Fine," I say with an even voice. "Announce the Bond, but don't mention Hermione and me—"
"Harry," he interrupts, but I keep talking over him. I don't raise my voice, but I don't slow down either.
"Look, it's as simple as this; if you want Hermione and me to remain at Hogwarts, then you won't announce the Bond between us. If you must, tell the students there's a set of Bonded Mates in the castle this year, but they've asked to remain nameless, for their privacy. Explain the dangers. Warn them that if they mess with my wife, I won't hesitate to defend her, by whatever means necessary. But, again, don't name us, not tonight.
"Hermione and I have made arrangements, but we need a day or two for things to play out. It won't be a secret for long, I promise. We'll tell Gryffindor House tonight, after the feast. The word is already going around the table that there's a meeting in the common room before bed. Tomorrow morning, on the front page of the Daily Prophet, there'll be an announcement about the first set of Bonded Mates to grace our shores in almost half a millennium, with comments from the Ministry, Gringotts, and a handful of other prominent Light-side forces. It'll be worldwide news before the week is out."
For the first time in my recollection, Dumbledore looks surprised. Good. It's time he realized he's no longer in charge. What did Malfoy say? I can't brute force everything.
I straighten my back as stiff as it'll go and meet the headmaster stare for stare.
"I'm asking as a favour, sir. I can't have it announced at the feast tonight. I'm sorry, but I won't allow it. I know my limitations, or at least, I'm trying to. Five hundred people in my face, asking questions I have no desire to answer? That's a hard limit. Let it play out in your mind, Headmaster. It wouldn't end well for anyone. However, if we let the knowledge slip out in pieces? That, I can handle."
His eyes soften, as I confirm a weakness it pains me to admit.
"You're putting it into the Prophet? I confess to being shocked! That's a bold move, Harry. Bold indeed."
"I'm tired... we're tired of being controlled, sir. Even by those who think they have our best interests at heart. You pressed my hand, as you very well know. Desperate times call on desperate measures. Mi convinced me that there was zero chance of our Binding remaining a secret. Fine. I'll concede the point. But if it's going to come out, it's not going to be announced by the great Albus Dumbledore, with me hiding behind your robes. I understand I'm going to be the face of this war, whether I want it or not. But I'll do it on my terms, not yours."
The Headmaster bows his head in a sign of acknowledgement. "Very sensible."
"You announce the presence of shy Bonded Mates at the Feast. Let me reveal that it's us in our dorms, on our terms. They'll talk, of course, but Gryffindor loyalty runs deep. They'll keep it contained as much as they can. Tomorrow, the Prophet will announce that Mates walk the earth again, and not only are they not pureblooded or among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but that one is a muggle-born, and what does that mean for blood purists' bigotry that Magic blessed a half-blood and the granddaughter of a squib with a singularly sacred Bond. The public announcement should make enough of an impression to keep Wizarding Britain thinking for a few weeks. We've made arrangements with Amelia Bones and the DMLE this morning at breakfast for them to monitor our mail for curses and the like before it's sent on to Hogwarts.
"Only a handful of students get the paper. By the time owls start arriving from home with parents asking their children questions about us, classes will be in session, and it'll be much harder to pin us down."
Dumbledore looks taken aback. And rather proud.
"That was logical and well thought out. Your delivery was flawless as well. Enough force to expect to be obeyed but with enough humanity to make me want to do so. I see your summer spent alongside Mr. Malfoy has begun to reap dividends. Salazar Slytherin himself could not have done it better. Mighty impressive, seeing as I gave you as little warning as possible about the announcement, hoping to minimize your opportunity to do something rash and foolish."
"I know you did," I mumble under my breath. My lips tip up despite my effort to keep the scowl on my face.
"I'll be sure to give Hermione your praise," I say louder. "Naturally, the paper was her idea. I was all for the rash and foolish route. Preferably, if it included hitting people. I almost got my wish when Rita Skeeter showed up on our doorstep at seven this morning."
Dumbledore laughs out loud, delight bare on his face.
"A horrible way to start the day. Skeeter is a ghastly woman, to be sure."
"My spectacular wife is more than a match for her," I say with a smile, and Dumbledore laughs again. His eyes take on a solemn glint.
"If I may offer some advice?"
I give the smallest of nods.
"Knowledge is power, Harry. I understand your need to direct the story, and I agree with it wholeheartedly. But be careful how much you share. Do you think it necessary to announce Mrs. Potter-Blacks heritage? Some secrets should be kept close to the vest."
I'm so sick of secrets.
"Some secrets, but not all. Frankly, I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Don't you get tired, Professor, trying to remember what lie you've told and to whom?"
I don't give him a chance to answer.
"Hermione isn't ashamed of where she came from, and neither am I. She didn't know her Grandmother was a squib until the summer between second and third year. Neither did her parents. When her Grandmother left the Wizarding world and married a Muggle man, she never talked about magic again. The only reason it came out to begin with was Mi left a schoolbook in the open and her Grandmother found it. Hermione is Muggle-born, but magic isn't stolen like the blood purists would have you believe. It's part of her heritage. Maybe the knowledge that she has a magical lineage, far back as it may be, will help people understand that."
"Excuse me, gentleman," says Professor McGonagall, sticking her head briefly into the backroom. Her eyes tighten when she lands on me, and my shoulders tense with the memory that at this time yesterday, I was on my knees crying in front of her and she was stuck in the storm. "The First Years are in position and the other students are getting antsy. I suggest you wrap this up before we start the sorting without you."
Her face softens just enough for me to see it, before pulling back into it's usual no-nonsense lines.
"Thank you, Minerva. Harry and I are almost finished. We will be out in just a moment."
Minerva jerks her chin in agreement and departs from the room with a tiny smile.
"Harry, would you truly leave Hogwarts?" the Headmaster verifies, looking at me curiously. He almost seems hurt at the prospect.
I look the taller man square in the eye.
"I don't want to be here to begin with. There are more important things for me to be doing than attending classes, as you very well know." His eyes flash, but he doesn't say a word. "But Hermione thinks this is the best place for us for now, and I want her to be happy."
He runs his hand down his beard in a contemplative manner.
"Then, Harry, it will be as you say," he says with a jovial tone. "I will warn of the risk you present, should some enterprising young student think to test the resolve of your Bonding to Mrs. Potter-Black, but give no more than that. You are correct, of course. News of it will spread through the castle like Fiendfyre, whether I announce it tonight or not. But, if we let it happen organically, it will be much easier to deal with. I just ask that, should a situation arise that catches your ire, you use restraint and discretion."
Restraint. Funny.
"I'll try; but I can't make any promises. Sometimes…sometimes I can't help it," I admit. "I react, then blink and realize what I've done." What is it that Dumbledore does? Give out scraps of information to make you feel like you're being included while keeping the most important to yourself? "There was an incident this summer, I'm sure you've already heard. With the Aurors. It's gotten better, but…" I shrug.
Then there was the other incident. I think about Ron unconscious on the floor, his magic floating above his head, and what little provocation it took to make that happen. I'd never get close enough to Riddle to use that spell on him. Not and live to tell the tale. But the knowledge that I could, at my discretion, strip my enemies of their ability to harm us, is always in the back of my mind. How many people are going to make me their enemy?
"All I ask is that you try, my dear boy."
He turns, then stops and looks at me again.
"What would you have done, had I agreed to not announce the Bond?" he asks me shrewdly.
"Nothing, except known that you had my best interests at heart," I reply, trying not to let him see how upset I still am that he wouldn't put our needs first. "The paper is coming out tomorrow no matter what. It's too late to stop that train. We've already sent out word about meeting in the common room after the Feast. But, it would have been a step in the direction of regaining the trust you've lost."
Dumbledore purses his lips, before seeming to rally.
"Your cloak, I think, Harry. No need to start the rumour mill churning before the feast even starts."
At his suggestion, I pull the cloak from the pouch on my hip and slip it around my shoulders. I doubt many people watched me come back here with him, and even fewer are waiting for us to return. But better safe than sorry. The Headmaster tips his head, and gives me an inquiring look.
"One last thing, before we part. Saturday, at six, for our first meeting, if that is convenient for you?"
I almost tell him no. He tenses as if expecting it.
"That's fine," I assure him. "I'm looking forward to what you have to say."
And cataloguing everything you don't.
With a wordless acknowledgement, he makes a show of opening the door, and I slip out before him unnoticed, not bothering to become visible again until I push myself between my best friend and my wife.
Everything okay? Hermione asks, taking my hand under the table.
We came to an understanding, I reply, then face the teachers' table, when the Hall is called to order.
"Was the Sorting Hat's song the same as last time, you reckon? All warnings and doomsday and such," Ron asks in a low voice, already shovelling food onto his plate.
"Word for word," I confirm, picking up a pitcher and pouring Hermione and me a drink. She pulls out one of the vitamin potions and pours it inside my cup, though I don't really need it anymore. "As was Dumbledore's little spiel."
"That's kinda freaky, right?" Ron confirms, and a shudder rips through my body, like a ghost walking over my grave.
"You have no idea," I tell him, leaning in close so we aren't overheard. "Every time it happens, I get all dizzy and nauseous. It's not happening as often anymore. The déjà vu shite. Probably because we've already changed so much. It was awful when summer first started. But it's still batty as hell whenever something repeats."
"Mental," Ron agrees, shaking his head.
"Why are there so many firsties this year?" George asks through a mouthful of food.
I lean forward over the table, taking a look at the number of little people littered up and down the benches. George is right. There are more than usual. We only had twelve in all of Gryffindor our sorting. It looks like we have close to thirty now. I didn't realize there were so many during our last go at this year. Though, I did have other things on my mind at the time.
"It makes sense," Hermione chimed in. "The war was over; people were celebrating life. I bet the next few years will have more children than normal enrolled before it evens out again."
"Gross," Ron winges. "So, what you're saying is, all these midget's folks were shagging twelve years ago."
Mi huffs and rolls her eyes.
"Yes, Ronald. That is how babies are made. Your folks had quite a few of them. Think about how often your mummy and daddy must have shagged."
Every Weasley within earshot gives Hermione a scathing look.
"Not cool, 'Mione!" Ron hisses, looking like he might be sick.
I can't help laughing at the disgust on his face. He drops his fork onto his plate, as if he can't contemplate eating after that.
"So whenja you two hook up?" Seamus asks, pointing his fork at between Mi and me with a bite of food still on the end.
I stiffen in my seat, but Hermione just shrugs around her glass of pumpkin juice.
"End of last term," she says with a bored voice. "We got married in the Great Hall. Don't you remember?"
Neville spits juice out of his mouth, spraying half the table and Ron chokes on his food. I have to pound on his black, flicking my head back and forth between my purple best friend and my wife. Silence falls around us at the table until Seamus bursts into laughter.
He bangs his hand on the wood, rattling the dishes, and laughs so hard his eyes start to water.
"Tat was a good one, 'Mione. Ya almost had me there. Married in the Great Hall," he peters off, saving all his air for his chuckles and wiping at his eyes.
Everyone else joins in with the merriment, those that know the truth with grimaces and harsh painful laughs and nasty looks at Hermione as they try to regain their composure.
"Yeah. Funny!" I snap, giving her a hard stare and trying not to boil over.
"Oh, lighten up, Harry!" Mi says grinning, swatting me lightly on the arm.
The rest of the feast passes in playful banter, until the Headmaster rises to his feet and the tables clear of the mostly empty dishes.
My heart thuds out of my chest, and I tighten my fists when sparks start to dance over my palms.
"Now that we've all had our fill of our delicious feast, we have a few start of term notices to go over. All first years should know that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits, and a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Usually, knowing that I was one of those students would make me laugh, or at least smile good-naturedly. However, I'm trying so hard not to puke, the feast twisting around in my stomach like snakes, that I can't even work up a grimace for him.
Try not to look like your world is collapsing in, Hermione sends me. It won't be bad as all that.
Yeah. Says her.
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.
"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Smythe, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"I'm going to throw up," I say out loud.
"It is rather horrible, isn't it?" Hermione agrees, her head tilted to the side to repeal the word for word speech from our last Fifth Year.
"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual."
The Headmaster takes a deep breath and looks at all the students.
"As everybody knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining strength."
As expected, the tension levels in the Great Hall rise precipitously, as students lean closer together, taking comfort and strength from their friends.
"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, and the Ministry has assigned a contingent of Aurors to guard the castle and its grounds morning and night. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them - in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."
Dumbledore's blue eyes sweep over the students before he smiles once more.
"Last but not least; we had an auspicious event happen at our school at the end of last term, in this very Hall, and we were all quite unaware of the fact until just recently. Hogwarts is playing host this year to Britain's first set of Bonded Mates in nearly four centuries. Gringotts and the Ministry have each confirmed the validity of the Bond, and it has been sealed into the official record books."
Immediately, the tension breaks, with gasps and cries of delight scattered throughout the Great Hall.
"Fred!" I snap, and point my head towards Seamus, who's sputtering in shock and pointing at me and Hermione. Fred grabs him by the back of the neck and shakes him like a dog.
"Shut up until we get back to the Common room," Fred hisses into his ear.
"What?" Seamus says, still gaping like a moron, looking between us and Fred. "Oh yeah!" he babbles excitedly, as realization dawns on his face. "Yeah! Sorry, Harry! Me bad." He's vibrating with excitement in his seat.
My eyes scan the other students, looking for I don't know what. Anything that indicates they know it's us, and are going to make a move to assassinate Hermione in the middle of the Great Hall.
Ridiculous, I know, but I can't help the panic that's crawling at my throat and the way my palms itch from nerves.
Please don't kill anybody, she asks, her eyes doing a similar sweep.
I can't make any promises, I admit, trying to keep my face comparable to those around me.
Dumbledore raises his hands, and silence blankets the Hall as if he cast the charm. But even Dumbledore isn't that good, because as soon as his hands lower, a simmering level of chatter breaks out between the students again.
"The couple has asked for privacy, so that they may speak to those closest to them first, and acclimate to being back in the castle with so many people. Those of you raised on bedtime stories of Bonded Mates know how overwhelming the Bond can be, and a thousand questions from a thousand students will only make that worse.
"I know it's exciting, and you will be able to tell your grandchildren that you were there when the Bond was sealed or attended school with the pair. But, it is my duty as your Headmaster, and their friend, to warn you that should a Bonded Mate feel there is a danger to their Other, nothing in this life or the next will stop them from protecting their Bonded."
Dumbledore waits while the rising gossip dies back down again.
"The connection between Bond Mates is sacred. It is a magical binding that cannot be broken. History is littered with stories of those that attempted to get between Mates, or to harm a Bonded Mate, only to pay the price with their lives. It is a fascinating subject, truly. Madam Prince has added several books to the Hogwarts collection for those who would like to verify the romanticism of the overprotectiveness of Bonded Mates, and the punishments dealt with those that have challenged them."
"Who is it?" Someone yells, and a hundred other voices follow.
I meet Draco's eyes from across the room, and he tilts his chin, a silent acknowledgement that he has Hermione's back.
The Headmaster smiles brightly, and shakes his head in refusal to tell.
"That is for them to announce and for them alone. Have no fear, however, that you will anger them by accident by not knowing their identities. All who gazes upon their Bond will quickly realize the truth of it. Should a student, or teacher, for that matter, attempt to amuse themselves by eliciting a reaction from our Mates, neither I nor the Aurors roaming our hallways, will be able to protect you. Please keep in mind that in the Wizengamot, a Bonded Mate cannot be held responsible for their actions when defending their other half. Some things are stronger than mortal men, and the connection between Bonded Mates is one of them.
"Now!" he says, smiling after that ominous warning. "Your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you would wish. Off you go! Pip pip!"
The room explodes into noise, the scraping of benches across stone floors and the excited babble of hundreds of students trying to guess the identity of the Mates.
Not one person looks at Hermione and me. The band wrapped tight around my chest, squeezing my lungs until I couldn't breathe without getting dizzy, loosening its hold some.
I can handle Gryffindor House.
Seamus jumps the table and hauls Hermione in for a hug. She bursts into surprised giggles, not even able to hug him back before he's laying a kiss on her cheek and taking off through the crowd, hurrying to catch up with Dean.
"See!" Hermione grins. "I don't know what you were so worried about."
It's not the Gryffindors that make me nervous.
Hermione stands on the bench and starts calling the Gryffindor first years over to us.
"Fred, George, go block off to the Dorms, would ya?" I tell them. "We're going to help the Prefects with the Firsties. As soon as we get there, we'll make the announcement." The twins both nod, and with Lee at their side, take off back towards the common room.
"Ah man, do we gotta?" Ron complains. "The midgets are so squirrely."
"Yes," I say with a laugh.
"Be nice to them!" Hermione admonishes, looking down at Ron. "They're already scared of you."
Terrified looks more like. Their eyes keep darting to Ron and me, then flicking away again with pink cheeks and a hitch in their breath.
I find it kind of amusing this time, rather than it making me furious.
It's a long walk towards the common room, not being able to take the usual shortcuts. Hermione thinks we should get them used to the regular path before we show them the passageways. She's right, of course, but it feels like it takes forever until we get there.
"Mimbuius mimbletonia," Nev says with a huge smile at me over his shoulder when we get to the portrait, and the little ones watch with awe as Ron demonstrates how to climb through the portrait hole.
The common room is awash with noise, a hundred bodies taking up space and trying to talk over each other. The twins catch my eye, then stand on the knee-high sitting table between the cluster of couches.
My heart is in my throat again, nerves instead of fear. Hermione's heart is pounding. All eyes turn to the twins as they try to bring order to the turmoil.
"Quiet you lot! We have an announcement to make!"
"Where's Professor McGonagall?" someone asks, others standing on tiptoes and looking around.
"She didn't call this meeting, we did."
Complaints start in earnest, as some of the older students turn to head towards the dorm.
"Fine," Fred says. "If you don't want to know…"
"Who the Bonded Mates are then…" George teases.
Squeals of excitement erupt around us.
"Too late to back out now," Ron mumbles, leaning down and whispering into my ear.
"I don't want to back out," Hermione replies delightedly, grinning as wide as I've ever seen her.
She wants to scream it from the Astronomy Tower. Her smile makes me smile, even if I'm terrified.
"If Fred and George are finally announcing their marriage," Angelina jokes, "then most of us already suspected!"
Laughter breaks out among the Gryffindors, as George gives Angelina a forbidden hand gesture.
They jump down from the table, and motion for me to take their spot. I take a deep breath, my hands shaking like crazy and my vision blurry from how dizzy I am.
"No, I am," I say as I take a step onto the table, then hold my breath for the explosion.
I'm not disappointed. It's like a blast wave of sound against my face.
"No way!"
"You're shitting me."
"Of course, it's fucking Potter!"
I lift my hands in a pleading manner, and the room falls, if not silent, then as quiet as I think it's going to get.
"First, I need to promise to keep what we're about to tell you to yourselves. It's going to get out. We made an announcement in the paper. But if a friend from another house asks a question, just tell them no comment, okay. We're Gryffindors! Brave of Heart, and we protect our own!"
A roar goes up from the crowd and fists rise into the air, the older students grinning, the younger students looking at the teenagers towering over them with awe and a little bit of wonder on their faces.
I lean down and grasp Hermione's hand, yanking her onto the table with me. She laughs and almost falls right off again, until I gather her in my arms. Immediately the chatter picks up, comments and questions running rampant.
"It's fucking Potter and Granger!" Seamus yells, jumping up and down. I yell right back at him.
"Nope, Seamus. Her name isn't Granger. It's Hermione Potter-Black. May I introduce you all to my wife, Bonded by magic itself."
The room explodes into noise, ten times as loud as it was in our kitchen all those months ago. It's louder than when we celebrated as a House the day I won the egg, louder than when we won House Cups or Quidditch championships. Questions come flying from every direction imaginable, and I laugh from the sheer ridiculousness of it. I can not possibly be heard over the deafening noise in the common room.
Not so surprising though, nobody looks surprised. Excited, as if it makes perfect sense.
Because it does. I still can't believe we didn't see it before. I kiss her deeply, because how can I not when she looks so lovely and screams of delight and encouragement rip through the air.
"Go, Harry, Go!" someone yells, though I have no idea who.
Those who ignored the meeting summons are drawn back down from the dorms simply by its sheer intensity. People pull at us from every direction, and I hold Hermione closer to me, and try to bring some semblance into the disorder.
Hermione hides her face in my shoulder, while the Weasley's attempt to bring the room back to order. I can't help but laugh at the looks on people's faces: excitement, disbelief. One of the Seventh-Year girls is openly weeping into her best friend's arms. Their enthusiasm is infectious. I lift my hands again, Hermione's arms still tight around my waist, her cheek against my chest.
The talk dies down, but not as far as before.
"Does anyone remember me completely losing my head when they called the contestants for the final task last term, and I responded by climbing over the table?"
Comments of Yes! And Oh My God! I remember! I saw it!
I nod in agreement and grin.
"Well, I kissed her, because I figured if I was going to die, then I didn't want to die without having done it at least once."
"Took him long enough!" Hermione shouts with a laugh, and every girl in the room laughs with her.
"The light!" Lavender squawks, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.
"The light," I confirm. "That was the Bond, sealing. But because Hermione and I were both raised by Muggles, we didn't know until the bank told us after summer hols had already started."
Another round of questions breaks off at that, some people flat out laughing at us. Parvati is fanning Lavender, who's had to take a seat on the stairs to keep from passing out, apparently.
Ron decides to get his two-sense in.
"If you think you guys are surprised," he hollers, from where he's perched on the edge of a couch, "you should have seen their faces."
Laughter erupts in mass at that announcement.
"It's true," Hermione confirms. "We went to the bank with Harry and his Godfather so they could finalize Harry's adoption, only to be told there's no point, because Harry is already emancipated, married, and legally Lord Black. Don't! Ask me what my parents said when we told them!"
Groans and peals of giggles scatter amongst our audience, as a hundred people imagine telling their parents that they accidentally got married at age fifteen.
I wait until it calms down again before I continue.
"As amazing as this has been though, we need your help. You all know Voldemort is back. He wants me dead, more than anything. This means that Hermione is now in more danger than you could possibly imagine."
Tension filled quiet falls like a sheet.
"We'll need your help to control the rumours. If your parents send you owls asking questions, tell them you don't know. If your friends ask you what we do when we're hanging in the common room, tell them it's none of their business. If they ask us about our dorm, tell them to fuck off."
Colin Creevy, of all people, is the one that asks the awkward question.
"You guys are going to share a dorm room?" he asks in his puberty altered voice, squeaking before clearing his throat.
"Of course they are morons," Ron says rudely, and Colin blushes a horrible shade of red. "They're married!"
"We're in the head students' dorm since Gryffindor doesn't have a head boy or girl this year. That information you had better keep to yourselves! And it's locked and warded, so don't think that you can sneak in and use it to snog in private!"
Another wave of laughter and guilty looks break out over our friends.
"Last year, during the Twi-Wizard Tournament, you lot were the only ones who had my back. We need you again this term."
Cries of support and 'you can count on us' reach us from all corners. Hermione brings her thumb to her eye and wipes away a tear from under her lashes. Ignoring the hundred-plus students around us, I kiss her on her forehead and feel her sigh against me.
"One last thing before we let you go. We're starting a Defense Club. The first meeting will be the first Saturday of term, hopefully. You're all welcome to join. That, you can tell your friends about. We've already gotten it approved with the Headmaster. First Year to Seventh, everyone needs to be ready for what's coming."
"And you think you can help us with that?" McLaggen asks, sneering
Patronuses? I ask Hermione, looking into her eyes.
Always impressive, she agrees with a little smile.
We face the room again and pull out our bonded wands.
"Expecto Patronum," we say together, and our mated deer explode from our wand tips, cantering around the common room. We've never done the charm together like that, and the deer are almost solid. Almost real enough to touch. Oohs and Ahhs and a 'holy shite' escape our friend's lips as the deer rub up against the students before disappearing into thin air.
"How many of you can do magic that advanced?" George smirks. Three people raise their hands. "So, Saturday?" Lee Jordan asks in an excited tone.
"Saturday," I agree. I jump back onto the floor, take Hermione's waist in my hands, and lift her delicately from the table, never taking my eyes off her gorgeous face.
We're swarmed by half of Gryffindor house, asking questions, and offering their congratulations.
Five minutes I tell her silently as she's pulled from my arms by most of the girls in Gryffindor. It's time for bed for the rest of the castle, but I still have shit to do tonight.
I let Ron and Nev answer questions for me while I watch Hermione from across the room. She's glowing. She's positively beautiful.
A streak of red catches my eye as Ginny slinks off to her dorm.
Okay. Ten minutes.
I don't mind watching Hermione quietly celebrate that she got the guy. Especially since I got the girl.