Hermione
Harry comes to a halt in the doorway to our sleeping chambers, taking me in with wide eyes. I'm sitting up in the bed, leaning against the back of the four-poster, one of my bluebell fires floating in the air.
"I thought you were asleep," he says quietly—almost whispering, afraid to disturb the stillness of the night.
"I tried," I tell him honestly, marking my page and closing my book. I did try. For ages, it seemed. Maybe I slept a little. But this is the first time in months I've gone to bed without him. The few times I made it to our room alone, he always showed up soon after. Called to me like a beacon, almost.
I could feel him tonight; league's away, it seemed. He was separated from me with wards in-between us and the knowledge that he was no longer simply an apparition away. Whatever was happening in the chamber was tense, and I did my best to stay out of it and not distract his focus. But even the meditation techniques Nate taught us to help centre ourselves for duelling couldn't quell the itchiness that crawled over my skin, like acid dipped beetles, from being so far away from him.
I wouldn't, ever, in a million years, give any validation to Harry's paranoia about being back in the castle. It isn't smart to feed the lions, after all. Or give credit to paranoid obsessions. But yes, fine, it's going to be harder being here than I had initially anticipated.
We need to get used to it, though, and tiny doses of separation in a school setting is as good a place as any. We won't be together every day for all eternity. Forever is a long time. Eventually, we'll be forced to spend a night apart.
I'm just not looking forward to when that day comes.
"No," Harry says, shaking his head wearily then shrugging out of his holster. He taps his temple. "I thought you were asleep. You've felt like it for at least an hour. You're only this quiet in my head when you're sleeping, and sometimes not even then."
Oh.
I hold up my book so he can see the worn cover and place it on the side table.
"I was reading," I tell him needlessly.
"Ah," is all he says in reply. He tugs his shirt off over his head and drops it to the floor.
Pride and Prejudice. It's one of my favourite books. I know it so well, backwards and forwards. I don't really read it anymore. I feel it. Watch it play out in my imagination.
Like a dream.
Harry climbs onto the bed and immediately collapses face first. He moans in exhaustion, and I feel his muscles shake when he lifts onto his elbows and rolls over onto his back. He's still wearing his jeans.
"That bad, huh?"
He blows out hard, his lips making a funny noise. I slip his glasses from his face and run my fingers over his brow and down the curve of his nose. His shoulders immediately begin to relax.
"I told Nev. I told him everything. The prophecy and his part in it, the horcruxes. Everything."
I run my fingers through his hair, smoothing it away from his eyes.
"How did he take it?" I prompt.
"About as well as you could expect. Freaked out. Overwhelmed. Determined. We searched that damn chamber top to bottom for that bloody diadem. Nothing is in there, except a dead snake and now the jars. I stabbed it in the mouth again, then wearing dragonhide gloves filled several vials of venom. He's actually in really good condition, considering it's been dead for years now."
"We should ask the headmaster about using it for potions ingredients then, and anything else it might be good for."
He lifts his brow at me.
"Are you going to butcher the creature?" He asks dryly. "Because I'm certainly not."
A shudder runs through me, unbidden. Okay. Good point.
"I put the new ward the twins gave us on the passageway," he continues, "so if anyone tries to get into the chamber from the girl's loo, we'll know about it."
"Smart," I tell him, and Harry gives me a tiny smile.
"I simply tried to think about what you would do."
He's silent for a moment, and so still I would wonder if he's fallen asleep, except that I can feel his thoughts running rampant.
"I don't know which of you had it worse," I say. "You? Who was given all the information doled out in pieces, but hit with the horror anew every time. Or Neville? Who got it all in one dollop, but then has to deal with an excess of horrible knowledge all in one go."
"I'd have rather had it all at once," Harry says unnecessarily. I already knew that. "But," he concedes after a moment, "I wondered the same thing. It was a shock to the system. Especially when I told him the entire prophecy, but he handled it well. Probably better than I did at first."
"Did he try to fight you for the title of Chosen One?" I ask him, only half kidding. On the one hand, who would want to deal with that nonsense? On the other, well, there are plenty who would.
Harry smiles but doesn't open his eyes.
"Funnily enough, he didn't. He immediately came to the same conclusion everybody else has."
Great. That.
That I am the power, 'he knows not'. No problem. That's not an insane amount of pressure or anything. I can handle that easily.
Right.
"Do you want to try to sleep?" I ask him. It's the wee hours of the morning, but we could still eke out two or three hours if we tried now. Harry shakes his head no.
"Do I want to? Yes. I'm desperately tired. But if I try to go to sleep now, I'll wake up with a headache and be worse off than simply pushing through. I'll just put a couple of extra pepper-ups in our pockets. How did your end go?"
I smile broadly.
"Well, now there's a story for you! Missy, Draco's elf, is absolutely adorable."
I scoot closer on the bed to Harry and thread the fingers of both hands through his hair and over his brow.
"Missy wears clothes too, apparently, because Draco has a thing against the elves in rags." He lifts his brow in question. "I know, I know. It's just like Draco. He called Missy, and I called Dobby and Winky, and Missy took one look at Dobby and burst into tears, throwing herself into his arms." I fail at smothering a snigger, and Harry opens one eye to look at me. "I thought Winky was going to have a stroke. Then I was worried that Winky was going to rip poor Missy's bow off her head. Missy apparently misses Dobby quite terribly."
"Were they," he hesitates, the thought forming in his head before it makes it from his mouth. "You know, dating," he asks hesitantly, "or whatever, before he was freed from the Malfoys?"
I giggle lightly.
"I have no idea how elf courting rituals work. I don't think so? Poor Dobby seemed oblivious to the drama taking place around him. By the time we were done explaining to them what we needed, Winky was holding Dobby's hand, Missy was sniffling and giving Winky the side-eye, and Dobby looked like the only thing keeping him rooted to the ground was Winky's grasp on his fingers."
Harry gives an adorable little snort, his chest expanding with the effort.
His very bare, very firm, very defined chest.
We have two hours until our alarm goes off, and we've at last found ourselves very, incredibly, alone…
"Not that Dobby's love life isn't a fascinating conversation, and don't doubt for a moment that we won't circle back around to this conversation, but how did the actual mission go?"
Poor Dobby. In the middle of a love triangle and doesn't even know it.
"Really well," I confirm for him. "Excellent. They got bugs in all of the public spaces and in all of the bedrooms that they could. Missy didn't feel comfortable trying to get one into Riddle's sleeping chamber, and I can't say that I blame her. Dobby offered to do it, but Winky told him that he wasn't to take the risk in no uncertain terms.
"I reached out to the twins to ask for a duplicate ledger and wireless. The ledger they were able to provide right away. They made two and kept one for themselves, the sneaky bastards." Harry makes a face like that makes perfect sense to him. "We'll have to owl for another wireless for them to spell. In the meantime, I flooed with Sirius and Remus and sent the entire kit and kaboodle over to them through the vanishing cabinets."
"Brilliant!" Harry whispers, his breathing slowing in his chest.
I lift the charmed necklace from under the nightshirt I'm wearing, a quidditch shirt that has Potter across the back.
"The necklace the twins gave us will buzz if the charm picks up a handful of keywords; Elder Wand, Death stick, Horcruxes, Hallows, Department of Mysteries. Azkaban. Longbottom or Minister."
"Not Potter, or Potter-Black?"
I shake my head, then remember his eyes are closed.
"No. I didn't want it buzzing me every few seconds. Snape says Riddle's ranting is getting worse as of late, remember. It's only going to compound when they finally raid the prison and realize what we did. Someone will be watching the ledger twenty-four-seven, or as close to it as we can. Riddle doesn't seem like much of a sharer of information. He tells his sycophants what he wants them to do minutes before they are required to do it. But even if we can get just a few minutes head start on him, that might be enough. I trust Remus and Sirius to warn us if an attack is planned on either of us."
His breathing is slow and deep, but he's still not asleep. The band of his trunks peeks out from around the waist of his jeans, riding low on his hips without his belt and the multiple holsters he now wears for his multitude of weapons. There's a straight line of soft black hair starting below his navel, leading right into his trunks.
I look back at the clock. Four forty-five.
"Are you sure you don't want to sleep?"
"Mm-hmm," he breathes softly. "Keep talking. It's nice."
I close my eyes and concentrate on Harry. The way he feels, the heaviness of exhaustion that coats his very membrane. It's occurred to me that Harry doesn't need much sleep, whereas I...do. Let's put it like that. I'm self-aware enough to realize that I'm not the most pleasant person to be around if I don't get enough sleep. We should be in opposite positions right now—me, depleted, him running his fingers through my hair.
"About what?" I ask distractedly.
I focused on Harry so hard earlier, following his movements through the chamber, wanting him with me but not wanting to disrupt him.
"Maybe about why I felt Theo Notte oath to us tonight."
Oh. That.
I'm wondering if I didn't steal some of Harry's strength. On accident. Harry for sure has more control over our connection, which is bullocks, because, on the best of days, he's emotionally disturbed. The only explanation I can give is that years of torture have given him control over his mind that most of us could only dream. But while he never takes from me, I seem to be siphoning something from him constantly. His anger, his memories, now his energy. I picture it in my mind, imagine his lifeforce, swirling with blues and greens, and kind of give into it.
Harry takes a deep breath and blinks at me like a newborn babe.
"Better?"
His lips tip up in a slow smile, and gah! I'm such a girl.
"Better," he says, closing his eyes, but not as heavily as before. "Keep talking to me," he says again.
Talk. That I can do.
"So Draco and Theo? Totally a couple."
Harry opens his eyes to stare at me, disbelief bare on his face.
"Yup," I confirm, laughing.
"What about him and Parkinson?" Harry asks, twisting his neck to see me better. I get to my knees and crawl to the foot of the bed to start working off Harry's jeans.
"Completely fake," I tell him, grinning ear to ear. "They are betrothed," I say. "Were betrothed?" I shake my head, giving up trying to understand pureblood marriage rites. "From the cradle apparently. As you can imagine, pureblood scions aren't allowed to be gay. I think we can all agree that until your little intervention last term, Draco was resigned to falling in line and doing his duty. Yet, some of these he does less enthusiastically than others."
Harry snorts.
"But he spent the summer with you, listening to you preach the merits of following your heart and other such rubbish, and now…" I shrug.
"Rubbish?" Harry says through a laugh.
I scowl and immediately grin again. I try to muster up anger in my belly as I tell the story, but all I can do is smile.
"So, they've had these two-way journals since they were boys, right? Magical walkie talkies is how I think of them. You write in one and it appears in the other. Somewhere around third year, they spelled them, so that they required a drop of their blood every time you wanted to read it. That way, if one of their fathers were to pick it up and open it, it would simply look like a bare diary. If I had to guess, I'd assume that's when the feelingsstarted, because why else do you spell a diary to only reveal the words of it's mate with your blood?!"
My husband makes a face of disgust, but I think it's rather romantic. Okay. It's super romantic. It's like Romeo and Juliet. But with blokes. Hopefully, they both don't die tragically at the end
"Purebloods," he grumbles under his breath, leaning upon his elbows to watch as I hook my fingers into the waistband of his pants.
"I tell you all that, to tell you this. Theo knew where Draco was all bloody summer!" I tell him, and Harry's jaw drops.
The shock on Harry's face is worth it, and I feel the echo of his adrenalin burst pop like a firework in my chest.
"I know!" I exclaim in response to his unvoiced incredulity. I quickly divest Harry of his trunks, tossing them off the side of the bed. I stopped sleeping in knickers ages ago. No point, really, when they always ended up on the floor or ruined. I join Harry on the bed again, straddling his thighs. His prick, never one not to preen under attention, thickens in my hand as I rub my thumb around its tip.
He collapses back into the softness of the mattress; the comforter crumpled under his back.
"He knew all of it already! Draco's turn to the light, his new obsession with Muggle pulp culture. Theo even told me that Draco has deemed Ron tolerable! Tolerable! Can you believe it?"
Harry continues to chuckle. "Ron will be so pleased," he says dryly.
"He knew everything except us being Mates, which I told him last night. Tonight? This morning?"
I shrug and lean down low to take Harry's cock in my mouth to moisten it with a swipe of my tongue. Harry groans deep in his chest, fisting the blankets in between his fingers.
"Though I don't think he knows about the prophecy," I continue while pulling away as if I never stopped. "I wanted to yell at Draco, but he looked so wobbly. It was adorable, and weird, and about a thousand other things. I don't know if they're, official, official, but I think it's safe to say we're going to be seeing a lot more of one Theodore Notte."
I climb astride Harry's body, lifting my nightshirt out of the way, and line him up with my entrance. Harry grips my hips in his calloused hands and holds me steady as I slide down his length.
"I needed this," I sigh in bliss when our connection is complete. Mental, emotional, and physical. The trinity. Three seems to be a magic number in our life. The Golden Trio, the Deathly Hallows... "I know it's only been a day. Less than, technically. But it feels like it lasted the length of a week."
My head falls forward on my neck, and my hair tumbles around my face and shoulders, hiding me from Harry's view. He immediately reaches up and gathers its mass in one hand, pushing it over one shoulder.
"You know I don't like that," he says in a gruff voice, even as his eyes roll up in his head. "I don't like it when you insinuate that the Bonds have forced us into anything. Especially this."
He puts just an infinitesimal amount of pressure in his fingertips, so little I wouldn't realize if I didn't know him as well as I do. But I know the man beneath me better than he knows himself. I begin to rock my hips. Not a lot. Just enough that I can feel him move inside me.
Once I'm upright, I remove my hands from his chest onto the mattress by his head, but Harry promptly grabs me by the wrists, places them on top of him again, and then runs his hands up my arms.
"I don't want to squish you," I say breathlessly, already lost to the sensation of Harry inside me.
He huffs out an incredulous laugh and reaches to run his fingers over my cheek.
"Love, you weigh like eight stone. Nine tops. You couldn't squish me if you put all your strength behind it."
Any other time, I'd put magic behind it and squeeze him until his eyeballs popped, but I can't be bothered to prove the equality of the sexes right now.
"It's not the Bond, Harry," I tell him, moving my hips backwards and forwards and side to side. Rotating on top of him until I feel him in the deepest parts of me. "Can't I just like making love with my husband."
He smirks at me, cocky and young and...I sigh when his fingers trail from my face, wrapping around my throat. They don't stay there long, but I've been thinking lately I might want to pop open that bondage book we have. I like the idea of being held at Harry's mercy.
"Merlin, Hermione," Harry says, his hips surging beneath me. I make a keening sound when his cock stretches me wide, the force of it unexpected. "Don't think shite like that so loud. We're liable to never leave this room again if you do."
"I'm not missing the first day of classes," I admonish him, but admittedly, I don't sound as forceful as I should. I'm so not ready to think about facing the rest of the castle yet.
Harry's so strong underneath me. So solid. I feel his heart thumping away under my fingers, where my hands are pressed into his chest. Harry doesn't try to take control. He doesn't use his hands to force me where he wants me. He allows me the pleasure of slowly working myself on his body and lets the euphoria build at a leisurely pace.
I slide my hand up his chest to wrap around his throat as he did me, and Harry's eyes roll up in his head.
"I see I'm not the only one with fantasies of being collared, my love."
Harry grips my hips tight between his fingers and thrusts, hard, into my core.
"So long as you're the one holding my leash," he says, breathy and tight.
Merlin.
I rock my hips against him, and Harry sighs in contentment.
"I don't think we need this anymore, though I do love seeing my name splashed across your back. I never knew I was such a possessive bastard until I saw you in my quidditch jersey. Now I want the world to know I own you."
That should not be so hot.
He rucks his hands up the shirt I'm wearing, and in an impressive show of abdominal muscles, leans up just enough to pull it off and over my head, dropping it somewhere to the side. It was all the more impressive because he's still supporting all of my weight. His hands cup both of my breasts, squeezing them softly and plucking his thumbs across my nipples until they're tight and stiff under his gaze.
"Have I told you recently how brilliant you are?" he asks me. "Because this was a brilliant idea."
I huff lightly and open my mouth to answer him but release a breathy moan that's immediately silenced when Harry surges up to catch my lips with his. I collapse against him when he brings his back to the mattress, his tongue twirling with mine.
"You're so bloody beautiful," he nuzzles against my ear, trailing his lips along my throat. My hands slide automatically around his head. His hair is sweaty and sticking up in every direction, and I thread my fingers through it and hold his body close to mine.
My chest flutters with butterflies when his voice trails deep and husky into my ears. I clench my muscles around him, and my stomach tightens and twists as the tension in my body rackets up until I can barely breathe.
Harry's mouth sucks a mark into my neck before he moves and starts the process over on my shoulder. There's a hand on my ass, guiding my motions as I slide up and down his length, the sounds of my gasps and moans only outdone by the sounds of my hips slapping against his.
His other hand has found my clit, pinching and pulling and flicking until I'm a mewling panting mess on top of him.
Soon there's not enough space between us for him to tease me anymore. I grind down on his fingers, pinning against my slit and rough against my clit. My breasts slide against his chest, and Harry grunts with every thrust inside me. When he kisses me, I swear our soul flows between our bodies. Even with my eyes closed, I can see our magic start to glow through my lids.
My orgasm starts from the outside in. Goosebumps erupt on my skin, and shivers rake my body as I fall apart around Harry. He follows moments after, moaning as he stiffens and spills his seed.
Harry rolls, his arms tight around my back until he's on top, and I'm arching underneath him. He leans back on his heels, still inside me, fingers trailing nonsensically over my breasts and hips. I open my eyes to see him looking over my head, and I twist my neck to see what he's looking at.
The clock.
"We have plenty of time," he says, huskily and to himself.
Then he spreads my legs and lets his mouth trail down my body.
I'm still not tired, though I have no illusions that it's anything but pure adrenaline keeping me on my feet by this point: adrenaline and Harry's magic.
I throw a Vitamix potion somewhere in the vicinity of Harry and listen for the tell-tale slapping sound that says Harry caught it from the air. I'm not disappointed. I throw a second bottle at an exhausted looking Nev, who doesn't come anywhere close to catching it, and instead grumbles under his breath when he scoops it from the floor.
"This isn't Pepperup," Nev says, looking at the green liquid through the vial. Harry has already drunk his, and I roll my eyes at his continued habit of taking whatever I give him without at least asking about its contents first.
"It's Vitamix," I tell him. "Illegal for sports, but I don't think they'd give me a detention for keeping you awake during the first day of classes. Save the Pepperup for if you need it in the afternoon. I don't really want to listen to steam shooting out of your ears all morning, and the Vitamix is better for you anyway."
Nev gives the vial in his hands a shrewd glance before shrugging and throwing it back. He makes a disgusting face, and a violent shiver rips through his limbs before he smacks his lips and bright pink colours his reflection.
"Excellent," he says with a smile, and oh Merlin, I've created a monster.
"Do we really have to go?" Harry asks though he's already rising from where he was stretched out across the couch.
"Yes," I huff, summoning my bag to me. "And, I want to get there early, before the papers arrive."
"Fine," he says in a resigned tone. "At least we have Nate today."
I already wrote out a study schedule for us, based on our schedule last time.
Winky already had a new scabbard ready for Harry for this morning. She instructed him to wear it today, and if it were comfortable, she'd make several others. I do a quick count as Harry, Ron, and Nev pull on their outer robes. Between them, excluding the Sword of Gryffindor, they have seven knives that I can see bare. That's not including the blades I'm positive each of them is wearing on their calves or in their boots.
This is getting a little ridiculous.
"Do you honestly think you guys need so many weapons in the castle?" I demand, tapping my toe and crossing my arms over my chest.
"I've been killed how many times on the castle grounds?" Harry asks rhetorically.
"How many death eaters, or accused death eaters, snuck into the castle the last time you were alive?" Ron says, and Nev follows up with. "Didn't Pettigrew share a dorm with us for years?"
Okay. Yeah. I can't even claim that the knives are worthless against magic because I've spent weeks watching the boys use magic to maneuver into close-quarters combat then stabbing each other.
Not to mention, that's kinda how I died.
"Besides that…," my husband drawls.
Harry's chin drops and his eyes narrow at my legs. I follow his gaze. So do Neville and Ron.
I'm wearing chunky boots and tight trousers. A holster on each leg, both my wands...aaaand the expandable fighting batons strapped to the outside of my thighs. I quickly disillusion them.
Matchpoint to Harry.
"I don't have a knife!" I say peevishly, and when Harry chuckles, I join them at the door and let them lead me down the hallway.
Honestly, I don't think I could carry a knife, not after what happened.
Every few seconds, a Gryffindor girl waves or winks or giggles then drops their head to gossip with their friend beside them. The boys all give Harry assessing glances as if trying to determine whether he's actually happy being saddled with the bookworm at only fifteen years old.
Harry gives one of the seventh years a particularly aggressive expression before said seventh year turns tail and runs.
My heart is in my throat, and I already feel myself blushing. I wanted this. I did. I want the whole bloody world to know that Harry Potter is my husband.
Now, who's possessive?
But still...that is a lot of giggling.
We ditch the hallways pretty quickly and use the passageways, which makes me a horrible Prefect because I should be ensuring that the first years know how to get where they're going, but the sixth year Prefects can do some of the work for once. I feel like, last time, as soon as I became Prefect, all the other Gryffindors expected me to handle the workload, and that's not happening this time around.
"Spine straight, Lord Potter-Black," Nev says under his breath. "Shoulders back." Harry responds by rote, his posture both lengthening and relaxing simultaneously until he's walking with an effortless swagger he certainly didn't have last year.
Then we bust through the final passageway, and the Great Hall is in front of us.
"Here we go," Ron says encouragingly. We make it halfway to the Gryffindor table before Harry pulls us to a halt.
Luna is already at the Ravenclaw table. She's sitting by herself and gives us a tiny wave when we catch her eye. Draco and his posse are at the end of the Slytherins, sitting alone, without Crabbe and Goyle, who are shooting Draco looks of confusion and hostility, respectively. Draco nods his chin, then lets his eyes flick around the room before closing in on mine again.
"Fuck," Harry whispers with feeling, then, "stay here," under his breath.
No one even thinks to follow him. He leaves us standing in the middle of the Great Hall like idiots as he makes his way to the professor's table.
"What's he doing?" Ron demands, looking between Harry and me.
"I have no idea," I say, brows lifted and shaking my head.
"Then find out!" Ron says exasperatedly. "Do you share a brain with the git or not?"
Oh! I do!
I close my eyes and listen to Harry asking the Headmaster if it would be possible to add another House table, one where students from multiple houses could sit together without house prejudices getting in the way.
Well damn! Why didn't I think of that?
"You'll see," I say, as Dumbledore rises from the head table, his wand in his hand. He smiles broadly and flicks his wand, and without disturbing any of the students already sitting at breakfast, the four house tables are shoved to the side, and a fifth appears directly in the middle.
Exclamations of awe and surprise erupt in the Hall. With another flick of the wand, the hangings from the ceiling appear with the Hogwarts logo, mimicking the hangings that dangle above the other four tables, only with their house logo instead.
Harry shakes the Headmaster's hand, then stops to talk to Nate before gesturing for us to sit in the new seats.
"Only Potter could ask the Headmaster to give him his own table," Draco drawls, and I start, not having noticed the Slytherins slide up beside me. He rolls his eyes in disgust, but he and Theo, Pansy and Zabini, all slip into the new table.
"Luna," I call, and heads turn in our direction as the blonde witch rises from her spot. Ron jogs over and grabs her plate and goblet, bringing it over to the new benches. She smiles prettily at him, and he blinks a slow blink before blushing furiously.
"Mind if we join?" A deep voice behind me asks, and Harry grins as Cedric and Cho walk up beside him, Cedric taking Harry's hand.
"Good to see you, Ced," Harry says, beaming. It's so good to see him. I'd forgotten about him, with everything else that happened this summer. Emotion wells up in my chest when I see the happiness and relief so clear in Harry's eyes that we were able to save Cedric from that horrible fate.
Harry grins, then takes a spot in the direct middle of the table.
Cedric takes Cho's bag from her shoulder and drops both of their things at his feet before sliding into the bench next to Harry. Cedric gives a bemused expression when Draco, who is sitting beside me, fills my glass with pumpkin juice but doesn't comment on it, and my good opinion of him goes up.
"Good summer?" Cedric asks, smirking and flicking his eyes in my direction.
"Yeah," Harry agrees, wearing an expression that's pure male. "I had a good break. You?"
"Eventful," he says, hedging, ducking his chin to hide his smile. Harry's hand drops to my thigh under the table, and his fingers slide up the inside of my thigh to where my holster is strapped to my leg.
Ron snorts, then coughs when his mouthful of food goes down the wrong pipe. He roughly wipes at his chin, then clears his throat before he says.
"What? So was ours, that's all I'm saying."
"We're starting a duelling club this year," Harry tells Cedric while I fill both of our plates. "Can I count on you joining?"
"And let the Gryffindors have all the glory?" he smirks. "Not on your life. Consider us in."
Heads look upward as owls swoop in, delivering the day's mail.
My heart is beating out of my chest, and my hands are shaking so hard I almost knock over my cup. Three owls drop in front of us, holding out their legs. I grab the two with the Prophet logo on their chests, and Harry offers Hedwig a crisper before pulling the letter from her leg.
"I don't want to look," Harry says, cringing, looking at the rolled parchment in my hand like it might explode.
It might.
Cho is watching our interactions with wide eyes, and Cedric's smile is getting wider by the minute.
It's then that I realize he got a paper delivered too.
I'm panting, my hands are sweaty, and I can't take my eyes off Cedric as he shakes the paper straight in front of him.
Cho gasps and Cedric leans into her shoulder to tell her, "you owe me a galleon."
"Damn!" she spits, then reaches into her pocket.
"Huh?"
Cedric winks at Harry, who looks as confused as I feel.
"I'm a pureblood Potter. I saw the Bonding. I was already planning to contest the results of the tournament when I saw you sprinting towards the cup so far ahead of me. I'd have won too if I'd just landed a Bonded Mate minutes before the maze. But then, you know," his smile falters, but just a tad. He shrugs. "I figured you deserved it. Nice picture by the way."
Harry laughs haltingly, looking at me then back to Cedric before shaking his head in wonder.
"Then you knew before we did," I tell him.
Cho makes a sound of disbelief deep in her throat.
Noise has picked up around us as the handful of students to receive the paper read the headlines then turn to their friends.
"Okay. Let me see it," Harry says, holding out his hand but still looking away and cringing. There are actually two papers, and I hand one away without looking and straighten out the other between us.
It's a special edition.
"Told ya," Harry huffs.
Harry takes one look at the Prophet stretched out in front of me and spits his pumpkin juice across the table.
"Harry Potter! The Boy Who Loved!"
By Rita Skeeter
What a time to be alive! I write this, dear readers, sitting at the breakfast table of none other than Harry Potter, newly appointed Lord Potter-Black, Lord of the Blackwater, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One. We all know his name. We know what we owe him. As just a baby, he defeated You-Know-Who and has sworn to do so again now that the Dark Wizard once again terrorizes our streets.
But today, dear readers, I'm here to announce a once in a lifetime occasion. Once in several lifetimes. Tears well in my eyes when I take in the sight before me. The love that practically oozes from their pores. Bonded Mates! And you guessed it; Harry Potter is at the heart of it. Literally.
Bound in magic, sealed with love, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, is proud to announce his marriage and Bonding with none other than Mrs. Hermione Potter-Black nee Granger, Great-Granddaughter of Antionette Chalamet Granger, the legendary french Alchemy Mistress.
The Bond has been confirmed with the Ministry of Magic, by the Minister herself, as well as...
"I can't read anymore," Harry scoffs, pushing the paperback in my direction. He lifts a piece of toast from a pile stacked on his plate, then drops it un-eaten with a look of disgust.
"I see they skated over the fact that my parents are muggles, and my grandmother was a squib."
"Of course they did," Harry snarls with irritation.
"Here's the actual press release," Nev says, handing Harry the regular paper. "It's in the announcements section.
Lord Potter-Black, formerly of Godric's Hollow, is proud to announce his marriage and Bonding to Hermione Jean Potter-Black nee Granger, on June 24th, 1995.
"See!" Harry says, dropping the paper onto the table. "That's so much better! Why couldn't she just stick with that!?"
"Because she's Rita Skeeter," Ron says around a mouthful of food.
"You look like a besotted fool, Potter," Draco says, leaning over my shoulder and smirking at the paper.
"He is a besotted fool," says Ron, and every boy at the table breaks into laughter.
It's a good picture. I don't know when they took it. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, smiling and talking with Augusta Longbottom and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius and Ragnok are chatting in the background, and Harry is standing at my side. He smiles, staring at me with an expression that makes butterflies explode in my belly and pushes a lock of my hair behind my shoulder before looking out of the frame.
Then the picture resets again.
"I don't mind being besotted," he whispers.
Harry leans forward to kiss me, and his eyes widen as the charm between my breasts starts to vibrate.
Again.
And Again.
Ron and Nev, almost obscenely in tune with us by this point, stare at me with widened eyes when Harry's gaze flicks to the chain around my neck. Nev nods once then reaches behind his back inside his robes to finger the knife resting there.
Here we go...