The house elf gave Harry no time to react as he zipped across the distance and collided into Harry's legs and wrapped his tiny arms around him. Harry couldn't stumble, now pinned in place as he was fiercely hugged around his calves.

"D-Dobby?" Harry was surprised by how strong the little elf was.

"Yes, it is me, Harry Potter sir," he tilted his head upwards, ears flopping. His large, tennis-ball green eyes stared up at him, swimming with tears.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I work for Mr Dumbledore now," Dobby said, freeing Harry's legs, which Harry was very grateful for. He put a hand on Dobby's shoulder, confirming that he was indeed there. It appeared that in the year or so since Harry had seen Dobby last, he had managed to coordinate his clothes a little better. He was dressed in the jumper that Ron had given him one Christmas, shrunk down to fit. His socks matched and his football shorts were neatly pulled up around his tiny waist. He wore one of the many hats he had taken when Hermione went on a knitting spree in fifth year.

Harry led Dobby over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Hermione pulled her bag off her shoulder and put it on the desk, moving to unpack and sort out their inventory. Harry met her gaze, knowing that she was giving him time and space to reunite with Dobby.

"You don't work at the castle anymore?" Harry asked. Dobby shook his head, causing his ears to flop violently.

"No, there are bad wizards at the castle. Dobby does not want to work for bad wizards anymore, Harry Potter, especially the new headmaster. I came to Hogsmeade for new work and I met Mr Dumbledore." Dobby said, his eyes bright. "He says that because his brother was my old employer, I can now work for him and I don't have to work at the castle."

Harry looked over to Hermione, who caught his eye.

"You're a free elf, Dobby. You don't have to work for anyone," Harry said quietly.

"I is getting paid, Harry Potter," Dobby said earnestly, "and I like work. Mr Dumbledore lets me have my own room and I can visit the castle whenever I want to so I can see Winky."

Harry was surprised that the younger Dumbledore would honour the arrangement Dobby had with the old Headmaster.

"Well, that sounds good. I'm glad that you're not at the castle while the Death Eaters are there," Harry said, "do you know much about what is going on up there?"

Dobby looked down, nodding. "It is bad, Harry Potter. The bad wizards teach the young ones how to hurt."

Alarmed, Harry looked up at Hermione. "What do you mean, Dobby? They're teaching Dark magic?" Dobby nodded. "Do they use Dark magic on the students?" Again, Dobby nodded.

Harry got to his feet. Hermione moved up to him.

"Harry, we can't…"

He shot her a look and turned from her, anger surging through him. He had his suspicions that things would turn that way at Hogwarts when Death Eaters were put in the teaching staff, but the barbarism of making the students use the Dark Arts on each other, and cursing them too. Likely also using corporal punishment.

Harry sighed, painful as it was to turn his back, he had no choice. This wasn't his fight. He knew that Neville, Ginny, Seamus and the others would do all they could to resist the new regime. The D.A. would stand together. An idea flickered in his head. He still had his charmed galleon, he could send them a message.

No. Stop it. I can't torture myself like this. I can't get involved… it's too dangerous.

He turned back to Dobby.

"Dobby, we're both pretty exhausted, but I'd really appreciate it if you could bring us something to drink and maybe some towels?"

"Of course, Harry Potter. Anything you need, I will bring." He then looked over to Hermione and scuttled over, hugging her legs. "I kept one of your hats, miss."

"And it suits you," Hermione said, "but please call me Hermione, Dobby." He backed up, bobbing his head enthusiastically.

"I will be back with some refreshments and some towels."

Harry jumped violently at the loud crack of Dobby's apparation. He stared at the space where the elf had been and raised his head, meeting Hermione's equally shocked expression.

"Well, this is certainly not how I expected this to go," Harry remarked, "what is it with us going on missions and ending up accidentally becoming house guests?" He moved next to her, putting his Invisibility Cloak down on the desk next to her bag.

He undid his coat, feeling rather warm in the room. Hermione didn't respond to his quip. Her hands were frozen on the chair set at the desk. He put his coat over his cloak and stepped behind her, bringing his arms around her.

"Come on, we should make the most of this while we have it," he said softly, bringing his face up to her neck and nuzzling in. Her shoulders dropped as she sighed. Harry reached around her, unzipping her coat for her and helping her out of it. He saw her smile at his gesture. He put her coat down next to his.

"I'm going to inspect our facilities and freshen up a bit," Harry said to her, "I… kind of stuffed my clothes really deep into the bag so… I might have to spell some stuff clean."

Hermione turned, smiling softly at him. Then she saw what he was wearing and her smile grew, her eyes warming.

"You wore the blue?"

"I wore the blue." He confirmed, then turned away, kicking off his shoes as he went.

As he slipped through the door to the bathroom, he searched for a light switch before remembering he was in a magical building. He clicked his fingers, triggering the lights. He started back in surprise, seeing a rather large bathtub. He was a little stunned to see that it all looked rather nice. Maybe he had been unfair to assume that the Inn was as dingy as it looked downstairs. He shot the bathtub another look, running his fingers up through his hair, feeling the sweat that had gathered in the stress of the last hour.

An idea was blooming. He moved over to the toilet and went to do his business.

Crack!

"Harry Potter!" Dobby was right next to him. Harry had his wand out, left hand on his chest where his heart was hammering from the fright.

"Dobby… can you not… jump on me like that?" He gasped out. Dobby looked up at him with his huge eyes.

"I didn't mean to cause a shock," Dobby said, then he lifted his arm full of fluffy white towels. Harry turned and took them from him. "I put your supper with Miss Hermione."

"Thank you, Dobby."

"Is there anything else?" Dobby's eyes were wide and hopeful, eager to serve. Harry sighed.

"No, we can manage from here. I'll see you in the morning."

Dobby nodded and with another crack, he disappeared. Harry carried the towels over to the counter next to the bathtub.

"I hope he didn't catch you with your pants down," Hermione called out from the bedroom. Harry gave a soft laugh.

"No, but it was close!" He called back, hearing Hermione's delightful giggle. The idea that was blooming into his mind was now fully-fledged. Now that he knew he wasn't going to be attacked on the toilet, he went to try again, this time with more success. Business accomplished, he headed back into the bedroom, finding Hermione checking the bed and pulling back the quilt and blankets.

She paused, looking up at him, tilting her head to one side. She gestured over at the desk. He glanced, seeing a platter laid out with a hunk of bread, some cheese, ham and a bunch of grapes. He rubbed at the back of his neck, walking over.

"Oh, well, I didn't expect food. Are you hungry?" He asked her, walking over to the desk. He plunked one of the grapes from the bunch and popped it in his mouth.

"Not really, and I'm not really that tired either," she replied, running a hand around the back of her neck. She pulled her hair loose from the tie that was keeping it back in a ponytail. Harry watched as her curls dropped loose on her shoulders, making his heart skip. He chewed and swallowed the grape. He jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom.

"I have an idea for that," he said, throwing on his lopsided grin that promised mischief. He headed back into the bathroom, hearing Hermione following. He stopped in the doorway, looking at the bathtub. "I reckon we could both fit in that."

"You want to have a bath? Together?"

"Why not?"

Hermione had no response. She curled her arms around Harry's slender, lean waist, feeling the tensing of his abdominal muscles. She turned him around so they were face-to-face. Harry's gaze dipped down to her blouse, to the hit of her bra underneath.

"We should probably set up some charms. I have a feeling that the security here is not as strong as what Bathilda had in her house." Hermione said, causing his eyes to jump back up to her face. "I'll get the sneakoscope… and bring the drinks."

Her touch left him as she went back into the bedroom. Harry strode into the bathroom, his hand coming up to touch the horcrux hanging around his neck. He seized the chain and pulled it free, along with his pouch, and set them other over on the sink. He caught his reflection in the mirror.

"You're a sleaze, young man. " The mirror told him.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry was stunned.

"Undressing her with your eyes. Have some respect."

"I… but she's my girlfriend."

"Boys these days."

Harry frowned and pulled off his glasses before moving over to the bathtub. He worked the taps, sending water splashing into the porcelain tub. The back of his neck was hot from the telling off he had just received. Hermione returned, carrying a tray. She set it down on the counter and looked at Harry.

"Why do you look like you've just come from Professor McGonagall's office?"

"He's sulking." The mirror replied. Hermione jerked around. Harry scowled, drawing his wand.

"Don't make me hex you."

Hermione let out a giggle. "Are you arguing with a mirror?"

"He's losing."

"Silencio. " Harry flicked his wand at the mirror. Hermione put her hand to her mouth. "Not a word." Harry said grumpily, moving over to her.

"You are so ridiculous." She poured them both drinks from the jug. Harry saw that it was the same mead that they drank earlier. Rosmerta's Mulled Mead no less. She looked him up and down. "And why are you still in your clothes?"

Harry wheeled around to the mirror. "And you think I'm a sleaze?"

Silenced by Harry's own hand, the mirror didn't answer. His shoulders dropped and he cracked Hermione a cheeky smile.

"I like it when you undress me."

"Undress yourself." She put her hand on his chest and pushed him away. Harry grinned at her and turned away.

"I believe this is called a striptease."

Hermione burst out laughing. It was such a wonderful sound. Harry never knew how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh until they were alone together so much. He crossed his arms in front of him and grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one go. He could feel Hermione's eyes on him as he walked away to the bathtub, throwing his shirt down on the tiled floor. He fiddled with his jeans, undoing his fly..

"Enjoying the show?" He asked her as he dropped his trousers, leaving him in his boxers and socks. "Mind you, socks don't exactly scream sexy." He looked down at the socks he was wearing. "Especially these." They were the odd pair that Dobby made him one Christmas.

Hermione approached him from behind, her hands pressing against his bare chest. She brought her face down on his shoulder, her lips kissing the scar on his shoulder blade where he had been impaled on a fence while being beaten up by Dudley and his gang.

"You, Harry Potter, are incredibly sexy."

Harry shot a pointed look at the mirror and as he did, he saw them in the reflection, seeing that Hermione was in just her bra and knickers. He hadn't heard her undress. He saw them together, for the first time, her arms around him, her hair cascading down her back. Him, standing three inches taller, his black hair a stark shock against his pale skin. He watched Hermione's steady breathing as she caressed his skin, her hands running down his chest, going down to his stomach where they traced over his faint six-pack. It used to be a lot more visible when he trained often as part of his responsibilities as Quidditch Captain, but hints of his lean form were still there. He distinctly thought that maybe he shouldn't neglect his fitness. Being fast and fit could save his and Hermione's life.

"I think you should stop checking me out and check on the bath," Harry said, a little dazed at the attention Hermione was giving him.

Hermione's hands left him and she turned to the bath, dipping her hand into the water. His gaze went on her back, following the dimple of her spine, all the way down to her black knickers and lower, to her thighs and calves. His breathing was elevated, drinking in her perfect legs, her soft body with curves that he couldn't believe he had never noticed before.

"I think it's done. Any more and we might flood the pub."

"That might give us away," Harry remarked. At the thought, he put his hand to his head. "Merlin's wrinkly butt… Hermione, what the hell are we doing? There are Death Eaters down the road from us and we're taking a bath!"

Hermione turned after she stopped the water flow. She folded her arms over her chest.

"I do believe this was your idea."

He blinked, and then he laughed. "No wonder it's insane then." He listened to the echoing drips splashing into the water. The steam rising off it was soothing, making him eager to remove the remains of the chill that his body had absorbed from the dementors. He bent down, pulling off his socks and then when to fully undress. He caught sight of Hermione, seeing her hovering, a little nervous. He smiled at her and dropped his pants, standing before her totally nude.

He stilled as Hermione unclasped her bra and removed it, her eyes glued to Harry's face as she did. His breath halted in his throat. There was a still intimacy to the moment, not a hungry, desire filled exercise where they were desperate to fill their touches with each others' skin. It was exposing their weaknesses, removing their armour and showing each other the people that they were underneath it all. They were soft flesh, tissue and bone, blood and sinew, hair and skin. Magic was only a part of who they were. The physical form of their bodies, now stripped of the awkwardness of childhood and adolescence, were metamorphosising into the adults they would become.

They were staring at each other, caught in the moment, as Hermione then dropped her knickers, revealing herself to him. Not as a girl, not a witch, but as a woman, mature, fully formed. Harry moved like a man waking from a dream. He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the hard bones under her skin. He ran his fingers down her arms, looking down at her breasts, at the neat patch of brown hair. As he stood up to her, he saw his own manhood.

"I don't think I'm the Boy-Who-Lived anymore, Hermione," he said in a low voice, "because you… make me feel like a man. I don't know what it means, but I think I just grew up."

Hermione responded just by smiling and she turned, from him, stepping into the bath. His breathing was ragged as he watched her, moving after her in chase. There was something so indescribably beautiful about the way she sunk into the water, sliding back against the sloped edge, the water coming up to her midriff. Her breasts were above the water, her hair now falling over them, covering them. Her eyes were shining up at him, her lips slightly parted.

"Come in," she said softly, lifting her hands out of the water, appearing almost nymph-like. Harry was caught in her spell, stepping into the water himself. His skin tingled at the warmth and he lowered himself. He had managed to draw the short straw and had the taps at his back, but he didn't care.

"Turn around." He said to her. He looked up at the soap dish, taking the bar in his hand and lathered it up. Hermione's lips curled in a soft, excited smile and she turned, the water lapping around them. She edged back, sitting with her back to him. His legs came around and his penis pressed against her back, sending shivers of pleasure and desire through him. But this wasn't a moment of lust; it was a moment of love. He wanted to respect her, make her feel appreciated and safe in his hands.

He rubbed the soap into her skin, making her laugh softly. He gently went in circles, not sure if what he was doing was right, having never done it before. He had no memory of being bathed. Any experience he had of bath time was being shoved in the tub after Dudley had been in and dunked under the water while his aunt vigorously scrubbed at him like he was the dishes.

Judging from the soft sounds Hermione was making, he assumed he was doing well. He lifted her arm and cleaned them, then he reached around her, rubbing at her breasts. He brought his head around over her shoulder, kissing her soapy skin. Her head rolled and she gasped at the touch of his lips, evidently very aroused. He smiled but he didn't make his touches anything other than caring and gentle. He then put the soap down and cupped his hands, scooping up water to rinse off the soap.

"My turn," Hermione said to him, glancing over her shoulder. Harry had a brief flash of hesitation.

While he had shown her his scars, it had been dark under that blanket, and there were other marks on his skin that he knew she would notice if she touched him as tenderly as he had touched her. It was an old fear and one that he shouldn't have anymore, not when he would have nothing to do with his relatives ever again. He didn't want Hermione's pity, but then he didn't want to hide.

He made his decision and turned, his body squeaking on the tub as he shifted around. He handed Hermione the soap. She took it, careful to not squeeze it and shoot it across the room. Her other hand pressed into Harry's stomach, guiding him to scoot back so he was flush against her. Her legs came around him, causing a bolt of excitement to shoot through him. He heard her lathering up the soap behind him.

As her hands rubbed his shoulders, he closed his eyes at the gentle touch. To his horror, tears sprung to his eyes. He had no memory whatsoever of being cared for in such a way. Her touches were a lot more purposeful than his. She was more diligent, cleaning him under his arms, over his chest, inching him forwards so she could clean his long back. He let out a gasp when her circular motions touched where he knew the more noticeable marks would be. He felt her pause and knew then that she had seen it.

He opened his eyes and his vision was blurred with tears. The truth rushed out of him.

"I was beaten as a child," he said quietly, "with a belt."

Hermione dropped the bar of soap in the bath and brought her arms around him, pressing her face against his freshly cleaned back.

"Who by?" She asked him, her voice calm, not angry, not pitying.

"My uncle," he said, "my aunt hit me a few times too, but not anything that left a mark. And my cousin roughed me up a lot, but nothing as bad as… the belt." Once he started to speak, he felt it was easier to talk about. "I… didn't want you to see before. They're pretty faint now."

Hermione let go of him and her fingers brushed down the vertical lines. He let out a breath.

"Did he do it often?"

"No. Only twice," Harry said. He concentrated on Hermione's gentle, soothing touches. Hermione sighed as she ran her fingers down each scar she found, documenting his secretive abuse with her touch.

"How old were you?" She asked quietly.

"Seven the first time," he answered, knowing immediately. It wasn't something he could ever forget, not as long as he lived. "Ten the second."

"So young," Hermione's voice was soft, "thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I'm… really moved that you told me."

"You're the first person I've ever told," he said. Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around him, moving close, hugging him tightly. He let out a breath. "Thank you for not pitying me."

Her grip tightened and she burrowed her face into his wet, soapy skin.

"You're not a victim, Harry," she said, her voice reverberating through him, "you're a survivor. Every mark on you is a sign of your strength, not your weakness."

She shifted around him so she could bring her face to his, her breasts pressed against his back. Her hands claimed his face.

"Before this is over, we'll both likely gain some more scars, but we can make it through, together," she said and kissed him gently on the lips. Harry sighed into her mouth, his tears falling onto his cheeks. He could feel in building in his chest, warmer than any fire, stronger than any patronus. As his lips moved against hers, the water slopping around them, it was growing from the flame of a candle to a blaze as bright as the sun. Their bodies rubbed against the bathtub as they tried to move and hold each other. Their legs were in a tangle. Harry had one knee bent, one leg straight. Hermione had one leg hooked around him, the other resting on top of Harry's.

Their kiss wasn't one of passion, their embrace not one of lust. It was one of love. As Harry felt it truly for the first time in his life, his magic ebbed out of him, warming the water around them. Hermione gasped, opening her eyes, her hands running over Harry's face, seeing the magic rippling off him.

"Harry… your magic… I can see it."

Harry lifted his arm, staring in astonishment at the glow. "Wh-what am I doing?"

Hermione answered with a firm kiss and drew back. "I don't know, but don't stop. You're keeping the water warm."

Harry brought his arms around Hermione and she sighed, leaning into him.

"You know, there probably isn't enough room in this bathtub for the two of us," she said into his chest.

"Only just noticed?" Harry asked her, wincing as he tried to shift his leg around into a more comfortable position.

"A nice idea in principle, but in practice?"

"Not very practical."

"No," Hermione agreed, then she smiled, resting her head on his chest. "I need to wash my hair and you're in the way."

"Wow, so romantic." He said, then he brought his hand up to his own hair. "I could probably sort mine out too. You know, it makes sense that we got together. We both have the wildest hair out of anyone in Hogwarts."

Hermione laughed and splashed him, taking him by surprise. He blinked, gasping, then he laughed and splashed her back. His grin was broad, carefree, his green eyes alive with joy.

"Is there any shampoo?" She asked him. Harry looked around the bathtub, seeing only the soap dish. He shrugged.

"I could ask Dobby but-."

Crack!

"Harry Potter, sir…"

"AHH!" Harry's shout drowned out Hermione's scream. Hermione dropped down, hiding her breasts. Harry's hand shot out, snatching his wand from where he left it on the edge of the bath.

Dobby's ears poked over the edge of the bathtub, his green eyes peering up at Harry.

Harry bit his lip, preventing himself from cursing at Dobby's intrusion, knowing that the creature didn't mean anything by it. His face was lighting up, burning, and he could see from Hermione's crouched form that her face wasn't in any better condition.

"Harry Potter, Miss Hermione… you don't have to share the bathwater. We have plenty."

Hermione now was giggling, her chest shaking. Harry was left hideously embarrassed.

"Um… we… we…" Harry couldn't get the words out. "We need shampoo." Dobby blinked and clicked his fingers, summoning a bottle to his tiny hand. He reached out, holding it up to Harry who cleared his throat, covering his privates with one hand as he went to take the bottle from Dobby.

"T-thanks Dobby. Um… in future, can you come if I ask specifically? Not just when I say your name."

Dobby nodded. "Of course. Goodnight Harry Potter, Miss Hermione." He bowed and then disappeared.

Hermione screamed with laughter the moment he was gone. She hugged her body as her laughs rushed out of her, hoarse, tears now streaming. She went full hysterical. Harry watched, stunned. He had never seen her laughing so hard. He chuckled, then looked at the bottle of shampoo in his hand.

"Did that really just happen?" He asked, a little breathless.

"Y-yes… yes it did."

"That was worse than when Moaning Myrtle saw me naked in the prefects' bathroom."

Hermione's laughs pitched up and she rocked back, her back slapping against the back of the bath. She was wiping at her eyes.

"What?"

Harry now joined in properly. "Yeah, didn't I ever tell you about that? I was in the bathroom, trying to work out the dragon's egg, and Myrtle appeared. She was trying to see me under the bubbles."

"Nooo…" Hermione wailed, now in stitches. "That is hilarious." Harry laughed and handed her the bottle of shampoo.

"Anyway, here, I think I've stopped being a human hot water bottle after that shock so we should finish before the water gets cold."

Hermione took the bottle from him, then startled him by dunking her head in the water. He inched back against the taps, wincing as the hot one scolded him and the cold one was frigid against his skin. He scooped up handfuls of water, wetting his own hair. It was plastered to his head. Hermione was busy lathering shampoo into her hair. Harry watched closely when she dipped her head again underwater, washing out the bubbles. The sweet floral smell of the shampoo hit him. Hermione then rose up, her dark, wet curls falling down her. Drops of water ran down her face.

"That was a bit awkward," she said, then handed him the shampoo, her eyes went up to his face and she tilted her head to one side. "You look… different with your hair like that."

Harry patted the top of his head.

"Huh, you mean when it's actually flat for once?" He asked. Hermione was still staring at him. He felt a little uncomfortable. He then looked at her hair and smiled. "Your hair like that reminds me of what you did to it for the Yule Ball."

Hermione gave a laugh. "That spent hours. I hope you don't have a problem with my hair being a little on the wild side?"

"No… no not at all," Harry said honestly, "I like it." He squirted shampoo into his hand and he lathered it up into his own locks. "My aunt hates my hair. I had more haircuts than anyone in my year at school. No matter what, it always ended up the same way. Stuck up all over the place."

"Is that why you keep it long?" Hermione asked him.

"Nah, that's so it goes over my scar," he said, feeling a bit strange that he was talking about his hair. "I haven't had short hair for years. No idea what I'd look like." He saw Hermione eyeing him, likely trying to imagine it. He then dunked his head under, rinsing, and came back up.

"Here," Harry slicked his hair back, exposing his forehead. "Harry Potter with flat hair."

Hermione's eyes were wide. "It… really suits you."

"Really?" Harry asked, then chuckled, "well, if I get the chance to nip into the barbers, I will get a fresh trim just for you." Hermione grinned and splashed him again.


The following morning, while Hermione was still sleeping in their room in the Inn, Harry was facing the mirror in the bathroom, frowning at himself. Set on the shelf above the sink was a shaving set that he hadn't noticed. He had a suspicion that Dobby was responsible. Harry wasn't all that familiar with self-grooming with his facial hair only recently being an issue. He rubbed at the stubble that was getting a bit out of control. It was starting to get itchy. He eyed the shaving set, nervous about using the razor. He wished he had the charmed razor that he got for his birthday. There was likely a charm for shaving, but funnily enough, he hadn't thought to learn it.

He had noticed, that included with the razor and the foam, was a pair of scissors. He was dwelling on what Hermione had said about him suiting his hair being flat. Harry pulled at his mane of black hair. It was the longest it had ever been before and he felt a little bit embarrassed by it. Usually, he didn't really care about his hair. He wasn't stupid. He had seen the girls watching him in the library when he messed up his hair subconsciously. He had seen his father do the same thing in the pensieve for that effect. Now though, his hair looked, frankly, ridiculous.

And Hermione prefers it short.

Taking the scissors, he sighed at himself.

"Well, here goes nothing," Harry said, bringing the scissors to his hair.

"Don't moan at me when you give yourself a bad cut," the mirror wheezed. Harry waved the scissors threateningly at the mirror.

"Don't make me silence you."

Harry spent the next half an hour snipping at his hair. Jet black locks were soon all over the floor around him. It was mildly cathartic as he cut away the characteristic mane. As he came to his fringe, he remembered when his aunt shaved his hair off, leaving only his fringe to hide his scar. He lifted it, looking at his signature mark.

"Why hide it now?" He asked himself. "I've got nothing to be ashamed about." He brought the scissors up and cut away his fringe, leaving just a small cow's lick that was now short like the rest of his hair. He lowered the scissors, running his fingers through his hair, shaking the excess off.

He stared at himself, barely recognising the person in the mirror. There was nothing hiding his scar now, not the way that the skin puckered slightly around it, the stark angular lines. He traced it with his finger, frowning thoughtfully.

"Very handsome. " The mirror complemented.

"Thank you, but that doesn't mean I forgive you for calling me a sleaze."

"I'll live. "

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, vanishing the hair from the floor. He then went to shave, but stopped. He rubbed his hand over his face.

"What do you think, mirror? Shave or leave it."

"Leave it, young man. I believe your lady likes the rugged look. "

Harry stifled a snort but did as the mirror suggested. He packed up his toiletries and checked the time. Half eight. He opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, smiling when he noticed Hermione was still asleep. Her back was to him, bare, as they chose to sleep bare next to each other. It had been a chaste night's sleep after their intimate bathing session. He headed over to the bed, fully clothed and ready. He climbed on the mattress, his weight stirring Hermione. She sleepily rolled over, blinking in the morning light.

"I didn't dream it then," she said, staring up at the ceiling. "We are in Hogsmeade."

"That we are," Harry confirmed. "And we have a breakfast date with Aberforth in half an hour."

Hermione didn't respond immediately. She gazed upwards, her mouth curling, then she turned to see him, frowning at first, noticing the difference. Then her eyes lit up.

"You cut your hair?"

"Hmmhm…" he ran his hand over it. "What do you think?"

She scrambled across the bed to get to him and kissed him.

"Blergh, morning breath," Harry moaned, earning himself a smack on the arm.

"Hush," she said, then rocked back, gazing at him, bringing a hand up to run through his locks. "A bit uneven in places, but… " She gave him a rather uncharacteristic look, a little shy. "You look very handsome."

Harry grinned, his cheeks pinking at the compliment. "Well, I didn't want to look like a tramp hanging off your arm."

"Very thoughtful," she observed, "now if you're done in the bathroom?"

"I am. It's all yours." He said, laying back on his pillows. Hermione rolled out of the bed, stretching as she did. Harry's eyes drank in the outline of her naked form as she went to gather her clothes and washbag. She didn't bother covering herself up as she walked to the bathroom, now completely at ease around him. He smiled, his heart jumping in his chest, feeling that intense warmth that struck him all of a sudden the night before.

He checked his clothes, wearing the blue shirt that Hermione had selected for him, paired with his dark jeans and rather battered boots. His mokeskin pouch rested on his chest. He got up to his feet, finding his coat on the desk and he rummaged in the pockets, taking out the items that belonged in his pouch. He returned the map. As he did, his finger brushed over the fragment of mirror. He had almost forgotten about it.

When Hermione returned to the bedroom, he finished checking his equipment and looked over. She was dressed in her grey and pink blouse, tucked into her jeans where she wore a tan leather belt, her wand stuck through it like a weapon holstered at her side. The horcrux was glinting at her neck. She was tucking it out of sight and buttoned up her blouse. Harry saw that she had braided her hair and tied it back behind her head so it was out of the way, practical.

Having seen the horcrux, it hit him then what they were looking to accomplish and where they were heading to achieve it.

"Hmm… I should practice my parseltongue," Harry said as she moved to his side. She smirked.

"It has been a few years. When was the last time you spoke in it?"

"Not since second year. It's a bit tricky to do on purpose," he said, "shall I give it a go?"

Hermione shot him a side-along glance, then she turned, grinning. "Go on. Try and… say a full sentence."

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck. "I have to really imagine that I'm talking to a snake to do it… which is strange. Other parselmouths are able to communicate. I wonder why I'm different."

"Maybe because you haven't inherited it?" Hermione suggested. Harry nodded. It made sense. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a snake. Unsurprisingly, the snake that came to his head was Nagini. He filled his mind with the hissing quality of her voice when he heard her through Voldemort, the powerful coils of her body. Something pulled in him and he spoke.

"You look beautiful this morning, Hermione. " He said, then opened his eyes. He knew it had worked from Hermione's gasp. His tongue had felt strange as well, fluttering in his mouth unnaturally.

"Urgh, that was weird," he said, in English this time. He opened his eyes and looked over to Hermione, seeing her wide, awe-filled eyes. "What?"

"I've never seen a tongue move like that. I wondered, before, if it's possible for you to teach others phrases, but I don't think it's possible. It's not just a language, it's an ability. I don't think it can be learned," she said.

"Well it's a good job we have a parselmouth on the team then," Harry said, earning a nudge from Hermione. He checked his watch.

"Right, we should go and do our part as guests here," he said, reaching for his invisibility cloak. He threw it over his shoulder where it shimmered with its ethereal power. "I have a strong feeling that I'm about to get thoroughly grilled by Aberforth."

"I think you might be right," Hermione said, her expression concerned, "I know he respected you for standing your ground but…" Harry caught her look, understanding what she was saying.

"I'll try to keep my temper," he said, "and I'll be careful. He might have saved our lives, but there's something about him that makes me feel defensive… exposed." He shook his head. "I don't know what it is."

Hermione bit her lip in worry. "Just worry about finding a way into the castle. That's why we're here," she said to him, putting her hand over his, "I know it's tempting to ask him about Grindelwald and his brother, but we can worry about that another time. This-," she patted at her chest where the horcrux was, "is the mission." Harry nodded.

"I don't think asking him about his brother is a wise move. You heard what he said about him. There is bad blood there."

"I know…" Hermione gave him a worried look, "and I suspect that he wanted nothing to do with his brother's plans considering he's not even in the Order anymore."

"No," Harry agreed, "I don't want to push our luck any more than I have to." He squeezed her hand. "Come on, we don't want to keep him waiting."

He took the room key from the desk and led the way out into the corridor. He locked the door behind them, but they had all their valuables on them. Hermione had her bag, he had his pouch.

The smell of cooking hit them at once. Harry followed his nose back to the sitting room where they had met Aberforth the night before. He looked around the room and his gaze snagged on an object that he hadn't noticed the night before. Propped up on the mantlepiece was a small, slightly dirty mirror. He moved towards it at once, curious.

"What is it?" Hermione asked him at his back. Harry stared at the mirror, the back of his neck prickling. There was something about the mirror that made him think he had seen it before. He glanced up at the oil-painting above, seeing the sad, wistful girl, then looked back down at the mirror. He could see his inquisitive expression and his scar, now on display with his new short hair.

Harry heard shuffling footsteps making their way up the stairs. He half-turned, watching. A cat darted up inside, black with white socks, followed by Aberforth, who greeted them with a grunt. Hermione crouched down, looking at the cat.

"Hello, you," she said in a high, soft voice, extending her hand to the cat. It made a beeline for her and rubbed against the offered hand.

"Moggy's not going to leave you alone now," Aberforth said. Hermione grinned and stroked Moggy around her ears, causing the feline to roll on her side. Aberforth then scowled at Harry, wiping his hands on his apron as he entered. He pointed at the mirror.

"I got that from Mundungus Fletcher," he explained. "About a year ago when he was selling…"

Harry stumbled back in shock as he worked out what it was, colour leaving his face. Hermione looked up at him warningly as he turned to look at Aberforth, his rage sparking like an inferno. His hands balled into fists.

"When he was selling things from Grimmauld Place, you mean?" Harry asked him, advancing, "you were aware that he was pawning off goods from a dead man?"

Aberforth's blue eyes were piercing him, making him want to retreat and apologise, but he stood his ground, crossing his arms.

"Let me finish, boy, before you pout at me," he growled at Harry, "I gave Dung no money, only a hex on his rear. I'm well aware of what that mirror is… what it may mean to you." He pushed past Harry roughly. "I thought your godfather might have given you the other mirror from the pair making it a very dangerous possession in the hands of the Death Eaters."

Harry listened, his arms dropping down to his sides. He then reached up to his pouch, fishing inside it, and drew out the sharp, shard of mirror. Aberforth looked over, scowling at the object in Harry's hand.

"I… smashed my one when…" he couldn't finish the sentence, instead he held up his shard. "I kept this fragment to remind me of the stakes… of the people I've lost because of my mistakes."

Hermione straightened, looking between Harry and Aberforth. Aberforth turned and went to stand in front of the mirror.

" Harry Potter ," he said in a clear voice. Harry's brow furrowed as the reflection in mirror on the mantlepiece swum and instead of showing the room from the mirror's perspective, they were now looking at Harry's own confused face. He stared down at the shard in surprise, then looked at Aberforth, seeing his blue eyes and remembering the flash of blue he had sworn he had seen in his shard.

"It was you… it was you I've been seeing…" Harry was stunned. He lowered his shard, staring at Aberforth, not understanding. "But why? You… you said that the Order was finished. Why care to check on me?"

The old man didn't answer. He deactivated the mirror and turned from Harry, heading to the table, pulling the chairs out for him and Hermione like he had done the night before.

"Come, take a seat." Hermione's face was pale with worry. She grabbed Harry's hand at once when she sat down next to him. She looked up at Aberforth as he sat down opposite. He wore a brief look of guilt at Harry's reaction.

Harry raised his head. Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention to the mantlepiece, to the oil-painting hanging on the wall. A young girl. He turned his gaze back to Aberforth.

"That's Ariana, isn't it? Your sister?"

Aberforth's eyes hardened for a moment, then he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. He steepled his fingers, a gesture Harry had seen too many times from the man's brother.

"And how d'you know that name? Been reading Rita Skeeter?"

At the name, Harry's gut seized. He brought his hands onto the table, staring across at the man.

"I didn't come across the name from her. I heard it from Elphias Doge."

"That old berk," Aberforth muttered, shaking his head. "Thought the sun shone out of my brother's every orifice." He fixed Harry with a long, piercing look. "You'd get a more accurate picture of my brother from Skeeter than you will from Doge. He knew sod all about what things were like, he was too busy touring the world with Albus. It was only when my mother died that Albus had to face reality as the head of the family."

Harry studied the man, thinking of the grave that he and Hermione had found in Godric's Hollow.

"I saw… their graves," he said carefully, "your mother and sister."

Aberforth's mouth settled into a hard line. "Sightseeing, were you?"

"Actually, no. I was there to pay respects to my own family. They're buried in the same place, you see," Harry said coldly, "Godric's Hollow is a pretty tragic place."

Again, there was a flutter of guilt in Aberforth's gaze.

"Aye, I never want to take a step in that place again. Not after Grindelwald left his taint all over it."

Harry felt Hermione's hand grip his leg.

"Dobby!"

Once again, there was a loud crack and the house elf appeared. He went to speak to Aberforth, but then saw Harry there. His large green eyes darted between the two, oddly conflicted.

"Master Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Miss Hermione," he said quickly.

"I see you know our guests then," Aberforth grunted.

"Yes, Master Dumbledore, very well do I know Harry Potter." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. Aberforth shot Harry a suspicious look.

"Er, well I've known Dobby for years." The little elf beamed at Harry's words, his chest puffing proudly. "I'm the one who set him free."

Aberforth looked utterly astonished. "I beg your pardon?"

"I tricked his old Master into giving Dobby a sock," Harry said, feeling Hermione's hand gripping his thigh. "I saw how he was abusing him and, well, Dobby did me a huge favour so I repaid him. I suppose since then, we have a bit of a bond."

Aberforth gave Harry a strange look and then nodded, accepting his short, vague explanation.

"Well, Dobby, we could do with some tea and breakfast."

"Wait… no," Harry put his hand up, "I won't accept any more charity. I didn't free him for this." He looked at Aberforth. He reached into his pouch, finding his money. He hadn't needed to use it for a while, but he still had a reasonable amount. He put his bag on the table, the coins making it thunk. He turned to Hermione, seeing the burning look in her eyes and knew that she was very happy with his gesture. He took out three galleons.

"Here. I think that covers food and board," he pushed them across to Aberforth, who eyed him. He didn't take the gold.

"You appear to be able to think for yourself, lad," He looked across at Dobby who bowed and vanished with a crack. "Reminds me of your grandfather, Fleamont…" Harry's head jerked around. "He's why, lad. Why I bought that mirror. Why I covered for you with those morons and why I heard you out." He gestured over at the mantlepiece. "I owed him a debt and I never managed to repay it. Life debts are inherited. I finally paid him back for saving my life when I saved yours."

Harry had not expected that answer, but he knew from what he learned from Bathilda that it was very likely that Aberforth knew his grandfather. They were from the same village, lived on the same street.

"So you're helping me, helping us, because of my grandfather?" Harry asked, frowning, "not to get back at your brother." Aberforth gave a bark of a laugh.

"Perhaps there is a bit of that too. If I can help you with the mess that he's left you in, I will," his expression hardened, "I'm sure Albus cared greatly for you, lad, but those he cares about end up in a worse state than if he'd left them well alone."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked breathlessly, looking alarmed, glancing over at Harry. Aberforth looked at Harry and his eyes went at once to his scar. Harry instinctivly went to flatten his fringe over it before remembering that he had chopped his fringe off.

"Just that my brother was not as all-seeing and all-knowing as you may believe. He made mistakes and it wasn't always him who suffered for them."

Dobby reappeared, making them all jump. The house elf clicked his fingers and the table was suddenly filled with food. Harry grimaced at the sight of Dobby's hard work, guilt churning in him at the thought of Dobby waiting on him. There were platters of bacon, fat sausages, scrambled egg, hashbrowns and toast. There was a pot of tea brewing, steam billowing from the spout.

"Now, tuck in, and I'll tell you exactly how Dobby is going to sneak you into Hogwarts so you can do my brother's hard work for him beyond the grave."


AN: Thank you so much for your support. The follows and favourites have blown my mind. I hope you enjoy this journey and where we go next. Now I sadly have IRL commitments so updates are going to be a lot less regular. Believe it or not, I have been writing and posting as I go. If you are a H/Hr fan, there is an event going on atm and I can't link about it but another website that does fics is the host. Please head over there and read some of the entries. They are amazing.

Thank you again and mwah