A/N: Chap 17 review responses are available as always in my forums. And now...a respite.

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Chapter Eighteen: Precious Gems

Harry woke shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering like a typewriter, though he was not cold. The shivering became so violent it actually began to hurt, and at that moment what felt like a spike driven through the side of his head made him moan in pain.

Instantly, thin, warm arms wrapped around him from behind and he felt a blessed body pressed against his back, while movement in front of him forced his eyes open. He saw a blurry figure move off the bed and return moments later with a phial in her hand. "Here, Harry, take this," Hermione said.

"Can't," he managed to say.

The thin arms around his back pulled him into a sitting position, but the shift of movement made the shivering and the pain in his head even worse. Still, Hermione's hand gripped his chin, pried his chattering teeth apart, and poured the potion in.

Instantly the shivering passed; in their absence Harry melted down back to the bed, Luna's arms around him the entire time. His eyesight cleared as his magic corrected his eyes. While the shivering stopped, the pain in his head did not. "Just my luck," Harry muttered.

"What?" Hermione asked as she climbed back into bed to face him.

Harry smiled weakly. "I woke up in bed with two beautiful girls, but I hurt too bad to do anything about it."

Behind him, he heard a strange sound and felt a touch of moisture against his bare back—Luna had laughed even as she quietly wept.

Hermione did not cry, but she looked deeply upset and worried. She rested a hand on his cheek as she looked into his eyes. "What can we do, Harry?"

"You're already doing it," he whispered.

"Roll onto your back, Harry," Luna ordered.

He did as instructed, gritting his teeth at the pain the motion caused. "The potion for the Cruciatus damage would clash with any pain potions," Luna said. She propped herself up on her elbow, showing that, unlike Hermione, she did not sleep in a shift.

Harry, catching the sight of her chest, smiled goofily. "Boobs make it better."

Luna grinned. "If that's the case, Hermione needs to remove her shift as well, since she is larger than I am."

"Boys," Hermione said with a disgusted shake of her head. She then removed her shirt, and Harry grinned, though the grin quickly turned to a grimace. "Sorry," he whispered.

"There's something I read about," Hermione said. "Between bonded matches. Normally…well, normally polygamous marriages don't share one bed. Each wife has her own room, but sometimes…" She stopped blushing furiously. "Anyway, Luna, do what I do, okay?"

Hermione placed her middle finger at the interior end of Harry's right brow and very gently ran it across his eyebrow. Luna did the same, but lighter.

"A little harder, Luna," Hermione said. "Now, think about Harry feeling better. It's about…"

"Intent, yes I understand," Luna said. "Mum used to do this to me when I was a little girl. But it only works if…" She blushed and looked at Hermione. "It only works if you love the one you're trying to help, and we haven't had any love potions for the past few days."

"Luna," Hermione said, even while she continued to rub Harry's brow, "don't you think I…well, it's such a clichéd and overused word."

Luna smiled distantly. "I was raised knowing I would bond with him; that I was going to be the tool to help him found a new coven. As powerful as he is, I'm not sure I was really necessary to do that—I think he could have handled four bonds easily. But I knew I was his. Knowing that was the only thing that got me through those years after they murdered my Mum. When I came here, and everyone treated me like rubbish, I always knew he was watching me on that magical map of his, and in my mind I built up this wonderful image of the Boy Who Lived, who was perfect in every way and would love me best."

Hermione listened in silence—it was the first time Luna had actually spoken to her without any active dislike in her voice. "But you knew…"

"He would have to bond again; yes, I knew. But in my dreams, the other wives were not as pretty or strong as I was. But then I saw a vision of you and him bonding. You have such lovely breasts, and your face is pretty, and your legs longer and shapelier than mine, and I felt so very short and ugly. And I realized that I was nothing more than a tool for him, just like our mums intended."

Hermione blinked at the admission, and then looked down at the sound of a snore. Harry had fallen asleep again. With a wry, sad smile at the pain her young husband of just a few weeks had suffered, she looked up to see Luna staring at him with such adoration it made her heart skip a beat. "You love him."

"He's not what I dreamed," Luna whispered. "But when I got over the dream, I realized that in his own way, he was better."

Moved, Hermione reached across and cupped the younger girl's cheek. "As much as I despise the thought of sharing him with Justine—my very best friend—I can't imagine how hard this has been for you."

Luna reached up and took the hand on her cheek in her own, blinking her glistening silver eyes. "It has been hard," she admitted. "Mum's book told me that I had to bond with him first, but I didn't really understand what it meant. I'm not sure even she understood that you would have to bond with us both. How odd it felt to have your magic in me just like Harry's."

"It felt bloody naughty is what it felt like," Hermione said with a deep blush.

Luna blushed as well before she snuggled into Harry's side. She reached across Harry's broadening but still narrow chest to cup one of Hermione's breasts in her thin hand. "Was it really so naughty?"

Hermione's cheeks flared brilliantly. "Just between us?"

"Harry's asleep."

With that determination, Hermione rolled away and out of the bed, padding across the cold room in nothing more than her knickers, before she climbed back in behind Luna. "I didn't like it at first with Harry," Hermione said. "It hurt, and it felt forced, and I knew he was as upset about it as I was."

"And me?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around the thin girl, squeezing her tight. "I could see how much it hurt you, Luna. I know I haven't been very nice to you. I'm impatient sometimes, and I…well, I guess I am a know-it-all because I get frustrated when people don't do what I think they should. But I never meant to hurt you, and I know that our bonding hurt you, but you did it anyway."

"For him," Luna whispered. "I'd do anything for Harry, even love another woman."

Squeezing the younger girl close, Hermione said softly, "Thank you for sharing him, Luna. I know I don't say it, and I probably won't very often, but I do love him too. I think that's why it was so easy for him to hurt my feelings, even if he never meant to. I think I loved him the first time he touched my magic, back before First Year."

Luna nodded, wrapping Hermione's arms under her breasts in her own arms, and smiling contentedly. "I don't hate you, Hermione," she whispered. "I love you too."

"Me too, Luna. Just…don't be mad if I never admit it in public, ever."

Rather than be upset, Luna laughed, wiped an eye, and then leaned back over her shoulder to kiss her fellow wife's cheek. "Your secret is safe with me."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Harry woke up again shortly before noon alone in bed. He tried to prop himself up and was both pleased at the lack of trembling in his arms, and disgusted at the lingering pain in his head. He looked up as the door to their room opened and Hermione walked in with her book bag. "Oh, good! I brought some food, if you're hungry."

"I'm starved," Harry admitted. He had to scoot over to the edge of their rather large bed and swing his legs over the edge to stand unsteadily. "Hmmm, whatever you girls did this morning worked really well," he said. "My head still hurts, but nothing like before."

Hermione beamed at him and stood holding the door while he moved into their mini-common room to eat. Hannah sat at the one of the desks across the room against the wall separating their bedroom from the common area. She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Harry, how are you?"

"Better, thank you. Luna and Hermione have taken really good care of me."

"I bet they have," Hannah grinned.

Harry sat and smiled in appreciation as Hermione removed and un-shrunk a large plate of food. "You're a life saver!" he crowed before tearing into the meal with abandon. "So, any news?"

"Oh, lots of news," Hermione said. "Minister Scrimgeour has already replaced Dame Dolores with an Auror in the DADA post until a longer-term replacement can be found for next term. Dumbledore released everything to the papers, and not just what she was doing to our group, Harry. Umbridge targeted every Muggleborn in the school, but Dumbledore must have added his own charms to Umbridge's office, because the Daily Prophet had a picture of her casting the Cruciatus curse on you on its front page."

"What are the Covens doing?"

"Not much at the moment," Hannah said from the other side of the room. "Some of the Light-Aligned covens have used this as an excuse to wrest back some power from the Dark Block, and it has brought some balance back, at least for the moment."

"Dumbledore said there would be a price, though," Hermione said.

"There usually is," Harry said, before quickly finishing his food. "At least we'll have a new DADA teacher." He then stood, and to Hermione's surprise, wrapped the girl up in a tight hug that ended with a long, sensuous kiss. "And that's for taking care of me. Thank you."

After Hermione caught her breath, she said, "Well, of course, someone has to. Oh look, I must get to class!"

After she was gone, Hannah chuckled and began gathering her own books for class. "Just how did they take care of you, Harry?"

"They kept me from being alone," Harry said simply.

Hannah's chuckle ended as she stared at him intently. "I think you're going to be a good husband to them, Harry. Just remember that they aren't always going to be able to say what they need."

"Yeah, I figured that part out already."

Hannah laughed and left the room to go to her own next class.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Unfortunately, Harry saw upon his first morning back, amid the stares and snickers from the other students, that Auror John Dawlish had no intention of doing any more than what Umbridge did before. "Read your books and keep quiet," the surly wizard said. "I didn't sign up to babysit a bunch of dunderheads, so don't bother me, and we'll get along just fine."

If the lack of DADA instruction wasn't bad enough, Dumbledore announced that the Ministry moratorium on Quidditch had not been lifted, although Scrimgeour at least committed it to only being one year in length. The political repercussions of the bombing last year were still reverberating through the International communities.

Still, the other teachers seemed to relax at least a little with the absence of the 'Inquisitor', as everyone was now calling Dame Dolores. October came to an end as a cold fall began to creep over Scotland. During the second week of relative peace, in which Harry was able to catch up with all his studies while he and Hermione tutored Luna on her Muggle Studies subjects, Harry at least decided he needed to start drilling again before he lost everything he gained in America.

So at six one Saturday morning, to the moaning protests of the girls, he climbed out of bed, slipped on a track suit and trainers, covered himself in warming charms, and left the castle for a run. Sergeant White had taught Harry a suite of exercises designed to give him maximum strength and mobility without requiring a weight room, and Harry went through all of them.

Or tried. Almost two months of no exercise undid many of the gains he thought he'd made, but he channelled just a little of the anger that simmered in his mind into pushing himself through each set of push-ups, crunches, pull ups (using a support bar in the empty Quidditch stands) and finally a run. He absolutely hated it, but having seen the results in the past, he knew it would be worth it.

When he was done with his calisthenics, as White called them, he began the battle drills the Sergeant taught him. American soldier mages were taught a small but effective repertoire of spells, concentrating primarily on defence and offence. There were no frills. "What good is making statues dance in the middle of a fight?" White yelled (he never actually spoke, even casually). "If you are in a fight, don't fuck around. Kill the fucker! You got that?"

At which point, if she happened to be watching after class, Luna would always ask, "Why would you want to have sex with someone you're fighting in the first place?" White would shake his head, and training would continue. Personally, Harry suspected it was Luna's way of protesting the Sergeant's colourful vocabulary, but she framed her protests in such abstract questions not even Harry could say for sure.

He finished in just over an hour—he was going to have to work on that—and trotted tiredly back to the castle. He was surprised to find Hermione at the edge of the pitch staring at him with wide eyes. "What was that?" she demanded.

"What was what?" Harry asked.

"What you were doing at the Quidditch Pitch?"

Harry was still unwilling to talk about his restored memories of his time in America out loud, so instead said, "Just something I started doing. Why did you come out here?"

"You weren't there when we woke up, and we were worried about you," Hermione said. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously in thought over something. "Well, come on in. I can't imagine how you could get so dirty and sweaty in the cold like this." She herself was wearing a heavy coat over her school robes, and still shivered.

"Are you a witch or not?" Harry grinned at her, before casting a warming charm.

Hermione rolled her eyes and led him back into the castle. "Go take a shower, Harry. You stink, magic or not."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Harry finished the first week in November feeling better about his conditioning than when he started. The wondrous thing about magic was that muscle soreness simply did not last. Magic worked to repair and strengthen the tissues of a wizard's or witch's body of its own accord, in the same way the bodies of Muggles heal after injury, only at a greatly accelerated rate. The result of this was that after a week of steady exercise, Harry recovered a great deal of the progress he lost after two months of inactivity.

He woke early Saturday to begin a longer weekend-workout when Hermione and Luna both grabbed him and pulled him back down. "It's cold," Hermione groused. "Stay here."

"But Hermione…"

"Harry," Luna said from his other side, "are you really arguing about leaving the bed of two young witches?"

"I need to work out."

"I have something else planned," Hermione said, before resting her arm on his chest. "Stay with us, Harry. Sleeping in one or two days a week won't hurt you. You can do your regimen later today."

Luna snuggled closer and whispered not so subtly, "And I'll make it worth your while."

Blushing brilliantly, Harry stammered stupidly, but stayed right where he was.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

"I guess I was caught up in other things—I didn't realize it was even a Hogsmeade weekend," Harry admitted as Hermione and Luna led him out of the castle to the waiting carriages. He grinned when he saw Neville and Hannah there, with Susan Bones sitting next to Hannah. Across from them, he saw Jessica Rivers and Justine Finch. The three of them filled the carriage, and the thestral began pulling them with a nicker of welcome to Harry, who nickered back to the animal only he could understand.

"So am I the only one who didn't know it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Susan said without preamble. "A group of us are meeting at the Hogs Head Inn. You're going to be there too."

"I am?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You are," Hermione said. It was a statement of fact, and Harry knew better than to argue with her when she sounded like that.

Across from him, Neville grinned and said, "Say 'Yes, dear,' Harry. Get lots of practise in."

"Yes, dear," Harry said back at his friend and former roommate.

The girls in the carriage laughed at the two boys while around them the grounds of Hogwarts faded into the thick trees that lined the path between the school and the village. "I hope you have some money," Luna said. "You're going to buy me some chocolate."

"Yes, dear."

"And I need new quills and parchment," Hermione said.

"Yes, dear."

"Oh, and Harry, you really should buy them something pretty," Justine said, forcing a smile. She did look better; her near black hair glistened in the snow. "Perhaps a ring, or a torque, or something to signify your relationship. You are married, after all."

Harry grinned at the Hufflepuff and said, "Yes, dear."

Justine blushed, but Jessica smiled prettily. "Are you thinking ahead, Harry?"

"I know I am," Neville said. Across from Hannah, Susan blushed herself a little but grinned at the other Gryffindor.

Shopping with Hermione and Luna was an experience made even more interesting by the fact that Jessica and Justine accompanied them. Harry was only partially acquainted with Jessica, but knew she was friendly with Justine and Hermione.

For all their vastly different temperaments, Harry was startled to see that Hermione and Luna actually had quite a bit in common. They both lingered at the booksellers (now under new management), discussing the best Arithmancy texts. However, they also had their differences: Hermione did not like sweets to speak of, while Luna took absolute delight in chocolate, the darker and bitterer, the better. Hermione was interested in purchasing essentials and supplies, while Luna was easily distracted by bright baubles, art supplies and books of wild, fanciful animals or magical beings.

And they expected Harry to pay for it all, being their husband.

The surprising part of the trip, though, was Justine. Though Harry shared Divination Class with the Hufflepuff and was close friends with Hermione, he personally never spent much time with her outside of class.

However, within the first thirty minutes of their trip into Hogsmeade, Harry began to suspect the girls of collaborating with each other. While Hermione and Luna drifted into the book shop, Justine took his arm and led him to Bathsheba's Baubles, a jewellery store.

Justine not only had an eye for jewellery, but also an intrinsic sense of its value. She led him away from the huge, bawdy jewels and instead had him looking at the more subtle pieces. "Luna needs silver," the Hufflepuff said softly as she hung onto his left arm. "Or possibly platinum. For Hermione, definitely Gold."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Rings, Harry," Justine whispered, looking at him earnestly. "You bonded and married two girls—one, my best friend—and you have nothing to show for it."

"But…I didn't know witch-born even bothered with rings."

Justine sighed and looked across the store at the other girls. "Not all do, Harry. When a wizard buys rings for his bonded, it's a statement that he's pleased with the bond. I guess…I guess it's pretty rare, really. But I think it would mean a great deal to them if you made that gesture."

"What about you?"

Justine blinked and looked down quickly. "I'm not your wife, Harry."

"Not yet."

Without meeting her eyes, Justine just pulled him back to the counter.

"What can I do for you kids?" the old witch behind the counter said. She blinked rheumy blue eyes that shone with her old magic, and said, "Well blow me down, you're Harry Potter, aren't you, lad?"

"Er, yes ma'am," Harry said with a blush.

"Are these your pretty brides I've read about, then?"

"Just a friend," Justine said. "We're shopping for wedding rings for them, though."

"I see," she finally said. "Well, here's what we have, then."

She flicked her wand over her head, and from a storage bin behind her, came a large tray of rings of every shape and discernible colour, from silver to platinum to even mythril, which was the most outrageously expensive of the lot. Some had diamonds the size of Harry's thumb, while others had other precious or semi-precious stones. Some were simple bands with etched runes and designs.

The girls started looking intently at the rings, momentarily loosening their hold. The old witch left them to it, but motioned for Harry to move down the cabinet. "Let me take a look at you, lad," the old witch said. She flicked her wand over his body; casting silent spells that did not invade Harry's magical aura so much as slide against it, measuring. The woman's eyes widened a little, before she nodded.

"Aye, you're going to found a coven, I've no doubt of it," she said softly. "My name is Bathsheba Goldsmite. I never knew your Mum, but I knew your father's family for over a century. More importantly, I knew the Griffins before that Dame Delia hijacked it. These two brides of yours, I read one was the Lovegood girl, the other a Mudblood?"

Harry bristled, but the old woman waved it off. "Generations, boy. I'm two centuries old, and that's what we called them as a child. I'm too old to change my ways. But tell me this—do you like each other?"

Harry blushed brilliantly, thinking of what they did that morning. "I think so."

"Do you share a bed?"

Harry nodded.

The woman grinned. "That's not going to work if you add any more. Trust me, lad, my husband had three wives. Even that old lech knew not to try and get us all in the same bed together. Word of advice—a husband's job in a multiple marriage is to play referee and peacemaker, because I promise, even if you are all besotted over each other, they'll still fight. Be fair, or you'll all be miserable. And remember—even if the witch says she doesn't, all witches like pretties. Doesn't have to be baubles, it could be flowers or cards, but all witches want their man to do something for them. And for Morgana's sake, don't do the same thing for each. Each witch has to think what you're doing is for them alone."

"Er, thank you," Harry said, surprised by the unsolicited, but not unwelcome, advice.

"Least I could do for the Boy-Who-Lived," the old witch said. She wandered back to Justine. "Now, lass, what have you decided for your friends?"

Harry watched Justine closely as they picked out rings. For Luna, Jessica selected a beautiful platinum ring with a delicate moonstone, while for Hermione she selected a heavier golden ring with a brilliantly cut ruby. What Harry really paid attention to, though, was how she seemed fascinated by a chocolate-toned golden ring with a golden-brown Gomedagam stone.

"Thanks for your help," Harry told her. "Do you think they might like earrings or something?"

That diverted Justine to the cabinet of earrings. Harry turned back to Bathsheba, who already had all three rings out. She winked at him when she fitted the Gomedagam ring into a small brown box and handed them to him, while taking the other two in white boxes. "Good thing I know the Potter family has money," she said with grin of stained teeth. "This will set you back no little bit."

"They're worth it," Harry said.

"Just remember that, lad, and you'll do fine," she said. "So, direct Gringotts draft, since I doubt you have the Galleons on you?"

"Can I do that?"

The old witch showed Harry how to sign an authorized Gringotts draft slip, something he'd never seen before but which most merchants had available, and as soon as the witch touched her wand to it, it disappeared with a swish of air. A moment later it was replaced with a slip of parchment giving her the receipt.

"And done," she said. "Best of luck, my boy. Remember to come back if you ever have the need to apologize to one or the other."

Harry couldn't help but smile at the old witch as he turned to leave. Fortunately for his vaults, the girls decided the rings were enough at the moment, and the two of them left the store to collect Hermione and Luna. It was time to meet at the Hogs Head Inn.

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.