Harry Potter and the related characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. No malicious intent or ill will is meant by using those characters and events in this fictional work.

"Unbelievable," Harry muttered, ripping his tie off and tossing it onto the bed. "He didn't know, he says. Was only trying to help, he says!" He pulled his sweater over his head, peeled off his shirt, and threw the items to the ground with a grunt. "Our lives were bloody perfect as they were!"

"Calm down," Hermione said, stepping up behind him and smoothing her hands down his arms. She wrapped them around his waist, then, and placed small kisses between his shoulder blades. "Please, calm down, Harry."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know what's real anymore," he said through gritted teeth. "Things I remember never happened, I don't remember anything that did..."

"He told us," Hermione interrupted. "He gave us what we needed to know, and he told you that..."

"I heard him," Harry said, cutting her off. "I just don't believe him." He turned and curved his hands over Hermione's elbows, pulling her tighter around him. He kissed her forehead, and then said, "What are we supposed to do? I was never good at planning these things, that was all you." He looked down at her, sighed again, and shook his head sadly. "Do we have to relive the last five years of our lives all over again? If Sirius doesn't find his chew-toy, what happens then?"

Hermione scratched her nails lightly up and down Harry's back. "We'll think of something," she affirmed. "We always do." She looked around the room. "At least we know how we ended up in this room."

Harry chuckled, licking his lips. "And we know that we really did put that cloak to good use," he laughed. "I just...I wish I could remember making that speech after the war. It sounds bloody brilliant."

Hermione nodded. "It was," she said with a tinge of arousal in her voice. "Parvati Patil showed me in her Pocket-Pensieve. I told her I wanted to see it from her point-of-view, as I was right beside you. Harry, you said some powerful things, you were like the Prime Minister, and everything you said was nothing but pure truth." She trailed her fingers down his back again, dipping them into the waistband of his grey pants. "No one doubted you, at all, and Kingsley Shacklebolt himself decreed that you be given your own private quarters. With me, of course," she said with a prideful smile.

"Oh, I wouldn't have had it any other way," he told her, grinning. He moved, then, kissing her and pulling her toward the bed. He tossed her onto the rather cushy mattress and waved a hand over her, an evil-sounding incantation leaving his lips. Her clothes peeled themselves away from her skin, folded themselves up, and flew into the trunk. "Mione," he breathed, falling onto her, his pants now off and flying toward the chest as well. He slanted his lips over hers as he crooked a finger, beckoning the sheets to wrap around them. He looked down into her eyes, and he smiled.

She lifted a hand and grabbed his glasses, gingerly taking them off of his face and resting them on the side-table. When she looked back at him, his mood had shifted, and he looked close to tears. "My sweet man," she breathed, holding his face in her hands. "Don't do this to yourself. We'll find a way to fix this. But Sirius said there's something we need to do, first. For the sake of...our children." She pressed her lips against his gently, and she said, softly, "Forget it, for now, please?"

He nodded as he swallowed the crying that had built in him, closed his eyes, and kissed her deeply as he moved his hips and worked his way into her. The deeper he moved, the louder their moans became, and he had enough sense to throw up a modified Muffliato to keep anyone from hearing them. Knowing the charm was cast, he grew more eager in his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, grunting a string of swears and her name over and over.

"Harry," she breathed, clawing at his back and arching against him. "Harry," she whined again, begging him for more.

He gave her what she wanted, feeling heat course through him fast. He wasn't going to last long, not in his mood or current frame of mind, and he needed to ensure her crescendo hit before his. He crashed his mouth into hers again, increasing speed and adding just a touch of magic.

"Oh, heavens, yes, Harry!" she groaned out, whimpering and trembling. She clawed his flesh, digging into and around his shoulder blades again, and she let him consume her.

He kissed her again, swallowing the great scream that seemed to be ripped out of her throat. He felt her tighten, her body seize, and he powered through for three more deep thrusts. Spilling into her, he moaned her name and stilled. Dropping his head to hers, he relished in the moment, breathing her in with stinging lungs. "I love you," he said to her. "I've always loved you, and I always will love you. Always."

She nodded. "I know you will, Harry. Unbreakable vows are hard to make, and impossible to break. You're mine, forever, darling."

He chuckled. "And your mine," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss to her lips. He rubbed his nose against hers, dropped his head against her, and with a deeper breath and a sigh, he said, "In perpetuum promissum."

"Did you just..." she began, feeling icy flames lick at her skin as his spell wound around their naked bodies.

"I did," he answered, interrupting. "I will make that vow over and over again, without fear or hesitation. I'm never breaking it."

She kissed him slowly, and as she pulled away, she whispered, "Me either, Harry."

The cool, blue fire faded, and with another kiss, he pushed himself up. "Not quite sure where that came from," he chuckled. "Not sorry, though."

She sat up, keeping the sheets around her chest as she moved. "God, I'll never be sorry." She looked around the room, then, and settled against Harry's side. "Tonight," she whispered sadly.

Harry nodded. "And it's got nothing to do with Hedwig, this time. What do I do? What do I say?" he questioned, slipping on his glasses. "Can't exactly say, 'Hey, mate! I'm back from the future to keep you from threatening to kill my unborn children. Fancy a brew down at the pub?' can I?"

She laughed, shaking her head at his words. "You haven't changed much, either, love. I can see that now." She kissed his cheek. "You've got me and Draco right beside you, you know. You won't be facing him alone, and when he says...whatever he says, we'll just tell him the truth."

"He didn't handle the truth so well the first time," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. "There's...more truth, now, though. I think all Sirius has done is give us more reasons for him to turn his back on us and want our son to suffer."

She let out an audible sigh, held a hand out toward the trunk, and spat out a quick, ''Accio robes." Two black cloaks with red and gold trim and shining Gryffindor crests embroidered into them flew into her hand. She handed one to Harry and slipped her arms through the sleeves of another, forgoing wearing anything underneath for the moment. She'd conjure something up when she had to. "Maybe this time he'll take it all better, since it...well,it shouldn't come as much of a shock to him."

Harry furrowed his brow as he fingered the clasps on Hermione's robes, losing himself in thinking. "What if we can't change it, Mione? What if, no matter what, we'll lose him, and have to prepare to fight him off again when the time comes?" He brushed her curly brown hair out of her eyes and his voice dropped low again. "What if it's a prophecy, just like before, and no matter what course or path we take, we'll end up at the same place?"

Hermione looked into his stunning green eyes, her breath hitching at the tumult of emotion that met her there. "If so, then we'll just have to live with it, with fair warning, mind you. We'll be able to protect our child, Harry. You know we will." She brushed the back of her hand along his cheek. "But we have to try, don't we? We haven't been ushered back to the Hogwarts Renaissance for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Harry quipped, grinning like a Cornish pixie and wagging his eyebrows at her. "Having sex on McGonagall's desk in the Headmaster's office alone was worth the trip." He laughed as she rolled her eyes and blushed, and then he kissed her once more. He was about to unhook the closures on her robe when a knock on the door stopped him. He looked at her apologetically, kissed her again, and stood up, walking toward the door as he pulled on his robe. He mumbled something under his breath, conjuring up a pair of boxers just in case his cloak billowed open. He opened his door and grinned. "What'd you find out?" he asked, opening the door and gesturing for his visitor to come into the room.

Draco stepped in, nodding a greeting to Hermione, and plopped into an overstuffed armchair. He flicked a hand at the fireplace, causing it to roar to life, and he looked at Harry with a serious, flat expression. "He's been hanging 'round a few First Year Slytherins," he said, licking his lips. "Convincing them he can arrange a meeting with you, in return for a few favors."

"Favors," Harry repeated, curious, as he perched on the arm of another cushioned chair. He outstretched an arm, beckoning Hermione to come to him. She did so, filling the space between his arm and his chest, and he kissed her forehead. "What favors?"

Draco cleared his throat. "One of the little buggers has a father who trades for Borgin and Burkes. Granted the shoppe has lost quite a bit of business, since dark wizards have all but disappeared since you vanquished Voldemort," he said. "But it still deals in antiquities, things of a vile nature, like the rubbish my bastard father used to keep piling up in our house." He shook away a few bad memories and regrets, then said, "He asked for something from the shoppe. I don't know what, but it can't be anything good."

"Y'know," Harry said, pulling Hermione closer and chuckling, "We had this same conversation our second year." He took a breath and the smile faded as he looked at Draco. "Only it was us and Ron, and we were trying to figure out what the hell you were up to, because we swore you had to be plotting something."

"Was that when you turned yourselves into Crabbe and Goyle?" Draco laughed, shaking his head. "You could've just asked. I might not've been very nice about it, but I would have answered you."

"Well, back then you were a bloody maggot, Malfoy," Harry teased. "None of us trusted you."

Draco looked at Harry solemnly. "My trust had to be earned," he said, "And believe me, Potter, I trust you with my life."

"And I trust you with mine," Harry returned, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezing firmly. The promise they made to each other the night Harry had, in fact, saved Draco's life rang in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his wracked brain. "And the lives of my family."

"You mean that," Draco nodded.

Hermione smiled. "That goes for me, too, Malfoy," she said, and she blinked away the threat of tears. She had a feeling they would put that trust to the test sooner than anyone had hoped.

There is much more to this tale. Reviews are appreciated. Thank you for reading.

Peace and Love

Jo