I LIVE!

Hey all! Dark Dhampir still alive here. As always, thanks everyone who favorited this story or added it to their alert list in spite of the long wait. It's people like you who keep me pushing on.

All right, quick disclaimer out of the way: This story is written according to the guidelines of the administrators. That means no explicit sex! Sorry. Sorry. I don't like it either. Personally, I think that if readers don't want to read lemons they should either skip them or not read the story, but the Admins are the ones who maintain this site, so they get to make the rules and have the power to enforce them. If you want an explicit version of this chapter, I will be posting it soon on Ficwad dot net.

Thank you all again for your patience.

Chapter 17: Becoming a Family

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

"Grah-ahhahah!" Harry yawned as he woke up. Looking around, he could see that he wasn't in the place where he had passed out. His glasses were missing, but he could tell it was a lot brighter than the dungeon had been. He was also lying in a bed. Looking around, he found his glasses on a nearby table. He put them on and saw—

"Daphne! Hermione!"

The two girls smiled. "Glad you finally woke up," Daphne said.

"We were getting worried about you," Hermione added. The two were sitting in beds of their own. Through the windows, early morning sunlight streamed into the room. But was it the morning after the trio had gone down the trapdoor, or the next day? Or the next?

"What about you?" Harry asked. He climbed out of bed and—on wobbly legs—walked over to the bushy-haired girl's bedside. "Are you all right, Hermione?"

"Madame Pomphrie fixed me up last night," Hermione said. "I'm still a little sore, but she said I can leave by this afternoon."

"She said Hermione shouldn't leave before this afternoon," Daphne corrected. "She seemed to think Hermione was going to leave the first time she turned around."

"I wouldn't do that!" Hermione protested. "Not before I knew Harry was all right, at least."

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said with a gentle smile, making the brunette witch flush. Turning to Daphne, he asked, "And how are you, Daph?"

"Better than you," she said. "Your hands don't look 'fine.'"

"Oh." Harry looked down and saw that she was right. His hands were wrapped in bandages. Apparently, he'd been burnt during the confrontation with Volde-Querrill. "How long was I out?"

"You slept through all of yesterday-" Daphne began.

"Which was the day after we went after the Stone," Hermione explained.

"-so, not too long, all told," Daphne concluded.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"It was Querrill," he said. Harry gave Hermione and Daphne a quick summary of what he'd encountered after he'd . . . after the chessboard.

"We need to tell your Mum about this," Hermione said.

Harry cringed. "Do we have to?" Hermione gave him a look. "All right, I guess we do, but maybe we should all be together when we do it."

"Are you afraid, Harry?" Daphne asked.

"Aren't you?" Hermione countered.

The blond shrugged. "I've seen Lady Potter get cross with me plenty of times," she replied, "along with my own parents. I'm not particularly worried about it happening again."

Hermione shifted at that statement. At length, she asked, "Now what?"

"'Now what,' what, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"She means, 'what do we tell Professor Dumbledore and the others when they arrive and start asking questions,' and 'what do we do now that we know Voldemort's still alive and has made an attack on you?" Daphne explained.

"No," Hermione said. "I mean—Yes, of course we need to discuss that, but there's something else, as well." She blushed deeply, looking down at her lap.

Harry flushed as well. "You mean, about the whole hetaera thing?"

The brunette nodded.

Harry sighed. "Well, I meant what I said, Hermione. I don't want you taking anymore unnecessary risks, and if I have to bind you to do that, I will."

"More importantly," Daphne said, "if Harry binds you, it will protect you from Dumbledore's manipulations. A hetaera can't betray her master's order or his secrets, not even if compelled by magic. If the headmaster tries to extract the secrets from your mind, he won't be able to, and if he tries to use a Compulsion Charm to make you do something that violates Harry's orders, the Charm will fail."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I won't be able to betray Harry anymore?"

"Not knowingly," Daphne replied.

"Then, please, Harry, bind me!" the Muggleborn witch demanded.

"Er, Hermione," Harry said. "I don't know how."

"It's a ritual," Daphne explained. "A highly sexual ritual, as Hermione could probably tell you."

Hermione blushed again. In her excitement, she'd forgotten that little tidbit.

"I would suggest we wait until summer break before finalizing the bond," Daphne continued.

"Agreed," Harry said, blushing.

"However," the blond went on, "There's also a spoken part to the ritual. You can say it right now, if you want, Harry."

"What will that do?" Harry asked.

"It should provide Hermione with a weaker version of the protection offered by the complete ritual."

"So, she'll be safe?" Harry asked.

"Not totally," Daphne admitted, "but she'll be safer than she'd be without it. It won't be impossible to read or manipulate her mind, but it will be more difficult-probably too difficult for anything subtle." What she didn't tell Harry—or Hermione—was that a side effect of this part of the ritual would be making Hermione more susceptible to Harry's commands. Not to the point the full ritual would, where her body would be forced to carry out any orders she didn't voluntarily obey, but any command Harry gave her that she didn't fulfill would leave her with a nagging feeling that wouldn't go away until she gave in . . . Or, until the point became moot, which was more likely to happen, given Hermione.

"What do you want to do, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"You're asking me?" the brunette asked.

"Of course," Harry said. "I know I promised I would make you my hetaera, but . . . I don't feel right about doing this without your say so."

Daphne frowned slightly, but Hermione thought a moment. Was this what she wanted? If it would protect her, if she could no longer betray her friends, even by accident, then there was only one answer.

"Yes," she said. "Do it, Harry."

Daphne leaned over and whispered the words into Harry's ear. "Hermione Jane Granger," he said,

"I claim you as my hetaera by the life debt you owe me.

I claim your body, your mind, and your magic.

From now until the end of our life,

You belong to my House and family,

For our pleasure and our support.

Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, and, in that moment, the pair felt something in them—like a summer breeze or a wave—run over them.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up from her book. Parvati and Lavender had come by earlier, and Parvati had been kind enough to bring some of Hermione's school books to her, not knowing what else she might want to read. It was a simple gift, but a touching one. Especially given that Hermione was confined to the cot until her ribs finished healing, a process that was too painful to allow her to rest even if she had wanted to.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore," she said, hesitantly. Now that she understood the headmaster's manipulations and deceptions, she was far less in awe of him that she had been. She was also acutely aware of what he'd tricked her into doing before, and what he undoubtedly wanted her to continue doing.

"How are you feeling, today?" the Headmaster asked.

"Better, sir," she answered.

He nodded. "Good, and, your friend, Mr. Potter?"

"He's . . . doing very well, sir," Hermione said.

"Good. Good. May I ask," the old man said, his eyes twinkling, "how you three came to be in those dungeons in the first place?"

"Well, sir . . . you were right!" Hermione said.

"About what, may I ask?" the aged Headmaster asked.

"Harry, sir," Hermione said. "He's a good person, sir. He's brave a noble, but he does things without thinking! He just charges into dangerous situations, and I'm really scared for him, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I feared as much. Still, if you continue to watch out for him, I'm certain nothing bad will happen."

"Of course, sir. I promise I will," Hermione said, nodding her head.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Now, I think I shall await young Harry's awakening. I have much to discuss with him," Professor Dumbledore said, sinking into a chair across from the young wizard.

Hermione said nothing, merely nodded. She went back to her book, but kept half an eye on the Headmaster. She hadn't exactly lied to the old man. She intended to "watch out" for her master, but that didn't mean she'd be keeping all her focus on him. She suspected her future mistress would approve of her new plan.

"You lied to Dumbledore?" Daphne asked. The trio was sitting at a table near the back of the Library. The remainder of the school year was passing without issue. Dumbledore had been kind enough to award them each 50-60 points, essentially putting their Houses back in the race for the House Cup and removing any lingering feelings of resentment anyone had been holding toward them for losing so many in the first place. As Daphne and Harry pointed out to Hermione, this was probably another one of Dumbledore's manipulations: Harry had gotten the most points even though Hermione had been the one to sacrifice herself, and Neville had only received ten points despite Dumbledore publicly saying that it took more courage to stand up to one's friends than one's enemies. Why the old man wanted to endear himself to Harry so badly, they didn't know, but it wasn't for anything good. That was obvious.

"Oh, no," Hermione said, smiling. "I was perfectly honest. I just didn't mean what he thought I meant, and I didn't bother to correct him when he was wrong."

"You're a better Slytherin than we are, 'Mione," Harry said. "I can't believe he fell for it."

"I'm sure the bond helped with that," the bushy-haired witch answered. "Besides, I never gave him any reason to doubt me; I was the perfect spy for months, wasn't I?"

"And now, you will be spying on him for us," Daphne said. The blond was sporting an enourmous grin. Ironically, she now looked a great deal like a lioness who'd just spotted a helpless baby wildebeest.

Hermione grinned back at her. "Yes, I am."

For a few moments, they trio sat in silence. Not an awkward silence. It was the comfortable kind very close individuals can share with one another. Nothing needed to be said that couldn't be said with smiles or gentle touches.

"Hello, Hermione. It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter. Hello, Harry . . . Daphne." Hermione tried not to blush as she spoke. Harry's mother probably didn't know why she was over—she certainly hadn't told her own parents. "Thank you again for having me over."

"You're welcome, Hermione," Harry replied. He too, was trying to look normal. Maybe his mother would chalk his nerves up to something else. It wasn't like she was expecting him to . . . bind her.

He hoped.

Daphne smiled. "We've been waiting for you all day." Her voice had a breathy quality to it that she hoped made sounded sexy.

"Daphne, are you all right?" Lily Potter asked. "You sound like you have a bug in your throat."

"I'm fine, Lady Potter," Daphne replied, her voice now rather tense.

Lily looked at this and shook her head. She probably didn't want to know. "Why don't you come in, Hermione?"

Hermione walked across the threshold, carrying one of her bags whilst Harry and his mother took the other two. Meanwhile, Daphne took Hermione's free hand and guided her up the stairs towards her room.

Hermione was grateful for the assistance; she probably would have gotten lost on her own. This wasn't the quaint holiday home she and her parents had visited over Christmas. This was Potter Manor, the ancestral home of an ancient and noble family, and it looked the part. The antechamber alone looked as tall as her family's house, and—from what she had seen of the outside—it was probably only a third of the Manor's whole size. Everything was polished dark wood or silver or gold. Various portraits of important persons or ancestors chatted with each other as they passed—and most were glancing at her as they did so. Hermione suddenly became acutely aware that her outfit was both Muggle and not particularly formal. Granted, the others were dressed casually as well, but this was their home; they could do as they liked. She was the guest here, and the brunette witch wondered what sort of impression she was making.

"Here's your room, Hermione," Lily said, stopping in front of the second door to the right of the stairs. As she opened the door, Hermione was pleased to see that it looked relatively normal. It was still four times the size of her own room at home, and she certainly didn't have a four-poster bed or a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows, but the furniture and fabric didn't look nearly as expensive as the downstairs.

"It's lovely," she said.

"We hoped you'd like it," Lily said. "Do you need help putting your things away?"

"No, thank you," the young witch replied.

Daphne tugged at her sleeve. "Come on, Hermione. Harry's room is right next to your's. Wait until you see what we have planned for you!"

"Now, now, Daphne," Lily Potter admonished. "Hermione is staying with us for a whole week. There's no need to be so hasty."

"Mum's right," Harry said. "There's no need to rush her." Lily caught the tone in Harry's words but she didn't understand them. Harry and Daphne never fought.

Fighting desperately to keep the blood from her face, Hermione spoke up. "It's all right. I can't wait to . . . see." And didn't that one word nearly cause her to pass out? She'd be seeing a lot very soon: a lot of Daphne and Harry's naked flesh.

And they would see hers!

Please don't let her see me! Please don't let her see me! Please don't let her see me! Hermione chanted over and over in her head. If Mrs. Potter saw her now, she didn't know how she would explain her tomato-red face.

Thankfully, Daphne—sweet, blessed Daphne—saw her expression and took pity on her. Gently tugging her friends' hands, she led them out of the room. "Come on, you two. Let's have some fun . . ."

Harry's room—which was functionally his and Daphne's room—was similar to Hermione's, albeit with more personal effects, giving it a more "lived in" look. The shelves held a surprising number of books and nick-knacks, and a partly open closet revealed Harry's school robes. Curiously, though, there no portraits, but Hermione was grateful for that, given what they planned to do.

The bushy-haired witch sat down on the bed, looking down at the floor. She felt the bed shift beside her. Peeking out under her bushy mane, she saw that Harry was now sitting next to her. He was looking down, so his eyes were covered by his own hair, but his fcheek looked just as red as hers. For some reason, that comforted her.

"You won't accomplish anything if you don't look at each other," Daphne noted. Sighing, she walked over to Harry and kissed him. Hermione squirmed a little at the sight. It was one thing to know Harry and Daphne were engaged; it was another to see them actually kiss each other. Not snog each other, mind you. It was much more . . . tender than that. It was beautiful.

Daphne pulled back after a minute or so. "Wow," Harry said.

"Yeah," Daphne breathed. ". . . Now," she said, extending her hand to Hermione. "Your turn."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. She was blushing head to toe now.

Harry was panting from his recent lip-lock with Daphne and from the promise it held. His blood was rushing in two directions at the moment: to his face and his groin. Part of him very badly wanted to faint, but, somehow, his brain remained functional enough to see that Hermione was uncomfortable with the situation. "Hermione," he said, "you . . . don't have to . . ."

Whatever else, he was going to say was cut off as Daphne reached behind his head and pushed him forward.-right into Hermione.

"Eep!" Hermione squeaked, as she fell over. Partly it was surprise; mostly, it was the way Harry's arms wrapped themselves around her. Instinctively, it seemed, Harry was trying to protect her. "Daphne," she asked, "what are you?"

"I was hoping you would kiss each other, not fall over," the Slytherin admitted.

Hermione's blush increased. She and Harry were now in a very intimate position. He was on top of her, and she was lying in his arms, trying very hard not to look up at his face.

"Hermione," he said. Hermione considered looking up for a moment, but couldn't bring herself to. "It's all right. You don't have to . . . if you don't want to . . . we can . . ."

Hermione cut him off by leaning up and planting her lips on his.

It was perfect. Harry's lips were warm and soft, and he put just enough force behind them to let her know he wanted it too. Once he recovered from his shock. Eventually, her head fell back, and the kiss ended. She lay back, panting. Now, she dared to look up at him. Harry still looked red in the face and still a little scared, but he also looked happy and eager.

"I do, Harry," she said. "I do want to." And she did. She was still scared, too, and embarrassed, but she was also desperately in love with both of them.

Nobody isn't scared the first time they change forever, her mother had said once. They had been looking at a photo from the Granger's wedding. She had said so again when Hermione had first boarded the train for Hogwarts. The young witch had thought she understood what her mother had said at the time. She hadn't. Now she did.

"That's all well and good," Daphne said, breaking the moment, "but there are other things we need to be doing." So saying, she reached up and began unbuttoning her top.

Lily Potter sealed up the letter she had written. "Tipsy," she called.

Pop!

"You called, ma'am," the Elf asked.

"Do you feel up for a journey around the world, Tispy?" she asked. "I have a letter for Liam, and I can't trust it to an owl. I can't wait that long, either."

"Perfectly ready, ma'am," the Elf replied. Elves had a great deal of power; even so, a journey from Britain to the North American West coast and back was nothing to be taken lightly. "If I may say so, ma'am, now might not be a good time to travel. Los Angeles is eight hours ahead of us. As it is past nine here . . ."

"It'll be five in the morning there," Lily completed. Being a Vampire, Liam preferred the night life, which worked well for a private investigator, but there were some tasks which needed to be performed during the day (such as meeting with clients). Although Liam had learned to avoid situations where he risked exposure to sunlight, he could not force all the day-light duties onto his friends. And even a Vampire needed to sleep on occasion, so Liam usually rested in the early morning. He would be asleep at the moment.

Lily sighed. "Would you mind staying up a little longer, Tipsy, "she asked, "and delivering this to Liam when he's awake?"

"Not at all, ma'am," the Elf said with total sincerity. "Remember, we Elves need very little rest. I will be quite all right."

"Thank you, Tipsy," Lily said, getting up and stretching. "I'm going to be now. Leave whenever you think is best; enjoy yourself in the meantime."

"Good night, Lady Potter," Tipsy said softly, already working to tidy up Lily's desk. The red-headed witch smiled; she suspected all Elves—at least, all House Elves—were a little obsessive compulsive.

Walking up the stairs to the master bedroom, left unchanged since her and James' wedding night so many years ago, she passed Harry's room. As usual, she couldn't resist sneaking a peak on her children to make certain they were all right, and Harry and Daisy looked so very adorable with their arms around Daphne and Astoria. She should probably also check on Hermione, too.

Lily came to Harry's room first. She cracked open the door and peaked inside. "Oh, Merlin . . ." It would appear she had forgotten the impatience of youth.

Or, she'd underestimated Daphne Greengrass.

Author's Note: Uh, oh. Harry, you got some 'splaining to do . . . In the next chapter

In all seriousness, I hope that was a good one. I've noticed that some of you have pointed out that Harry has the habit of jumping when Daphne says "Jump" and have gotten annoyed over it. I've probably said this before, but that's kind of become a story point. Harry is pretty easy-going, and part of his growth as a character will be learning when to tell his loved ones they're wrong and when he needs to step up and give the people who follow him-boys AND girls-orders.

About that discussion between Tipsy and Lily: Angel's sleep schedule was never discussed much in his series, or in Buffy. In Somnambulist, it was suggested Angel slept early in morning, waking in up in time to work normal business hours (Angel always slept in the building he worked in, so he didn't have to worry about beating the traffic). J.K. Rowling never mentioned Elfin biology (so far as I know) but it seems likely that Elves have superhuman stamina, given that Dobby never seems tired when he arrives to pester Harry in the books, and I for one, was led to believe that Elves in Hogwarts work all hours of the night. Yes, it's possible Harry just keeps running into the night shift, but that seems a little too convenient.

On another note, does anyone still use the word "nick knacks?"