A/N: Not much preamble here. Last chapter was a rough one, so this should be a palette cleanser as we begin to slowly drag ourselves back into the light. Please enjoy the next installment of Of Fae and Fervor!

Chapter 4 – Return to Sender

Luna woke first, dreams of her daughter rudely interrupted by a loud snnkkt to her left. She looked at the pinnacle of wizard evolution beside her, with its gaping, drooling maw beneath an obsidian rat's nest, itself coated almost entirely by a massive forest of curly, walnut strands, and smiled warmly.

"Snnnkkkkkktt," the mouth said again.

Luna giggled before swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and summoning a pair of fuzzy vomit-colored troll-head slippers to her feet. She rose and stretched, moaning in pleasure as her joints realigned themselves.

"Ugh," said a yawning, female voice from behind the foul-breathing beast. "That is so gross, Luna."

Luna smiled innocently at the grumpy voice, turning and skipping out of the room.

"Luna's up already?" Harry said groggily as he blindly felt around the nightstand for his wire-frame glasses.

"Apparently," came Hermione's annoyed response. She attempted to put her hair up into a loose ponytail, snapping one hairband before managing to get most of it away from her face. "I barely slept at all."

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah. And someone kept hitting me in the face with their elbow. I have half a mind to stick it to your side if you keep it up."

"I'm sorry! I get hot!"

"Harry?" Luna's dreamy voice interrupted as she entered the room carrying a familiar silver bowl. "Can I ask you an important question?"

"Sure? Luna, you never have to ask permission to ask a question. Ever."

"I know, but this one is especially important. And it's about last night."

Harry nodded and emotionally braced himself for the inevitably painful question.

"Why was there a faerie in your memory?"

"A what?" Harry and Hermione said incredulously.

"A faerie. You know, pointy ears, purple eyes, white hair. Faerie."

"Luna, fairies have wings," Hermione admonished. "And besides, there weren't any fairies anywhere in that memory. I was there, remember?"

"He arrived after you left, Mya. And it's not fairies. It's Faeries."

"That's the same thing!"

"'Mione," Harry began.

Luna raised her hand, silencing them both. "You're right, Mya, fairies have wings, dress in skimpy outfits, and glitter-bomb unsuspecting children."

Hermione snorted, but Luna continued unabated.

"Faeries, however, serve the Fae Queen, Lilith, and she's not exactly kind. You know how you're not supposed to follow will-o'-the-wisps in the dark?"

Both Harry and Hermione nodded.

"That's what faeries look like in the real world. In the dreamworld though, they look like, well, this," she finished, pointing at the pensive in her hands.

Harry's eyes widened in recognition. "I saw one! After you two knocked me out, this morning, he said something about a messenger, and a bell. Here," he said quickly, drawing the memory from his temple. "Bring that over here and you two can take a look."

Luna plopped down onto the bed in front of Hermione and held the pensive to receive Harry's memory before placing it between the three of them. Hermione's curiosity peaked, she looked to Luna with a silent question before diving into the pensive uninvited, an indignant "hey!" heralding Luna entering seconds behind her. Harry was left once again with only the silence of the room to keep him company.

The pair soon emerged and began excitedly asking questions of a now bewildered Harry Potter.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Do you know how hard it is to speak to the Fae?"

"What did he mean, 'a boon'?"

"What bell do you think he's referring to?"

"Why 'I believe'?"

"Does pudding work in a pensive?"

"Do you think the Emissary is someone we know?"

"Does this dress make me look fat?"

"Luna."

"Can I have a puppy?"

"Luna?"

"Who gives better blowjobs?"

"Luna!"

"What? It's not like he was going to answer anything anyway. Look at him."

Hermione's frustrated grimace faltered as she looked at the stunned wizard and waved her hand in front of his face, a small smile breaking through.

"I think we broke him," she giggled.

"Again," Luna retorted, before poking Harry gently on the nose.

The physical touch broke the wizard out of his stupor and he shook his head to clear his mind.

"You know I can't keep up when you two go on like that. If you want me to actually answer a question, you're going to have to go slowly."

As Harry's gaze passed between the two smirking witches, a small silver glint from the center of the pensive drew his attention.

"Did either of you put anything in there while I was out of it?" he inquired, indicating the pensive.

"No," Hermione responded quickly. "Why?"

Harry reached forward and plucked a small hollow silver orb with a large cross cut in one hemisphere, a tiny metal bearing rolling within.

"Where did this come from then?"

Luna and Hermione shared a gasp.

"Do you," Luna began.

"After everything I've seen? Absolutely," Hermione responded in reverence. "He wouldn't even crack the top ten."

"Harry?" Luna turned and looked inquiringly at the wizard. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" Harry responded, peering closely at the metal sphere in his palm.

"Do you believe in Santa Claus?"

Harry laughed, then choked as he took in the serious expressions on the other witches faces.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"I've never been more serious than I am right now, Harry. Well, except that one time I polyjuiced myself as Lord Black and discussed pureblood politics with Walburga's portrait for an hour. Penises are weird."

Luna shrugged and continued on unaffected by Harry's dropping jaw or Hermione's poorly smothered giggles.

"So I need to know, Harry, and this is important. Do. You. Believe. In. Santa Claus."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he searched for the appropriate words.

"I don't think I've ever believed in Santa, actually," he admitted. "You both know about my childhood, and the only gifts I ever got at Hogwarts were from friends or professors."

Hermione and Luna looked at Harry intently as he paused to ponder the question further.

"Wait, you think the messenger that guy was talking about is Santa Claus?"

"It makes sense," Hermione interjected. "You just pulled a sleigh bell out of the pensive, which should be impossible, I might add, and he's certainly a figure that requires belief. May I?" she said, gently taking the bell from Harry's hand and shaking is slightly, the musical sound of jingling bells filling the air around the trio.

Harry looked at the bell quizzically. "It doesn't work?"

Luna's jaw dropped as she gaped at Harry's innocent question.

"You can't hear it?" she asked incredulously. "Mya, he can't hear it. He really doesn't believe in Santa Claus. Harry," she said firmly, grabbing him tightly by the shoulders, "you need an intervention. Come on, up, UP! Quickly, there's no time to waste!"

Harry groaned and rolled out of bed, muttering quietly about Magic and it's obsession with providing a truth behind every imagination.

Harry and Hermione entered the greatroom together and sat across from a bouncing blonde Luna Lovegood.

"Harry," Luna began, a smirk firmly plastered on her glowing face. "I'm about to blow your mind. Ready! Too late! I believe," she finished conspiratorially, jingling the sleigh bell softly as she did so.

The floo roared to life with dark purple flames as the musical sound of dozens of sleigh bells filled the room. The trio spun to face the portal, wands drawn, as a tall salt-and-pepper bearded man dressed in an open, fern-dyed animal skin robe and a roughspun cotton tunic stepped deftly through the fire.

"Ho, ho, ho!" he chucked loudly at the stunned trio. "I didn't think you were ever going to call!"

"That is not Santa Claus," Harry deadpanned.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Obviously, Harry," she stressed sarcastically. "That's Father Christmas. Did you think that American caricature was actually real?"

"In his defense," Luna interjected, "we did ask him about Santa, not Father Christmas."

"Now, now, young casters," the mirthful man chuckled. "Such a boring topic to argue about!"

He straightened to his full height and puffed his chest out slightly.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am called Nicholoas of Myra, proud servant of Her Majesty Queen Lilith, although I am better known as Sinterklaas, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, and yes, Santa Claus."

"Hold on," Harry said disbelievingly, "you're telling me that an evil fairy is well known around the world for giving children gifts?"

"Harry!" Luna admonished, smacking him roughly on his shoulder. "Don't be rude! And he's a Fae, not a fairy. I thought we just went over this?"

"I still don't understand the difference either, Luna," Hermione admitted quietly.

Luna threw her hands up in the air. "I'm surrounded by heathens!"

Nicholoas' laughter rang through the castle. "Little casters, you'll have to try much harder to cause me any discomfort or harm! Now, I believe we should get down to the true reason for my visit here, yes?"

Harry coughed to cover his embarrassment. "Sure. Uh, what, exactly can we do for the Queen of the Fae? Luna says she's supposed to be, like, super-powerful or something?"

"I did not say –"

"Do any of you know about faerie magic?" Nicholoas asked, cutting off a defensive Luna.

The three magicals shook their heads in denial.

"No? Hmm," the Fae tapped his chin thoughtfully, pondering how best to explain the complex and otherworldly concept of faerie magics to the mortals before him.

"Your magic comes from your inner selves, correct? Not your souls or your lives, but a third part."

"Basically," Hermione nodded in response. "We call it our magical core. It's loosely tied to our lives and souls, but for the most part exists independently."

"That sort of separation doesn't exist for the Fae. Our magic is our life and our soul. It's one and the same. If we were to ever lose it, we'd perish."

"That's why the fae appear immortal then!" Luna said excitedly. "Since it's all tied together, regenerating your magic literally regenerates your life as well!"

"Exactly right, young caster! However, there's another important factor to consider: our magic is bound to that of our Queen. What we feel, she feels."

"That would explain why she's known for being such a harsh mistress then," Hermione interjected. "If I felt every time Luna or Harry drained their magic or got hurt somehow, I'd be short on patience too."

"So you can imagine then what kind of suffering my Queen must be under when your Dark Lord started experimenting on the Fae."

"That's why we kept hearing about how faerie magic was more potent than our normal magic," Harry revealed.

"And it makes sense too," Luna continued the train of thought. "If we could draw on our soul and life as well as magic, we'd be pretty powerful as well."

"So what does Lilith want us to do then?" Hermione inquired, crossing her arms under her bosom. "If she's looking for three grunts to assault Riddle head-on, she's going to have to find a new patsy."

"Nothing of the sort!" Nicholoas laughed. "Her Majesty is far more nefarious than that. No, her plan for you three is simple: you will travel to your past and destroy this Dark Lord before he has a chance to begin his experiments on the Fae."

Hermione snorted in derision. "Travelling that far back in time is impossible."

"Hermione," Harry, of all people, explained. "You travelled back in time three or four times a day, almost every day, for our entire third year. And," he continued over her attempts at protest, "you're sitting here in a castle, with a stick that can conjure objects from nothing resting on your arm, while talking to Santa Claus. Not to mention, we're talking about killing a guy that literally came back from the dead. At this point, I don't think anything is impossible anymore."

"Umgublular Slashkilters, Harry. I made those up, remember?" Luna pointed out.

Nicholoas made an obvious show of not looking at anyone.

"They're real!?"

"Not now, Luna," Hermione sighed. "You've made your point, Harry. So, Mister Nicholoas, how to we 'travel back in time'?"

"Just Nicholoas is fine, young one. I'll need to make sure we can actually send you back, first. Give me a moment."

Nicholoas reached into one of the large pockets lining the inside of his animal-skin robe, pulling out a large, perfectly formed amethyst crystal.

"Here we are! Just grab ahold, one at a time. If it glows, we can proceed."

Hermione went first, gripping the crystal tightly between her hands. A dozen seconds later, a bright white glow shone from the center of the amethyst.

"Excellent!" Nicholoas congratulated. "Who's next?"

"I'll go," Harry said quietly as he reached for the purple crystal, holding it firmly in his hands.

Minutes passed, yet no glow came to the fore.

"I thought that might be the case," Harry said distantly. "It's soul-based, isn't it? You were right, 'Mione, the Killing Curse does damage your soul. Here, Luna, at least it should work for you."

Luna gingerly took the amethyst from Harry's outstretched hands and held it gently in front of her, anxiously awaiting that selfsame glow that Hermione had so easily produced.

After a few minutes of willing and hoping, Luna passed the amethyst back to Nicholoas.

"I guess I'm too broken for it to work properly," she said sadly.

Harry moved over to Luna's side and lifted her up, sliding into the seat beneath her and wrapping his arms tightly around her. Luna curled into his embrace and nestled her head into the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

"We'll be ok, Luna. Even if only 'Mione goes back, we'll be able to get together even earlier! Think about how great Hogwarts will be with the three of us supporting one another!" he said attempting to cheer the dejected blonde.

"I'm not going without you two," Hermione said firmly.

"'Mione," Harry attempted.

"No. I'm not leaving you, especially now that I know you've been hiding that memory from Luna and I for seven years. Either we all go, or no one does."

"Hermione," Harry tried again.

"So you refuse our generous offer?" Nicholoas stated grimly, arms spread wide in a gesture of grandness.

"No!" Harry denied fervently.

"Yes!" Hermione responded with equal intensity.

"No," Luna said softly, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "You have to go, Mya. For me and for them."

"Nicholoas, does this have to be done right now?" Harry asked, his question penetrating the silence following Luna's quiet statement.

"No, but soon. Samhain approaches and fae magic wanes. If you are to do this, you must complete the ritual while there is still enough to send you back."

Nicholoas reached once again into his robe and retrieved three spheres, each formed of intertwined vines and translucent leaves and glowing with a small, pulsing, golden yellow light.

"My presence here must come to an end, young casters. Three fae have given themselves to power the ritual. As long as the light remains, so too does their magic."

The fireplace roared again with the same dark purple flames that heralded the fae's arrival.

"The Magic of the Fae wanes even now. Do not delay overlong, or all shall be lost. Farewell, young ones," Nicholoas finished and disappeared into the wall of fire.

"So," Harry began, turning to Hermione, Luna still curled up in his lap. "What are we supposed to do again?"

Luna giggled softly as Hermione groaned and smacked her forehead against the table.

Even with the spectre of Samhain hanging over them it was still well into October before the trio had finished their preparations. Less than a fortnight before the imposed deadline, they were finally ready.

They'd assembled everything outside in the courtyard, the open environment a crucial requirement of the faerie magic. At the base of a vertically-bisected equilateral triangle, a perfect circle inscribed within, lay the three weakly glowing orbs placed each on an intersection of two lines. Across the symbol stood a white, cotton robed and barefoot Hermione, a stoic look adorning her face.

"Are you ready, Mya?" Luna asked, adjusting one of the orbs a final time.

"No," Hermione said shortly.

"I'm not happy about this either, 'Mione, but this is our chance to set things right," Harry said. "Go back, find Luna and I, win the war, and we can all live happily ever after. I trust you, Hermione Granger, implicitly, and I always have. My past self will believe you."

Harry stepped forward and kissed her fully, their lips lingering before he withdrew and backed away.

"I've always loved you, 'Mione, even if I didn't know it at the time. You'll be amazing."

Luna gave Harry the barest space to step away before she pounced and claimed Hermione's recently exposed lips fiercely, causing the older witch to stumble back slightly.

"Find me when you get there," Luna said breathlessly as she broke the kiss and embraced Hermione tightly. "I might not know you two yet, depending on when you arrive, but this … us … is inevitable. Now get going," she continued, smacking Hermione firmly on her rear, "be amazing for us."

Luna stepped back to stand beside Harry and they both looked to Hermione expectantly.

"I love you both," Hermione began, pulling off the robe and tossing it away. She moved to the point of the symbol, standing naked and proud, eyes facing forward and away from the two, lest her emotions overwhelm her.

"I'll see you on the other side. And Harry? It's Potter. Peregrinabor!" she shouted, stretching her arms out to either side.

The symbol blazed to life with bright blue light, bathing everything around it, and Hermione felt herself freeze in place, an ancient form of petrificus totalus keeping her body still for the ritual. At the base of the symbol the light from the three orbs began to fade as it was pulled into the symbol, their golden glow pushing slowly down the lines toward Hermione. With the glow only halfway to its destination, the left orb winked out followed shortly by the right, their weakened magic utterly consumed by the ritual. Two of the three supporting magical sources gone, the blue glow began turning red and the ground shook fiercely, the ritual searching for any magical power to draw upon. A crack of black lightning shot across the space overhead and the sky darkened before the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Around them the castle walls groaned as the earth continued to shake, a few of the looser battlements breaking off and slamming into the soft dirt beneath them.

"Luna!" Harry shouted over the din, stumbling slightly over the rumbling earth. "The fidelius just collapsed! We have to get more power to the ritual!"

It only took Luna a moment to realize what needed to be done. She spared a glance to the petrified figure standing at the symbol's point before quickly conjuring two silver daggers and handing one to Harry, receiving a questioning look from the wizard in turn.

"It's the only way! The ritual needs magic and life to work!" she shouted in response.

"Can't we try another time?!"

"No! It'll kill her to find the power! I'm not about to let that happen!"

Harry looked forlornly at the petrified form of Hermione.

"Alright, what do I need to do?"

"Take the far point. I'll take the near one, and we'll have to do it simultaneously. Make sure you strike true, Harry, right about here," she indicated to a point halfway between his navel and sternum. "Don't miss and it'll be quick and mostly painless. Ready?"

Harry didn't want to even begin to consider why or how Luna knew the exact point for self-sacrifice and only nodded in response, kissing her quickly before speeding over to his place as fast as the rolling ground allowed.

Hermione could only look on as the two most important people in her life ran into her line of vision wielding sharp, gleaming, silver daggers. She saw Luna mouth something to her that looked suspiciously like an apology, but any further analysis was lost as Luna and Harry nodded to each other and as one plunged the daggers deep within their stomachs, each collapsing as their lifeblood poured from their wound onto the ground.

Hermione screamed inside her head in horror and disbelief as tears poured down her petrified cheeks. The stalled golden glow began moving once again, all three lines pressing forward with an increasing velocity, slamming together as they reached the point and shooting through Hermione's body and beyond in a pillar of light. Hermione managed one last glance through tear-blurred eyes at her fallen lovers before euphoria overtook her and the world faded into blinding white nothingness.

Hermione woke with a start, her breath coming in short gasps as she lay in sweat-soaked sheets. She collapsed back onto the firm mattress and flat polyester pillow, sighing deeply as her mind whirled with visions of what she'd just experienced.

Time travel, faeries, Father Christmas, and a horrible nightmare, she thought, closing her eyes and snorting softly to herself. I'm getting as bad as Luna. If I'm awake anyway, at least I can cuddle with Harry and steal some of his heat. It's a bit cooler this morning than I thought it would be. She shuffled to the side slightly before rolling to her left, her arm outstretched to wrap around the warm body next to her.

And promptly fell out of bed with a surprised eep!

The embarrassed witch sprang to her feet, finally taking in her surroundings. She stood next to one of five four-poster beds, each pressed against a separate wall, draped with scarlet privacy curtains, and flanked by two narrow windows. At the foot of each bed rested a large wooden trunk, and on one side stood a small wooden nightstand.

Hermione was standing in the Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory.

She'd made it.

Hermione was about to whoop for joy when her glee was doused in the dour waters of reality. If she'd actually travelled back in time, then her Harry and Luna were dead, sacrificed to power the ritual. If she hadn't, the last 15 years or so of her perceived life had all been a both amazing and terrible dream.

She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, confusion ruling her thoughts.

Alright, Hermione. I know where I am, but when am I?

She looked down at herself, dressed in a long, loose pale salmon nightgown, and ran a hand down the front of her torso before dipping underneath and settling her fingers between her legs.

Well the girls are present and perky, so that's a good start, although they're a bit smaller than they were, well, before. I did have a daughter though, so, probably not a good comparison. Bit of hair between my legs and, oh Morgana, I haven't shaved in months! Ugh! Right, probably somewhere between second and fourth year then. Now, what time of year is it?

Hermione's musings were rudely interrupted by a terrified and very girly scream from somewhere in the tower.

"Aaaaarrrrgghhhh! Noooo!"

Hermione collapsed backwards onto her bed and sighed heavily.

Third Year.

A/N: We finally made it! Hogwarts, Third Year, and someone's just been attacked and has woken up all of Gryffindor. I wonder who that could possibly be?

As always, reviews, comments, and everything else are appreciated and encouraged. Your actions keep me motivated!

Thanks for reading!