AN: Aloha. Hope this keeps everyone busy for a little while. Still looking forward to some more comments and suggestions. ~ Mahalo!
CHAPTER 11 – FAMILY REUNIONS
"Your house is looking wonderful, Harry," said Hermione from across the dining room table at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
"Kreacher has been working his arse off. It's going to take quite a while to finish the entire house, but he's off to a good start," Harry answered, folding his arms in front of him and casually surveying his surroundings.
"You're not really going to keep a slave, are you?" Hermione asked as her eyes darkened and a deep crease formed in her forehead.
"Now isn't the time to talk about it, Hermione," Ginny whispered, signaling for Hermione to keep her voice down. "Harry and I have plans to keep Kreacher with us forever, but we won't own any slaves."
"Just until he finishes your renovations?" Hermione continued, obviously surprised and incensed.
"No, Hermione, we aren't going to own any house elves!" exclaimed Harry, irritated that he was being lectured while playing host in his own home.
The clattering of a service tray was the first indication that Kreacher had entered the dining room. The service door was located behind the chair in which Harry was seated and far to the left of Ginny's line of sight. Otherwise, Harry would never have been baited into making such an adamant statement about house elves. He and Ginny had been very careful not to say anything that might frighten Kreacher, looking for the right time to approach him about his freedom, accompanied by a lifetime employment agreement.
"M … M … Master is sacking Kreacher, is he?" stammered the aging elf.
"No!" exclaimed Harry and Ginny in unison.
Kreacher stood there looking astonished as tears began pouring down his face. Harry immediately took stock of the situation and hoped things wouldn't get as far out of hand as they had when he, Ron, and Hermione had confronted him about the locket Horcrux.
Before Harry could get another word out of his mouth, Ginny had closed the distance between them and knelt next to him so she could look him squarely in the eye.
"You'll always be with us, Kreacher, as long as you want to be here," Ginny said reassuringly.
"Kreacher must be here. Kreacher is owned by Master Harry."
Ginny looked up at Harry, searching for guidance. For once in his life, Harry looked as if he had no clue as to the proper course of action.
At last, he lifted his shoulders and then nodded toward her, as if to give her permission to carry this encounter.
"Kreacher," she continued, "Harry and I have been talking about what to do with your future here at Grimmauld Place and with us as your master and mistress."
Kreacher simply stared at Ginny, as if he had no idea how to deal with such a situation.
"Harry and I do not believe in slavery, and we think it is wrong for wizards and witches to own house elves. As you know, Dobby became a free elf because of Harry."
"Dobby had much trouble finding work, Mistress Ginny."
"Yes, he did, but you won't. Harry and I want to give you a lifetime contract to work for us, here, or wherever we end up living. It will be just as if you were still owned by us, if you want to stay with us. However, you will be free, and you will be paid for your work. If you do not want to work for us, you will be free to go wherever you please."
"Kreacher doesn't need paying, Mistress Ginny. Kreacher is proud to work for Master Harry."
"And you may continue to work for Harry and me as long as you want to," continued Ginny. "Nothing will change that. But we want you to be a free elf, able to make your own decisions and to be free to go where you choose if you do not like it here with us."
"What if Kreacher does not want to be a free elf?" he asked, doubt showing in his eyes.
"Then we will honor your decision, but we will still pay you. Do you have any family?" Ginny inquired softly.
"Yes, Mistress Ginny, Kreacher has family – two sons and a daughter."
"What about your wife?" asked Ginny cautiously.
"Kreacher's wife died eighteen years ago. Her head used to hang on the wall with all the other former house elves of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Kreacher took them down because Master Harry said he did not like them two years ago."
Ginny was at a loss for words. Like Harry, she had found the Black family's collection of preserved heads unsettling and, well, just wrong. Still, she didn't know how Kreacher had felt about his ancestors and his wife serving as decorations in their place of employment. In fact, there was very little either she or Harry truly understood about the ways of these magical creatures. The Weasley family had been far too poor to have servants, while Harry had grown up in the Muggle world. Yet Ginny couldn't abide the thought of Kreacher's family being owned by wizards spread across Great Britain or who knew where else. So she looked up at Harry, willing him to understand where she was heading with her series of questions.
As if he had read her mind, Harry stepped away from the table and made his way to the spot where Ginny still knelt next to Kreacher, gently holding his hand in her own.
"Where do your children work?" asked Harry.
"Kreacher's children are out of work, Master Harry. Kreacher's children worked for the Lestranges and the Mulcibers. They died in the battle and have no family left to inherit Kreacher's children."
"Then what if they also came to work for Ginny and me? We have four houses, all of which probably need a lot of work done on them. What do you think?" Harry inquired softly.
"Master Harry would own all of us?"
"If need be, yes," answered Harry. "However, we would prefer to employ all of you as free elves, like Dobby was."
"But you would not sack Kreacher … or Kreacher's children?"
"No, Kreacher," said Ginny soothingly, "we won't sack any of you. You'll work for us as long as all of you so choose."
"And we want you to have your own rooms," said Harry. "No more living beneath the furnace."
"Kreacher will have his own room?" asked the elf disbelievingly.
"Of course," answered Ginny. "There are more than enough rooms here, and I'm sure we can make do wherever we end up living. And we'll make arrangements for you to have proper clothes."
"C … C … Clothes!" stammered Kreacher.
"Yes, clothes," added Harry. "All of you will be free elves, and you are to wear clothes, just like witches and wizards."
"Clothes are a sign of a master's dismissal," countered Kreacher.
"No, Dobby once told me that wearing pillow cases and such was a mark of a house elf's enslavement. Ginny and I will not have slaves. You will wear clothes, and each of you will have two days off each week, and each of you will be paid a fair wage," said Harry forcefully.
At last Kreacher's face adopted a smile, and the aging elf bowed deeply to Harry and Ginny. "Kreacher must fetch new plates," he said before quickly casting a cleansing charm with the sweep of his hand.
"See, now," said Hermione smugly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
British Airways flight number eleven was scheduled to depart London Heathrow Airport heading for Singapore at 9:15 a.m., with a change of aircraft required to reach Sydney, Australia, where Hermione's parents had been living for almost a year. The first leg of the flight was supposed to take twelve hours and forty minutes, followed by another six hour and ten minute flight into Sydney. Ron had never thought about traveling by aircraft, so he was on edge with anticipation and a touch of fear. Perhaps it was due to his father's misguided adventures with Muggle paraphernalia, but Ron neither trusted nor appreciated non-magical technology. For her part, Hermione had flown only once and had been very young when she joined her parents on a quick trip to France. That flight had lasted only an hour and had been over almost before she realized they were airborne. Today's travel would bear precious little resemblance to that trip across the English Channel.
Hermione was relieved that Ron's attention had become singularly focused on their travel arrangements because he had been quite upset with her the previous evening at Grimmauld Place. While he loved and admired Hermione's passionate sense of justice, Ron realized that the relationship between wizards and elves was complicated by centuries of acclimatization to the present system and that the house elves had developed a coping mechanism that eventually made their enslavement a badge of honor. As such, he appreciated the difficult situation in which Harry and Ginny had found themselves now that Voldemort had been defeated. There was no longer a compelling security concern making it absolutely essential for Harry to maintain ownership of Kreacher.
However, all of Ron's irritation disappeared once he and Hermione arrived at Heathrow. Confronted by a world of totally unfamiliar practices, he retreated behind Hermione's lead. As a result, when they approached the ticket counter with their baggage, the ticket agent found herself slightly amused by the sight of the tall, powerful looking young man who was practically cowering behind the petite, bushy-haired woman who was handing two shiny new passports to her.
"Where will you be traveling today?" asked the agent.
"Sydney, Australia, please … Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."
"Seats 36-D and 36-E," continued the ticket agent as she opened the passports to compare the names and pictures with the young people who were traveling together. She was not surprised to see that neither passport bore any stamps.
Neither Ms. Granger nor Mr. Weasley had ever traveled outside of the U.K. before – at least not under their own passports.
"First international flights?" she asked, kindness resonating through her words.
"First air travel ever," answered Ron nervously.
The ticket agent considered the situation and made a decision on the spot. The flight wasn't particularly full, and she felt for the cute couple who would otherwise be forced to spend the next twelve hours crammed in the middle seats in the rear section of the Boeing 747 Luxury Jet.
"May I have your boarding passes for a moment, please," she asked as a warm smile spread across her face.
"Is … is … is there a problem?" Ron asked cautiously.
"No, sir," answered the agent. "I just thought you two might enjoy flying in our first class cabin today."
Harry had never felt less inclined to get out of bed in his life.
First, it had been an emotionally exhausting evening, for despite Hermione's happy proclamation that things with Kreacher "hadn't been so hard," he and Ginny had found it necessary to frequently reassure the elf that he was not being sacked and that they truly intended to keep him and his children employed for as long as they so desired. Second, neither he nor Ginny seemed capable of getting enough of one another, and the feel of her incredibly smooth skin as they lay spooned together in the afterglow of their love-making was nothing short of intoxicating. Finally, as much as he wanted to confront his Aunt Petunia and give her a well-deserved piece of his mind for withholding his mother's letters from him, the thought of making a return trip to number four, Privet Drive was nauseating.
One of the benefits of being seventeen years old and virtually insatiable when in Ginny's presence began making its presence known, pressing firmly against her bum and eliciting a happy purring sound from her chest. Harry slid his right hand over her side to rest against her smooth, flat stomach, pulling her even closer to him while his thumb moved lightly across her right nipple, which tightened instantly in response.
Ginny shifted, leaning forward in nearly imperceptible increments while lifting her right leg and sliding it backward over Harry's leg. Suddenly he found that his penis was positioned exactly where it needed to be, directly behind her still wet slit. Instinctively, his mouth found its place where the base of her neck met her incredibly smooth shoulder at exactly the same moment that he entered her from behind. The sensation was different, yet still the same - exquisitely smooth, astonishingly hot, completely and unmistakably Ginny.
Harry was lost in her once again, consumed with love, absorbed in the wonder of their union, totally awash in both excitement and comfort. He moved slowly, deliberately, luxuriously as she met his delicate thrusts in equal measure, driving him toward the brink surprisingly quickly for such a gentle coupling, the emotional impact of their actions far exceeding the physical.
Alarmed at the rate with which he was losing control, Harry allowed his hand to slide lower, parting from her breast before passing over her navel and eventually settling into her auburn curls. He took her clit lightly between his index and middle fingers, stimulating her with quick but tiny strokes. He could feel Ginny's muscles tensing as his own climax began to rise from deep within him, and her silence was replaced by a crescendo of moans.
"Oh, fuck!" she screamed suddenly, rewarding him for his efforts and taking him with her over the edge. They shuddered simultaneously, then stilled, spooned together blissfully.
"I love you, Ginny," Harry whispered softly against her ear.
"I love you, too," she answered breathlessly, "but we can't stay in bed all day."
"Why not?" he asked, pulling her even closer to him.
"Because you've already told the Dursleys you were coming," Ginny answered.
"I really don't want to," Harry confessed with a sigh.
"Let's just get this behind us, and I'll be there for you the whole time. Then you'll never need to see them again as long as we live."
"I do love you, Ginny. Truly."
"I know," she answered easily, a smile lighting her lips, though Harry couldn't see it from behind. "It's a good thing, because I've loved you all my life."
Hermione leaned across the divider that separated her individual pod from Ron's, stirring him from sleep.
While boarding the 747, she had taken a look back into the business class section of their aircraft, and the seats had looked roomy and comfortable. Further back in the plane, she had seen the coach section, jam-packed with nine seats across each row, and silently thanked the ticket agent who had taken an interest in their travel plans. Instead of being wedged in among other intercontinental tourists, they had been traveling for hours in the lap of luxury.
Not only did they have individual sleeping pods, with seats that reclined into full beds, each seat had its own entertainment console, complete with the latest in Muggle movies, television shows, a wide ranging selection of music, and a variety of news programming. On top of that, flight attendants appeared constantly to make sure their food and beverage needs were always tended to. All things considered, Hermione thought this a far superior way to travel than brooms or Apparition. When at last she needed to visit the bathroom, which she had heard was a tedious experience on aircraft, she was surprised to find a well-equipped, clean, and spacious facility. Suddenly a term she had heard about on a Muggle television program came back to her.
"Ron," she whispered as his eyes fluttered awake, "have you ever heard of the 'Mile High Club'?"
"The wh … what?" he stammered.
"Just follow me and don't be too obvious."
"Too obvious about what?"
Hermione took Ron by the hand and pulled him forward in his seat, hoping that the hungry look in her eye would be enough to communicate the thoughts she was too embarrassed to say in front of so many people. However, when Ron's confusion didn't abate, she grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him closer to her.
"Too obvious about the fact that I'm about to fuck you in the bathroom. Now follow me!"
"Okay, sure …" he said, rising from his seat and following her back to the area separating the first and business classes.
"In here," Hermione whispered, "but don't lock the door. I've already used every cleansing charm I know, so it should be nice."
"Hermione, you're amazing," he said, reaching out to give her a quick kiss.
"Now, Ronald!" she said, pushing him backward toward the compartment.
As Hermione had promised, the bathroom was spotless, with every surface gleaming like new, and vanilla candles lit and hovering in mid-air. The floor and seating area were both covered with beautiful off-white silk materials. It was so beautiful, and so unlike a bathroom, that Ron had to marvel at Hermione's magical skills.
A moment later, Hermione slipped into the room, looking carefully over her shoulder to make sure none of the crew had seen them. She slid the locking mechanism into place and immediately cast silencing charms and an imperturbable charm on the door. She had no idea how Muggles went about joining the 'Mile High Club' but she was going to do it in a style befitting herself and the man she loved with every ounce of her being.
As she turned toward him, Ron slipped his left hand along her jaw line and buried his fingers into her rich, curly, and thick brown hair. His lips were on hers before she could take control of the situation and start things the way she had intended to start them. Yet this wasn't all that far away from what she intended, and Ron's enthusiasm was more than enough to stir her passions to new heights.
"What were we so afraid of for so long," Hermione asked herself, dumbfounded. "Everything I was afraid of seems so silly now!"
As his left hand held her firmly to him, Ron slipped his right hand down her back, over her bum, and back up beneath her short skirt as his fingers curled around to reach the smooth skin of her inner thigh. She shivered forcefully as his hand cupped her bum and his fingers finally slid through her curls and between her labia, which had been drenched since she first came up with this idea.
"Hermione … your knickers?" he gasped.
"In my bag," she whispered passionately. "I didn't think we'd need them."
"That's bloody right," he said even more loudly. "We never need those things … not as far as I'm concerned."
"Oh, Ronald …" she began, but as his fingers found her center, her desire to speak faded instantly.
"You do realize how exciting it is when you tell me you want to fuck me?" Ron asked as his embrace pushed her back against the compartment door.
"Mmmm hmmm," she moaned as his tongue ravished her mouth sensually. She could hardly think as he pressed her against the room's only empty wall and his fingers worked their way inside her opening. Then, as she began to think she couldn't wait another second to have him inside her, Ron slid his left hand down from her face and along her body until it settled between them upon her clit.
"Oh, my!" she screamed as his fingers worked furiously against her nub and her silky muscles clamped down on the fingers of his other hand that were still pumping inside her.
"Yes, Ron … oh, God!" she screamed again, trusting that her silencing charms would hold but not really caring at the same time.
Ron had never before used his fingers so forcefully inside her, and the feelings were incredibly intense. Her orgasms continued crashing down over her in waves until she couldn't take any more contact. Gathering all her strength, Hermione shoved against Ron's chest, taking him by surprise, and making him stumble backward a couple of paces. As he backed into the silk-covered seat, his knees gave way and he landed with a resounding thud on his bum.
Flushed with passion, Hermione settled on her knees upon the padded fabric that covered the floor. As quickly as she could, her fingers began working to open Ron's belt and unbuttoned his fly. She pulled at the waistband of his trousers, bringing him further forward on the silk-covered seat before the trousers and boxers slid effortlessly to his knees. In a flash, Hermione's lips slid over the swollen head of his penis, and her tongue began lavishly stroking against the super-sensitive underside of his cock. Her excitement was more than evident as she began sucking him enthusiastically as she tried to take everything she could get into her mouth.
It took a super-human effort on his part, but Ron had no intention of coming in her mouth, at least not this time.
"No!" he screamed as his arms reached down to cup her face and pull her from his throbbing erection.
"Wh … what?" she sputtered as he lifted her up, returning to his feet as well.
"It's marvelous, love, but not this time … please! You said you wanted to fuck me and that's what we're going to do … and I want to see your beautiful eyes when you come again."
Ron lifted his right foot free from his trousers and boxers as he carried Hermione back against the wall of the compartment. She had never seen his bright blue eyes flare so intensely, while he had never seen so much naked passion reflected back at him from the dark brown orbs that were the gateway to her soul. At last he slid his hands downward, cupping her luscious bum in both hands and pulling her up against his dripping erection.
Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist while her arms gripped tightly around his neck.
"I love you, Ron," she murmured just before her mouth settled against the side of his neck and her teeth sank lightly into his flesh. It took all of her considerable powers of concentration to keep from drawing blood. Perhaps it was the excitement of the place in which they were making love, or it could have simply been that they were now comfortable enough together to drop their inhibitions, but Hermione's passions were more aflame than they had ever been.
For his part, Ron was panting with excitement, thoroughly overwhelmed that this woman he had loved for so many years could want him as completely as he wanted her.
He had been terrified for years that she would have run away had she learned how he really felt about her but that was obviously not the case. He had known that Hermione was passionate … passionate about her studies … passionate about the rights of all magical beings … passionate about helping Harry defeat Voldemort … but he had never dared to dream that she could be this wildly passionate about him.
"I love you, too, Hermione," he grunted loudly as his dick plunged toward her, sliding against her extremely wet clit, trying desperately to find her entrance.
Hermione twisted slightly and forced herself down upon him, wanting him every bit as much as he wanted her, and assisted by their shared wetness, she captured the throbbing head of his dick inside her. Digging her fingernails into the fabric of his shirt, Hermione slid forward, keeping the downward pressure against his erection and forcing his rock-hard shaft to slide along her clit without breaking contact. The sensation was too much to control, and Hermione was again thrown over the edge. She was pounding forcefully against his dick, which was now completely lodged within her. As Ron tried to withdraw and then slide firmly back inside her, Hermione dug her heels into the small of his back and pulled against him with all the strength she could muster.
Already on edge from Hermione's enthusiastic foreplay, Ron exploded deep inside her.
"God! Fuck! Oh, fuck!" Ron screamed as he slammed repetitively inside her. He was shuddering as his orgasm moved in waves across his groin, then spread outward to consume his entire body.
"I love you, Hermione … love you … love you," he repeated as his lips moved against her ear. Sweat was rolling down the sides of his flushed face, and his legs began to quiver as, at last, his penis began to soften inside her.
"Sit down, Ron, before you fall," she said, a slight chuckle passing over her lips. "You really need to sit down, love."
So he sat, exhausted, but Hermione wasn't finished with him just yet. She followed his movements as he sat back upon the padded silk and settled with her knees back on the floor and moved once again between his legs. She cupped his balls in one hand, while she gathered his spent penis in her other. Before he truly understood what she was doing, Hermione had taken him back inside her mouth, and her tongue resumed stroking softly over the most sensitive spot on the underside, just below the head.
Hermione was overwhelmed by their mingled scents and flavors, and she moaned as her tongue stroked repetitively over Ron's dick. The combination of these sensations lit another fire within him, and he began once again to harden. This time he did not stop her when he felt another intense orgasm building within him just as he shuddered against her lips.
As he came, Hermione redoubled her efforts, trying as best she could to remain as one. She swallowed deeply, greedily, refusing to loosen her grip until Ron pulled her forcefully into his lap, and his lips were upon hers, and his tongue was filling her mouth, and they were drinking of each other as if their lives depended upon it.
Hermione was unsure how long they had remained in their embrace, snogging each other with the same intensity with which they had just made love. At last she broke their kiss and took Ron's beet-red face in her hands.
"I love you, Ronald," she whispered. "I love you more than anything."
"Me, too," he responded. "I love you, too, Hermione."
"Love, I'm going to go back to our seats, but you had better stay in here until your color returns to normal. There is cold water in the sink and plenty of paper towels."
With a few quick swishes of her wand, the silken materials she had conjured disappeared, and the airplane's bathroom was returned to the sparkly clean condition it had taken on since Hermione cast the cleansing charms. As she completed her wand work, Ron gasped.
"Hermione! What about the contraceptive charm?"
"Don't worry, love, I took care of that before I came to get you."
And with a loving smile thrown back over her shoulder, Hermione slipped quietly from the bathroom. She tried particularly hard not to blush when one of the flight attendants caught her out of the corner of her eye and offered a knowing grin to the young witch as she returned to her seat.
Harry reflected upon Professor Dumbledore's lesson that it was considered the height of rudeness to Apparate inside another wizard's home and smiled mischievously at Ginny. He patted the parchment envelope inside his emerald green dress robes and took Ginny's crimson-clad arm in his. They couldn't have looked less like Muggles if they had tried, which, of course, they had.
"You look gorgeous, Ginny," he whispered against her ear.
"It's called 'afterglow,' you daft boy!" she answered with a sparkle in her bright brown eyes.
"But I thought I was a brave, brave man," replied Harry, matching her radiance and pulling her against him for another soft, deep kiss.
"Are you sure you don't mind Side-Along Apparition, love," he asked as she took a firm grip on his arm.
"Not this time, Harry, but don't get used to it."
"I won't," he said with a brief laugh before turning on the spot and disappearing once again into the crushing darkness.
Two soft pops announced their arrival in the living room of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. As they had rehearsed, both Harry and Ginny pulled their wands immediately upon their arrival and pointed them directly at Petunia and Vernon Dursley.
The massive Muggle and his horse-faced wife looked horror-struck, as all the color drained from their faces in panic. They were lucky to be seated on their settee, for had they been standing, they surely would have fainted. Harry's cousin, Dudley, was seated off to the side in a wing chair and almost split his side from laughing. He had never before seen his parents so completely undone, and it was something to see.
"Put that thing down, boy," Vernon said at last, once he was relatively sure that Harry wasn't going to turn him into a toad, or worse.
Harry didn't know what made him do it, but instead of lowering his wand, he stalked around the settee table and jammed the tip of his wand into one of the many rolls of fat that hung beneath his uncle's jowls.
"Don't push me, Vernon," he roared, surprised by the amount of wrath that was roaring through his veins. "You'll shut up and keep quiet, if you know what's good for you!"
Vernon Dursley swallowed fiercely but said nothing.
"Could you keep a wand on him, love?" he asked Ginny.
"Of course, Harry," she responded sweetly, but her eyes were growing cold as she gazed at the horrible people who had heaped a lifetime of abuse on the man she loved.
"I didn't come to talk with you, anyway," Harry practically spat at his uncle.
"Where are my mum's letters, Petunia?" he asked, turning his wand in her direction.
"Letters? Surely you can't believe I have any letters."
"I know you do, you jealous old cow!" bellowed Harry into her ear. "I've seen Severus Snape's memories, and I know all about how you tried to get Professor Dumbledore to take you into Hogwarts School.
I've seen firsthand how you turned against your own sister, who somehow loved you until the day she died. I also have a final letter from my mum – a letter that told me she had given you a letter to give me on each and every birthday of my life."
Harry's angry tirade was interrupted by a touch of laughter coming from Dudley's chair.
"You wanted to be a witch, Mum?" said Dudley. "You? A witch?" he continued until at last laughter overtook him. "Now that's a laugh."
"I most certainly did not!" objected Petunia.
"This is Veritaserum," snarled Harry as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial filled with clear liquid. "It's the most powerful truth potion in the world. Should I give you a good taste of it? Three drops should do the trick!"
Ginny had to exert every ounce of discipline she possessed to keep from laughing out loud, knowing full well that the vial was filled with nothing but water.
"T … t … truth serum?" asked Petunia.
"Yes, that's close enough," answered Harry. "Would you like to try some or would you just like to come clean?"
"All right," said Petunia, eyeing the tiny bottle suspiciously. "So what if I asked for admission to that school? That was before I knew what a freak my sister was."
"She had a name, Petunia," said Harry, anger lacing each word. "Her name was Lily, and she was one of the bravest woman who ever lived. Did you know she gave her life so I could live? Did you know that she and my father fought full-time against the world's Darkest wizard, or do you still want to tell everyone they were unemployed drunks?"
Petunia Dursley was turning even paler by the moment as Harry's wand began to tremble in her face. She cleared her throat as if to speak but remained silent.
At last, Ginny turned to Harry's cousin and spoke, "Dudley, surely you heard from Mr. Diggle that your cousin defeated Lord Voldemort and restored peace to the Wizarding World?"
"Yes," answered Dudley, although his eyes never left Ginny's wand.
"And you know that Harry is the most famous wizard ever to fight on the side of Light?"
"Blimey, Harry," said Dudley as he turned to face his cousin, although words had clearly deserted him.
"Dudley, Harry and I are to be married next Saturday, June sixth. If you would like to attend, Harry and I will arrange to pick you up here at four o'clock in the afternoon."
"Married!" blurted Vernon loudly. "Surely you must be kidding. You're just a boy!"
"He's the bravest wizard ever to live," Ginny hissed at Vernon, "and it would do you well to show him some respect."
"Lily's ring!" gasped Petunia, who had at last looked closely in Ginny's direction. "And her pendant!"
"That's right," said Ginny, pride infusing her voice.
"My letters," ordered Harry firmly. "I want my letters, Petunia."
"They're in the bureau," said Petunia softly.
"What?"
"The bureau, Harry. Your mother's letters are in the bottom drawer of the bureau."
"Accio Mum's letters!" cried Harry as he turned to cast his wand in the direction of his aunt's bureau. The drawer sprang open and out flew a stack of fifteen letters sealed in parchment envelopes identical to the one he had received compliments of Gringotts.
Harry grabbed the letters in his left hand and cast a gentle look at Ginny. Simultaneously, the couple lowered their wands and stepped toward each other. Ginny could see tears welling in her fiancé's eyes as he clutched the letters close to his heart. She knew instantly that Harry would no longer be able to continue this well-rehearsed confrontation as he had planned it. The emotions were simply too overwhelming. She leaned toward him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"Let me do it, Harry," she whispered.
He could only nod in response as he fought against the weight of his emotions. Ginny kissed him softly once again, reached inside his robes, and pulled out a thin envelope with the elaborate Gringotts "G" engraved on its flap.
"Harry would like you to have this," she said, thrusting the envelope at Harry's uncle. "He knows it was an expensive burden to raise him, so we would like to clear the ledger, so to speak."
Vernon sneered at Ginny yet took the envelope nonetheless. He looked at it cautiously, as if expecting something noxious to pop out of it at any moment. After what seemed to have been an appropriate amount of time to ensure safety, his fat fingers fumbled with the parchment flap of the envelope. Moments later he pulled out a cheque payable to Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley in the amount of £100,000.00.
"We trust that will be sufficient, if not generous, compensation, minus the monetary value of all the labor Harry provided while here," said Ginny curtly. She then turned back to Dudley and asked, "Have you had enough time to consider our invitation, Dudley?"
"Er … yes, I have. I'd like to come."
"Then my brother, George, will pick you up at 4:00 in the afternoon. The wedding will be held at my parents' house, but being a Muggle, you'll need to be escorted by a wizard."
Ginny took Harry by the arm and smiled warmly into his eyes. "Let's go home, Harry," she said softly, but loud enough for the dumbstruck Vernon and Petunia to hear. She made sure Harry had taken a firm grip on her arm before she turned on the spot, and they Disapparated with a pop.
Hermione and Ron walked briskly up the walk toward the small house located in a well-kept neighborhood in Sydney.
"Alohomora," Hermione whispered while pointing her wand at the lock, which clicked open without resistance.
Once inside the home, she and Ron moved quietly toward the rear of the dwelling, from which they could hear the sounds of the telly.
"Don't ask," whispered Hermione when Ron's face lit up at the strange device that was transmitting the image of human beings into the family room.
Both of Hermione's parents were side by side on the settee, concentrating on the program. She winced, knowing that in their normal state of consciousness, neither of her parents would have chosen to while away their hours in such fashion. Still, it had been for their protection. She looked silently at Ron and prayed fervently that she had mastered the complicated spell work that would restore their memories and allow her to bring them back to England.
She felt completely terrible about how she was going to do this, but knew she had little choice. She couldn't just walk up to them as two total strangers. So, both she and Ron drew their wands and cast identical spells at her parents, calling "Stupefy" as red jets of light streaked across the room.
Hermione moved rapidly to her parents' sides and began a complicated series of wand movements, murmuring a string of incantations, being extremely careful to get each step done precisely as she had learned them. After five minutes that seemed like so many hours, Ron stepped beside her, slipped his arm firmly about her waist, and kissed her tenderly against her cheek. A moment later, his blue eyes were locked lovingly upon her brown, and unspoken words of love passed between them.
"Ready, love?" he asked gently.
"Ready," she answered.
Although the timing was irrelevant, Ron and Hermione swished their wands in identical arcs and called "Ennervate."
It took only a moment for both of her parents to begin batting their eyelids. Then, first her mother, followed quickly by her father, looked directly at their only daughter. Time passed agonizingly slowly for Hermione, whose heart was pounding wildly in her chest.
"Hermione!" said both of her parents simultaneously.
Hermione burst into tears and rushed to hug her parents fiercely as tears flowed freely from her eyes.
Ron let forth a breath he had been holding tensely, his own eyes also filling with tears. It came as no surprise that he cared even more intensely for Hermione's happiness than he felt for his own.
