CHAPTER 14 – JOURNEYS COMPLETED

Molly Weasley sat at the Burrow's kitchen table fidgeting noticeably. No matter how adamantly Ginny kept repeating the word 'simple,' the more it seemed to bother her mother. The guest list looked woefully short, and it wasn't anything at all like Molly had always had in mind for her youngest child and only daughter.

"But Ginny, you're the only female Weasley for generations. In fact, it's been so long since there has been a daughter in your father's family, no one can remember when the last girl was born."

"That's not my fault, Mum," replied Ginny, who was starting to bristle a bit at the unwanted pressure. "If it helps, think of me as just another female Prewett in a long line of female Prewetts, because I want a simple ceremony and so does Harry. Otherwise, we're going to be overrun with reporters, governmental flunkies, and everyone else who wants to be associated with Harry."

"I know, dear, but surely you want to have someone other than family in attendance," pleaded Molly.

"We do, Mum," Ginny said with exasperation. "We have Neville, Luna, and Hermione."

"Hermione's as good as family, dear. I'm half surprised Ron hasn't already asked her to marry him."

"It took him years to admit that he fancied her, Mum. I expect Hermione's going to have to ask him if she wants to be young enough to have children when they get married," said Ginny with a touch of wry laughter.

She had no intention of telling her Mum that she was already pregnant. It might only serve to confuse her parents as to why Ginny had accepted Harry's proposal in the first place. That simply wouldn't do, so she had made that fundamental decision even before telling Harry, who had readily accepted her plan to keep this information in trust between them only.

"But don't you want a few more friends?" asked Molly.

"Neville and Luna were at the Ministry with us and helped me with the DA last year. They're special friends. Beyond that, we'd have to open the doors for everyone, and that's exactly what we want to avoid. Anyway, once Charlie, Percy, and George bring dates, and Bill and Fleur bring all of her family, we'll have a garden full of people."

"But what about Hogwarts professors, dear?" continued Molly.

"We've invited the Headmistress, Hagrid, Professors Flitwick and Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey. Who else would you want us to invite, Mum?"

"Oh, all right, Ginny. I give up! But why do we have to cater all the food?"

"Because you're not going to work like a slave, Mum, and Kreacher and his children are also coming as our guests. Anyway, Madam Rosemerta's food is wonderful," said Ginny emphatically.

"But it's so expensive," Molly replied, a tinge of concern lacing her words.

"Harry can afford it. Can't we just let go of all these details?"

"But, Ginny dear, how can he afford all this?"

"Mum, please let it go," she began, placing a hand on her mother's arm. "There's no need to go into details. Just try to understand that this won't be a hardship for Harry, and it's something he wants to do. Like he says, it's a stupid custom that says a bride's family has to pay for everything, and we're not doing anything nearly as elaborate as what you did for Bill and Fleur."

"But …" began Molly before she was forcefully cut off.

"Let it go, Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, finally allowing some of her frustration to come through. "Just let it go!"

"But about the dress, Ginny …" Molly said, trying to resurrect the discussion about Ginny's wedding attire for the hundredth time that morning.

"Dress robes, Mum … dress robes," Ginny answered once again. "Harry and I have already gone to Madam Malkin's and been fitted for our robes. Ron and Hermione can have theirs done as soon as they get back from Australia."

"When will that be?" Molly inquired.

"As soon as they've found Hermione's parents and restored their memories," said Ginny.

"But what if they don't make it back in time? You won't have any attendants."

"Then we won't have any attendants. It's not required for a valid marriage. Anyway, they promised they'd be back in time," muttered Ginny. She hoped it was a promise Ron and Hermione could fulfill.

It would be terrible to get married without their closest friends in attendance.

Molly was about to ask again when two soft pops came from beyond the open kitchen window. She knew Ginny was becoming irritated with her requests, but realized that Ginny would come to understand things better when her daughter was preparing to walk down the aisle. Molly smiled nostalgically, remembering that she had asked much the same thing of her mother when she and Arthur had married.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny as she saw her friend entering the Burrow's kitchen. "You're back already!"

"Yes!" answered Hermione excitedly. "We found my parents right away, and the reversal spell worked perfectly. Ron and I gave them a summary of what's happened since they left, and they wanted to come back home immediately."

"I'm so glad for you, Hermione!" Ginny offered with a smile "Where is Ron, by the way?"

"I left him with Harry and Kreacher out in the garden. They seemed to be excited about something."

"Harry's thinking we ought to go to Chateau Peverell and, if it's not in too bad condition, see if we might use it for our honeymoon."

"How long has it been since anyone's lived there?" Hermione continued inquisitively.

"Forever, as far as Harry has been able to find out, but it's supposed to be absolutely beautiful," Ginny added, unable to keep a trace of excitement out of her voice.

"And you own it?" asked Hermione, her excited voice carrying farther than she had intended.

"What?" sputtered a surprised Molly.

"Yes, Hermione, where did you hear that?" added an equally shocked Ginny. She and Harry had agreed to keep such information a secret amongst the two of them, only.

"I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret," answered Hermione. "I simply heard Kreacher asking 'Master Harry' about instructions for fixing up your new house. It was really obvious with that bull frog's voice of his."

"I'll have to speak with Kreacher about keeping such things quieter in the future," muttered Ginny.

They hadn't thought about the risk of including their primary house elf in their secret, since he and his children would be responsible for caring for their residences.

"Such things?" asked Molly.

"Harry has inherited a little real estate, Mum, that's all," answered Ginny.

"A little real estate called Chateau Peverell? " continued Molly suspiciously, as her thoughts about Harry's inheritance began to come together.

"Yes, and we know nothing about it. That's why we're going to pop over there tomorrow afternoon and see what kind of condition it's in. I did a little research on Lac Annecy, and it looks absolutely beautiful. It would be a brilliant place for a honeymoon if it's not too shabby."

"So you're taking Kreacher and all three of his children?" asked Hermione.

"All three of his children?" Molly asked incredulously. "Harry owns four house elves?"

"No, we employ four house elves. We presented them with clothes and offered them contracts to work for us as free elves, and they all accepted."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ginny."

"We do, Mum. Just let go and trust Harry. I do."

The next afternoon, the weather was perfect and the sun glimmered brilliantly as it reflected off the cold, clear water of Lac Annecy. Harry and Ginny had arrived at the Official Apparition Point in the wizarding quarter of Dijon, where they presented their official travel documents to the dumbstruck employees of the French Ministry. Although it had been only a few days since Lord Voldemort had fallen, Harry's fame preceded him even into Burgundy. From there, the young couple had taken a Portkey to the village of Annecy, which was perched quaintly upon the northern-most shore of the glacially carved lake.

The French Alps towered majestically to the east, while the western shore was flanked by rugged, densely forested hills. The surroundings reminded them of Hogwarts and the Black Lake, although the scale was much grander.

A quick review of the legal documents Harry had obtained from Gringotts went quite satisfactorily, and a pair of goblins escorted them to their property that was nestled on the eastern shore near a famous Muggle resort. Although Harry and Ginny had the written directions to their unplottable chateau, they doubted if they could ever have found the property without assistance. A tiny lane ran downhill from the main road that paralleled the eastern shore of the lake, quickly falling into the woodlands that obscured the small castle from view. The ancient building was constructed primarily of grey limestone, although the trim had been made of deep red bricks held tightly in place by grey mortar. The leaded glass windows towered four stories above them and reflected the glittering sunset from the water's surface.

Ginny opened the sheet of incantations the goblins had provided and held them in plain view so Harry could recite the phrases necessary to open the locks.

"We'll add you to the blood wards the moment we're married," said Harry as the front door sprang open and they walked into the foyer.

"Oh, Harry, I feel so tiny," whispered Ginny as she took his hand in her own. "It's magnificent."

"Yes, sweetheart, it is," he answered, "but so are you."

"Oh, Harry, thank you for the compliment, but that's ridiculous!" she chided him.

"Why don't you shut up and let me be the judge of that, Ginevra?" Harry responded firmly. "It's my opinion that matters, anyway."

"It's just that you act like I'm the most beautiful and talented witch in all of Britain," she said sardonically.

"And France," Harry added quickly. "You forgot about France, love."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry!"

"I'm not being ridiculous!" he protested insistently as he closed the distance between them, slipped his fingers into her gorgeous red hair, and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

The familiar feelings of fire and spice spread instantly through his body as she melted into him. So they remained locked together while passion flared intensely between them. At last Ginny reluctantly broke their embrace and stared into his emerald eyes.

"Unless you want to have me on this flagstone floor, I think it's time we summoned Kreacher," she said huskily.

"Kreacher!" Harry called, barely raising his voice above normal speaking volume.

Four sharp cracks rang out in the foyer as Kreacher, his sons and his daughter appeared out of thin air.

"Amazing!" said Harry respectfully. "We wizards have to go through all this regulatory nonsense, but you can simply Apparate."

"Wizards have never properly respected Elvish Apparition or any of our other magical powers," answered Kreacher proudly.

Harry swallowed hard and thought how that simple truth had saved his life and the lives of his closest friends, though Dobby had perished in the process.

"Ginny, may I introduce you to Kreacher's daughter, Melpomene, and his sons, Winston and Randolph."

"Pleased to meet each of you," said Ginny politely.

"Mistress Ginny," replied each of Kreacher's children in turn.

"There is no need to call us mistress and master," said Ginny as a kind smile spread across her face, matching the sparkle in her bright brown eyes.

"Kreacher and his children prefer the traditional ways, Mistress Ginny," answered Kreacher. "Now, what would Master Harry have us do?"

"Would you please prepare the house for us to stay overnight, Kreacher?" requested Harry. "It seems so nice here, and I think we'd like to stay."

"Indeed," replied Kreacher. "Winston and Randolph will start by serving dinner on the terrace while Kreacher and Melpomene will begin with the living quarters."

Winston and Randolph bowed deeply and made sweeping gestures with their hands, directing Harry and Ginny forward into a great room with massive fireplaces on either end and a long wall of leaded glass windows that looked over a well-kept terrace, immediately below which sparkled the pristine waters of Lac Annecy. Ginny's breath caught in her throat as she gazed out over the beautiful sunset that was forming above the rugged hills that flanked the western shore of the lake.

Harry's attention was riveted on the beautifully set table on the terrace, featuring white tapers burning brightly in crystal candlesticks, matching claret glasses, and fine china. Harry had spent hours with Kreacher earlier in the afternoon while Ginny had been making wedding plans with her mother. He prayed nervously that she would be pleased with his efforts.

He need not have worried, as Ginny held tightly to him when they approached the outdoor dining table. The weather had complied perfectly with his wishes, the temperature remaining balmy yet retaining the crispness so typical of the French Alps in late spring.

"Oh, Harry, it's perfect," she whispered.

"Like you," he answered, following his heart but immediately wishing he had tempered his response when she grimaced and rolled her eyes.

"I'm nothing even vaguely approaching perfect, Harry," she said firmly. "I really wish you wouldn't put that kind of burden on me."

"You're perfect for me, love," he answered, a hint of irritation lacing his reply. "I really wish you'd accept that, Ginny. I know you're not an objective ideal. I only mean that you're exactly who I want, and I wouldn't change anything about you."

Her features softened slightly, yet she still shook her head.

"Tell me that again in seven years, Potter, when all you blokes start into the seven-year itch."

"I like a challenge, Weasley," said Harry as he pulled out her chair and helped her take the seat that looked out directly upon the glittering lake. "You know I'll never lose, don't you?"

"Hmmpf!" she said indignantly, although a jolt of electricity was running down her spine where he had allowed his hand to stroke lightly against the thin fabric of her blouse.

"It really is beautiful here, Harry," she sighed as her gaze stretched out across the water.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Harry slipped a small jewelry box onto her plate. It was wrapped in gold paper with crimson and silver ribbon. He quickly slid into the seat to her left, his gaze vacillating between her profile and the present that still lay unnoticed upon her serving plate.

"Harry, are those swans?" she asked excitedly as a small flock of long-necked birds descended to the surface of the water.

"I think so," he mumbled as his fingers began tapping impatiently upon the tablecloth.

"It's so beautiful," she murmured as she turned to gaze into his eyes, never once looking down at the present he so desperately wanted her to discover.

She reached for him with her right hand and as she moved it from the surface of the table toward his face, she accidentally bumped her fingers against the box that sat otherwise unnoticed upon her plate.

"Harry!" she gasped, finally taking notice of the carefully wrapped package that lay before her. It took only a moment for her to break through the wrapping paper and extract the jewelry box from its cardboard container. In the blink of an eye, she pried it open and sat staring incredulously at the ruby and diamond earrings that had last been owned by his mother.

"I love you, Harry," was all she could say before her lips rose to meet his.

"I was going to give them to you at the wedding, but I couldn't wait."

"They're gorgeous, Harry, but honestly …" she began before hesitating, haunted by second thoughts about what she wanted to say.

"But what?" asked Harry as a crestfallen look washed over his face.

"Nothing," she whispered, wishing desperately that she had been able to keep her concerns to herself.

"It's not nothing," he answered as he searched her eyes for clues about what he had done wrong.

"It's just that I've never had anything like this," she replied, trying hard to find the right words to describe what she was feeling. "I've never had money or jewelry or a fancy house – not that you could even call this a house. And we haven't even seen your estate in Cornwall. It's all a little overwhelming."

"I know," Harry said softly, no longer able to look into her eyes.

"At least I was smart enough not to give her Mum's other ring," he thought silently while his appetite disappeared. "How could I have been so fucking stupid?"

"I've not only never had these kind of things, Harry, I've never even missed having them."

Harry fidgeted with the edge of the fine cotton tablecloth and looked at the elaborate collection of china and crystal. He knew that Ginny was right. It was all a bit overwhelming; exceeding even the level of formality at a major Hogwarts feast.

"Look, Ginny," he whispered, "it's not about the things. I've never had them either. It's all a little new to me, too. I guess I went a little overboard with the dinner, but I wanted tonight to be perfect for you. And I want you to have the jewelry because it was my mum's … because it's perfect for you … because I want you to know how much I love you … because I want to honor you with all that I am and all that I have."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny gasped as she reached out to raise his chin so she could again look into his eyes. "Your mother's jewelry is so beautiful, and it means the world that you want me to have it. I love it, as a matter of fact. What I'm trying so poorly to say is that all I really want or need is you."

Following one of Molly Weasley's exceptional dinners, Mark and Elizabeth Granger sat in the comfort of the Burrow, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the world into which their daughter had adapted so beautifully. The magical dwelling couldn't have been more different than their neatly organized home in Oxfordshire. Still, the warmth and love that exuded from the Weasleys had almost instantly put them at ease.

"Wendell and Monica Wilkins!" said Arthur with laughter lacing his words. "However did you choose such names for your parents, Hermione?"

"I don't really know, Mr. Weasley," she answered timidly. "I guess I chose a last name starting with the letter 'W' then let the rest sort of come out of the blue."

"The letter 'W'?" asked Ron, a sly grin slipping across his face. "Why the letter 'W'?"

Hermione blushed brightly and turned her eyes downward to gaze at the tea service that sat upon the Weasleys' living room table. "No particular reason, Ron," she answered softly, "other than the fact that I was thinking about you at the time."

"Blimey!" he replied, slipping his large, masculine hand around hers, lacing his fingers through her much smaller, softer ones.

"Hermione's spell work must have been pretty good," said her father, "because I never once thought it strange that my name was Wendell Wilkins, although I always felt a bit odd calling my wife 'Monica.' Very strange, that!"

"And I never got comfortable with the idea of being retired," added Elizabeth. "It seemed like we ought to be doing something other than watching the telly."

"Always wondered how that worked!" added Mr. Weasley excitedly. "How exactly have Muggles figured such things out? Brilliant, I tell you! Brilliant!"

"I've often wondered the same thing," said Mark Granger understandingly. "It's a bit different field of science than either Elizabeth or I studied at university … waves and such."

It was only nine o'clock in the evening, but Elizabeth Granger was losing the battle against the need to yawn when all eyes in the room turned to her.

"Excuse me," she said politely, yet blushing profusely. "The company is wonderful, and your meal was delicious, Molly. However, I'm afraid the jetlag has hit us rather hard."

"Jetlag?" asked Arthur curiously.

"It happens when the body becomes dehydrated for so many hours when you travel by air – especially when you move across several time zones."

"Fascinating!" said Arthur once again. "Well, Molly and I will be happy to escort you back home. I'm sure Ron and Hermione are both too jetlagged to risk Side-Along Apparition tonight."

"Are you quite certain that it's safe with Muggles?" asked Mrs. Granger, even though they had arrived at the Burrow by the same method of travel.

"Absolutely, dear," answered Molly with a kind smile. "Just hold on tight when we tell you we're ready, and don't let go. Everything will be fine."

"Aren't you coming along, Hermione?" her mother asked when the young witch made no move to join them.

"Maybe later," answered Hermione. "I'd like a little more time with Ron, if you don't mind."

"More time, dear?" replied her mum. "You've been together for days!"

"Not alone, Mum," she nearly whispered, surprising everyone in the room with her frankness.

"Oh, my!" gasped Elizabeth, "I'm sorry dear. I guess I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay."

"Yes, by all means, we'll just let Arthur and Molly zip us back home and let you two have some time together. Will you be home late?" asked Elizabeth.

"Not until tomorrow, Mum," answered Hermione with finality.

Arthur Weasley smiled knowingly in the direction of Ron and Hermione as he took Elizabeth by the arm and followed Molly and Mark toward the door. Just before he stepped outside, where it would be safe to Apparate, Arthur looked back over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione.

"I think Molly and I will stop by the Leaky Cauldron on the way home for a nightcap," he said with a light note to his voice. Turning back to speak to the Grangers, Arthur continued, "Now remember to hold our arms very tightly. You'll get used to the feeling after a few trips!"

Pansy Parkinson tossed uncomfortably in bed. It was far too early to retire, as the sun had set no more than thirty minutes earlier, but she dared not return to the main portion of her home.

Only by feigning a splitting headache and case of nausea had she been able to convince her father that she need not accompany him to Malfoy Manor. He had departed reluctantly, reminding Pansy that they still had much planning to do if they were going to successfully complete their plan to assassinate Harry Potter and gain control of the Elder Wand for Lucius Malfoy.

Pansy had wanted to ask her father exactly why it was so bloody important for a Malfoy, rather than a Parkinson, to lead the pureblood revival but her heart wasn't truly in it. She had suffered severe misgivings when Lucius first shared his plan with them, but her inherent dislike for Harry Potter combined with the embarrassment of how easily Ginny Weasley and a house elf had disarmed both her and Draco had led her back into the fold. However, the disregard shown for her personal safety by Lucius had been compounded by the disrespect Draco had shown for her as a human being. It was enough to make anyone think twice.

She also wondered why she wasn't enjoying the thought of Ginny Weasley being widowed on her wedding day. She was everything Pansy resented in the world, for the Weasley girl gathered friends effortlessly, excelled in her class work, and flew better than any witch she had ever seen.

"Bugger," thought Pansy, "she flies better than any wizard I've ever seen, except maybe Viktor Krum, himself!"

Pansy slammed her fist down upon her pillow and cursed beneath her breath, unaware of what was making her hold her emotions inside. The Weasley girl had everything she ever wanted, including the love of the man she had always loved – even worse, he was the most famous wizard in all of Britain. It was enough to make her go round the twist with jealousy.

"Why then aren't I happier about what we're planning to do?" she wondered. "It's only because Lucius is setting Draco and me up to take the fall. Isn't it?"

Hermione fidgeted nervously as her parents left the Burrow with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. She hadn't meant to give them such a direct indication of where her relationship with Ron had progressed, but she had expected a bit more discretion from her mum as well. Still, Hermione had to admit that she had told her parents nothing of her romantic interest in Ron. In fact, she had gone to great lengths over the years to speak of Ron and Harry as if they shared equally in her affections. Somehow she had expected her parents to pick up on the fact that Ron had accompanied her to retrieve them from Australia while Harry was preparing for his wedding and draw the proper conclusions.

"Well," she reflected, "it wasn't particularly subtle, but it should be clear now exactly how I feel about Ron Weasley!"

As the door latch clicked shut, Ron looked up sheepishly at his girlfriend, trying hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. He was fairly certain Hermione wouldn't see the humor in the situation, yet he couldn't keep the twinkle from his eye as his gaze finally caught hers. Whatever he had expected, her reaction wasn't it.

Hermione smiled broadly and let out a burst of laughter before covering her mouth with her hand.

"Guess I haven't gained any subtlety since Borgin & Burke's," she said, gasping to catch her breath between waves of laughter.

"Well, your mum and dad aren't likely to be sending Death Eaters after us, so no worries," answered Ron. "And they seemed to take the hint quickly enough."

"Yours, too," giggled Hermione as she reached out to take Ron by the hand. "I take it they're going to give us some time on our own."

"It's not like they've ever tried to keep us apart," said Ron.

"No, but they've never left us with the house to ourselves," Hermione replied as she pulled Ron up from his seat. "Where shall we begin?"

"B … begin?" stammered Ron in response.

"I don't know about you, but I'd like a change from making love with the Chudley Cannons flying around the room."

"But … but … but Mum and Dad. They can't be gone long enough to …"

"Long enough for what, Ron?" she asked. "How long did we need on the airplane?"

"Not long," he replied as his hands moved to her face.

Without another word, Ron's fingers laced into her hair and he lowered his lips to meet hers softly. In only a moment, his tongue parted her lips and met with hers, where they began dueling ferociously, one with the other. Fire surged through him instantly, rising within him until he couldn't suppress the moan that passed from his lips into hers.

Unwanted clothes were cast unceremoniously aside as Ron's hands found their way over Hermione's body, claiming her after the longest two days of his life. It had seemed reasonable that they should refrain from sex during the time it took to make their way back from Sydney to London and that Hermione should stay at her parents' home on their first night back in Oxfordshire, but Ron had never thought two days could seem so interminable.

As irrational as it seemed, Ron had ached for Hermione in a way he couldn't have believed possible, and as their lips merged and their clothes flew in all directions, the ache that had filled his soul for two days turned into a raging fire.

"I've missed you, Hermione," he breathed into her ear.

"It's seemed like forever, hasn't it?" she breathed back.

Ron's hand slipped gently down over her bum before reaching back up her inner thigh. To his surprise, he found her as wet as she had ever been. His eyes popped open to find her gazing at him humorously.

"I told you it's seemed like forever," she said softly before wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him down to the settee on top of her.

Her hips rose up to meet his, her hand reaching down to guide him into her in one smooth motion. Ron felt overwhelmed, as if he was home after a long journey.

He melted into her, feeling her throbbing against him, and he lost control completely, shuddering against her with an intensity that shook him to the core.

"Hermione," he gasped, "I love you."

"And I love you, Ron."

As his thrusts subsided, Ron allowed his knees to sink to the floor and his head to move between her legs, and his tongue to fill her where only moments before, he had been. He kissed her with an intensity that he had never felt before and he lost track of everything except the desire to show Hermione that she was nothing less than the entirety of his world. So he poured his soul into every kiss, every taste of her essence, as she bucked fiercely against him his kisses deepened until she had to pull away with a ticklish laughter that made his soul soar as high as it ever had … as high as he thought it ever could, and he knew unequivocally that there could never be anyone else for him.

Hermione jumped up quickly and began gathering their clothes while Ron remained kneeling, dumbstruck that she had moved so quickly away from him. At last, he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Ron," she whispered into his ear. "How long do you think it takes to have a nightcap at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Not long," he answered as two soft pops greeted his ears from the garden.

Hermione took his hand in hers and pulled Ron quickly to his feet and up the stairs.

"Upstairs!" she exclaimed. "It's time to go back to the Cannons!"

Arthur and Molly took their time puttering about in the garden, rearranging some of the chairs and tables and talking happily about the lovely evening they had shared with the Grangers.

"Oh," Arthur said as if it were an afterthought, "I filed Ginny's papers at the Ministry today. She's now free to marry, or do whatever else she chooses. Our youngest is now officially of age."

"It was going to happen in a couple of months, anyway, Arthur," she answered. "Still, it makes me a little sad. Nevertheless, I couldn't be happier for her … and for Harry."

"Me, too," answered Arthur quietly. "Me, too."

After a few moments, Molly noticed light shining briefly from Ron's fifth floor bedroom before being extinguished.

"I think it's okay to go in now, Arthur," she said softly, while taking her husband by the hand.

"Right," answered Arthur as a smile creased his lips.

Molly pulled her husband into the house and toward the stairwell in much the same way Hermione had only minutes earlier led Ron up to his room. Molly wasn't entirely sure if it was due to the excitement of Ginny's upcoming wedding, or the obvious love that flowed between Ron and Hermione, but for the first time since Fred had been killed, she craved the comfort of making love with her husband.

As they entered their bedroom, Molly and Arthur were greeted by the sounds of Ron's bed creaking softly above them.

"Ah, to be eighteen again," said Arthur with a quiet sigh.

"I don't know, love," answered Molly. "I actually think things have gotten better over time, don't you?"

"Hmmm, glad you think so," whispered Arthur as he took his wife in his arms and began to press kisses gently against her face.

"I do," she said, shivering slightly when Arthur's lips met her ear.

With a flip of her wand, Molly doused the candles that had illuminated their bedroom, shrugged out of her robes, and fell naked into bed with her husband.

So far, the night at Chateau Peverell had turned out differently than Harry had planned, but had been lovely nonetheless. The property had proven to be in much better condition than he and Kreacher had anticipated. Whether or not Harry's parents had ever visited their French estate he would probably never know; however, it had become readily clear that the name 'Potter' was not new to the French wizarding authorities. No fuss had been made when Harry James Potter arrived with supporting documents from Gringotts.

The magical protections that had been placed upon the property when it had last been visited had kept even the dust and cobwebs at bay. All Kreacher and his children had needed to do was organize the furnishings, make the beds, light the fires, and prepare their meals for the evening. Harry found himself wondering at times how it had come to pass that Chateau Peverell had been magically protected, as if kept lovingly over time for its owners, while number twelve Grimmauld Place had fallen so deeply into disrepair. Then it hit him that while Chateau Peverell had been cherished and lovingly protected for future generations, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had fallen into decay as the family, itself, had fallen apart. Mrs. Black had survived the disappointment of Sirius and the loss of Regulus and lingered only a few years before dying a bitter and broken woman. The continuing ministrations of a depressed and alienated house elf had no chance of maintaining the once darkly magnificent home.

At Chateau Peverell, Kreacher and his children had been anything but depressed as they seized happily upon the chance to serve 'Master Harry' and 'Mistress Ginny' in their magnificent new home. As a result, the hallways had soon been lit with magical candles, draperies had been flung open to catch the crispness of the evening air, and fireplaces had been lit the moment that the crispness had taken on the chill edge of night that was always present in the Alps.

Dinner was marvelous, as Winston and Randolph had gone to great lengths to prepare even Harry's favorite treacle tart for dessert. When he asked how Kreacher had known, Ginny merely smiled like the proverbial Cheshire cat and allowed the conversation to move on to other things. As they sat on the terrace, enjoying the food and the passage from sunset into night, Harry had finally focused upon the only thing he needed to feel complete – Ginny.

The house elves had done everything in their power to remain unobtrusive through the course of dinner, sweeping in with each change of dish, with each empty glass. As the chill descended from the peaks towering behind them on the eastern shore of the lake, Ginny moved closer to him, sharing his warmth and obviously enjoying his embrace. The setting was so perfect that he hardly dared move, fearing on some level that any change might burst the magic bubble in which he and Ginny now resided. Only when Kreacher had arrived to ask if 'Master Harry' would require anything else before retiring did he allow himself to think of what would happen next.

The master suite of Chateau Peverell dwarfed that of Grimmauld Place both in size and beauty. Located on an upper floor at the eastern end of the castle, the room looked out over Lac Annecy.

The moonlight that twinkled upon the surface of the water was intoxicating. The coolness that wafted in through the open windows was refreshing. The fire that blazed in the fireplaces at either end of the bedroom warmed them despite the effects of the room's high gothic ceiling. Their massive four-poster bed sat on an elevated section of the split-level room, inviting the young couple as if it were a living force.

The surface of the bed rose precisely to the level of Harry's hips, causing him to think immediately of the things he could do with Ginny before he even took the step up to lie between the covers. He allowed himself the luxury of believing that she was thinking similar thoughts as they stepped up beside the bed and into one another's embrace.

As they always did, Harry's hands reached up to touch Ginny's face, and his fingers intertwined with her glorious hair. His touch was reverential at first, for that was precisely how he felt about this young woman who seemed to have been made as specifically for him as he knew he had been for her. He wondered as he often did exactly how he had failed to see Ginny for what she was for so long, only to be suddenly and surprisingly overwhelmed by his need for her early during his sixth year at Hogwarts.

Since that moment of awareness, no thought for any other woman had entered his mind, and Harry doubted it ever would, for Ginny was everything he had ever wanted. Indeed, she was everything he could ever imagine wanting in a partner.

As her lips parted and their tongues met, Harry's sense of reverence became melded with passion in a way he had never known possible. He frequently wondered how it was that he could be filled simultaneously with admiration and respect for someone when all the while he wanted desperately to ravish her physically. Perhaps it was the disrespectful way in which so many of his male classmates had come to talk about the various witches they found sexually attractive and the things they wanted to do to them. But Harry had never once thought about doing anything to Ginny Weasley. Instead he thought only of the things he wanted to do with her … the things he wanted to do for her … the desperation with which he wanted to make sure that she knew he loved her.

What his friends seemed to feel about other witches, Harry had never felt for anyone, so there was no sense of shame in what he felt for her. Instead, the fire of his emotion for Ginny seemed as pure as it seemed overwhelming in nature. He knew without doubt that she was everything to him … everything.

How long they stood beside the bed, exploring one another's mouths with their tongues … one another's bodies with their hands … Harry had no clue, but it must have been quite a while, for his legs had begun to shake. Somehow their clothes lay strewn about them as he struggled to find a way to deepen their kisses. His right hand remained buried deeply in her hair while his left moved freely over her body, seeking just as passionately to pull her somehow closer to him. Neither was physically possible, but he needed to try nonetheless, until their teeth clanked gently against each other and she moaned passionately back into his mouth.

"I need you now, Harry, please," she whispered when at last their kiss broke momentarily.

"Yes, love … now," he answered as his foot reached for the pillowed step that stood beside the bed. "I think you'll need this," he gasped while offering her the little stool.

"Yes," she gasped, stepping up and turning away from him to crawl onto the thick pillow-top mattress and luxurious duvet.

The vision of Ginny's bum … of her dampened center … and her erotic scent drove Harry beyond the edge of desire. As she pulled herself up, Harry reached forward and grasped her by her left hip and right thigh, halting her progress when her knees had barely made it up onto the edge of the bed. He moved forward hungrily, pulling her back against his face as his lips met her labia and his tongue plunged as deeply inside of her as it had been when they had been kissing.

Ginny released a feral moan, telling Harry he had done something as welcome as it had been unexpected. She rocked back against him forcefully as he strained to enter as deeply with his tongue as was physically possible. Liquid fire was running through his veins as he began to lap at her, stroking her firmly in repetitive movements beginning against her clit and ending buried once again inside her. Each time he would resume, the bridge of his nose would slide through her opening, eliciting another throaty moan and a shivering sensation that seemed to run through Ginny's entire body. The feeling was electrifying.

Harry could tell she was rapidly approaching her climax when suddenly she dropped her face down to the mattress, more fully exposing her clit and pubic bone to his taste. He moved forward in an instant, taking her nerve-filled nub between his lips and laving it enthusiastically with his tongue. He wanted above all else to show her that he was hers, body, mind and soul. He wanted desperately to give her a level of physical fulfillment that she had never yet achieved, all the while wondering if that were even possible with all they had done so early in their relationship, although he knew it wasn't really that early, for he had spent nearly a year longing for her … aching for her … fearing for her … knowing at times that she had been his only reason for living, and the greatest source of strength at the last moment when he had offered himself up to death.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny screamed as she shuddered uncontrollably. He pulled her back against him, latching onto her center again, and driving his tongue relentlessly inside her folds, all the while listening to the music of his name being screamed over and over again. He felt her pushing against him just as hard as he was pulling at her thighs until at last she reached her limit and crawled forward, pulling away from his still inflamed desire.

In a flash, Harry followed her up on the bed where she remained on her knees, her face lost in a tangle of beautiful red hair as she panted against the duvet. He worried that it might be too early for her, but the sight of her elevated bum made him think she was waiting there just for him … inviting him inside … so he carefully drew himself up on his knees behind her, bringing his erection up to lay against her, the underside of his penis resting gently inside her folds where moments earlier his tongue had been buried.

"Are you okay with this, Ginny?" he asked.

"Yes, please," she answered. "I need you now, Harry."

He pulled slightly away, allowing his penis to fall into the proper position, and then slid inside her smoothly. She was tight, hot, and her inner muscles were still contracting in waves as she clinched against him. Something told him to hold still for a moment, and he was quickly rewarded for following his instincts.

"Yes!" she screamed as the throbbing intensified within her, and Harry felt waves rolling up and down inside her center until she began to thrust forcefully against him, coming undone once again with her climax. Although he had only been inside her for a few moments, the emotionally intensity that had gripped Harry since they stood kissing beside the bed took him tumbling over the edge with her.

"Ginny!" he screamed as his orgasm rolled through the entirety of his body and he began to empty himself inside her. Only then did it strike him so forcefully that this act was as biologically irrelevant as it was emotionally intense, for she was already carrying their child, and this realization caused another wave of emotion to crest over him. His inner muscles clinched as they had never done before, and Harry felt a second, only slightly less intense orgasm crash over him. He bucked forward once again, although Ginny was still pressed firmly against him, causing her face and upper body to slide forward against the white satin duvet cover.

At last, Harry realized his legs were shaking even more intensely than they had been when they had stood lost in kisses beside the bed. Rolling to his left side, he collapsed next to her on the bed and pulled her firmly back against him until her back was nestled warmly against his chest, and his arms were wrapped around her, and her fingers were entwined with his.

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered against her ear before pressing a string of gentle kisses down her neck and across her shoulder.

"I love you, too," she replied, shivering happily at the feel of his lips and the gentle pulses of his tongue as he moved across her still inflamed skin.

Encouraged by her shivers, Harry pulled back away from his fiancée and moved his lips to the base of her neck before beginning to move ever so slowly downward along her spine. Ginny rolled forward and flattened herself against the covers, giving Harry unlimited access to her back, which he continued to shower with soft, open-mouthed kisses. He could feel her reaction as his tongue moved slowly over each vertebra until he reached the base of her spine, where he began to nip lightly against the small of her back and the swell of her bum. Each time she shivered brought a new spasm within him as his depleted penis struggled to regain its spent erection.

After a few minutes lingering there, sharing in Ginny's obvious enjoyment of the sensations, Harry moved slowly back up her spine, deepening the kisses as he ascended to the back of her neck, where he settled in passionately.

"Don't leave a mark!" Ginny gasped when he seemed to be losing control.

"Why not?" he asked, overwhelmed with the desire to show this remarkable witch exactly how much he loved her … wanted her … needed her.

"Because we're getting married in two days, you toss pot!" she cried while pulling suddenly away from him.

"Hmmm," he moaned with a chuckle. "I never thought it would sound so romantic to be called a tosser!"

"Just don't leave a mark, and I won't have to call you that … or something worse," she said with an edge of warning in her voice.

"Okay, but there has to be a healing charm that could cure it straight away," he replied, obviously teasing her for her concerns.

"But do you happen to know it, Potter?"

"Good point," he answered while moving back against her soft skin.

Her smell was so intoxicating that it brought a shudder involuntarily from him. Harry reached up and pulled her rich hair away from the side of her face so he could move his kisses to her cheek. Ginny snuggled more firmly back against him, twisting slightly so her lips could barely reach his, and another flame of passion shot unexpectedly through him. In a single motion, he pulled against her shoulder and she came face to face with him for the first time since they entered the bed.

As Harry moved forward to meet her lips with his own, a few strands of her hair fell between them, but it mattered not. Their lips parted, their tongues met, and Ginny pressed firmly against him. At last she reached up, pulled her hair aside, and laid claim again to his lips. Rocking her hips against his, Ginny rolled over on top of him, seeking desperately to take him back inside her.

"It … it's too soon," Harry stammered, a sense of desperation marking his words. He wanted to be inside her again, but his first double orgasm had left him only semi-erect, and Ginny was much too tight to make things work in his present condition.

"Don't worry," she answered softly as a sly grin formed on her beautifully flushed face.

But Harry couldn't help worrying. He knew what she wanted, and he was frustrated to be unable to give it to her right away. Then, without warning, she slipped down his body, trailing kisses across his chest and abdomen. Before he could even begin to think clearly, Ginny took him in her mouth, and began stroking him slowly, lovingly with her tongue. The feeling was incredible, and blood began instantly to rush back into his penis so quickly he could feel it filling her mouth almost instantly.

"God, we taste so good together," she nearly moaned at him before going down on him once again. The thought that she, too, loved their commingled tastes and smells caused passion to rise within him once again. He knew without doubt that if she didn't stop, he would be unable to control himself for even a minute longer.

"Stop, Ginny!" he cried while pulling away from her.

"I don't want to," she answered. "It's too good!"

"Yes, it is," he pleaded, "but we can do this again later. If you want to fuck me, let's do it now, please!"

"Okay," she said, barely reaching the level of a whisper. "But I want more of that."

"Hmmm," was all Harry could say as he reached down and pulled her upward, finally kissing her passionately.

Ginny reached behind her, found his erect penis, and guided it slowly inside her while their lips never parted. Harry thrust up, filling her completely while she moaned passionately, reluctantly breaking their kiss. She slid upward, parting their hips as she moved up his shaft, tilting forward to ensure that her clit remained in contact throughout her range of motion. She moved slowly, as if she knew Harry was hovering on the edge and that she was doing everything she could to enhance her own experience without propelling him past the point of control. Harry bit down hard on his lip, and his tongue registered the metallic taste of blood trickling into his mouth. The searing pain brought him a few moments of relief from the pressure that was rising within his body.

"Oh, Gin!" he cried softly, intentionally truncating her name for the first time since he met her almost eight years earlier. He had no idea why he did it and made a mental note not to do so again. She already went by a nickname, and she'd never asked him, or anyone else, to call her anything other than Ginny.

By chastising himself for such a minor infraction, Harry managed to buy another minute or two while she quickened her pace.

Harry sought through his memories frantically, looking for anything that might distract him from the heaven that was being inside Ginevra Molly Weasley, but nothing seemed to work. In desperation, he tried to conjure up the image of a Dementor, but it did no good, as Harry realized that even the arrival of the real thing, itself, wouldn't be enough to rob him of the sheer joy that was filling his world. No, nothing would work, as he began losing control quickly, thrusting upward to meet her as she descended upon him, fighting against her as she pulled away. He wanted absolutely no space between them, as if even an inch or two of separation would be too much.

"Funny," he thought, "ordinarily I don't feel this needy. What in Merlin's name is happening to me?"

This final distraction proved to be all that was necessary, as Ginny swirled her hips, gasped loudly, and crashed down upon him, grinding against him uncontrollably. It was exactly what Harry had wanted, absolutely no space between them, as she collapsed back against him, her soft and delicate chest melding with his own, her lips descending upon his. Harry bucked upward, moaning into her mouth and shaking as he came once again. The release was stunning in its intensity, and he felt momentarily as if their entire beings had merged … their bodies … their minds … their souls … perhaps even their magic? Was it even possible to become one with another person to such a degree?

"Obviously," reasoned Harry silently, "the answer is 'yes,' because that's exactly how this feels."