CHAPTER 15 – FINAL PLANS

Pansy knew she would not be allowed to beg off from yet another meeting at Malfoy Manor, no matter how much it sickened her to attend. So when her father knocked on her bedroom door, she was ready and waiting. The more she thought about the plan Lucius had set in place, the less she liked it. Tonight she would hear the final details and then she figured she could make the ultimate decision about participating in such a potentially risky venture.

"Are you ready?" asked Malcolm.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

"What's bothering you, Pansy?" her father asked as a crease of concern formed on his forehead. "You haven't seemed like yourself for a few days."

"I'm fine," answered Pansy. "However, I have been wondering why Mr. Malfoy has to be the leader of the new pureblood movement. His blood is no purer than ours, and he had clearly fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord long before his death."

"It all comes down to a question of what each of us is willing to risk," said Malcolm.

"Lucius is willing to be the one to kill Harry Potter while I will be safely in Bulgaria. It's a very risky plan, and Lucius either underestimates the risk or figures it's worth it to possess the Elder Wand. I'd rather be second in command if he succeeds than risk everything and end up spending the rest of my life in Azkaban."

"But Father," she said with a whimper, "I'm supposed to provide a distraction. If Mr. Malfoy fails, I won't be safe in Bulgaria. I'll be the one who ends up in Azkaban."

"Pansy, if Lucius misses with his Killing Curse, then I want you to Disapparate immediately and leave the distraction to Draco. Do you understand?"

"Disapparate?"

"Yes, dear," Malcolm replied. "If Potter isn't killed immediately, I want you to get away from the Burrow as fast as you can and be careful to leave no sign of your presence."

"But what about Mr. Malfoy's plan?"

"Bugger his plan and bugger him. If things go to shit, I want you to Disapparate and come back home without hesitation. Your mother already knows to say that you have been here all along … that you have never left the house. Do you understand?"

"I do," she answered. "But won't Mr. Malfoy come after us?"

"What do we have to fear if he doesn't have the Elder Wand?"

"Not much, I guess," she said.

"Nothing. We have nothing to fear. If he comes after either of us, I'll kill him without asking a question."

"But what about Harry and Ginny?" she asked.

"Harry and Ginny?" said her father, a hint of doubt showing on his face. "Since when have they been 'Harry and Ginny' to you?"

"I meant Potter and the Weasley girl," said Pansy, as shocked as her father had been that she had called their enemies by their first names.

*****

Madam Malkin's wand was flashing at a speed that made Hermione blink as the beautiful periwinkle blue dress robe she was wearing was marked for alteration. Never before had she seen the aging witch move so quickly.

"I really wish you could talk Miss Weasley into something nicer than dress robes," said Madam Malkin, a touch of concern showing in her eyes. "Her mother is very upset that things are going to be so casual … and so private."

"Ginny isn't one to make a big fuss over herself," replied Hermione, not wanting to insult either Madam Malkin or Mrs. Weasley, but remaining protective of Ginny's desires at the same time.

"But she's the first Weasley daughter in at least a century," continued Madam Malkin in protest. "And she's marrying the most famous wizard in Britain. You'd think she would want to do things up right."

"She's doing it right for herself, Madam Malkin. Ginny and Harry don't want a big production, and Harry's had more than enough attention to last a lifetime."

"Has he?" asked Madam Malkin.

"He has," answered Hermione. "Can you imagine what it's been like for him? Ever since he returned to the wizarding world, everyone has wanted to know about him. The Prophet has kept him in the headlines constantly since he was fourteen, and most of it hasn't been complimentary. He needs a break."

"But everything is complimentary now," said the older witch.

"It doesn't matter. Harry doesn't want the attention. He only wants to be with Ginny."

Ron sat back, having already been fitted for his robes that were fashioned from identical blue fabric. He smiled serenely as he watched Hermione defend the young woman who was both her closest female friend and his little sister. It didn't seem possible, but with each passing day, Ron knew he was coming to love Hermione even more than the day before.

"If this keeps up," he thought silently, "I'm going to explode. A teaspoon, indeed!"

Hermione looked up just as a soft smile spread across her boyfriend's face. She made a mental note to ask him at a later time what it was about. Something about that look told her it was neither the time nor place to ask such a question.

"You look beautiful, Hermione," Ron murmured when he noticed that she was looking right at him.

He thought for a moment of telling her that the robe was almost identical in color to one she had worn to the Yule Ball during their fourth year, but he stopped himself before the words could leave his lips. Reminding her of that particular night was exactly what he wanted to avoid. The memory of his cowardice in allowing someone else to ask Hermione to the ball still burned as if it had happened only yesterday.

"Thank you, Ron," she answered softly as an inquisitive look crossed her face momentarily, only to be replaced with a contented smile. "But this color looks better with your eyes."

Madam Malkin's wand stopped in mid-air as she took a short break to look from Ron to Hermione and back again. No, she hadn't imagined it. These two were most definitely smitten with one another. She'd never been more certain of anything in over thirty years of crafting wedding attire for witches and wizards from all over Britain.

"Well, maybe you'll let me make something a touch more romantic for your wedding."

"Our wedding?" asked Hermione. "No, we're not getting married."

"I don't know about that," interjected Ron before he even realized the words had slipped out of him. A bright red flush shot up his neck and spread across his face in record fashion, even for a Weasley.

"Shite!" he thought. "Did I really just say that out loud?"

*****

"Where were you yesterday?" asked Draco. He was practically hissing at Pansy as a look of supreme panic leapt from his cold gray eyes.

"I needed to be away from you … you bloody prat."

"But I told you we have important things to discuss," Draco whispered, hoping their fathers couldn't hear them from the study.

"I'm sorry, but I don't jump at your command any more, Draco."

"This is more important than what happened in my bedroom," his whisper having definitely turned into an undisguised hiss.

"To you, maybe," she replied, her voice laced with disgust.

"Look, I'm sorry that I don't feel the way you want me to, but is that any reason for us to get ourselves killed?"

"Not 'ourselves,' Draco. I have no intention of dying."

"And just how do you intend to avoid that?" he asked.

"I won't know until I hear all of your father's plans, but I'm not dying for him … or for a wanker like you!"

Draco looked at the young woman he thought he knew – thought he controlled – and saw that things had changed dramatically. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, but before he could respond to her challenge, the door to his father's study slid open.

"Draco. Pansy," called Lucius, his eyes sparkling malevolently. "Please come in. Malcolm and I need to share some details with you."

*****

Harry's breathing was returning to normal as Ginny slid off his sweat-soaked body and turned her back before snuggling against him. In what was becoming a well-rehearsed pattern, he rolled toward her and allowed his right arm to move over her before settling protectively over her breast.

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered softly against her ear.

"I love you, too," she answered as the smile that had taken up residence on her face expanded. "It's really beautiful here. I think it's perfect for our honeymoon."

"So do I, love. It's really idyllic."

"For a honeymoon, Harry, but I don't think I could ever live here. It's just, well, a bit much," Ginny offered tentatively.

Chateau Peverell was truly magnificent, and Lac Annecy was perhaps the most beautiful place she had ever seen in her short life, but it didn't feel like home to Ginny. Perhaps it was just too much of a departure from the Burrow, but she had a hard time thinking of the two of them bouncing around in such a huge, formal place. Then, as her thoughts moved into their immediate future, she realized she couldn't visualize little feet moving rapidly across the cold hard floors. But Harry didn't respond straight away. She held her breath, amazed that he had not agreed with her immediately.

"Harry?" she asked softly. "Are you thinking about living here?"

"What?" he said in response. Her question had clearly flown right past him.

"I asked if you were thinking about living here?"

"Oh! No, it's beautiful, but it doesn't feel like home," Harry answered at last.

Ginny exhaled a breath she had been holding for what seemed like an eternity. She wondered what, exactly, had caused him to hesitate about the decision to not make this their permanent residence.

"Then what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this would be a great place to come for special events, like our honeymoon, or for a place to come with Ron and Hermione. It might even be a great spot for Weasley family celebrations, although I can't really see anyone wanting to be anywhere other than at the Burrow."

"Well, we haven't seen your house in Cornwall," she offered gently.

"You mean Potter Manor?" Harry asked as a gentle scoff slipped between his lips. "As I recall, the property was appraised at almost ten million galleons. The architecture may be different, but I suspect it's much the same as this."

"Well, at least it's in England," Ginny continued.

"Still …" Harry muttered, "can you see our kids running around there?"

"Kids?" asked Ginny, hoping that Harry could neither see nor sense the smile that had spread across her lips.

"I thought we wanted more than one," said Harry, pulling her closer to his chest.

At last Ginny stopped suppressing the giggle she had been stifling and rolled over to face her fiancé.

"Of course we want more than one. But I'd like a little time for just the three of us after this one is born," Ginny replied before another giggle escaped from her lips.

"Well, we have loads of time to decide," said Harry. "We can stay at Grimmauld Place after our honeymoon, but if the cleaning gets too overwhelming, we could always bounce around between here and Cornwall. Anyway, starting a little before the first of September, we'll have a flat at Hogwarts. That will solve the problem for a while."

Ginny broke eye contact and pretended to be fascinated with the stitching on the duvet cover. She didn't know why she was so nervous about what she wanted to ask. After all, the worst thing Harry could do was say he didn't like her idea. But there was something about what she was thinking that had already caused Ginny to become emotionally invested in the idea. At last, she cleared her throat and looked directly into Harry's brilliant green eyes.

"What about Godric's Hollow?" she asked quietly.

"Godric's Hollow?" Harry replied, a look of disbelief passing across his face.

"Well, your mum's letter said it was your father's favorite home."

"Before anyone was murdered there," Harry countered.

"But it's the perfect place to raise a family," she continued, undaunted. "It seems like such a waste to leave it as a moldering ruin, especially since your parents seemed so happy there. We could renovate the nursery, make it a study, and add a new nursery downstairs."

"You seem to have given this quite a bit of thought," said Harry as a quizzical look caused his brow to crease.

"Guilty," she replied sheepishly. "If it's too much for you, I'll understand, but it seemed like such a lovely village and the house … well it reminded me a little of the Burrow. I mean you can simply feel the magic radiating from the place."

"I don't know, Ginny. I've never even thought about living where my parents were murdered. I don't know what to think about it, really."

"I thought you might not like the idea," Ginny whispered, disappointment evident in every word.

"No!" exclaimed Harry, a compassionate smile warming his face. "There's no need to apologize. I didn't say it was a bad idea. I only said I hadn't ever thought about it."

"Still, I should have known it was a silly idea … going back to the place where your parents died. But it's also the place where generations of Potters lived … the place where you were born … where your father was born."

"How do you know my father was born in Godric's Hollow?" asked Harry, astounded. He had never given the matter any thought and was surprised by Ginny's certainty.

"Hogwarts' library," answered Ginny quietly. "I did a little research last year in my spare time."

"L … last … last year?" stammered Harry. "Even after ... well ... things ended?"

"I never really gave up hope, Harry. I would have thought that was obvious after your birthday kiss."

"Oh, Ginny. I never gave up on you, either. I hope you know that. Every night … every bloody night I would look for you on the Marauders' Map. I couldn't have survived if you hadn't been safe. I couldn't have gone on."

"I know," Ginny replied. "Why else do you think I took you back so easily? I knew you only broke things off with me for your stupid noble reasons."

"You know me too well, love," said Harry, a profound sense of peace sweeping over him.

"Yes, I do, Potter. It's because we were made for each other."

"That we were, Ginevra," Harry whispered in reply. He looked into her intoxicating brown eyes and a decision came to him with astonishing clarity. "You know, I think it's a great idea."

"What is?" she asked. "What's a great idea?"

"Living in Godric's Hollow. My parents were happy there, and according to Mum's letter to Sirius, so was I. It's a great idea."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," he answered. "It's wonderful … and Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," he whispered, never breaking eye contact.

"And I love you."

*****

"A rehearsal and dinner?" asked George, incredulously.

"Yes, George," relied Molly. "Certainly we need to have a practice run through things, even if Harry and Ginny haven't thought of it."

"Are you sure about that, Mum?"

"Of course I'm sure. Everyone who is in the wedding will be here tonight, so it should be easy enough. We'll just bring out the Vicar from St. Andrew's in Godric's Hollow, and maybe you could go collect Harry's cousin. After all, he's the only blood relative Harry is on speaking terms with. I think it would be nice."

"But aren't you worried about what Harry and Ginny will think?"

"Not at all. Could you just pop on over to Little Whinging and see if Dudley would like to come?"

"If you're sure, Mum. I guess I could do that."

Molly turned away from George, a smile crossing her lips. It would be the first time George had ventured from the Burrow since returning from the Battle of Hogwarts … the first time he had done anything since Fred had been killed.

*****

"As you can see," said Lucius, standing above a map of the Burrow that was spread across his conference table, "the layout of the Weasley property is not without its challenges."

"I should say," Malcolm replied. "Exactly how do you plan to get off a clear shot without being seen?"

Lucius cleared his throat and launched into his explanation.

"As shown on the map, there are only three buildings on the Weasley property. In addition to this thing they call the Burrow, there is a garage and an out-building that's hardly larger than a broom closet. Since both ancillary buildings are on the opposite side of the Burrow from the garden, we will be unable to use either structure for shelter. Therefore, the only place that affords both shelter and a clear shot at Mr. Potter is the house itself."

"But how will you gain entry to the house, Father?" asked Draco. "Don't you think they'll still have protective wards placed upon it?"

"Yes, Draco, I do. But, I expect to be able to Apparate onto the roof. According to this plan, there is a flat surface over the bedroom on the upper floor. There is a slight peak in the roofline just beyond this area, which will provide both cover and a rest for me to take aim. It will be a long shot, if they hold the wedding beneath this tree," said Lucius as he pointed emphatically at the diagram.

"And why do you think the bride and groom will be there?" asked Draco, unable to keep a sneer from his voice.

"Where else would you hold a wedding, Draco?" his father sneered in equal measure. "It will be an afternoon ceremony, and the garden is on the west side of the property. This tree offers the only shade in the garden, while the rest of the back yard is surrounded by hedges and this ridiculous bit of fencing. They really don't have any option unless they want everyone sitting in direct sunlight."

"But you said it yourself, Mr. Malfoy, it's literally a long shot. How can you be sure you're going to hit Potter?"

"Leave that to me, Pansy," Lucius replied. "It will take a while for the spell to reach him, but no one will be paying attention to anyone other than Potter and his child bride."

"But you have to be counting on them to stand still, Father. If we raise a distraction, won't that cause people to move about?"

"The distraction should be raised immediately after I have killed Potter. If you are here," said Lucius, pointing beyond the hedgerow that ran behind the tree, "you should be able to create a distraction that will draw everyone's attention away from the … house," he concluded with a shudder.

"So, we cast what kind of spells, Father?" asked Draco. "Incendio? Reducto? Or maybe we should conjure some Fiendfyre?"

"No need for Fiendfyre, my son," said Lucius, unable to keep the condescending air from his voice. "And Incendio is too quiet. We need some noise, so you might want to try a Fireworks spell."

"Do you happen to know any Fireworks spells, Father?" asked Draco. "It's not something they teach at Hogwarts, you know."

"Then perhaps you two should pay a visit to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes," suggested Lucius. "You did well with their Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Draco. Maybe you should put a few more of their silly little inventions to work for us."

"Do you honestly think the Weasley brothers are going to sell me anything dangerous?" huffed Draco. The more he heard of his father's plan, the less he liked it.

"If you hadn't noticed, there is only one surviving Weasley twin, and my sources tell me he hasn't been back in his shop since before the Dark Lord fell. I suspect you could walk into the store and buy whatever your heart desired. But, if you're feeling uneasy about such things, perhaps Pansy, here, could take care of the Fireworks."

"Me?" asked Pansy, a sense of panic rising quickly within her. "Don't you think they'll figure out who set off the Fireworks if I just happened along on the day of the wedding and purchased a set."

"Precisely why we have this," answered Lucius as he set a tumbler of muddy potion on the tabletop.

"Polyjuice Potion?" gasped Pansy, not believing what she was seeing. "I thought that took a month to brew properly."

"That's exactly why we keep a store on hand at all times, my dear," chortled Lucius.

"But I thought the Aurors searched your home immediately after Voldemort fell."

"Surely you're not naïve enough to think I would store such … shall we say, controversial substances, on the premises," answered Lucius.

For the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts, Pansy Parkinson began to think that the plan to assassinate Harry Potter actually had a decent chance of success.

*****

Ron Weasley had been struggling to hold his temper in check for more than an hour as Madam Malkin moved about Hermione, making adjustments at a snail's pace.

"What does she mean, we're not getting married?" Ron thought as his emotions began to slip perilously out of control. "Why in Merlin's name did she want to shag me if she doesn't want to marry me?"

At last, the seamstress finished marking the robes that Hermione would be wearing to the wedding. She struggled back to her feet, exuding an air of confidence.

"You may pick up your robes before the close of business," she said, addressing both Ron and Hermione. "We should be finished in an hour or two if you want to go to the Leaky Cauldron, or maybe spend a little time at Flourish and Blott's."

"Oh, could we?" asked Hermione. "I'd love to go to the bookstore and see what's available. I haven't seen a new book in over a year."

"Whatever," muttered Ron softly, yet unable to suppress the bitterness that burned within him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately sensing the rising aggravation in his voice.

"Nothing's wrong," Ron answered, although his voice clearly said otherwise.

"Ron, I know something's wrong, so why not save us the trouble and be out with it?"

Ron seemed to be conducting some inner battle until, at last, he blurted out, "What do you mean by saying we're not getting married?"

"What?" asked Hermione, shocked by Ron's outburst.

"You told Madam Malkin that we're not getting married. She asked if she could make something nice for our wedding, and you told her emphatically that we're not getting married!"

"Why are you acting like this? We're not getting married."

"Then why did you sleep with me? Why'd you tell me you love me if you don't want to marry me?" Ron continued, the famous Weasley flush moving rapidly up his neck and spreading once again over his face in almost no time.

Hermione watched as the evidence of his uncontrollable panic became unmistakable. Before Ron had been poisoned, Hermione would have found herself involved in one of their frequent rows – the one thing they could be counted on to do whenever they had a misunderstanding and one wrongfully accused the other. She could barely suppress a chuckle when she thought back to the flock of angry canaries she had conjured when their worst misunderstanding had spiraled out of control. So, Hermione took a deep breath and laughed.

"Wh … what … what are you laughing at?" sputtered Ron indignantly. "Do you think the idea of marrying me is so fucking hilarious?"

"No, that's not it … not at all," she replied as another fit of laughter overtook her.

"Well, what is it?"

"Oh, Ron, I only meant to let Madam Malkin know we aren't engaged – not that I would never marry you!"

"So, you would marry me if I asked you?" said Ron, the words registering only slightly more than a whisper.

"Do you really want me to tell you what I'd say if you were to propose to me?" Hermione replied, her deep brown eyes still twinkling with mirth.

"What?" asked Ron, a touch undone by Hermione's obvious entertainment at the conversation's change of direction.

"You're asking me to tell you what I would say, without actually asking me to marry you. It's not really fair, you know."

"Oh, I guess I am. Sorry."

"It's okay," she answered while taking Ron's hand firmly in her own. "What do you think about getting a Butterbeer?"

Ron grunted his assent as Hermione pulled him out of the clothing store and back into the busy thoroughfare that was Diagon Alley. Hermione's heart soared as they returned to the heart of wizarding London, where everything had already begun to take on the feel and appearance she had originally discovered in preparation for her first journey to Hogwarts. It was nothing short of amazing to see so many witches and wizards returning to the lives each had led prior to the return of Voldemort and the Death Eaters' coup at the Ministry of Magic. For some reason, it came a something of a shock when Hermione realized that most the people surrounding them on the cobbled street hadn't even participated in the latest war against evil. Yet that was always the way of war – the few giving up so much for the benefit of the passive masses. Still, she would do it all again – risk everything with Ron and Harry – to ensure the freedom of all magical beings.

"So, do you want to go to the Leaky Cauldron?" asked Ron.

"Where?" replied Hermione.

"The Leaky Cauldron – would you like to go there for a Butterbeer?"

"No," answered Hermione definitively before offering her arm to Ron.

"Where, then?" he asked.

"Hold tight," Hermione replied, continuing to offer her arm.

At last Ron took her arm firmly. Convinced that his hold was adequate, Hermione turned on the spot and the couple disappeared into the crushing darkness.

*****

"So, now you've decided Father's plan is achievable?" asked Draco, anxiously awaiting Pansy's response.

"Well, I guess it all depends upon your father's skills with his wand," answered Pansy. "It's more than fifty yards from the roof to the wedding tree. Other than that, the plan is as close to foolproof as it could be – as long as your Father can Apparate to the exact spot, launch an unerring curse from long distance, and Disapparate before anyone sees him, the whole thing's a piece of cake."

"He can do it," replied Draco.

"What happens if your father is off by a few feet, Draco?" she asked haltingly. "What if her misses Potter and kills the Weasley girl?"

"Then Merlin save us all," said Draco softly while contemplating the unthinkable. "If Father kills Potter's precious little witch and leaves Potter standing, then we'd better be out of the country within a matter of minutes."

"I was thinking the same thing, because Potter will still be the Master of the Elder Wand, and he'll stop at nothing to avenge Ginny's death."
"And what if they have guards? What if Father is wrong, and the Weasleys haven't let their guard down? What if Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Aurors are there to protect Potter during his wedding?" asked Draco.

"That would be the best of all worlds, wouldn't it?" whispered Pansy, fearful that their fathers might return at any time and hear their doubts and concerns. "Surely your father would abort the mission. With any luck, we could Disapparate and go back to our everyday lives."

"A life in which I don't have to see you or your father ever again, Malfoy!" she thought silently.

*****

With the sudden appearance of a redheaded wizard in her otherwise spotless kitchen, Petunia Dursley's dish dropped to the floor, and her family's favorite creamy chicken casserole splattered everywhere.

"What are you doing here?" she screamed angrily.

"Mum has decided to have a rehearsal this evening followed by a casual supper. We thought we'd invite Dudley along so he can get accustomed to our world before it's time for the actual wedding."

"Well, Dudders can't go with you, and that's final," said Petunia with a snap.

"Where can't I go, Mum?" asked Dudley as he stepped into the kitchen. He came up short, recognizing George as one of the culprits who had tricked him into eating Tongue Ton Toffee.

"To Harry and Ginny's wedding rehearsal and dinner," answered George. "Mum says you're welcome to spend the night at the Burrow if you'd like."

"She does?" asked Dudley, dumbfounded. "Why would she want to do something like that for me?"

"Because you're Harry's cousin," George replied, "and Harry is like another son to our Mum."

"That sounds nice," said Dudley, who didn't seem nearly as dimwitted now that he had stopped trying to be so intimidating. "Let me run upstairs and pack a few things."

"Why don't you let me help?" suggested George. "With a little bit of magic, we can have your things packed up and shipped to the Burrow in no time!"

"Dudley!" screamed Aunt Petunia. "You can't be serious!"

"I can be, and I am, Mum," said Dudley, as a burning look of defiance took up residence on his face.

"I forbid you to go with th … th … that lot!" huffed Petunia.

"I'm eighteen, Mum. You can't keep me from going!" finished Dudley before heading upstairs.

As they reached the first floor landing, Dudley stopped suddenly and looked at George. "You're one of the twins, aren't you? Are you George? Harry said that Ginny's brother, George, would come pick me up."

"Yes, I'm George."

"Where's your twin brother?" asked Dudley. "He came with you last time."

Dudley knew something was horribly wrong as he watched all the color drain from George's face. "Oh, shite!" he muttered, as George's smile faded and the lights that illuminated his eyes disappeared instantly.

"Fred was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts."

*****

Two soft pops echoed through the empty kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, as Hermione and Ron staggered slightly before regaining their balance.

"Blimey, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron as soon as he recognized where they had landed.

"I'll get the Butterbeers," Hermione whispered as she reached up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

As she turned her back to him, Ron quickly scurried toward the stairway. "I have to use the loo!" he called cheerfully behind him

Ron did not, however, stop at the toilet. Instead, he hurried up the stairway and skidded to a halt in Ginny and Harry's bedroom, where a small wall safe had been installed for Ron's benefit.

Not even Harry knew what Ron had stashed in the secure location, although he had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with his best friend's future plans with Hermione.

Ron's hands were trembling as he performed the spells necessary to pop open the safe. Reaching in, he took a small, carefully wrapped box and headed back down toward the kitchen. He was growing warmer with each successive step, and the slight trembling in his hands had progressed to a noticeable shakiness.

"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"I think so, love," he answered, slowing to a normal gait as he returned to the kitchen, where he found Hermione seated at the long table with two bottles of Butterbeer perched in front of her.

"So, why do you only think you're okay?"

"I guess it all depends on your answer, Hermione," said Ron, whose voice had fallen to a mere whisper.

Hermione's hands flew up to cover her mouth momentarily as she identified what Ron was carrying. As he held out the tiny box toward her, Hermione lowered her hands to accept the gift.

Ron took Hermione's upper arm in his hand and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her neck, while she worked furiously to unwrap the package. When at last she had removed the wrapping paper and freed the inner box from its container, Ron's lips moved up against her ear.

"Open it, Hermione," he breathed into her ear.

"Oh, Ron," she answered softly as she snapped open the lid on the tiny velvet box.

"Will you marry me?" he breathed once more into her ear before pulling away to gaze into her deep brown eyes that were rapidly welling with tears.

"Yes, I will."

Ron removed the ring and slid it on Hermione's waiting finger.

"Oh, Ron, it's beautiful," she murmured as she examined the yellow diamond solitaire.

"I hope you like it," whispered Ron. "I know it's a bit old-fashioned, but this ring belonged to my Grandmother Prewett, and Mum thought you should have it since neither Harry nor I would have made it through this past year without you."

"I love it," she answered. "I've never seen a yellow diamond before."

"They're very rare," added Ron, "or so Mum tells me."

"When are you thinking we should get married, Ron? We have another year to go at Hogwarts, and I don't think Professor McGonagall would be too chuffed to have a second married couple in the student body," Hermione asked while working the possibilities over in her mind.

"I was thinking we could get married immediately after N.E.W.T.S. are finished," Ron replied, pulling Hermione close against his chest.

"What time is it, Ron?" she asked, a sly grin creeping over her face.

"Not quite four o'clock," he replied.

"And we need to pick up our robes by five-thirty," said Hermione, staring deeply into Ron's bright blue eyes. "Didn't Harry tell us we could use his guest room at any time?"

"Yeah, he did," Ron agreed.

"Then come on," said Hermione while pulling her fiancé up the stairs to the bedroom that Harry and Ginny had prepared especially for them.

The guest room was located on the second floor of the old house and had been renovated in much the same manner as Kreacher had done for the master suite. The main guest room, however, had not been converted to Gryffindor colors. Instead, the drapes, covers, padded headboards, throw rugs, and bathroom towels were all coordinated in a spectrum ranging from blue to gray, and multiple shades in between. As was the case in the master suite, the bed stood on a large raised pedestal that jutted out of an interior wall, facing the windows that provided a view of the square. Light was provided by an assortment of wall sconces, each one holding three lightly scented candles.

As she stepped up on the pedestal, Hermione turned to face Ron and found to her pleasant surprise that she could stare directly into his deep blue eyes. Likewise, her lips were perfectly aligned with his. So, drawn as if by a powerful force, Hermione threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

Ron's lips parted immediately as his arms swept around her waist. Moments later, his hands moved beneath her jumper as he worked to free her breasts from the confines of her bra.

"Love you so much, Hermione," Ron managed to murmur between kisses.

Hermione's hands made their way to his belt buckle, which was soon lying on the floor along with Ron's crumpled jeans. They worked together quickly, removing the rest of their clothing.

"Get on the bed, Ron" said Hermione as her voice took on the husky quality that drove him wild with desire.

Ron stepped onto the raised platform and reached for Hermione, who stepped quickly aside.

"I said to get on the bed."

"Why?" he asked, desperately wanting to take her into his arms.

"Because I have plans for you, and you need to cooperate."

Ron stepped back against the bed, still facing Hermione, who gave him a firm push against his chest, sending him tumbling backward onto the covers. Before he could move, Hermione hurled herself against his thighs and took his throbbing penis into her mouth.

"God!" cried Ron as he reached forward to lace his fingers through her hair.

"No, Ron," answered Hermione, taking his hands away from her face and placing them firmly against the covers. "I told you that you need to cooperate."

"Cooperate, how?" he asked, obviously confused.

"Just lie still and let me have my way with you," she replied. "Otherwise, I'm going to have to use a binding spell on you."

"You wouldn't!" he protested.

"Don't test me, Ron," she answered, as only the slightest of grins flashed momentarily across her face and a twinkle of humor shone ever so briefly in her eyes.

"Okay," said Ron. "I'll try."

"It'll be worth your while," teased Hermione, satisfied that Ron would at least make an effort at cooperation.

As Ron relaxed against the bedding, Hermione resumed her oral exploration of his body, alternately licking the full length of his erection and attempting to take as much of him as she could into her mouth.

"Are you enjoying this?" she asked playfully.

"More than you could ever imagine."

"I don't know about that … not after what you've already done to me with that tongue of yours."

"Hermione!" squeaked Ron, amazed at how much additional confidence his fiancée was showing each successive time they slept together.

"I can't help it, Ron. I love making love with you. Why in the world did we waste so much time arguing?"

"Don't know, love," he whispered, as his breathing became more labored and, despite his best efforts, his hips began to buck gently toward her.

"Hmmm?" moaned Hermione quizzically before she fought off the temptation to bring him to a quick climax and released his throbbing dick from her lips. "You do know that I love you, don't you?" she asked softly as she slid up next to him, remaining careful not to touch any part of his body until his throbbing had subsided. She reached over to the bedside table for her wand, waved it in the pattern they had come to know so well, and said, "Contraceptus."

Ron reached out to pull Hermione into an embrace, but she stopped him, just as she had before.

"Remember, Ron, I need you to be cooperative."

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "Do you have any idea how hard this is?"

"Yes," she replied with a giggle. "I can see that it's very hard."

"Hermione!" he gasped, trying to act completely surprised, but the smile that was pasted firmly on his face gave him away.

Hermione reached between her legs, confirming what she already knew. She couldn't possibly be so totally aroused without being wet. Satisfied that she was ready, and hoping that she had given Ron enough time to regain control, Hermione crawled on top of him, took his erection in her hand, and guided it slowly inside of her.

"So good," moaned Ron when at last she had taken him fully inside her center.

"Yes," she murmured in response. "So good."

Ron pulled back instinctively, then thrust back inside her, but once again Hermione placed her hands against his forearms, pinning him gently back against the duvet.

"Be still," she whispered, yet Ron couldn't help feeling the force of her words. Hermione wasn't teasing. "Just let me do this … please!"

"Okay, love," he sighed in response.

Hermione settled softly against his chest, and with intoxicating gentleness, she pulled away from him until she felt the ridge of his penis catch against her opening and it escaped from her silken muscles with a slight pop. Then, just as she was about to lose contact with him completely, she slid back down against his dick, reversing the process until the friction intensified, and the ridge flicked back inside her. She shivered with passion for only a moment, holding him still inside her, and then pressed ever so slowly down against him until he was buried completely within her body.

"Oh, Ron," she moaned happily. "I love you!"

"I love you, too, sweetheart," he answered, fighting every instinct he possessed in order to remain as still as possible. For whatever reason, Hermione wanted to control their first time to make love since becoming engaged, and he had no conscious desire to thwart her wishes. His subconscious, however, was crying out to flip her over and drive her into the mattress as hard as he possibly could.

For the next twenty minutes, Hermione continued to move ever so slowly up and down against Ron's erection, memorizing everything she possibly could of what it meant to truly feel him inside her. With each thrust, she felt her orgasm building relentlessly inside her … knowing that she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer … hoping that Ron could control himself for a few more moments … but becoming increasingly aware of his ragged breathing as sweat began to trickle down his exceedingly flushed face.

"Open your eyes, Ron!" She was practically begging, imploring him to let her see what was going on in his soul when, at last, he came inside her. She pulled away slowly one last time as Ron managed to fight against his instincts one more time, and he finally opened his eyelids.

A look of purest love and adoration was etched deeply into the dark blue of his eyes, and Hermione knew he would be seeing the same feelings reflected back at him from the depths of her dark brown irises. It was all she needed, as the powerful orgasm that had been building inside her crashed over her senses.

"God, Ron! God!" she shouted as she slammed against him as hard as she possibly could, only to pull away frantically and throw herself against him time after time, as successive waves rolled over her and her world was comprised only of their bodies, Ron's brilliant blue eyes, and the incredible love that existed between them.

"God, I love you Hermione!" he screamed as her ecstasy drove him over the top with her, and with each shuddering contraction, he emptied himself inside her.

"I love you, too," she whispered in return. "I love you so much," she continued until at last her lips were again upon his, and their attempts to talk were reduced to a series of incoherent moans.