Happy Saturday, my freaky darlings. I hope everyone is well. Summer has arrived in Missouri. Second highest humidity in the country and no Disney World. (The highest humidity is Florida, but they at least have Disney World.) Thank you all for the kind reviews and for reading the stuff that flows out of my brain. Enjoy. Lemon alert. I repeat, we have a lemon alert at the end of the chapter. You have been warned.

Chapter 7 Rituals

Hermione looked around the clearing while they waited. Trees surrounded and protected the area from begin overwhelmed with snow. Magic kept out the worst of the winter wind as the air barely stirred. She fondly watched Harry and Marcus scan the crowd for anyone overly attentive toward Hermione.

Once the sun reached its zenith, Tore signaled for the attention of the group. "I welcome you to the preparations for our Winter Solstice. We all extend our warmest welcome to the guest of honor, Hermione. Let us open ourselves to magic and her blessings."

Hermione wiggled around on her circular pillow to find a comfortable position. She opted to close her eyes after noting that both Marcus and Harry sat facing each other and her. Freya began to speak in a firm, but soothing voice," We begin by focusing on our physical bodies, the root of our existence. Our identity and well-being. Our base." Soft chimes played a gentle melody. Hermione focused on those thoughts of identity. What others thought of her, and what she thought of herself. She felt red energy filling her and flowing out of her, helping fill the clearing. She also cataloged her old physical injuries and scars. In her mind, the red energy pushed out the inky black of the dark energy left behind by the hexes and curses. The scar where Bellatrix cursed the word mudblood on her arm burned and pulsed. Deep breaths guided her through the pain.

The hour ended with the slowing of the chimes until all sound died out. In the silence, people slowly moved and stretched. Hermione rubbed her face, noticing that Harry scrubbed his hand against his forehead. "Your scar, too?" she asked.

"Yeah, how's your chest?"

"Barely noticeable compared to my arm." Marcus looked concerned, so she reassured him. "The arm damage was caused directly by dark magic, the other a side effect of a nasty hex."

At the end of the break, Tore called them back and began, "We turn our attention to our feelings, to the creativity that helps us express our emotions, and pleasure emotional and carnal." This time a calming drum beat began. Hermione listened to it as her thoughts turned to the things she enjoyed and to her limited sexual experience. The energy this time felt orange. Her reflections caused her to face the truth as the energy surged through her: the war drove most of the joy from her life. She lost parts of herself over the years, the need to help Harry eating more and more of her time. And the depression of processing the trauma alone since Dumbledore isolated Harry, and to a less extent, Hermione, over the summers. Only Ron had any chance at real support. And their relationship had been less than satisfying. He tended to be a selfish lover, only concerned that he finished. She enjoyed their interactions but rarely orgasmed. More often than not, she slipped into the bathroom and finished herself off with her fingers. At the end of the hour, she felt lonely and empty. Harry said nothing but went in search of a drink. Hermione looked at Marcus, who frowned, "You look sad." He tucked an escaped curl behind her ear.

"Can't help it. These meditations force you to tear down the walls you hide behind, the fibs you tell yourself to cope."

"So that tomorrow the energies raised will fill you with light to heal those wounds," Freya told her. "The first four are the hardest. They are the ones we have the most trouble acknowledging, even at my age."

Harry returned and wordlessly handed each of them a mug of water. Hermione thanked him. She finished hers in several long gulps. She gave him a concerned look, but he shook his head. She understood not wanting to discuss the things going on in her head.

Freya commanded the gathering's attention. "We enter our third meditation, the one for our center. We focus on our sense of self, our confidence in ourselves." Hermione tried not to grimace. She knew her self-esteem floundered often. Especially in areas she felt uncomfortable, or inexperienced with. But as the flute music floated over them she focused on the reasons she should have confidence. The soft yellow energy soothed her this time. At the end of the hour, teenagers moved through the crowd with baskets of food and skeins to refill mugs. She accepted a small roll and nibbled on it. As peaceful as she felt in the moment, she dreaded the next hour, the heart.

Tore announced the commencement of the next mediation, "We connect our hearts to the emotion of love. Not only romantic love but familial and platonic. Our ability to feel compassion. The green light surrounded and filled her. She faced the idea that she loved Ron more than he had loved her. How abandoned she felt by her parents who were running from her new world, then again by the Weasleys. She acknowledged that the constant demands for her time and energy began the dulling of her compassion for the plight of others. She had her job, that passionate fire for equality, but once the legislation passed her involvement ended. She rarely bothered to check up anymore. And the constant barrage about Hugo. At the moment, in her own mind, she admitted she hated him. The physical representation and public announcement she and her love were not enough to keep Ronald Bilius Weasley faithful. She despised that no one thought he and Veronica were bad guys. It felt like everyone believed Hermione deserved what happened. Like they felt it was okay because it was only Hermione. In the greenness of the meditation, Hermione let those negative emotions consume her, experiencing them instead of shoving them down and denying them. She searched for positive feelings, but most of her relationships had been tainted by Hugo Weasley. Even her parents thought Ron leaving before the wedding was dodging a bullet, no children or years of shared debt. All except one, a tiny flash: Marcus. He had no associations with the child. The emotion felt real, clean, and true. She worried that she felt stronger than he did, but time would tell. She opened her eyes to see Harry looking as haggard and emotionally wrung out as she felt. Marcus looked soft and vulnerable, he refused to look at her or make eye contact. He stared at his hands. None of them spoke as they sipped water. All three refused bread.

Freya called them back to their cushions. "We press on to open ourselves to true communication. Focus on your throat where sound is created and our ears that receive it." The gentle blue light soothed the jagged edges of her psyche. Hermione knew communication required two, someone to send the message and someone to receive it. The meditation drew her attention to the times she needed to change the message: what she said, how she said it, and when she said it. She agreed with Freya, the first four hours were the hardest.

The last three hours flew by. The throat, inner eye, and crown represented communication, intuition, imagination, and intelligence. Their blue, indigo, and violet energy smoothed the edges left from the holes caused by clearing out the negative. They left the clearing in the forest subdued, each feeling pensive.

The trio returned to their cottage. Tove left a thick stew to simmer over the fire all day. She served bowls of it for dinner. Harry took a few bites before breaking the silence, "I'm afraid I ignored Ginny's behavior because I don't want to be alone. I'm fine with being miserable, so long as it isn't alone. I let her be selfish and mean to me and everyone else. And I made my real best friend hide her pain because she was terrified of losing all her friends."

To show comradely in pain, Hermione confessed, "I hate a six-month-old baby. And I have from the moment I learned of his existence."

"You hate the existence of the baby, not the baby, himself," Harry corrected.

"You hate how people ignore your pain and make it worse by forcing you to hide it so they feel better," Marcus said.

"You hate that Ron took the easy path, like he always does, to be part of Hugo's life, instead of fighting to stay with you," added Harry.

"Fine, I do hate his mother. She stole my life."

To lighten the mood, Marcus softly admitted, "I want children more than I thought I did." Hermione frowned and he continued before she could say or do anything. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to have them. I need to drink something, cast a charm, jump in a circle on one foot holding a bleeding pixie, fine. Small price to pay. He smiled when she relaxed.

A thought occurred to Harry, "Hey, Tove, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"After one of the meditations several of the scars caused by dark magic hurt, they said it was the magic removing the residue. Is there a chance after the ritual tomorrow will they heal?"

She nodded, "This has been known to happen. The degree varies by how much the individual has opened themselves."

"Where are you going with this, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"The healer said the damage caused by the dark magic was the issue, right?"

"Correct."

"So, I suggest keeping the possibility of that healing after tomorrow in mind," he looked in Marcus's direction.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Sure, Harry, because that particular damage will be what heals." They finished eating in a lighter mood than they started.

Hermione attempted to help clean up after dinner but discovered Tove's hidden steel spine. The sweet faced young woman swiftly put an end to the attempt and shooed her off to bed. Marcus sat waiting for her, a fire started and shutters nearly closed. "Got rebuffed?" he asked teasingly.

"I am an honored guest, and therefore my offer to assist is too much. I am so humble and generous. Such an example of what we should all strive to be." She joined him on the bed. "She shooed me." Hermione glared at the top of the bed.

"Apparently no one warned them of your petty and vindictive nature."

"Only when provoked," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

He chuckled and kissed her temple, "Can we be serious for a moment?"

She uncrossed her arms, "Sure," she answered hesitantly, unsure of his intentions.

"Potter made a good point earlier. We need to be aware of the consequences of the ritual. Things could change from intentional only to randomly possible. And if random occurs, my parents will push for us to get married. Not that I can't, or won't, stand up to them, I just want you to be aware."

"Would they object to the child being born first?"

"So long as the engagement is announced as quickly as possible.
Twisted pureblood tradition if the proper bonds are in place the child is legitimate."

Hermione blinked twice. "Wait, a tradition that seems to favor women exists?"

"Yeah, but not the point. But are you okay with all of that?"

She considered the implications of what he said, "Are you on board with those possibilities?"

"Honestly? Yes. I have fancied the idea of you for a while now. And the reality is far superior to my wildest dreams. So long as you don't feel pressured."

She nodded, "I feel comfortable around you, safe. And neither of us can deny the chemistry between us. Should something like that magically occur I would be willing to make your parents happy."

He pulled her to him, kissing her softly, "Then I'm not going to stress about what may come."

She snuggled against him, "Good plan." She closed her eyes. "Good night," she breathed.

"Good night, love." They both fell into a deep sleep, worn out from the long day. Neither remembered their dreams, only that they were pleasant.

Loud jubilant music roused them several hours later. The four occupants joined the parade out of the village and back into the meadow. Under the winter sun, on the shortest day of the year, the hamingja enclave celebrated with food, drink, music, and dancing. Once again physical form had little meaning to them, they changed shape as easily as they breathed. Hermione laughed more than she ever remembered. A young woman pulled her into a dancing circle. From there she passed from partner to partner. Marcus and Harry followed in her wake as best they could.

As the sun prepared to set, Balor appeared at her elbow. He escorted her to the center of the gathering. The assembled faced her forming circles. The hamingja no longer knew the meaning of the words they sang as the sun sank below the horizon, so the translation charm failed. The melody touched her, swaying her emotions. She felt the joyful yearning and press of building power. Rainbow swirls spiraled around her. The energy surrounded her, filling her magical core, then her physical form. Every form of energy within her felt replaced by sparkling rainbow energy. Once it filled her completely, it spilled out of her. Vaguely she wondered if it filled everyone in this manner, or was this the privilege of the honored guest?

The sunset and the song faded away and with it the rainbow. Tingles ran across her skin. She felt lighter than she had in years. Pains she never realized she had were gone. The revelry from before was nothing compared to what followed. Bonfires illuminated the meadow. Musicians played bouncy dancing tunes. The dancing resumed. People flowed from one shape to another. Around midnight Hermione informed Marcus she was ready to leave. He signaled to Harry, and the two guided her through the throng.

Climbing the stairs she admired Marcus's backside. She waved in response to Harry's call of good night. By the time she reached her bedroom, she decided to ignore the hundreds of little voices offering reasons not to.

Marcus turned to say something, and Hermione pounced. Startled, he caught her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him deeply. After a second of surprise, he kissed her back. She slipped her tongue between his lips as he walked towards the bed. Hermione buried her hands in his hair, gripping it tightly. He responded by caressing her arse as he supported her weight. When he bumped into the bed he let gravity pull them down. She pulled at his clothing, and he allowed her to remove his shirt, then pulled back. "Just in case you come to your senses tomorrow and run, I want to savor this." She rolled her eyes. "And if you don't then I want to ensure our first time is glorious."

"Feeling confident, are we?" she teased.

He smirked down at her, "Yes." He slowly untied her dress fastenings and peeled back the layers, like unwrapping a present. His eyes roamed over her nude form, savoring the sight. "Stunning." She fidgeted under the weight of his gaze. She started to cover herself. "Please don't." She let him tug her hands back. "You are beautiful."

She snorted, "Oh, come on, I have scars, lumpy thighs, and a squishy stomach."

Marcus traced the scar across her chest, "Marks of bravery and signs of your intellectual prowess. You are nowhere even close to overweight. And as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, in my eyes you are breathtaking." Tears burned her eyes, but she managed to blink them away. "And anyone who told you differently, or made you feel that way, is wrong." He leaned down to kiss her again. He feathered light kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.

She shivered when his lips brushed against the skin next to the scar from Dolohov. He ran his tongue along it until he reached her breast, his touch growing stronger with her response. She pulled her nails down his back, moaning in pleasure. With a groan, he traded his mouth for his hands.

Hermione whimpered when her hips bucked involuntarily. She felt him smile against her skin. She reached for his groin, brushing his member with her fingertips. She growled when he moved away, "You first," he told her. She growled again and he chuckled. He resumed kissing his way down her torso. Stopping at the apex of her thighs. He knelt on the bed and slid his arms under her knees. In one smooth motion he pulled her legs up and her groin to his face. He exhaled over her opening. She wiggled, and he tightened his grip. He licked from one end to the other and back, over and over again until she saw stars, "Holy fuck, Marcus!"

"You enjoyed?"

"Very much. Stop smirking." Her grin took the mean out of her tone. "Let me return the favor?"

He blinked in surprise, "You want to?"

"Yes, please," Hermione scrambled to her knees. "Lean back against the headboard." When he did as instructed, she pulled her hair up into a bun, using a strand to secure it. She leaned over and licked up and down the shaft, then took the tip in her mouth. He hissed when she gently grazed him before taking more of him into her mouth. Then she hollowed her cheeks creating suction. His hips bucked twice. Unable to fit all of him at that angle, she wrapped her hand around the base. She pumped her fist up and down in time with the rise and fall of her lips. She added a twist on the upstroke with body parts. Marcus groaned, his fist clenching and unclenching in the furs below him. She felt him tighten under her attention before he gently pulled her away. "Sorry, that was... yeah... but not how I want to finish tonight."

"I concur," she smiled and let him maneuver them until he hovered over her. "But to be clear, I want both of us to orgasm."

He groaned, "I have no idea why that sounded sexy," she ran her tongue along the outer shell of his earlobe, "but Salazar it did." He pressed himself against her, this time without clothing between them. "Yes?" he whispered, lining himself up with her opening.

"Yes," she breathed back. She hissed when he snapped his hips forward, entering her swiftly.

He froze, "Did I hurt you?" He scanned her face anxiously.

She shook her head, "No, you're just... Ron's not... and it's been a while."

"I understand. Do you want to stop?"

"Absolutely not! Just move slowly to start."

He rested his forehead against hers, "Thank Merlin." He deliberately pulled back and pushed forward, setting a leisurely pace.

She relaxed focusing on the pleasure of being filled, rather than the sting of stretching. She reached up and ran her hands up and down his back, caressing his skin. A delicious tension twisted in the core of her being. She moaned, "Faster."

With a moan, he increased the pace. She wrapped her legs around his, spreading her legs and drawing him in deeper. A tilt of her pelvis slightly changed the angle of entry. Again Marcus increased his movements. Hermione thrust up to meet him. "Oh, yes, harder, please." The agonizingly blissful exploded through her, she quivered as Marcus quickly followed, roaring her name. He collapsed next to her, keeping her in his arms. "Gods above and below, that was incredible."

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Once she caught her breath she started to roll over, strong arms stopped her. If she wanted to she could keep going, but she stayed. "We don't have to cuddle, it's okay."

"Want to," he rumbled sleepily, "like it."

"Okay," she snuggled in. She woke in the predawn shivering. She elbowed him awake, "Important to note, shutters keep warmth in."

They sat up and pulled them closed, blocking out the cold and growing light. Marcus tugged her to his chest. "Let me warm you up," he whispered against her ear.