A/N:
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A NOTE FOR THIS CHAPTER AND THE NEXT:
I done screwed up (a little). I was always gonna take off the weekend of the 13th for TotK. But I was gonna post that chapter a little late, on the 18th. I forgot. So here you go! It's late, but I am STILL going to post the next chapter (66) THIS SATURDAY, on its regular schedule. :)

Oh, and TRIGGER WARNINGS for ALL THE FEELS this chapter. Like, for real.

Chap. 65: Christmas Mo(u)rning

A knock on the front door of Sirius' small home woke Harry from a low, drowsing slumber he had only been in for a few hours. A quick glance at the room he shared with Lilith showed it was still quite dark outside, and the only significant source of light was the bedside clock, which read 05:22. As he stared in disbelief at the ungodly hour, it clicked over to :23, before another knock, a little louder, sounded through the house. Across the hall through a pair of closed doors, Harry heard a muffled murmur as Sirius woke up too. Lilith, as usual, was curled against him after her late-night wandering of the small town, gathering what leavings she could in her temporary territory, while still being mindful of the other Succubus who had been here for far longer that lived nearby.

With a groan, Harry threw the blankets off, pressed a kiss to Lilith's forehead, then rolled over her, "I s'pose I'd better see who it is," he grumbled.

The Succubus, needing less sleep than even he, rolled over with a satisfied expression as she belched more of his semen from a few hours earlier, "You might want to throw on a housecoat, Master."

"Ah... good point."

He slipped on the only one he owned, rarely used as it was and thus far only at Sirius' place, before stepping out into the hall with his wand in hand. Just in case. It had only been three days since the Death Eater attack on the train, after all. Even if he doubted they would come knocking rather than blasting...

Harry peeked out the small peephole cautiously, silently, wishing that the lights from the very muggle Christmas Tree Sirius had put up with his girlfriend's help a few days before had not shown his presence through the window quite so easily. Three people stood on his doorstep, each bundled up in winter clothing against a light snowfall, sporting wide, if tired, grins and several wrapped packages. He recognized all three, but the one in the center was by far the most familiar. He opened the door of his godfather's home with a new, much happier smile of his own, "Hermione, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger! I didn't expect you for a few hours."

"Hermione woke us up early," the older man said with a soft rumbling voice, "And she assured us you would be awake. It appears she was mistaken."

"Eh," Harry shrugged, stepping back and gesturing for them to enter, "I wasn't really awake or asleep, but come in, come in. How long did you drive?"

"About an hour," Mrs. Granger said, who blushed as she moved past Harry, the last to enter the house. For a moment he couldn't imagine why, until he remembered. The last time he had seen the elder Grangers, he was shagging Hermione's mother while the daughter watched, and Lilith rode her father energetically. The Succubus had, she said, made it all seem like a particularly vivid dream to the parents, but...

Were there echoes, still?

"Traffic's pretty light, you know," Mr. Granger continued, as he followed Hermione's lead and put several packages beneath the tree, "What with the weather and, well, the holiday."

"And being too early in the fuckin' morning," Sirius groaned as he stepped, clad in a house robe himself, into the hallway.

"Ah, y- yes," Mrs. Granger said, blushing as she glanced at the long-haired, tattooed wizard.

Harry blinked, then started, "Er, right, sorry, I forgot you hadn't met. Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, this is Sirius Orion Black, former escaped criminal, actual decent bloke sometimes. My godfather. Sirius, this is Hermione's parents, uh... Daniel and Emmaline, right?"

"Dan and Emma," the muggle man replied, putting out a hand after crossing the room. Sirius took it easily enough, giving a firm shake.

Sirius turned to Harry, "You've got it, Pup?"

"Yeah, go back to bed, old man," he chuckled, and Sirius gave a half-awake wave as he turned back around and disappeared down the hall.

"Sorry," Harry said, too cheered by half at just seeing Hermione after only a few days' absence to mind his godfather's grumpy early-morning mood, "He's not exactly a morning person, and was up late."

"Not to worry," Emma said, giving Hermione an annoyed glance, "We honestly hadn't planned on being here this early, but someone insisted."

"In my defense," Hermione sniffed, finally free of her own packages, unwinding her long, Gryffindor-colored scarf as she spoke, "I wasn't wrong, was I? Harry was awake, I didn't say anything about Sirius. His, er, friend is probably awake, too."

"Pretending to sleep," Harry clarified.

"Er... you've mentioned this friend several times, Hermione," Mr. Granger said, slowly removing his own coat and, at Harry's gesture, taking both his wife's and his daughters with him to the coat-rack, "but you've yet to explain what her relationship is to Harry. After your... activities over the summer, I was under the impression you two were rather involved."

Harry paled. It was far too early for this discussion!

Emma allayed his fear slightly by pressing a cool hand to his arm and giving him a reassuring look, "Don't worry, dear, we aren't going to tell you anything like 'you're too young', and Dan most certainly is not going to tell you that you aren't good enough to date his daughter. We've already been told, at length I might add, that it is 'none of your business what or who I do in my private time', and that we should be grateful our daughter has come into her own as an adult woman. I, for one, am quite proud of her."

"And I'm... tolerant, I suppose," her husband huffed, "even if I don't like it."

Hermione snickered as she put a hand through Harry's and stretched up to kiss his stubbled jaw in front of her parents, but she still seemed a bit nervous. "Maybe... maybe it's best if we sit down for this. I don't suppose it's too early for tea, Harry?"

"No, of course not," he said, embarrassed at how bad a job it suddenly felt like he was doing as host. "Or something stronger, if you'd like. Hot chocolate or even coffee, too. I don't know how Sirius drinks that shite, but I can brew some."

"Er, hot cocoa sounds excellent, I think," Mrs. Granger said easily, "if it's not too much trouble."

"No, not at all," Harry assured her.

A few minutes later, wand applied usefully, he returned with a floating serving tray, with three cups of marshmallow-laden hot chocolate, and one of mixed coffee and tea (an even worse travesty, but Mr. Granger had asked...), plus tea for Lilith when she deigned to come out of his room. That she was listening in had been made clear by a mental message, she was now only waiting for the right moment. "Here you go," he said casually, glad that he required far fewer hours of sleep than a normal person. Hermione's parents, though they had apparently been awake for a while already, were still bleary-eyed even though it was getting a little closer to six now.

He took a seat on the second of two love-seats, next to Hermione, while her parents were on the opposite one, leaving the long couch and a single squishy armchair next to the low-burning fireplace free. "So... what was it you asked, Mr. Granger?"

"I didn't," he replied, "but I did say that I was curious about your relationship with this friend Hermione keeps mentioning, and how it affects your relationship with Hermione."

"Harry," Hermione told him as he drew in a breath to answer nervously, "You don't have to tell him anything. I've told them both that it's your business, not mine, or theirs. They will respect it if you don't want to say."

As reassuring as her words were to hear, it was Hermione's mug-free hand twisting in his own that made Harry feel the safest, not that he considered either of her parents a true threat. Except that they could make Hermione feel miserable, and he would never want that. Still, he had long since decided that honesty was the best policy, so he drew in a deep breath, took a last sip, and started to explain.

Not in great detail of course, but how he had been frustrated, feeling very alone (and in more than once sense), and summoned help in the form of a Succubus. Both of the Grangers had at least heard the word, for neither asked for an explanation. How that, in turn, had led to so many other changes in his life, in how he reacted to the world, and in some ways, how he thought.

What Harry did not do was mention sharing the Succubus with anyone else, and especially not Hermione.

That she took care of on her own, after he had caught them up to more or less the present day, including a brief mention of the attack. "Mum, Dad, you already know about the terrorist attack on downtown London the other day, of course. What you don't know is that it was perpetrated by the Death Eaters and a few Giants. Followers of the man Harry is literally prophesied to fight against. One of them must kill the other, it's the only way."

Both parents paled, but Hermione kept her gaze steady even as her hand began to tremble and sweat in Harry's. "I love him. I won't abandon him. I love Ron. Ron won't abandon him. Ginny, Harry's other girlfriend, won't abandon him. We are all going to fight. Together. Lilith, which is what Harry's Succubus goes by in her normal form, won't abandon him. You know we can't, that I can't. It's not who I am. No matter how bad it gets."

The older woman in the room was white as a ghost, Harry thought, but she was the first to respond, her voice shaking and tremulous, "That... that attack was aimed at Harry, wasn't it? If... if there's a... prophecy?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes. Not only him, but yes. But I've already told you how they feel about Muggleborns like myself, or muggles, like you. They will not hesitate. You are vermin to them, and I am lower even than that in some ways. I won't stand by and let them exterminate us."

"Too right," Daniel Granger said, his own voice not entirely steady, "That's my girl. I... I don't like it, but I'm proud. But that doesn't answer my question about your... relationships."

Hermione glanced at Harry, then looked back to her parents. "I said I love Harry, and I love Ron. Ginny is my best friend, and... more recently, one of my lovers. So is Lilith."

It took a few moments for them to process what she'd said, but eventually Mr. Granger nodded, "So, that's how it is, then."

His daughter returned the gesture, "Yes. I believe it's most accurately described as a polyamorous relationship. Harry, Lilith, Ron, myself, and Ginny are all together in some way... and there are others that orbit us, in a way, but are not fully involved. Or aren't yet."

The last she had added hastily, when Harry gave her hand a squeeze. Then he added, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I didn't ask for this. All I wanted when I summoned Lilith was... well, a bit of fun and some... stress relief. But I don't regret it. My life, all of our lives, are so much better now. And not just because of... well, the physical things. We are more open, friendlier, happier, with each other and other people."

Emma shook her head, a strange, shy sort of smile adorning her face, so much like Hermione's, only a little older, "Dear, we don't... blame you. At least, I don't. It's just... a bit of an adjustment, you see. We knew there was something else going on, the way Hermione went on in her letters and over the last two nights, but this... to hear she's not only got two boyfriends, but at least two female lovers, and... it's a lot. Surely you can see that."

"I can, absolutely," Harry said, "I just want to remind you that Hermione is still your daughter. She hasn't changed that much. If anything, she's just more... open, about what she wants."

Mr. Granger nodded, putting down the now empty mug he was holding and putting the free hand around his wife's shoulders, "Well, I... I can't say I saw this coming. Never in a million years. But I know I can't stop her. Hermione's of-age, now, if nothing else. She would just... up and leave, if it came down to it."

"No, Dad," Hermione protested softly, "You know I wouldn't. I mean, if you forced me to choose between you and them, I... I suppose yes, I would, but you aren't like that, either."

"No, I suppose not," the older man sighed, "Just... like all parents, I only ever wanted you to be happy and healthy and whole, Hermione. Everything else is... just flavoring in the vast feast of life. Or... or something."

Emma snorted at his attempt to be philosophical, and leaned into her husband's arm. "What I think he's trying to say, dearest, is that while it's a bit of a shock, we can't... disagree. After all, we were that age, once. I don't suppose I ever told you I had a girlfriend, in college, before I met your father. Kept her for a while after we began dating, too. I... it's not that large a shock."

Hermione's eyes widened, but she shook her head, "No, I don't think it's ever come up."

Dan Granger snorted, his face darkening in a blush, "Not... not my proudest moment, Emma."

To explain, his wife kissed his cheek and then turned to her daughter and lover, "You see, Dan eagerly joined us at first. The chance to be with two gorgeous girls like us? Of course he did. But he got jealous- of me. He wanted to be with Josephine, you know, at first. But while she was willing if we were all together, alone she found him... boring."

"Boring," Dan snorted.

"Eventually, they started arguing as he kept pursuing her, and she kept rejecting him. I ended up being the go-between more often than not, which is when I realized that I was in love with him. Once I confessed, Josephine felt betrayed, of course. We'd been dating for two years by then. A different time, free love... but she was hurt. Your father tried to confront her about it, convince her we could still all stay together... it didn't end well. His black eye took two weeks to fade."

"And... Josephine..." Hermione whispered, then her eyes widened suddenly, "Aunt Jo?"

With a faint blush, Hermione's mother nodded. "We still see each other, of course, but we aren't intimate. Haven't been since we split up that day."

"I... I..."

Lilith chose that moment to come into the room, appearing as the older, pink-haired and busty form Ron preferred, but fully clothed in casual clothing fit for a teenager of her years. She gave a casual wave to the Grangers as she stepped around that loveseat to squeeze onto Harry's lap, and put her legs over Hermione's, who rested a hand on them. "'Morning, Harry, Hermione. Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I'm Lilith."

"Er..."

"Master already told you what I am," the Succubus reminded them, "so don't feel the need to be shy around me. I don't care. You might see me naked, or shagging. I don't care. I might see you- I don't care. You get the picture. I have no shame, and you don't need to feel embarrassed about or because of me. For anything."

Harry got the distinct impression she was, despite her words, teasing them with mental images of what she could do to please them, or perhaps with foggy memories of when Harry had visited their home the previous summer.

"At any rate, while you are around Master," she continued, "you should expect to see, or at least risk seeing, him or his friends, myself, in compromising positions. That may include your daughter. While they may still feel some shame about that, I will not. I would ask that, if you do feel shame in that circumstance, you hide it as best you can. To us, all of us, there is nothing abnormal about it. Not any more."

Mr. Granger frowned deeply as he looked between the three younger beings several times, "I... I can't promise that. Your Mum and I, Hermione, we've adjusted to a lot about this... world you've entered. A lot. Trolls, Basilisks, Dark Lords... you've been honest and up-front with us, and I appreciate that. Even this... Succubus is something I think I can deal with. But asking us to keep, well, keep our cool, in a situation like that... I can't promise anything. I just don't know what I'd do."

To her credit, the youngest Granger nodded seriously, "That's fine, Daddy. I don't mind if you get upset if that happens. But you need to know that I wouldn't be upset, either. Obviously I'm not going to... flaunt it. But I'm not ashamed of it, either."

"We know, dear," Mrs. Granger added quietly, her face more red than anyone else's, "it's just... well, you've basically told us that you're sleeping around with a bunch of people, and now you wouldn't be bothered if we, your own parents, caught you at it? You have to realize that's... unusual."

"It is," Harry answered for her, quite seriously, "It's unusual for most people. But we're hardly what most people would call normal, either. Even most witches and wizards, less than one percent of the human population, don't... do that sort of thing. But Succubi are not unheard of. We are not the only ones with... well, not lifestyles, but lives like this now."

"There's another Succubus that lives about three miles from here," Lilith pointed to the south-east, "just on the other side of the valley. I avoid them since this is their territory and I'm near-poaching, but they haven't got the might to push me out if I wanted to stay anyway. It's not worth the conflict, though, they aren't our enemy. I just wanted you to know that, because even if it seems strange to you, there is a lot that your parents, your siblings, your neighbors, your friends, your coworkers, don't know about your lives... and that you don't know about theirs. Just because people put on a polite face doesn't mean we don't all have our secrets. Ours, Master's circle of friends at least, is just out there in the open now."

"That's really what it boils down to," Hermione finished explaining, "Our 'torrid love-lives' are out there in the open, not hiding in secret. And I'm not bothered by it. Honestly, not one whit. I was already a target for Voldemort and the Death Eaters for being Muggle-born, much less Harry's friend. This? It's nothing new. The only difference is that now I don't have to hide what I want. What I've secretly wanted since I was... old enough to know what sex was."

"Out of idle curiosity, dear...?"

She looked over at her mother and murmured a single word, "Nine."

Dan Granger sighed, seeming to deflate, then waved his hand in the air, "Fine, fine. I still can't make promises if... we see anything like that, but I'll try. Alright?"

"Thank you, Daddy," Hermione murmured quietly, standing up to cross the space and give him a hug, then moving to her mother, "Thanks, Mum."

The older woman's stifled yawn as her daughter pulled away a bit gave Harry an idea. "Er... it's still early. Well, late for presents I s'pose, but Sirius really does like to have a lie-in most days. Do- do you all want to have a lie-down for a while? We've got a spare guest room you could kip in."

The Grangers shared a look, and Lilith hopped off Harry's lap, "Come on, I'll show you the way."

"Er... what about Hermione," Dan asked quietly, giving the much smaller girl's hand a dubious look before she hauled him upright without effort.

"Well, I can kip on the couch," Harry offered, "and she can use my bed, but I don't really-"

"No," Hermione scoffed., "I want to spend time with you, Harry. It's been three days."

Both of the older Granger's faces heated at the implication, but their daughter only looked back at them defiantly, "What?"

"Nothing, dear," Emma murmured, reaching out to take her husband's hand from the Succubus, "I suppose you should lead the way then, er, Lilith?"

"Or Lyra," the Succubus replied cheerfully, then morphed into a statuesque blonde, "Or Lilian. You can just call me Lils, too. Or whatever."

The two somewhat bemused adults followed her up the stairs and down the hall, leaving Hermione and Harry alone. But contrary to her implication, the brunette only pulled Harry back down onto the loveseat and leaned into him, slowly taking in one breath after another while gazing at the tree. Ever so gently, a great deal of tension fled her body, one small bit every breath she took, until Hermione whispered, "I wasn't going to tell them at all, but then, I... with Lilith there, I couldn't not."

"I'm glad you did," he told her, the arm over her shoulders pulling her in while he bent to kiss her crown, "You'll be better for it in the end."

"I suppose. This is nice, though. We haven't just cuddled in a long time."

"Never enough."

"Never."

Neither remembered drifting off.

Christmas, once Harry and Hermione had been woken by a much more cheerful Sirius, after he and the Grangers had been fed and watered a couple of hours after dawn, had passed in a way that Harry might have actually considered normal. There was no shouting, unlike at the Weasleys, nor temper tantrums because they hadn't gotten enough gifts, like at the Dursleys. He received quite as many presents as he had given out, as well, which still surprised him. Daphne, Pansy, Astoria, and the other Slytherins he was now friendly with hadn't sent anything, but he suspected that was more due to safety than anything else. He hadn't sent their own presents for the same reason, owls were not that hard to track or intercept. Thus, any gifts for Slytherins (among a few others) were safely tucked away inside his trunk upstairs, just as they had been when he had left Hogwarts a half-week before.

Instead, it had passed in quite contemplation, laughter, and a sense of close-knit camaraderie, as Lilith appeared in the same form she had been introduced to the Grangers that morning some time just before lunch, and volunteered to assist Sirius in preparing their meal. In fact, Harry was now certain that she was using some sort of mood-altering magic on the two muggles, possibly to spare Hermione's feelings, for they fit in quite well with Harry, Hermione, Lilith herself, and Sirius. Then, when the more studious Remus Lupin arrived at two with Nymphadora "Just" Tonks in tow, the mood switched more to a friendly, jovial atmosphere rather than a quiet family one, which Harry found himself appreciating just as much.

Hermione's parents had left that evening with a promise from their daughter that she would spend at least a month with them over the summer break since their Christmas had fallen short. Remus and Tonks had taken up the guest room then, both rather too tipsy to drive. Harry had, with Hermione's own approval, sent Lilith up to send a few wafts of Fog of Lust into the bedroom they were sharing 'quietly'.

No one asked, the next morning, if they'd gotten up to anything. No one needed to, for there were no Silencing Charms in place on the door.

At least Sirius had taken it in his stride, and only patted his last, best living friend on the shoulder at breakfast, and muttered, "If you hurt my cousin..."

And that was it. Remus had been quite embarrassed about the whole thing, and even Tonks had blushed, but no one else ribbed them about it. Even if Hermione promised to have a long talk with Ginny once she got all the 'sordid details' from their Auror friend.

Sirius was the one to Apparate both Harry and Lilith to Godric's Hollow, while Remus brought Hermione. Tonks, while she had been invited, declined, telling Harry that this time she would let him go without her, but that she would be happy to meet his parents as best they could, now, next time.

They appeared amidst another light snow, which swirled around them in a light breeze at the end of a small village lane. To Harry's left was an old church with a well-worn kissing gate leading beyond it into what looked like a very old graveyard, while on the right and beyond were small cottages, stretching down the lane to a few shops and larger buildings he could see perhaps a quarter-mile down the cobbled street. There were very few cars in sight, and none parked on the road, but almost every house had lights on inside even during the daytime thanks to the dark clouds that hung low overhead.

As he stepped forward, Sirius behind them, Hermione on his right and Lilith on his left, both reaching out with mittened hands to hold his own, their feet crunched on the new snow, perhaps three inches of it, over an older, more packed layer. A single monument at the edge of the town, just in front of the old church, showed a few soldiers from the last Great War, Harry thought, with a plaque, worn and faded, that bore their names. It sat in the center of the road in a small circle of grass about ten feet across, the monument about twice that high, oddly large for a small town like this. But as Harry approached, wanting to get his bearings a bit, it changed before his eyes.

A man, a woman, both in their twenties he guessed, the woman holding a small bundle. The plaque, too, grew larger and the words changed too.

In Memory of...

He could not look. He knew, thanks to the Priori Incantatum effect, the Dementor-caused memories, and now Lilith's own copy of his subconscious memories in his mother's case, exactly what his parents had looked like. The Mirror of Erised had been very close, but still not quite it. This... this was a travesty.

"Ridiculous," he heard himself saying scornfully, giving the monument barely a glance before turning away.

That was when he spotted it, where there had been only a fence before.

Two muggle homes on either side, half the size or smaller of the Durlsey's, flanked a cottage of about the same size. Or at least, the ruins of one. The yard was overgrown, the top of a tricycle, probably never-used, the red paint mostly rusted away, barely visible through the grass, which stood itself as high as the dilapidated fence. The front door was inside the house, he could see the corner of it just visible in the scant light that moved through the gaping hole, weathered and worn just as the exterior of the building was. Windows were missing or cracked, but most of the panes at least were still intact. No rude muggle boys had thrown rocks at his parents' home. Likely, it was only the weather or birds that had done that little damage.

But the upper floor...

"That was your room." he heard Remus tell him as if through a thick fog.

Harry nodded, his hand landing on the gate's top without moving as he peered up at the empty space. The house was more than half there, unlike rumors he'd heard over the years, but it had clearly suffered significant damage. He didn't hesitate, though, moving past the sign that warned against trespass, leaving the gate open as he followed the half-hidden paving stones up to the front door and onto the warped, wooden steps of the porch.

"Harry," Hermione said quietly, "I'm not sure it's safe. Are you- of course you are. Why did I even ask?"

Faintly, Harry smiled at the roll of the girl's eyes she must have given herself, but didn't turn back to look. Instead, he stepped in, slowly. "I remember that night. I dreamed it, as Voldemort. One of the last he sent me before Lilith blocked the connection."

It was the first time he'd ever said anything like that in front of Remus, but Harry figured he knew a fair bit because of Sirius, who knew about Harry's old dreams already. The lack of reaction aside from a look of concern as he turned to face his companions told the young wizard he was right. "My dad died right here, at the foot of the stairs. He didn't have his wand."

"We found that," Remus murmured, "A few days later, on the nightstand there."

Harry followed his gesture with his eyes, finding a strangely familiar, yet very different living room. He knew it, felt comfortable there, but it was covered in cobwebs and dust thanks to an open window remaining so for the last fifteen and more years of his life. Animal droppings covered the couch, coffee table, chairs, and carpet. An old muggle rabbit-eared television sat in one corner, the screen cracked too, with a wireless next to it the size of a motorcycle. Harry didn't need to examine every room. He knew this house intimately, though he could not remember it.

The door to the right, now behind him, led to the mud room, where his mother had, many times, held him against her waist while her wand or a single hand did the laundry.

Beyond the stairs was a kitchen and dining room, just as unused as the rest, where his mother had been when his father had felt Voldemort approaching. When she'd been told to take Harry and run.

"It just took one curse for my dad," Harry said quietly, staring at the spot where his father had covered the lower three stairs with his torso and arms for several seconds, his eyes dry and scratchy. There were no tears, not yet, but Harry knew they were coming.

He stepped past then, one hand on the filthy bannister grinding his own mittens through the dust and dirt of years as he stepped higher, on sure feet despite the creak and groan of the old wood.

The second floor was simpler, his parents' bedroom on the left, a guest room, washroom, and loo beyond that, and his own bedroom on the right. The door there was open, too, and it was brighter there than in the upper hall. It didn't take a great deal of thinking to remember why, as Harry stepped just past the threshold. While his girlfriend and Succubus followed him into the room, Remus and Sirius, as quiet as the rest in this most solemn of moments for Harry, remained silent in the hall, looking in with their own eyes running freely.

Harry pointed woodenly, "That's where my mother fell. He offered her freedom, the chance to leave, if she abandoned me. She wouldn't. He called her a silly girl, and used the same curse. Avada Kedavra. Then he turned it on me, and... I remember he hurt, so much pain, but that's where the memory ended. I don't really remember the night myself. Just a man and then a woman crying, and a flash of green light with his cold, high voice."

He looked around the room for a few more minutes, moving only his head, as he tried to reconcile the two and a quarter walls he could see with the most vague memories he possessed, tried to rebuild what the room had once looked like. There were still toys strewn about, a two-foot long broom, the magic long faded, half-beneath the crib. He had a picture of the very same broom, a younger him atop it, being chased by his mother when he was not even a full year old.

Then Harry turned, pulled his two girls into his arms, and sighed. "Come on, there's nothing else here. It's just memories."

"Memories suck," Sirius hiccupped, "and none of you saw anything on my face."

Harry grinned a little wanly, "No one saw a thing, Padfoot. Come on, let's go see the graves."

For a while, as they walked, Harry wondered if Lilith was muting his emotions again, but her whisper in response to his silent question was simple, "No, Master. I wouldn't dare for something like this. I'm... impressed by your composure, though."

"I don't feel composed," he shot back as they passed the kissing gate, then turned to Sirius and Remus. "Where are they?"

The werewolf turned to the right and pointed, directly behind the church, to a taller stone monument than most others around it, and Remus murmured, "The larger one there. Go ahead, Harry, we can wait."

Hermione tried to take her hand from his as he started walking again, but Harry refused to let go, tugging her and Lilith along with him. When they reached it, he used his own hands to scrape free the snow, after which Hermione whipped up a beautiful Christmas wreath with her wand and laid it against the gravestone.

Here lie James and Lily Potter, gone before their time. They are survived by their son, Harry James Potter. Then, below that, another note. The Last Enemy that Shall be Conquered is Death.

"That's from the Bible, I think," Hermione told him as she realized he was reading and re-reading it, "but I'm not sure what passage."

Harry nodded. It didn't really mean anything to him, but it felt nice to say in regards to his parents. He wanted to say something, felt it appropriate. But they were not here. There was more of his parents in Voldemort's wand than there was in the ground beneath their feet. He could feel it, that their bodies were indeed present, but they were not there. Instead, he only took Lilith's and Hermione's hands again and continued to look downward at the pure white marble.

Eventually, Hermione gave his hand a squeeze and stepped forward a few inches without letting go, then began to speak softly, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I'm Hermione Granger, one- one of Harry's girlfriends. I love him. I'll protect him, help him, nurture him, do everything I can to make you proud of him. I... I wish I could meet you. Your son is an amazing man, and I... I like to think that you'd be proud of him even if his life is a little weird."

That was apparently all she'd meant to say, for Hermione stepped back then, leaning into Harry with her head on his shoulder. He could hear her sniffle, but he was still without tears. Lilith surprised him next by kneeling in the snow, and putting a hand down into it, uncaring of the cold, to touch the ground. Her other hand still stayed wrapped in his. "I'm Lilith, I suppose," she murmured, a bit more hesitantly, sounding almost nervous and strangely tense. "I'm... a Succubus. We haven't said it, but I suppose I'm another one of Harry's girlfriends. I belong to him. And I love him, too. I hope you won't object, because I won't give him up. Not even for his parents. He misses you, every day, even if he doesn't know how to say it. I feel it. He loves you. I feel that too. Even if he doesn't know how to say that, either. I'll say it for him. I'll be there to help him as long as I am able. And I wish I could've met both of you, too."

As she spoke, Harry felt a strange wash of emotion coming closer. It was from outside of himself, but it was so comforting, so familiar, that he felt it merge with his own essence in a way he could not make sense of, much less define with words. Almost as if his parents were suddenly there, when they had so clearly not been a short time ago. Yet, as he pondered, stretching out with his magic, his more mundane senses, and the magical gifts he had received from Lilith, Harry realized it wasn't his parents. It was just his mother, her alone. And it was not coming from the grave.

It was coming from Lilith herself.

A few seconds after she stopped talking, just as Harry realized the source of those emotions, the feeling began to fade, so quickly that he wondered after a moment if he had been imagining it.

Some time after they were both done, Harry sighed, dipped his head, but turned his awareness outward. Perhaps upward, out into the vast universe that whirled and spun overhead from their limited human perspective. He wasn't really sure. All Harry knew was that his parents, once more, were not present. But some shard of them existed out there in the multiverse still, that same core essence that a Horcrux mutilated.

Their souls still existed in some way, somewhere. He knew it.

It was to those souls that Harry finally spoke, his voice cracked and trembling, as tears finally began to run free. Despite them being not here, Harry suddenly felt closer to them both than he ever had before. Closer than the Mirror of Erised's false images, of the echoes of them imprinted on Voldemort's ash-and-phoenix wand through the Killing Curse, closer even than his dreams. Thus, for the first time, he felt he could speak to his parents, and he could not bare the thought of passing that opportunity up.

"Mum, Dad. I love you. I don't... have much more to say. I hope you're proud. I miss you. Yeah, I... I love Hermione, and Ginny, and Lilith, and Pansy and I think I'm in love with Tracey and Daphne, too, and maybe even Lavender. One day, I... I want you to meet them all. I want you to meet your grandchildren. I hate that you can't, not while... while you can hold them close. But one day, we'll see each other again. I know it. And some time, a long time after that, you'll hold your grandbabies, too, and theirs after that. The Potters aren't done yet. I'm not done. I'll... stop him. For you. Because you wanted me to be happy, and healthy, and I can't be while he's around. And I won't stop until he's gone. Once he is, I still... owe you so much. I owe you grandbabies. I..."

He couldn't say anything else, his throat was suddenly too tight, constricted, full.

In a strange way, it was as if he were Iris, choking on Lilith's dick or something, but the sensation came from inside, completely the wrong direction, and there was no lust involved. Instead, the strange feeling of fullness sprung from emptiness inside him.

A place his parents should have been, and were not.

After several seconds, Harry remembered to breathe in a great, shuddering, wracking force of effort that drove him to his knees in the snow next to where Lilith still knelt.

And he cried, and cried, and did not regret it.

Twenty minutes later, his face covered in a thin sheen of salty ice, Harry stood, and the hollow spot within him felt... less. Smaller, weaker perhaps, or maybe filled in, but not so painful as it had been.

Beside him, Hermione and Lilith both stood, the former shivering slightly, and put their arms around him. He turned with them slowly, to find Remus and Sirius too, their heads bowed, weeping.

"Come on, you two louts," he murmured, looking at his father's and later his mother's best friends with a true smile, "Enough weeping for today. Let's go back home."

They did. Fire Whiskey was shared (and freely), but Harry did not much imbibe. He didn't need to. He could see why some turned to drinking, especially when mourning the dead, but he was alright. His parents, though they were gone, were safe, together. He knew it, could feel it.

Somehow, his mother had reached out to him through his Succubus, even if the rosette didn't even realize it.

She'd sent him her love, and Harry knew.

That was enough, at least until he could see them again.

Boxing Day, too, came and went with much more fanfare and excitement, but very little drama. A four-hour visit to the Weasley's towering, strange home gave Harry a chance to catch up with his girlfriend, who was strangely tight-lipped about what she'd been up to, and Hermione to catch up with her other boyfriend, but Fleur Delacour was no longer there, and did not appear that day.

So, after a late, massive dinner for the extra guests (one of whom had now left to live with more distant family), they returned once more to Sirius' home. As usual when there, both Hermione and Lilith shared Harry's bed, glad for the quiet time together almost as much as they missed their friends and the varied companionship.

Nearly a week passed after, with Lilith disappearing on 'business' every day just after sunrise and returning only after dinner, leaving Harry and Hermione to catch up on homework assignments, make love, or do more casual reading in their own time. Most of that week, even Sirius was gone on 'Order Business' during the day, something about keeping an eye out for Death Eaters. He would not elaborate though, even when Harry pressed him.

Harry was expecting another rather boring day with another week and more to go in the holiday, when Lilith roused he and Hermione before breakfast, "Come on, you two, busy day today. Up you get!"

Taking advantage of Sirius and his girlfriend, a Muggleborn named Clarissa who Harry had still barely met and knew very little about since she was rarely there and cooped up in Sirius' bedroom when she was, having a bit of a lie-in, Lilith went beneath the dining room table to get her own breakfast from both Hermione and Harry while they ate, then continued chivying them out the door.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Harry asked after they had reached the mid-way point of the walk down toward the street, "And how're we getting there."

"Just across town, opposite corner from the other of my kind," Lilith, appearing now as Lilian Vergot, gestured vaguely toward the west side of the wide valley the town occupied, "and we're getting there by Shadowstep. Hermione, this might be uncomfortable, but I think we can keep you safe and healthy. Unless you'd rather take the bus or something."

The witch looked vaguely uncomfortable, but asked, "Er, what- what exactly does your Shadowstep entail? I know you mentioned it crossing planes...?"

"Not entirely," Lilian explained as they continued to walk for no other reason than it felt better than standing still, "it's entering the border realm between my plane and this one, but it isn't fully crossing over. We do the same thing on the other side. At least, those of us capable. Not everyone is, it's a Power like any other. I, and Master, will be encasing you in our magic, and then I will be using that connection, mostly through Master, to pull you along with us when we cross over, and then return."

"That still sounds a little... iffy."

"It's a lot like Apparition, really," Harry told her reassuringly, "Except instead of feeling sort of squeezed, you feel stretched out, like you're... everywhere, all at once, instead of... nowhere. Still cold, like Apparition, though."

"W... Well, if you're sure it'll be safe?"

"I'm not certain," the Succubus admitted as she took the human girl's hand, "but reasonably sure. I wouldn't risk it if there was a chance at real harm. The worst that could happen is you fail to jump with us and we have to come back. You wouldn't be hurt, just alone for a few seconds."

"Oh. Well, that doesn't sound too bad," Hermione chuckled, "you made it sound risky."

"Well, there is always the possibility we can do it to get you there, but not to bring you back. That would... be unpleasant. But the risk is minimal, I promise. I'm brimming with energy thanks to you two being so randy, and Master is eager to find out what I've been working on for weeks and weeks."

Hermione's eyebrows rose, "That long?"

The blonde woman nodded, "Actually since the end of summer last year. It's just moving faster now, and I've finished yesterday. Or at least, finished enough."

"Well, alright, let's go, then," Hermione said, pretending exasperation even though both of her companions knew full well she was growing excited, too. She took both Lilian's and Harry's hands as the Succubus circled to the front, and then the world winked out.

For a brief moment, all either human saw was gray.

Glossary: