Harry's Boring Bookworm by Hotaru

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 27/06/2006
Last Updated: 28/06/2006
Status: Completed

Harry gets cursed by his wife and seeks assistance from his best friend, only to discover how
wicked a witch can be.




1. Harry's Problem
------------------

Disclaimer: I do not own anything ‘Harry Potter,’ and I don’t make a dime off of it. I write for
nothing but enjoyment.

A/N: This story is *not* for Ginny lovers, so be warned.

Chapter 1:

It was another quiet night in the Emergency Admissions area at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical
Maladies and Injuries. Hermione liked quiet nights. It gave her a chance to catch up on her
reading. She hadn’t really fallen behind in her studies… after all, when she wasn’t at the
hospital, she was at home. Home in her tiny one room flat… alone… reading.

All her friends said she has a boring life. Hermione didn’t mind having a boring life. Boring
was a refreshing change from what her life was like only two years prior. ‘Boring’ didn’t describe
her six years at Hogwarts, ‘Boring’ certainly didn’t describe the three and a half years that they
searched for Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and nobody in their proper state of mind could call the last
battle where Harry finally finished Voldemort ‘Boring.’

In fact, her life had been anything but boring before two years ago, not since she was eleven
years old when she had first met ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ She smiled inwardly as she recalled her first
train ride to school. She had tried not to show her excitement when she first saw him sitting in
that compartment with Ron, but her nervousness at actually meeting the famous Harry Potter crept
through her façade and she ended up babbling on and on about…

“Books.” She said aloud, snapping the book she was currently reading closed. The things that
gave her comfort and confidence while growing up as a child, were also the things now making her
life, as Ron so thoughtfully put it, ‘dreadfully, tearfully boring.’

Her thoughts returned to that first meeting. She remembered that ‘spell’ that Ron had tried on
his rat, the rat that caused a lifetime’s worth of pain in a small boy’s life. Of course, the
‘spell’ didn’t work. She knew it as soon as he started that silly incantation. She wanted so
desperately for Harry to ask her to do more ‘real’ magic for him. She had told him that she had
tried spells that ‘did’ work, and even repaired his broken glasses for him, but after struggling to
stop herself from babbling about books a minute before, she was not about to risk offending them by
trying to show off too much. She had the impression that the boys were getting rather annoyed with
her as it was. No, as she thought about it, only one of the boys appeared to be annoyed with her…
the redhead, Ron.

Maybe if she wasn’t so boring her life would have turned out differently. Maybe, if she didn’t
always have her nose stuck in a book she’d have time to get involved in a relationship with
someone. Maybe if she were a little prettier, a little more exciting, *a little more like
Ginny…* then just maybe things would have turned…

She was snapped from her daydreaming by a familiar voice at the door. “Hello Hermione, I think I
need your help… *again.*”

Her best friend, Harry Potter, was leaning against the doorjamb, looking flushed and sweaty.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed sympathetically, “what did she do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he answered, “we were in the middle of another of our arguments when
she snapped again. She packed a bag of her stuff and headed for the door.”

“Again?” sighed Hermione.

“Yeah, but this time, I told her if she walked out the door, she shouldn’t bother coming back. I
turned around to head back upstairs, and she muttered some kind of curse behind my back and stormed
out. I felt ok at the time, I thought she missed me, but then I started feeling… I dunno… panicky,
I can’t describe it. Then I started feeling sick, so I figured I’d better come to see you. You
always know what to do.”

Hermione smiled inwardly at his last comment. She was glad, that after all these years, he could
still depend on her, and he still trusted her. She had already drawn her wand out and was waving it
in intricate patterns around Harry’s head, neck and upper torso while asking, “Hit you while your
back was turned? Typical… Well, I’m sure she’ll be back. She always comes back.” Then Hermione
thought to herself, *‘Of course, she’ll go back, the little princess couldn’t survive without
Harry’s money.’*

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, “I suppose, but she was really furious this time. I’ve never managed to
get her quite this angry before.”

“What was the argument about this time?” asked Hermione while continuing to examine him.

“The usual…” Harry answered.

“The ‘starting a family’ one…” Hermione already knew what the ‘usual’ argument was. She had
heard both sides of the story on too many different occasions. Harry, of course, had always wanted
a family to call his own, while Ginny, who had promised Harry children before they were married,
had changed her tune completely after the wedding. She didn’t want the fuss, the responsibility,
the pain, or the stretch marks. She liked her fun and freedom, the fun and freedom that Harry was
paying for. Yes, all Ginny wanted was the money, fame and power that came with being Harry Potter’s
wife. She got the huge house that *she* wanted, the throng of servants and house elves that
*she* wanted, the expensive designer robes, the extravagant parties, and all the friends and
lovers that Harry’s money could buy, everything that *she* wanted.

Hermione never had the heart to tell Harry about the ‘*lovers*’ part.

All Harry had asked for in return was a family of his own. All he wanted was a woman to love and
to love him in return. All he wanted was a horde of little Potters running around, causing
mischief, and being loved by a father who was never loved as a child himself.

Hermione would love nothing more than to trade places with Ginny. Not for the houses, servants
or parties, but for the love, for the family that Harry had always wanted, the family that Hermione
would sacrifice everything she had to be a part of.

“Hmmm, I can’t seem to find anything wrong. Do you remember what the incantation was?”

Harry thought for a moment, “She muttered it so softly that I barely heard it, it could have
been something like ‘surrilis’ or ‘serritus,’ I didn’t recognize it, and as I said, I barely
heard…”

Hermione’s face darkened, “Was it *‘Scectillious’*?”

“It could have been, I’m not completely sure, but it sounds close.” Said Harry, while he watched
Hermione make odd wand movements over his lower abdomen.

She stopped the movements and whispered, “Oh, my! *Oh no!”* A look of horror washed over
Hermione’s face, “She wouldn’t… She wouldn’t *dare!*” Harry! How long ago did this
happen?”

Harry was taken aback by the seriousness of her voice. He checked his watch and said, “It
couldn’t have been more than an hour ago…”

Hermione grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him from the room, “*Hurry!* Maybe we’re not too
late!” She dashed down the hall towards the hospital’s potions lab, with Harry following a few
steps behind.

She burst through the door and announced to the three people who were working there, “Get out!
Now!”

They were about to voice their objection to being ordered about by a junior healer when they
noticed who had stepped into the room behind her. They quickly gathered their projects and fled the
lab.

Hermione wasted no time in setting up the equipment. She frantically raced from her cauldron to
retrieve the various components from the many shelves and cabinets around the room.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” asked Harry, who was starting to worry as he saw the desperation
growing on her face. “What did she do to me?”

She brushed a stray curl that had escaped her bun away from her sweaty face as she worked. “The
*Scectillious* charm is used when… It’s a charm that…”

Harry at first thought it was the sweat of concentration running down her face, until he
realized that she was crying.

Hermione’s voice was cracking as she spoke, “How could she! That selfish little… That
*evil* woman!” She wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve and squeaked, “I never would
have thought she’d stoop so low!”

Harry’s face turned ash white when he realized what Ginny *might* have done to him,
“Hermione, what is this *Scectillious* charm?”

Hermione’s shoulders dropped and she spoke in barely a whisper, “It’s a contraception charm.
It’s a charm men use when they’ve had enough children.” She then burst out sobbing, “Harry, it’s
meant to be *permanent!* Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!”

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. He reached out his hand and steadied himself on a
nearby desk. He didn’t say anything, but Hermione could see the devastated look on his face.

This look made her cry even harder. “I can’t believe she’d risk Azkaban over her petty
selfishness!”

“Azkaban? What do you mean?”

Hermione added the last few ingredients to the cauldron and cast another heating charm under it.
“It’s illegal for a woman to use that spell. Only the man is supposed to make the decision to
sterilize himself. The same goes for the *Sancticillious* charm for women. It’s a trip to
Azkaban for men to cast that one.”

*“WHAT???”* Yelled Harry, “What did you just say!?”

Hermione looked up from the cauldron and saw the fury behind Harry’s eyes, “I said the
*Sancticillious* charm is only to be used by the woman herself. It’s the permanent sterility
charm for women, just like *Scectillious* is for men.” Upon seeing the flare of fury in his
eyes replaced by a look of total despair, she looked back down and concentrated on the potion.

Harry sat on the desk that had been supporting him and buried his face in his hands.

Hermione continued brewing the potion in silence, not looking up from the cauldron that she was
feverishly stirring.

“She said it was temporary.” Harry whispered, “She said it was reversible. She used that spell
on our wedding night.”

Hermione stopped stirring, hung her head and placed her hands on the table, trying to support
the weight that her legs didn’t seem capable of at the moment. She took a deep breath, and then
stood up straight. “It’s ready, Harry.” She said as she poured the contents of the cauldron into a
goblet. “You can’t drink it here, come on.”

Hermione stepped to the door and waited for Harry to follow. She sadly watched as he wiped his
eyes and stood unsteadily.

They walked to a nearby room and Hermione hastily conjured a bed for him. After helping Harry
get undressed and into a comfortable position on the bed, she closed and locked the door, then cast
a series of silencing charms around the room. She then started tying his hands and legs to the
corners of the bed.

When she noticed Harry looking at her questioningly, she told him, “Harry… The potion will have
some strange effects on you, and it is only half of the treatment. I also have to cast a
counter-charm on your… on you.” She blushed briefly, then sighed and gave him an apologetic look.
“Harry, this is going to be very, *very* painful, and there is no guarantee it will work.” She
dropped her gaze to the floor and nervously bit on her lower lip, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I wish
there was another way.”

Harry just sullenly nodded.

“When you’re ready, drink the potion, then I’ll start the counter-charm.”

Harry downed the contents of the goblet, took a deep breath and laid back into the pillow.

After restraining his remaining hand, Hermione studied her watch, counting the seconds, “Ok,
Harry, get ready… *Oh, I’m so sorry!*”

Hermione pointed her wand at Harry’s groin and cried, *“Lashissorcia!’* An opaque, pink
beam of light flashed from her wand and connected with Harry.

Harry had thought the *Cruciatus* was bad, but the pain that now shot from his groin up
through his chest made that curse seem like a tickling charm.

Harry was thrashing violently on the bed. Through his own blurred vision, he saw that her hands
were trembling as she tried to hold the beam from her wand steady on him. He could barely make out
Hermione’s face. Her eyes were closed, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and he could see her
mouth moving, but could only hear his own screaming.

Suddenly, a cloud blanketed his thoughts as the potion was apparently taking effect. He could
hear voices in his head, some whispering distantly, some softly spoke random phrases that drifted
in and out, but there was one voice that he could clearly hear, the cry of Hermione’s voice echoing
in the back of his mind saying, *‘Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I’m so, so sorry! I
don’t like doing this! I hate hurting you! I love you so much, please forgive me! Oh, please don’t
hate me for doing this to you! I love you…’*

That was the last he ‘heard’ before the blackness of unconsciousness enveloped him.

After untying Harry’s hands and legs, Hermione collapsed into a chair that she had conjured next
to his bed. She was exhausted. Harry had passed out from the pain five minutes into the treatment,
a blessing for him, she thought.

She rubbed her red, swollen eyes and stared vacantly at a random spot on the wall. She silently
prayed that the treatment worked. She knew that a counter-charm had to be performed within two
hours of the original charm for there to be any chance of a successful reversal. He said it was
about an hour before he arrived at the hospital, and it took her about forty minutes to make the
potion. She sincerely hoped they made it in time.

“But what did it matter?” she thought, “If Ginny really did sterilize herself, Harry’s chances
at a family of his own was gone anyway. She didn’t have to do it to him, too. Was it out of spite?
Was it the fear of him having a child with someone else? Having a heir to take *her* money if
Harry should die?”

Hermione didn’t notice the frown that appeared on Harry’s face.

Harry would never cheat on Ginny, Hermione was sure of that. Ginny, of course, didn’t have those
silly morals to get in her way. She had heard all about those ‘parties’ that Ginny threw at their
beach house while Harry was away. Being an auror often had him spending days away from his home, so
there were beach house parties often thrown.

The frown on Harry’s face deepened, and still went unnoticed.

Of course, with him being an auror, wouldn’t you think he’d notice what was happening under his
own nose? Hermione supposed not… since the war, Harry was much too trusting of the people close to
him for his own good. He got used to trusting the people close to him. He *had* to trust his
friends. He would have never survived the war if he didn’t.

“Harry deserves better than that,” thought Hermione bitterly, as she sat with a frown, “It’s
really not fair to him.”

She thought about how, just a few hours before, she wondered how her life would have turned out
if she were more like Ginny. The thought of that now was turning her stomach.

Still, she wished that she could do it all over again. She would have done so many things
differently. She would have tried harder to be more pleasant around him, paid more attention to
him. She would have believed him and helped him more in their last year at Hogwarts. She certainly
would have worked up the courage to tell him exactly how she felt about him so many years ago, how
she still feels about him. Now, regretfully, it was too late… much too late.

The frown disappeared from Harry’s face.

She felt her heart breaking inside as tears welled up into her eyes. Her heart was breaking for
Harry’s sham of a marriage, it was breaking because he would never have the family that he wanted
more than anything in the world, it was breaking for all the lies and deception that Harry had to
take from the people that were supposed to love him.

Her heart was breaking because she felt it was all her fault.

Maybe, if she had made more of an effort not to be so bloody boring, he would have noticed her
as something more than his best friend, his favorite little bookworm… Maybe if she told him long
ago that she loved him more than life itself, none of this misery would have fell on his shoulders,
or maybe having Harry being in love with her was just never meant to be, even if she wasn’t so
boring.

“I guess I’ll have to be content to remain Harry’s favorite little boring bookworm.” She thought
sadly as she brushed the unshed tears from her eyes.

She looked over to Harry and was surprised to see a smile on his face.

“My ‘favorite little boring bookworm?’” mumbled Harry, “I like the sound of that.”

Hermione stared at him with a shocked expression, “How did you…”

“Do you know what the effects of that potion you gave me are?” asked Harry, wincing as he sat up
in the bed. The pain in his abdomen was still very much there.

“Well,” she said warily, “tissue regeneration that’s centered on your, umm, *groin area*,”
her face blushed a pleasant pink, “that’s the primary effect. The secondary effect is an
anesthetic, quite a strong one, at that. There are other side effects that vary from person to
person, but it’s impossible to tell what they would be, and I’ve never heard of any that are
particularly dangerous. But why…?”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. She closed her eyes and thought, “You can
read my mind?” It was more a tentative statement than a question.

A moment of silence passed. She was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when she heard Harry
say, “Yes, I can.”

A squeak escaped her throat as she covered her mouth with her hands, “Oh no! Oh, I’m so sorry
Harry… When did you…? How much did you hear?” Her eyes widened again in horror as she recalled what
she had been thinking while Harry laid there, “Oh my... *Oh, no!*”

Hermione jumped up from the chair and dashed to the door. She struggled with the doorknob for a
few seconds before remembering the locking charms she had placed on it. She reached for her wand,
but her arms were caught in Harry’s hands. She shrieked in embarrassment as she struggled against
his grip, then admitting defeat, she spun around and collapsed into Harry’s chest and started
sobbing.

Thoughts started racing through her mind, “Oh no, he’s going to hate me! He’s not supposed to
find out that I love him… Ack! He can hear this! Oh no! *Bloody Hell, he’s only in his
boxers!*”

She squeaked loudly and started struggling again, but by then he had his arms wrapped tightly
around her, holding her to his chest while trying to calm her down.

“It’s ok, Hermione,” he whispered to her, “it’s not your fault. I’m the one who has made all the
mistakes.”

She stopped struggling and listened, her wet face still buried in his chest.

“I heard enough to realize how wrong I’ve been, about a lot of things. You were right, I do know
about Ginny and the ‘parties’ at the beach house, I knew all along. I knew all about the lies and
deceit, and I knew why you couldn’t tell me. There’s only two new bits of information I got
tonight, one was the fact that my *‘loving wife…’*” those two words were spit from his mouth
like venom, “was so selfish and conceited that she’s go so far as to forever deny me children just
to preserve her sex appeal and her control of the money.”

“The other fact…” Harry paused, brought her tear-stained face away from his chest, and then
looked into her eyes, “was the one that I should have seen years ago. I’m the one who should be
apologizing to you. You were right about so many things. I thought I knew love with Cho. Well, we
both know how pathetically wrong I was there…”

Hermione nodded and gave him a small, knowing smile.

“Then there came Ginny. I thought I knew what love was then, too.” Harry laughed bitterly,
“Hormones and lust... Endless days of snogging and shagging, that was love, right? I didn’t pull my
face far enough away from hers to see who she really was, what she was really like. By the time I
truly knew what love was, and who it was that I was truly in love with, I was stuck.”

Hermione’s smile faltered slightly as she wondered what he was getting at.

“I finally learned that loving someone means you can depend on them, no matter what happens,
trust them with your very soul… To be truly in love with someone is when you know you’d die if they
were removed from your life, and you’d gladly give your life to protect them and keep them safe.
Yes, the second thing I learned tonight is the fact that I know now what I should have known so
many years ago, because the feelings I have for you have never changed. Knowing now that you feel
the same way about me as I do about you, I should have done something about it years ago, I should
have done *this* years ago.”

Harry bent down and gently placed his lips onto hers.

As their lips met, Hermione’s eyes opened wide in momentary panic, and then slowly closed as she
slid comfortably into his embrace and deepened the kiss.

Neither one knew how long the kiss lasted, their lips only separated when they ran out of
breath. Hermione looked up into his eyes and said, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that to
happen.”

“Oh, yes I do…” he answered while tapping his temple and giving her a knowing smile.

She buried her face back into his chest, “It’s not nice poking around in other people’s heads,
Harry.”

“It’s not something I tried to do, but I’m not sorry at all that it happened. I think that
potion is wearing off now, anyway, I’m not really getting clear thoughts anymore… I think it’s just
emotions now.” He said and held her more tightly.

She smiled into his chest and said, I’m not sorry about it either, what I am sorry about is that
I never had the courage to tell you sooner… I just thought you’d never look at ‘plain old, boring
Herm…”

Harry cut her off, “You know as well as I do that looks aren’t everything, and I don’t know what
you’re worried about, anyway. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, you know, I’ve told you that
more than once… and another thing, I’ve never, ever thought you were boring.”

She sighed and pressed closer into his chest, but he gave a slight groan of pain when she
did.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry! I forgot!” She backed away from him, took his arm and helped him back to
the bed. “Here, lie down… You need to spend the night here, and I have duties to perform, I’m not
through with my shift for another few hours, but I’ll be back to check on you. Please, try to get
some sleep, we’ll talk more about things later.”

The rest of Hermione’s shift passed without incident, it was still a quiet night. She filed her
report for the night, reluctantly noting the condition and treatment of her best friend.

She opened the door to Harry’s room and peeked in. She was surprised to see that he was still
awake, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling with a strange look on his face that she
couldn’t quite read.

“Harry?” she asked tentatively, “Haven’t you slept at all?”

“No, I haven’t,” said Harry, “I can’t sleep here. I’ve just been thinking...”

Hermione noticed that his unreadable expression hadn’t changed. She patiently waited a few
moments for him to continue, but his silence prompted her to ask, “About…?”

“Thinking about what I’m going to do about Ginny,”

Harry’s expression did change at this point, to a frown with such sadness in it that reached
straight into Hermione’s heart.

“I’m going home tonight,” Harry paused, and then continued slowly, “I’m going to give Ginny a
chance…”

In that one, single second in time as those words hit her, her heart stopped and a flood… a
seemingly impossible number of emotions tore through Hermione.

Surprise was the first. How on Earth could he forgive Ginny for what she tried to do… for what
she, quite probably, really did do? She also felt anger, anger at Ginny for having such a complete
hold on Harry’s heart that he actually *could* forgive her for, what seemed to Hermione to be,
something so completely unforgivable. Another emotion, oddly enough, was the sense of pride that
she always had for Harry. She was strangely proud of him for still having the one thing she loved
most about him… Faith. His faith in his friends, in his abilities and, incredibly, faith in the
person he chose to marry, but how could he hold such faith in a person who was so unfaithful?

The last emotion hit her hard. Sadness. Sadness for Harry, that he was going back to condemn
himself to a life of misery. Sadness for Ginny, that she’s married to a man that has admitted that
he doesn’t love her. She’ll play her games, she’ll be on his arm at social gatherings, she’ll have
wealth, power and possessions, but she’ll never have his heart. Finally, there was the sadness for
herself. Sadness in the knowledge that she loved Harry, and knew that he loved her as well, but now
she would never have him, not that she ever thought she had a prayer before that night.

She felt a piece of her soul die along with the hope that she held for the last few hours. As he
spoke those words, she realized that she was, once again, Harry’s favorite little brainy,
*bloody* boring bookworm.

Surprisingly, even with the avalanche of emotions that, in that brief instant, had buried her,
her expression hadn’t changed.

Her face didn’t betray her…

…until Harry finished his sentence.

“… to collect all the things she brought into the marriage and get the hell out of my house,”
Harry directed his eyes to Hermione and saw the shock on her face, then continued to correct
himself, “out of *our* house.”

He watched her for a moment, she stood frozen in the doorway. The shocked expression didn’t
leave her face. He felt a pang of sadness in his heart.

“Well,” he said as he felt his confidence waning, “that is, of course, if you want to be with
me… I just figured… I’ll be going to see my lawyer in the morning… I mean I’d understand if you
didn’t want to… not right away, or… ummm…”

Hermione shook herself out of the stupor in which she found herself. The understanding of what
he had just said finally sunk in past the shock. In two giant strides and a leap, she landed on top
of Harry and hugged him as tightly as she dared, “Oh, Harry,” she breathed to him, “I can’t believe
it! Do you mean it?”

Harry smiled and kissed her, “You bet I do!”

Hermione’s smile faltered a bit. “Ginny’s going to be furious, you know… If you divorce her,
she’s not going to settle for a bag of clothes and a pat on the bum as she walks out the door,
she’s gotten too used to those ‘parties.’ She’s going to try to get as much from you as she
can.”

Harry gave her a sly smile, which Hermione took the wrong way. “No, Harry! I’m not interested in
your money! I just don’t want to see you get…”

“I know, Hermione,” he interrupted, “but she can’t cause any trouble. She’ll take what I give
her and be thankful for it.” She gave him an uncertain look.

“Think about it, Hermione, you practically said so yourself… She’ll take what I give her, and if
she tries to get more, well, how much money do you think she could spend while in a cell in
Azkaban?”

This reminded Hermione of something she needed to do. She looked at Harry, unsure of how to
approach the subject. He noticed her concern, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s the charm she used… If we didn’t make it in time, then you aren’t going to be
producing any new, live… ummm…”

“Seed?” suggested Harry, who smiled at her embarrassment despite the gravity of the
conversation.

“Yes, well,” she continued, trying to sound as professional as possible while showing him that
hope for a family wasn’t lost, “we won’t know if the counter-charm was successful for several
weeks. You see, even if the counter-charm didn’t work, you still have live… seed in you right now.
You could get a sample and preserve it, and use it later when you’re ready.” Hermione pulled a
small, empty bottle from the pocket of her smock and held it out to him.

Harry reddened in understanding of what she was saying. He nodded, took the bottle and as she
left him alone in the room, he said, “Thanks… for everything.”

~~*~~

One month later, Hermione was in her future bedroom, or it will be her bedroom once she clears
out the remainder of the ‘artifacts’ strewn throughout the room. With a wave of her wand, she sent
the entire mess of lotions, potions and perfumes from the top of the vanity into a nearby waste
bucket, and smiled as the bucket burped loudly. She had better not hear that bucket complain about
being hungry for a *long* time.

She wondered to herself how one person could need so much… stuff. Rows of dressers packed to
capacity with frilly bras and knickers, shelves upon shelves of beauty products, and room-sized
closets full of designer gowns, dresses, robes and assorted outfits. Even if the previous owner had
worn three of these outfits a day, without ever wearing the same thing twice, she would certainly
die of old age before getting halfway through them, and this is after she had left the house with
sixteen of her favorite house elves, each dragging a large trunk full of clothes and jewelry behind
them.

Hermione could hardly wait for the people from the St. Mungo’s Relief fund to arrive. They were
certainly in for a surprise when they see all the clothing that was being donated.

Hermione’s thoughts drifted to the previous week’s events. She had been summoned to the Ministry
of Magic to give testimony for a Mr. Harry Potter. She remembered the smug look on Ginny’s face as
she importantly proclaimed her right to three-quarters of Harry’s liquid assets, and brazenly
demanded that all their real estate be immediately sold, with the profits split between Harry and
her… Well, except for the beach house, which she tearfully claimed the right to, seeing how she
spent most of her married life there, practically abandoned by a ‘selfish, neglectful, and abusive
husband’ who valued his work over her happiness.

Harry’s lawyer replaced Ginny’s smugness with outrage as she heard the counter-offer, she can
take her clothes and a fixed one hundred thousand Galleons.

Ginny immediately ranted and screamed at her own lawyer, who was laughing pompously and stated
that the counter-offer was preposterous, and he had a good mind to double the demands, after all,
his client had to be kept in the style of life that she had become accustomed to in her ‘long’
years of marriage!

Harry’s lawyer and the justice minister both quietly waited for the rampage to die down, each
wearing a pleasant smile.

After the shouting had ceased, Harry’s lawyer calmly stated that her demands, while a bit
extreme, would normally have been agreed to… *if* it weren’t for the presence of the
‘extenuating circumstances.’

Both the faces of Ginny and her pompous lawyer fell. Neither one expected to hear what would
come next.

The justice minister called Hermione forward to give her testimony. She related, in the most
professional manner she could summon, “Mr. Potter arrived at St. Mungo’s Hospital on October third
of this year at nine thirty-five in the evening, suffering from the effects of the
*Scectillious* charm, a spell that permanently sterilizes males if it is not reversed
immediately. Mr. Potter underwent an extremely lengthy and painful treatment in an attempt to
reverse the effects. The effectiveness of that treatment is unknown at this time, but due to the
fact that Mr. Potter didn’t know what this charm was that Mrs. Potter had cast upon him, which
resulted in the delay of the treatment and makes his chances of recovery around fifteen percent.”
She turned to the minister and stated, “As you know, Minister, it is illegal for a male to cast
that particular charm on anyone but himself, and it is illegal for any female to cast it at
all.”

There was a collective gasp, followed by angry muttering that echoed around the chamber as
Hermione returned to her seat.

Hermione recalled the way Ginny’s face dropped in shock when she learned of the seriousness of
the charges that were prepared against her, and the look of fear that replaced the shock when she
heard that the penalty for casting the *Scectillious* charm on an unwilling male was
punishable by, at the minimum, fifteen years in Azkaban Prison. Ginny’s face became even paler when
the court was informed that the maximum sentence was *fifty* years, which is what Harry would
recommend *if* his counter-offer were refused.

Hermione watched coolly when Ginny, upon hearing the possible punishment, rushed to Harry and
firmly planted herself on his lap and wantonly ground her hips into his groin, saying in the
sweetest voice she could muster, “Darling, you won’t let them take me to prison, would you? I know
you aren’t serious about this divorce thingy… I knew you wouldn’t mind about that silly spell, I
know you want me to stay slim and sexy for you, and we could just adopt a little brat in ten years
or so!”

Even Molly Weasley, whose eyes had been shooting daggers at Harry since she arrived with her
daughter, blanched at the way Ginny was acting, realizing that maybe, just maybe, her daughter
wasn’t the victim here as she had claimed.

Seeing that her ‘charms’ weren’t working as Harry was trying to push her off of him, she played
what she thought was her trump card, “Don’t you love me anymore? I still love you…”

Harry coldly glared at her as he finally managed to pry her away, then gave a wicked, simpering
smile and said to her, “I’ll be willing to drop the charges altogether… If you forget the galleons
and just take your clothes… They’re worth much more than the money I’m offering, anyway.”

An hour later, the hearing was over. Ginny had her clothes, and they both had their freedom.
Hermione tried not to laugh at the look on Ginny’s face as she left the divorce hearing. She
honestly did try, but failed miserably.

Hermione had just said ‘goodbye’ to the St. Mungo’s representatives, who were positively beaming
with excitement at the generosity of the Great Harry Potter, when he arrived home from work.

He rushed up, kissed her, and said, “Hermione! What are you doing here?”

She stared at him for a moment with a silly smile on her lips, seemingly lost in thought,
*‘Mmmm, I can’t wait until I’m greeted like that every time he comes home.’*

“Hermione?”

“Oh!” she said, snapping out of her thoughts, “I was just here with the St. Mungo’s relief
people, you know, clearing out stuff. I told you yesterday I’d be here helping…”

“That’s right,” he said hitting himself in the forehead and smiling, “Sorry, I forgot about
that. I thought for a moment that you might have more changes to the wedding plans… We’re still on
for next week, aren’t we?”

“Are you sure you don’t think we’re rushing into this? I’d understand if you wanted to
wait…”

Harry smiled warmly and took her in his arms, “Don’t you think we’ve waited too long as it
is?”

She didn’t answer, she just hugged him tighter, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“Well, I’m here for another reason, too, I mean aside from meeting with the St. Mungo’s people.”
She said with a small smile as she pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes.

“Oh? And what might that reason be?”

She blushed slightly while admiring the diamond ring on her finger, the ring that he had
presented her the previous night, “You see, it’s been a month since the counter-charm was
performed, and I think it’s time we find out if it worked.”

“Oh…” his smile disappeared as he sighed and held out his hand, “Well, give me the bottle…”

“Bottle? What bottle?” she asked with a very un-Hermioneish grin as she took Harry’s hand and
led him towards the freshly cleaned out bedroom, “There’s more than one way to find out, you
know…”

~~*~~

*Junko (Hotaru)*



2. Hell Hath No Fury...
-----------------------

Disclaimer: I still don’t own ‘Harry Potter.’ I make no money from writing about it.

-----~-----

Hermione was sitting in her small office at the St. Mungo’s Emergency Admittance Ward. It was
another quiet night, perfect for sitting peacefully at her desk and studying the latest advances in
the healing arts. She picked up her quill, scratched out a few notes on the newest evolution of the
*Tergeo* cleansing spell, which was specially adapted for wound cleaning, and then casually
turned to the next page in her massive book. She was absently running her hand over her swollen
belly, so preoccupied with what she was reading that she wasn’t aware of the stupid grin that was
fixed on her face.

Hannah Abbot was walking by Hermione’s office when she glanced in and saw her sitting there. She
had seen hundreds of pregnant women, and knew very well the way they always seemed to have that
‘glow,’ but Hermione was positively radiant as she quietly read her book while dreamily running her
fingers over her belly. A broad smile broke out and Hannah squealed in delight as she ran up to
Hermione and gave her a huge hug.

“Oh, Hermione, I’m so bloody jealous! You look absolutely smashing! Merlin, the change that has
come over you in the last year is incredible! Married life sure seems to be agreeing with you.”

Hermione beamed at her friend, blushing furiously, “Yes, I suppose it is. Honestly, I couldn’t
imagine being any happier!”

Hannah gave her a last, quick hug before striding to the door, “I’ve got to finish my rounds, do
say ‘Hello’ to Harry for me, won’t you?”

Hermione smiled and waved, “I will, see you!”

Hermione really couldn’t be any happier. The last year of her life had been a whirlwind of love
and romance. They each took a month off from work right after the wedding and honeymooned at a
secluded beach cottage in the south of France. They never saw much of the beach during that
month.

Upon their return, they proceeded to tear through their possessions, cleansing their lives of
everything that wasn’t ‘Harry and Hermione.’ They sold off most of the Potter real estate, but only
after they ‘christened’ each house. The only house they didn’t ‘break in’ was the infamous beach
house. Neither one of them ever felt the urge to go there. They kept the modest home in Godric’s
Hollow, (Harry couldn’t bring himself to part with his parents’ cottage there,) the Black estate at
Grimmauld Place, (Harry hated the house, but still wanted to keep it,) and the Potter ancestral
estate, (which was more of a museum than a home.) The place they chose to live in was a small house
they bought together in Hogsmeade, that is, until they found out she was pregnant. They rented a
ground level flat in London within walking distance of St. Mungo’s where they both would stay until
their baby arrived.

Hermione was thrilled to discover that Harry wasn’t comfortable living in the huge Potter
Mansion, the only reason he did live there before was at the insistence of Ginny. At one point,
Hermione called every house elf from every Potter estate to a meeting. She made the mistake of
offering the battalion of house elves their freedom. A few of the elves just squeaked and fainted
dead away, several others fell to the floor in inconsolable tears, and every other elf
simultaneously disappeared on the spot. It took a month of searching to find all the elves’ hiding
places. Once they were all found, not one of them would accept freedom, vacations or pay. Much to
Hermione’s chagrin, every elf considered it the ultimate honor to be in the employ of not only
great Harry Potter, but also the equally great Hermione Potter, and none of them could be
swayed.

The infamous ‘beach house’ was eventually given to Ginny, along with a healthy amount of
Galleons. Harry couldn’t stay mad at Ginny, and in a way, still loved her, but not in the way she
wanted him to. After all, she was still a part of Harry’s adopted family, and it wouldn’t look very
good for Harry’s ex-wife to be seen starving on the streets, although she would be dressed
spiffingly while lying in the gutter. Harry had even met with Ginny ten months after the divorce.
She seemed to be genuinely repentant for what she tried to do to him and for what she did do to
herself. The only thing that went ‘wrong’ at that meeting was when Harry tried to give her a
friendly kiss good-bye, she grabbed tightly onto his hair and tried to deepen it. Harry pushed her
away, he would have none of it. Hermione really couldn’t fault Harry for forgiving Ginny. His heart
was one of the things she had always loved about him. She wouldn’t change him for the world.

After Hannah left, Hermione turned her attention back to her book. She lightly flipped to the
next page and her eyes widened. A new charm was developed to treat magical burns! That would surely
help Charlie Weasley in his work with dragons! She let out a squeak while excitedly grabbing her
quill from the table. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she started scribbling furiously onto
her parchment, being careful to clearly diagram the exact wand movement for the charm. Her quill
abruptly stopped mid-stroke when she heard a familiar chuckle from the doorway.

“There’s my favorite little boring bookworm! Merlin, I’ll never tire of seeing you get so
excited when you’re learning something new.” Harry was standing in the doorway wearing his auror
robes, his arms were folded across his chest, and a huge, lopsided grin was splayed across his
face. Hermione thought he never looked sexier.

“Harry!” beamed Hermione as she stood up quickly, well, as quickly as her distended abdomen
would allow, and waddled towards her husband.

“I’ll never tire of seeing that smile of yours, either.” He said as he stepped into the room and
closed the door behind him. He met her halfway across the room and caught her up into a passionate
embrace.

She pulled away from him and looked him up and down, as if expecting to find some evidence of an
injury, “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on duty, is anything wrong?”

“Tonks… She got caught in the doors to the lifts in the Ministry building. They say she’ll be
fine, so while I was here, I thought I’d stop by for a visit.” He gave her another quick hug and a
kiss and helped her back to her chair before seating himself next to her. She rested her hands on
her belly and stared into his eyes, getting lost in the green pools.

Harry smiled and said, “Yeah, sometimes I can hardly believe it, myself.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

He let out a small laugh and said, “No, I’m not reading your mind again, it’s just that it was
kinda obvious to me what you were thinking. I was thinking just about the same thing.”

She closed her mouth and smiled, letting out a little sigh at the same time. That ability they
always seemed to share sometimes made other people around them uncomfortable. Had they always been
able to read each other so well? Did the side-effect of the potion the previous year just enhance
what they already could do? She sometimes wished she could read his thoughts, but realized that
there was nothing he could think that she couldn’t read in his eyes anyway, and the time they’ve
been married just seemed to strengthen their emotional bond.

“Harry, do you remember last year, when you took that potion? We’ve never really talked about
what you ‘heard.’ I thought you were unconscious the whole time.”

Harry grimaced at the memory of that night. “Well, it was a strange feeling. About a minute
after you started that counter-charm,” he noticed the apologetic look on her face and patted her
hand before continuing, “Things became fuzzy… I could hear voices, some seemed far away, others a
bit closer. I think they were the thoughts of people in the surrounding rooms, it just seemed to be
random, disjointed thoughts drifting into my mind. Your voice, however was loud and clear. I heard
you apologizing for hurting me, saying how you hated hurting me like that. You were so afraid I’d
hate you for doing what you were doing… I also heard you say that you loved me right before I
passed out.”

“After I woke up, I was still in pain, but I still had the connection. I heard about the Ginny
and the beach house, and how I’m ‘too trusting for my own good.’” An odd expression briefly
flickered over Harry’s face when he mentioned the trust part. “I’ll admit, that damn spell hurt a
*lot*, but you know I’d never hate you for trying to help me, and besides, look at the
result!” He indicated the mound of baby that was protruding under her smock. “I would have gone
through that pain a thousand times, as long as it brought us to this point today.” He stood up and
placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

*“Oh, Harry!”* she breathed as she threw her hands around his neck and pressed her face
into his chest, “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me!”

She felt Harry stiffen against her. She pulled back tentatively only to catch a glimpse of him
turning his head away and surreptitiously wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his robes.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” worry was evident in her voice.

“I’m just being stupid… I just can’t help but to wonder if this is the way my father felt when
my mother was carrying me… Silly, huh?”

She looked deeply into his eyes. Suddenly, she understood. She knew exactly how he felt. She
could feel his emotions washing over her as if she were being dipped into a warm bath. She could
feel the soul of the frightened, lonely eleven-year-old boy that she had met so long ago reach into
her heart to touch her own. She grabbed hold of him tightly, never wanting to let him go. She shut
her eyes, willing away her own tears. She understood.

She wasn’t quite sure how long they were holding each other, the embrace lasted until she felt
him pull away from her slightly. He touched her chin with one finger, lifting it up and gave her
another soft kiss before standing up and walking towards the door. “I had better go collect Tonks,
we have a meeting with Shacklebolt in about fifteen minutes and we can’t be late. Oh, and by the
way, I’ll probably be home later than usual tonight, you don’t have to wait up for me, you need
your rest.”

Neither one of them noticed the pink, snake-like tendril withdrawing from under the door.

She sighed deeply and watched him step across the room, “Ok, sweetheart, I’ll see you then if
I’m awake… Oh, I almost forgot, Hannah Abbot was just here, she wanted me to tell you ‘Hi’ for
her.”

Harry smiled, “Tell her ‘Hi’ for me… See ya at home.”

Once her shift ended, Hermione stepped out from the hospital into the night. The breeze was a
bit chilly, and the light rain that was falling had her hair sticking to the sides of her face
within minutes, but she didn’t mind. It was actually somewhat refreshing and not nearly as cold as
it normally was this late in October. As she tottered down the sidewalk towards their flat, she
just couldn’t seem to erase the silly smile that had been stuck on her face since Harry’s visit.
She was finally going to give Harry something in return for all he had given her. He had given her
a life away from that lonely, boring flat where she used to live, he had given her his name, his
heart and his soul, all the things she treasured beyond comparison, and all she had to give in
return was her own love and the child she was carrying. *‘Quite the unfair trade for him,’*
she thought to herself as she wobbled down the street, *‘he already had my love, and the baby I
want just as much as he does!’*

As she approached the steps leading up to her door, she noticed that there were lights on in the
flat. *‘I thought he said he was going to be late?’* she thought to herself as she unsteadily
climbed the steps. As she reached for the doorknob, the door swung open and Harry stepped into the
doorway. A warm smile appeared on her dripping face, but faltered when she saw the scowl on
Harry’s.

“Harry? What’s the matter, are you ok?” she asked while reaching out to him. Her hand abruptly
stopped mid-motion when Harry took a step back away from her. Her smile disappeared completely and
she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I finally figured it out,” said Harry, in barely more than a hiss, “I didn’t make the
connection until you reminded me about what I heard in your head last year.”

Hermione felt light headed. She looked deep into Harry’s eyes and was startled when all she saw
there was anger, the same kind of fury she saw in the potions lab when he found out what Ginny had
done to herself on their wedding night. She was starting to get scared.

“I- I don’t know what you mean!”

“Yeah,” said Harry with venom in his voice, “I heard what you were thinking when you didn’t know
that I could hear it… How could I have been so stupid? You weren’t apologizing for hurting me, you
were apologizing for trying to make me break up with Ginny! You knew it would break my heart
letting Ginny go! *That’s* the ‘hurt’ you were talking about! *That’s* why you were so
afraid that I’d hate you! What did you use on me, a *confundus* charm? A love potion?”

Hermione was trembling uncontrollably now and tears were mixing with the drizzle on her face.
She couldn’t think straight, her world was shattering as if in a confused, chaotic maelstrom,
“Harry, you can’t mean that! You *heard* what I was thinking, you must *know* how I feel!
How could you think I’d do something like that? You know me better than that!”

“That’s exactly it!” yelled Harry, “Who would ever expect *you* to do something like that?
You must have been proud of yourself, putting one over on the stupid, trusting Harry Potter! You
were ready to watch me send my wife to Azkaban! Do you hate her that much? Were you *that*
jealous of her life?”

Hermione fell to her knees on the doorstep, her stomach clenched horribly as she rocked back and
forth, clutching her arms around herself… all she could say while he was yelling at her was,
*“No… no… no…This can’t be happening! No… no…”* She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach,
right below the sharper pain in her chest where her heart had been just minutes before.

Harry reached out and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her face up to meet his, his voice
lowered into the most dangerous tone she had ever heard from him, “Maybe you can still go back to
that rathole of a flat I found you in. As soon as you spit that ankle-biter out from between your
legs, you can expect a letter from my lawyer. I’ll have a proper grandmother bring it up at the
Burrow, you won’t get another knut out of me! Now get out of my sight!”

“You can’t take away our baby!” she managed to say between her agonizing sobs, “Please!” She
then looked up and her eyes widened. She could see it. She never dreamed she would see it directed
at her. She could see it in his eyes. *Hatred.*

Harry slapped her hard across the face, then pushed her back away from the doorway. She
whimpered as she felt hairs that were tangled in his fingers being ripped from her scalp as she
fell back down the steps. She could feel the warm drip of blood that trailed from the corner of her
mouth. He slammed the door, leaving the sobbing and screaming Hermione sprawled across the stairs
in the now freezing, pouring rain.

*“HARRY!”* she screamed at the door between her piteous cries, *“PLEASE! HARRY!”*

She couldn’t stop screaming. Lightning flashed in the skies above, soon followed by a rolling
peal of thunder that drowned out her mournful wails. She suddenly went quiet as a painful jolt
blazed through her stomach. She crawled back up the stairs and weakly banged her fist against the
door. She was barely able to croak out through the pain, “Harry… the baby… I’m…”

The door remained closed.

She slumped against the door in defeat. She slowly, unsteadily got to her feet, stumbled down
the stairs and waddled off into the cold, rain swept night. She could feel the warm liquid flowing
down the inside of her legs, leaving a cloudy trail in the puddles on the sidewalk behind her as
she attempted to make her way back to St. Mungo’s before the birth of her baby. She didn’t think
she was going to make it.

-----

Harry apparated to the alley across the street from his London flat, having been released
earlier than he expected after the meeting with the head auror. He hastily scanned the area to
ensure he hadn’t been spotted by any muggles that might have happened by. He really didn’t expect
anyone to be around at that time of night, for he lived in a relatively respected neighborhood. He
was mildly surprised to see a figure stumbling down the sidewalk, apparently some drunken vagabond…
a rare sight in this area since there were no pubs nearby. He felt a little sorry for the poor
soul, being out on a stormy night such as this.

He sprinted across the street through the sheets of rain, anxious to finally get home and into a
nice comfortable bed after his long night. As he stepped up to his door, he thought he saw out of
the corner of his eye the shade of the front window flutter. Was Hermione waiting up for him?

He opened the door and stepped inside the flat. He shook the water from his cloak and hung it
beside the door before making his way through the dark living room. He could see a sliver of light
from a door that was left ajar stretching across the hallway that led to the back rooms. He heard a
soft giggling waft from down the hallway. *‘Uh, oh,’* he thought, *‘she’s in a playful
mood…’* A smile spread across his face as he stealthily crept towards the bedroom. As his hand
reached for the door, he heard a sound from within the room that made him freeze. A long, loud
moan. A moan that was clearly made by a *man*.

A whirl of thoughts cascaded through his mind as he shifted his view so that he could see into
the room through the crack in the door. Harry shut his eyes tightly, but it did nothing to stem the
tears that had suddenly forced their way to his eyelids. He felt the bile rise from his stomach
into the back of his throat. His brain seemed to stop functioning as he opened his eyes again, his
gaze fixed on the scene in his bedroom.

He could see Hermione upon the bed, on her hands and knees with her distended belly resting on
the sheets, her head thrown back in abandon. She was naked. There was a similarly naked man
standing behind her beside the bed, with his hands on her hips. They weren’t playing exploding
snap.

Once Harry recovered the ability to move, he slowly swung the door open. Hermione looked over
towards the doorway, and in a cheerful voice said, “Hi, Harry!” The man looked at him and simply
said, “Oops, sorry mate, I guess it’s your turn!” The man grabbed his clothes that were in a pile
on the bed beside Hermione and before anyone else could move, he spun on the spot and disapparated
from the flat.

“Why do you look so surprised?” said Hermione as she calmly climbed off the bed.

“Hermione! How could you…? Our baby…” He was having a hard time stringing two coherent thoughts
together. He could almost hear his soul shattering within him.

“*My* baby. You had nothing to do with this.” She said, indicating her stomach, “Come on,
now, you aren’t that stupid!”

“No, that’s my child… that’s…”

Ginny only used a fever hex on you. Harry, you can’t have children. You’re sterile. I faked the
results of the test last year. I knew you were sterile years ago, you can’t be put under the
*Cruciatus* as many times as you have without some permanent damage. When you came into the
hospital that day, I saw the perfect opportunity to get a bit of revenge on you. I must say, it
worked out quite well… I make you get rid of that red-headed wench and I get to slide right in and
play with her toys!”

Harry stood there, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Revenge? This is all about revenge?
What could I have possibly done to you that would make you do this to me?”

Don’t play dumb with me. All through school I was madly in love with you. *Everybody* knew
it but the thick-headed Griffyndor seeker. I tried to make it as obvious as I could short of
ripping your pants off in the common room and shagging your brains out. It was painfully obvious
that you didn’t give a screwt’s arse about me. I was too ugly. I was too plain. You wanted the
lookers… Cho and Ginny… You even chose Luna over me! *Looney bloody Lovegood* went out with
you more often than I did! Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

“Hermione, I…”

“Oh, it was a perfect recipe!” she said, stepping all over what Harry was trying to say, “A
little love potion mixed with a bit of telepathy serum, add a bunch of thoughts for you to ‘read’
and some memory tweaking about Ginny’s infidelity and you get instant vengeance! Sure, I got my
heart broken back in school, but you got yours broken *twice*… how brilliant is that? A
mudblood bookworm getting the best over the great Harry Potter! The only thing that could have made
it better was if that wife of yours ended up in Azkaban! But nooo… you’re *so* noble!”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He watched in utter shock as she quickly dressed
herself in her bright red robes.

Hermione shook her head and laughed as she brushed past him and headed for the front door. “Just
send off an owl with the divorce papers, I’ll sign them… Say, maybe Ginny could make some room for
you in her bed, because you sure won’t be getting into mine again. Good bye, Harry.”

She stepped out of the door laughing. The door closed and she was gone, leaving Harry standing
in the hallway in a puddle of rainwater and tears.

Harry slammed his fist into the wall, creating a large hole in the plaster. He yelled a few
unintelligible words, and then stormed towards the front door. He couldn’t stay in that place a
moment longer. He roughly grabbed his cloak, threw it over his still-soaked auror robes and stepped
out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.

The rain was pouring down harder than it was when he arrived. The steady hiss of the rain and
the howl of the wind were punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder between the flashes of
lightning. He remembered a new pub had opened about ten blocks away, it was a fair distance to
walk, but he didn’t care. A pub was exactly what he needed, maybe a good soaking in scotch would be
enough to block out the vision of Hermione and that ‘man’ from his brain.

*‘How could I have been fooled like that? How could I have been so stupid? She faked my
fertility report?’* A chaotic barrage of thoughts and emotions battered his heart as he walked.
His breathing hitched every time a painful pang wracked his chest. He was nearly blinded by the
rain and tears that were assaulting his eyes.

He suddenly tripped and almost fell on his face as he stumbled across a form lying in the
darkness on the sidewalk. It looked like that drunk that he had seen earlier. *‘Poor fellow,’*
he thought, *‘alone and forgotten on a cold, miserable night… I know how you feel,
friend.’*

He couldn’t just leave the poor soul lying in the gutter in a thunderstorm. As Harry bent down
to help the fellow up he saw that the form was dressed in robes… it was a wizard. He drew his wand
and quietly said, *“Lumos.”* A soft glow emanated from his wand and illuminated the figure
before him. He saw that the robes were coloured in the trademark green of the St. Mungo’s
healers.

He reached down and turned the form over. He felt his heart stop. He was looking down at the
cold, pale face of…

*“Hermione!”* He pushed his hurt and anger aside, his auror perception kicked in and he
instantly remembered that she left the flat wearing *red* robes. The wheels in his head
started spinning furiously. *This was not the Hermione that left his flat minutes before.*

When he tried to pick her up into his arms, her eyes flew open and once she registered who it
was that grabbed her, she started screaming hysterically while scuttling away from him. She backed
herself against a building and cowered with her arms over her face.

“Please, Harry, don’t hit me again!” Her voice was raw and hoarse, “Please, I’ll do what you
want, I’ll go away, just don’t take our baby away from me!”

*‘Hit her? Again??? Take our baby away?’* He moved forward and reached for her. She tried
to scramble back in terror, but he still managed to scoop her up into his arms.

She squealed in fright as he lifted her off the watery sidewalk. Exhaustion, terror and hormones
prevented any rational thought from entering her head. All she could do was scream until another
contraction hit her. She hissed in pain and stiffened in his arms as he hurriedly made his way down
the street towards St. Mungo’s. She had passed out again before he arrived there.

Harry sat for hours outside the door of the room where Hermione was giving birth, running the
night’s events over and over in his mind. What in Merlin’s name was going on? Did she somehow get a
hold of a time turner… or maybe she was placed under the *Imperous* curse? Did she transfigure
her robes when she left? And what did she mean about him hitting her? He never touched her, nor did
he threaten to take the baby away from her, after all, if it really wasn’t his, why would he care?
Was he going to get his hands on a time turner after he find out about her in the future?

A frown appeared on Harry’s face as he thought to himself, *‘Or maybe… someone hit her that
just looked like me?’*

Harry immediately thought back to the time he had met up with Ginny to ‘bury the hatchet,’ so to
speak. He remembered when he went to give her a peck on the cheek, how she grabbed hold of his hair
and pressed a deep kiss onto his lips. He assumed she was happy that he was speaking to her again,
or maybe only happy about getting her beach house and a stipend. He was surprised by the sudden
kiss, and pushed her roughly away while her hands were still wrapped in his hair. She could have
easily pulled a few of his hairs out.

Harry stood up and started pacing the corridor. He felt his blood begin to boil. Could it have
been Ginny who hit Hermione? A sneer cut across his face and his hands balled up into
white-knuckled fists as he thought, *‘Was it Ginny I saw in the bedroom? Did she get some of
Hermione’s hair?’*

He felt a kind of rage building inside of him that he’d never felt before.

At that point, the door to Hermione’s room opened and two healers stepped into the hallway. One
of them was Hannah Abbot. She walked up to Harry, and then turned as if she were going to walk
away, but she was actually rearing her hand back.

*SLAP!*

Hannah squealed in pain as she shook the sting out of her hand. The left side of Harry’s face
practically glowed red from the impact of her palm.

*“How dare you!”* she hissed to him, “How dare you accuse of her of breaking you and Ginny
up? How could you even think someone like Hermione would use a love potion on you or modify your
memories? How could you hit a pregnant woman then throw her out of her home into a thunderstorm!
You know she can’t apparate anywhere in her condition... Did you expect her to take the Knight
Bus?”

Things were starting to add up in Harry’s mind, “Hannah, it wasn’t…”

*SLAP!*

The right side of Harry’s face now matched the left.

“I hope you’re happy now! There’s a traumatized, suicidal woman in that room nursing a baby that
arrived a month prematurely! I’d be surprised if either of them survive the day! I hope you’re
proud of yourself, you bastard!”

Harry deftly grabbed her wrist as her hand arced towards his face again, “Will you listen to me!
It wasn’t me! I didn’t say those things to her! You have to believe me! *She* has to believe
me!”

Hannah shook her wrist out of Harry’s grasp and eyed him suspiciously.

“Come on, Hannah, you must know by now that I’m not like that. It wasn’t me, but I’m pretty sure
I know who it was. In order to prove it I’ll need her help.”

“You can’t see her. We just calmed her down enough where she has stopped crying. If you go
walking in there she would likely go all hysterical again.”

Hanna looked him in the eye for a moment. She could see the genuine concern. Her voice softened
and she said, “She’s in a bad way, Harry. I’ve never seen her more upset.”

“Please, Hannah, you have to make her understand that it wasn’t me. When I got home last night,
I found Hermione in our bedroom…” Harry swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat,
*“making love to another man.”*

“WHAT!?!” screeched Hannah.

“But I know now it wasn’t her. I can’t explain it right now, but after I left the house I found
this Hermione, *my* Hermione lying in a gutter.” He quickly wiped the wetness that was forming
in his eyes on his still damp sleeve. Hannah had her hands over her open mouth, her eyes wide with
shock.

“Please, talk to her for me… make her understand. I can make things right, but I need her
help.”

Hannah nodded and said, “I’ll try…” She walked back into Hermione’s room.

-----

A soft, warm breeze wafted in from the ocean as the bright morning sun warmed the sand around
‘The Love Shack,’ formerly known as the Potter beach house. Even on this November day, the area
surrounding the house was as warm and comfortable as a day in July, thanks to the permanent
*Aestas* *Aeternus*, the Everlasting Summer Charm that was placed on the house when it
was built. A soft crack that sounded from the shoreline announced the arrival of a visitor.

A thin, disheveled-looking witch appeared on the beach and began walking up to the patio that
overlooked the seashore. She was wearing old, wrinkled robes with a plain black cloak. Her dirty,
brown hair hung lifelessly from her head and her sunken, spiritless eyes had dark circles beneath
them, as if she had been crying for days or had many sleepless nights. She limped across the sand,
shakily supported by a walking stick.

She reached the patio and looked at the pretty, young witch. She was lying topless on her
stomach, stretched out on a lounge chair sunning herself, while a handsome young man was busy
rubbing tanning oil onto her exposed back.

“Hello, Ginny.”

Ginny Glanced over her shoulder, briefly lifted her sunglasses, and flashed a wide smile, “Well!
Hello Hermione, you’re looking… well.” She rolled onto her back and sat up. The young man beside
her was unfazed, he just lubed up his hands again and started rubbing the oil over her shoulders
and chest. “I want to thank you and Harry for giving me this house. That was very kind, and you
know how I love it here.”

Hermione stood silently, looking at Ginny and leaning on her stick.

Ginny sat there smiling and looked Hermione over. “So what brings you to my humble abode?”

“I’m leaving England. I’m catching a muggle flight to Paris tonight.” Said Hermione softly, “It
looks like you won.”

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Ginny sweetly.

“They don’t call me ‘the brightest witch of my age’ for nothing… I know what you did, not that
it matters. I lost the baby, Harry won’t even talk to me, and everyone has turned their backs on
me. I can’t even hold a job now. There’s nothing left for me here.”

Ginny let out a slight giggle and said flippantly, “Too bad, makes me sad… but that has nothing
to do with me.”

“All I want to know is why. You messed up your own life, why did you have to destroy mine as
well? How did you make Harry hate me so? He’s telling people I cheated on him!”

Ginny picked up her empty cocktail glass and handed it to the young man who was oiling her
breasts and said, “Be a love and fix me a refresher, and take your time, would you?”

The man took the glass and obediently walked into the house. Hermione’s eyes followed the man
and a slight sneer appeared on her face. Once she realized it, she averted her eyes and resumed her
sad, tormented expression.

“You want to know why, do you? It’s because everything that happened is your fault. Even before
Harry and I were married, every time he kissed me, I knew he was wishing he were kissing you. Every
time we made love, I knew he was watching your face behind his closed eyes.”

“That’s not true.” Said Hermione in a shaky, distressed voice, “How do you know what he was
thinking?”

“I could just tell… It was obvious. It didn’t change after the wedding, either. But I didn’t
care, I had what I wanted. He was perfectly fine with drifting through life with his head up his
arse… until that day. I only recently discovered what really happened that day at the hospital when
he found out you loved him. I knew about that, of course, I’d known since my third year during that
stupid tournament. It was disgusting the way you two were always drooling over each other,
connected at the hip, but even with that ‘connection’ you had, neither of you realized what the
other’s true feelings were. You were both so comically thick. He would never have known about your
feelings for him without that bloody potion.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open for a moment, “How did you find out about that? We never told
anyone!”

Ginny’s smirk widened, “It seems Harry’s old cloak ‘accidentally’ fell into one of my trunks the
day I left. Given that and one of my brothers’ extendable ears and you’d be surprised what a person
could inadvertently overhear while lingering in hospital corridors.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped as she turned her back on Ginny and hung her head. A soft sob
escaped her throat as she said. “Harry’s going to be here soon. It seems he’s anxious to see you.
How did you do it? Did you modify his memory to believe I was cheating? Was it a love potion?”

Ginny laid back onto the lounge as she spoke, “It was too easy. I’ve had some of Harry’s hair
for a for months. A little Harry Juice was all I needed to get some hairs from you when you were at
the door and then made some ‘Instant Hermione Juice’ to greet my loving husband. Once he came home,
I just staged a little act in the bedroom with Ian here” Ginny indicated the fellow inside of the
beach house, who was taking an excruciatingly long time to slice a lime, “Then all it took was to
plant the seeds in his head about using memory mods. We both know you didn’t, but that’s the beauty
of just accusing, how does one *know* their memories haven’t been modified? There will
*always* be that doubt.”

“You’re insane.” Hermione’s voice sounded strangely deeper and her hair seemed a bit darker and
shorter, “Do you know what the penalty for impersonating an auror is?”

The change in voice didn’t immediately register in Ginny’s brain, she assumed it was just the
whiny wench’s emotions, “What does it matter? You can’t prove a thing, it’s just your word against
mine, and as you said, the word of Harry’s brilliant, brainy bookworm doesn’t carry much weight
anymore.”

Ginny had her eyes closed as she spoke, just lying back, grinning broadly and soaking up the
rays. She didn’t see that Hermione’s shoulders dramatically widened and that she suddenly grew six
inches as the polyjuice potion wore off.

“How about the word of Harry Potter?”

The grin immediately fell from Ginny’s face as she heard Harry’s voice. She bolted upright and
her sunglasses, along with a spray of spit, flew from her face exposing her eyes that were wide
with terror.

He grinned evilly, “Didn’t I just say I’d be here soon and that I was anxious to meet with
you?”

Panic set in. Not knowing what else to do, Ginny plunged her hand into the sand beneath the
lounge chair where her wand was hidden and pointed it at Harry.

*“Imperio!”*

The spell connected with Harry’s chest. He casually drew his own wand and silently gave it a
flick, causing Ginny’s wand to fly out of her hand and into Harry’s.

“*Tsk* *tsk,* I suppose you didn’t know that I can shrug off the Imperius. Even Tom
Riddle’s Imperius didn’t affect me.” Harry then announced in a loud voice, “I think we’ve seen
enough here, don’t you?

Ginny’s face blanched in dismay as she saw The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, along with a
dozen officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement emerging from under a flurry of
invisibility cloaks. Behind them, two more figures were revealed from under their own cloaks,
Hermione Potter, holding her two-week-old infant and wearing a vindicated smile and Ginny’s mother,
Molly Weasley, who had been magically silenced and made to watch the episode to convince her of her
daughter’s treachery.

Rufus turned to Harry and said, “I think there’s no point in making you suffer through a trial,
I believe her actions, on top of her confession and the witnesses present, warrant an immediate
incarceration.” He then turned to Molly, “Unless, of course, Mrs. Weasley here still wants to
profess her daughter’s innocence?”

The moment the silencing spell was lifted, the air was filled with the unintelligible wailing
and sobbing of the Weasley matriarch. Not able to stand being in her daughter’s presence a moment
longer, she spun on the spot and disapparated back to the Burrow.

As the DMLE officials placed shackles on the hysterically screaming Ginny, Harry turned to
Hermione and held her in a passionate embrace. “Is my favorite little boring bookworm ready to go
home?”

Hermione looked deeply into her husband’s eyes, “Mmmm… ‘Home’ never sounded so good…”

-----~-----

A/N: Yes, Ginny used an unforgivable, so she’s headed for Azkaban… Are you guys happy now? ^_^
Thanks to all my reviewers, I love you all!



