A Fine Duet by runningidiot

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 29/06/2006
Last Updated: 17/07/2006
Status: Completed

When a plan goes amazingly well, but hopelessly wrong at the same time, two people have to learn
to cope with each other; in the same body.




1. Part I
---------

A Fine Duet

Summary:

When a plan goes amazingly well, but hopelessly wrong at the same time, two people have to learn
to cope with each other; in the same body.

Disclaimer:

No one belongs to me…. Just playing with the creations of the great J.K Rowling!

Rating:

Pg 13 – for mildly offending language

Genre:

Romance/Humour with a touch of seriousness (only for the first chapter ;))

Author’s Note:

Random fic, the idea just sprung out of nowhere! Really!!

Part 1:

“This is it damn it!” To get his point across, Harry slammed his right fist on the table,
causing the crudely built wooden table to tremble. While Ron was looking quite indifferent to it,
Hermione was looking *quite* uneasy at the plan Harry had set before them and Harry was having
*quite* a hard time convincing her it was the only way. “I know it’s reckless, but do you see
any other way?!”

Hermione’s uneasiness seemed to raise, much to her displeasure. “Well, as … as you said. It
*is* a *bit* reckless, but Harry!” She added at the sight of the fury rising on the boy’s
expression. “It’s a *really* good spot to start! You must have gone to great lengths to find
all this information!”

Sitting back down on his seat with a sigh, Harry’s tone softened. “We all did.” He shut his
shimmering emerald eyes. “We all did….”

For the past year, the three of them had relentlessly sought out the remaining Horcruxes and,
with the help of Dumbledore emerging in the form of a portrait and a miniature library stowed away
in the basement of Grimmauld Place, they were able to find them all.

Well, all but one essentially.

To the dismay of everyone present, Harry himself concluded, after three months of futile
searching, that *he* was the last Horcrux. After hours of tears mixed with rage and fear,
Harry planned his course of action. In doing so, he sealed himself from his two friends for a
length of around three days (he lost track of time a *long* time ago, especially when they had
set up camp in – what seemed to be – the middle of nowhere) he presented them with this.

“You call this a plan?!” That was Hermione’s immediate reaction. “You … *you* just rush in
blindly and … and….” She fell onto a couch and placed her face in her palms, the tears pouring from
her eyes once more.

Ron was a little better.

“Well, mate,” he said sadly, his usually optimistic tone dismissed entirely. “I really see no
other way…. I’m … I’m sorry you have to … to, you know….” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. But
Harry knew all too well what he was talking about.

Harry wasn’t going to make it through the battle.

“We just … just need more time, Harry!” Hermione screamed out from the nearby couch, rising and
stepping toward him slightly.

Wheeling about on her, Harry frowned. “Time is what we *don’t* have, Hermione.” He said
coolly, thinking he had had enough of yelling for one week.

“But, Harry! This is … it’s …. Totally outrageous! Just totally outrag-”

“We get the point, Hermione.” Ron said setting himself on the couch while beginning to rub his
eyes from sleep.

*Looks like I’m not the only one who’s skipping sleep.* Harry thought wryly to himself.

“Wait, Harry….” Harry’s head snapped up, he found himself sitting once more at the table. It
seemed Hermione had brought him out of his reverie. “I know V-Voldemort’s already taken away….”

“McGonagall,” Ron said, causing Harry to remember one of their last failed raids that ended up
with McGonagall’s disappearance. “And Filtch….”

“Y-yes, Ron … we kno-” it was clear that Hermione didn’t want to hear the list of disappearances
anymore than she needed to. Waking up every morning to read an article about the latest one was bad
enough.

But Ron, as Harry knew all too well, just *quite* stubborn. “I read yesterday that Fudge
was killed, eh? He wasn’t that great a Minister…. But he didn’t really deserve…. You know…. Death.”
With a sigh, Ron continued to name people Harry had encountered all through his life. “I also heard
of Seamus’ family, apparently they weren’t killed by the … the normal Death Eater ways…. It was
gruesome…. That’s all I heard….”

Harry guessed that the “normal Death Eater ways” were just going in and casting the quick
*Avada* *Kedavra* at every direction on the compass face.

“R-Ron … stop it!”

“Then there was that raid on Diagon Alley just last Sunday…. Destroyed Ollivander’s shop totally
I heard! And … F-Fred and….” His stubbornness had finally ended with the disappearances of the
Weasley twins. Harry suspected that the Death Eaters saw their talent and made note of the market
they had started with the Ministry’s many departments and decided to keep them, despite the fact
that they were Weasleys.

“Then there’s Ginny….” Harry found himself mumbling. Apparently Malfoy had caught wind of the
relationship Harry and Ginny possessed…. It seemed as though breaking up with her wasn’t one of
Harry’s brightest ideas, while she was wandering around alone at Platform 9¾, Malfoy had snatched
her.

*If I hadn’t broken up with her, she would have been with me!* Those guilty thoughts had
been nagging at Harry for months and months. Dreams of Malfoy rapping her then performing a
multitude of curses on her without actually killing her plagued his mind during night and day.

He couldn’t stand it, he really couldn’t. So he did something he thought was *quite*
ingenious. When September 19th rolled around, Harry presented his – now eighteen year
old – best friend with a book on Occlumency.

“Ohhh … thank you, Harry!” She had said after tossing – it must have seemed like it to him –
Ron’s present (*Beauty and Beastie Hair: Restorative spells on your hair*!) elsewhere. “I’ve
been looking for something like this for *ages*! I thought maybe Grimmauld Place might have
it, but I didn’t find anything there…. Then I looked at Knocktur-”

“Hermione,” Harry had no time for her stories. His serious tone made her look up at him in
surprise. “I want you to learn *everything* in that book, and then teach it all to me.”

And so she had. Through many sleepless nights full of research and rigorous training, Hermione
was able to teach him to shut his mind to the nightmares centred on Ginny. And now the two of them
were, at least they thought they were experts at the practice.

“Oh, Harry….” Yet again, Hermione brought him out of his reverie. “We’ll get her back. I
promise.”

And somehow, just looking at the shinning pools of chocolate in her eyes, Harry knew she was
going to keep that promise.

~*~

Everything was set; Voldemort was even kind enough to have sent a letter to him to confirm his
suspicions.

*Harry James Potter,*

*I assure you that this will be first and last time you will ever receive a letter from me,
Harry. I actually suspect that this will be the last letter you ever receive as well! Imagine that…
it’s as if you’re reading a will right now, eh boy? My hand finds that it cannot grip a quill as
well as it could back in my youth, so I am having Wormtail write this letter for me. So,
essentially, the man – even though he barely* ressss…. eMb…LeS oNE (it seemed as though Peter
Pettigrew did not like writing an insult directed at him) - *who has taken away your second
father will now write your death on paper. Interesting, isn’t it Harry?*

*But I really do digress, and I’ve got a small army to command. If you really must know, we
are heading right for Hogwarts, I’m currently in the midst of the final preparations which consist
of assembling those forsaken Mermaids at the bottom of your pathetic lake and annihilating the
centaurs who continue to dwell in your equally, if not more, pathetic forest teeming with the
odours of all those Mudbloods….*

*I suppose I have angered you, Harry. I do not doubt it; after all, I know one of your best
friends is a Mudblood too…. Better take better care of her than … oh, what was her name?*

Ginny*?* *Ah yes, that was her name. Oh YES, she told me to send her regards, she asked
if she could write something, but then the realization of having no hands to write with dawned upon
her….*

*So yes, I do plan to destroy the only place that we both considered homely to us. It and all
its occupants really do stand in my way and because of that, I get rid of it, much like you swat at
an annoying insect right? So you see, while you believe that we are different.*

We are actually *quite* alike*.*

*- Lord Voldemort*

Wordlessly, he had passed the letter to Hermione and Ron who had speedily read it.

“Don’t listen to him, Harry!” Hermione had shot out of her seat, startling Ron, who was still
reading. “It’s *just* like Sirius! He’s just realized that you’ve mastered Occulmency and he’s
trying to take advantage of yo-”

“I’m going, Hermione.” Harry said coolly as he walked purposefully upstairs, whilst Hermione
continued to protest.

“Didn’t you hear me, Harry?!” She was now blocked the way to Harry’s room and his needed
supplies for the battle ahead. “There’s *no one* at Hogwarts! It’s closed! You don’t have
people to save, Harry! You don’t have to be no-”

“Move, Hermione.” His tone was stern enough to make even the stubborn Hermione move out of his
way. He quickly gathered his most needed things; his broom and his wand. He didn’t really need
anything else…. How much would an invisibility cloak help in a battle? He would be too concerned
about keeping it on him. He needed to stay focused on the battle with him.

“Harry!” It seemed Hermione’s stubbornness could take her far, very far indeed. “Are you even
listening to me?!”

With a deep sigh, the Boy-who-lived turned to one of his two best friends and nodded. “Of course
I have, Hermione. That doesn’t mean that I totally agree with i-”

“Harry James Potter! You will get yourself *killed*!”

The irony, it seemed, was lost to Hermione. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” With one last
sad smile to Hermione, he disappeared.

~*~

“It seems, Harry.” Voldemort said triumphantly as he held both their wands in each of his hands.
“That I am the victor.” Harry picked himself up from the forest floor while the observing centaurs
around him growled in protest. “You cannot do anything!” It seemed as though Voldemort were talking
to every being in the world, not just Harry himself, at least … the dynamics of his voice seemed to
hint at that. “After your death Harry, no one can do *anything*. Remaining anonymous wasn’t
exactly the smartest thing you could have done eh, Harry?”

Battered, but still breathing, Harry rose to the ground, pushing himself up using a nearby tree
root.

“So this will be your final stand, Harry? I’m sure Dumbledore is shaking his head right now.
*Crucio*!” Falling to the ground once more in a heap of screams and pain, the centaurs
growled.

One of them even stepped forward, but a larger one blocked his path with a firm arm. “This is
not our fight, Firenze.” Bane said sadly as he continued to watch, along with all the other
centaurs, the destruction of their last hope against the growing darkness. “The planets have told
us not to interfere, Firenze, this is not our fight.”

Remaining mute, Firenze’s eyes grew darker and narrower.

“Take heed, Harry!” Voldemort cried out in seemingly ecstasy. “You will see your family
momentarily and, I daresay, your friends as well!”

*So*…. Harry thought to himself. *This is Voldemort’s form of an orgasm….* Looking at
him right now through his blurry vision, Harry saw a face concerted with eagerness and pure elation
one that frightened Harry quite thoroughly.

“W – wait….” Harry wheezed as the pain continued to stab at every bone and every tendon within
him.

“What did you say, Harry?” Voldemort said venomously as his smirk grew even more.

“WAIT DAMNIT!” Harry fixed his icy glare on Voldemort, shaking off the pain of the Cruciatus
curse. Voldemort released the spell and watched the, quite prominent, smoke billow eerily around
Harry.

“You have a final say on my magnificent art of pain?” Voldemort chuckled at his
boastfulness.

Harry pointedly ignored it. “Wh – when I was born….” Coughing up today’s lunch, Harry’s mind was
spinning out of control while his throat was more parched than a life-time desert inhabitant.

“The day that I suffered *far* more pain than you are feeling right now, than, as a matter
of fact, *anyone* has *ever* felt before. What of that day?” He continued to watch
unmoving as Harry vomited seemingly non-stop. “WHAT OF THAT DAY?!” Jabbing his wand toward Harry
once more, Harry floated into the air, some of the lingering vomit sliding disgustingly from his
mouth and onto his chin.

“Yo ... you … created a Hocrux that day….” While Harry believed Voldemort would be shocked at
that fact, he, instead, laughed.

“Dumbledore probably told that bullshit about seven being a magical number, correct?” Voldemort
said shaking his head. “It seems as though will abandoned that man in his late years…. I was
originally planning on seven, but then other circumstances came up that blocked me from making a
seventh. The day of your birth and almost my death did not create a Horcrux, Harry.”

“Are you *quite* sure, though?” Harry was now standing on both feet, but he still had to
use a nearby tree for support. It seemed as though his legs were not content on supporting his full
body weight. “I mean, logically, what else could this scar represent?”

Voldemort shrugged as Harry pointed at the lightning bolt on his forehead. “A mere memento of
that horrendous day, and a forged connection between you and me, though it seems as though you have
learnt to break that connection *quite* well, Harry.” Voldemort bowed. “I hold some, while
being rather small, respect for you now. Will that be all then, Harry? Can I finish this?”

“NO!” Though it was not Harry who said it. Speeding across the forest floor was none other
than…

“HERMIONE!” Harry screamed out in warning, he attempted to rush to her but fell to the ground,
seeing as his legs had finally given up on him.

Voldemort seemed to hardly care about Hermione’s sudden entrance as he raised the wand on his
left hand and pointed it at Harry’s body lying with his back facing Voldemort. “It seems as though
I will not have the pleasure of seeing the fear in your eyes, Harry, as you die. *Avada*
*Kedavra*!”

Harry could feel the eerie spell making his way toward him, the air around him seemed to vanish
soundlessly. With a look of fear at Hermione who had tears streaming down her cheeks, he felt the
curse hit him. And as the life inside of him drained away every so slowly, he thought about only
one thing:

*Hermione* he thought, *I … I must get to Hermione….*

And with a sharp crack, Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived disappeared from the world.

“What is this?!” Voldemort screamed out immediately, not noticing the trembling in Hermione
Granger. “Wh – where did he go? I *hit* him with the bloody curse!”

Hermione tentatively raised her wand, still unnoticed by Voldemort who was shouting at the
centaurs, the still air and the equally, if not more, still trees around him. “*Avada* *…
kedavra.*” Hermione said, in a voice whose treble didn’t belong to her.

She watched as Voldemort’s face turned toward the ghostly green ball of magic floated towards
him, at first he looked cocky, but then when it made contact with his flesh his eyes seemed to
lighten slightly and his pale skin disappeared, to be replaced by a normal, seemingly healthy peach
colour. He fell back on the soft grass, visibly lifeless.

Hermione sank to her knees, tearing at the strands of hair in her scalp. Not in all of her
reading or her actual, practical, experiences had she *ever* thought this was possible.

She assessed the situation as concisely as she could to the Minister when he approached her
after she had released the news that Voldemort was dead and that Harry Potter, the true saviour,
had disappeared.

Hermione was now standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but she had never stepped on this part
of the large hall before. She was standing where Dumbledore would normally stand whenever he made a
speech to the entire school at the beginning of the year. Speaking publicly was never one of
Hermione’s strong suits, even when she knew what she was talking about totally. Hermione Granger
found that she was not the most social of characters; she was content on living in silence, with a
book in her small hands. Though here she was, in front of multiple reporters of newspapers Hermione
had never even heard of. *The African Telepath* and *Magik* *Biography* only being
two of the ones she sighted.

She noticed with embarrassment rushing through her, that her hands were trembling quite
profoundly and, even though Voldemort had been vanquished once and for all, her heart still
hammered within her chest, still unable to grasp at the truth of the situation.

“I ran in just when Voldemort was about to finish him.” She said into the floating microphone in
front of her, noting that it resembled the still-Muggle type that she had seen quite often
throughout her seventeen years. “Harry was …. Visibly weakened, it was quite obvious to me who was
on the winning side. Voldemort -” Hermione pointedly ignored the cringes and shivers evident around
the hall “- had somehow obtained Harry’s wand and was using both of them to perform a multitude of
Cruciatus curses on him. I’m actually quite surprised Harry was able to survive up till then
without turning insane.” Hermione took a moment to breathe, for, as usual, the nervousness inside
her made her anxious and speak *quite* fast.

“As you all now know, Lord Voldemort produced seven Horcruxes in order to make him invulnerable
to anything, absolutely, anything we sent at him. Over the past year, while Hogwarts remained
closed to all students, Harry, our best friend Ronald Weasley and I searched for the Horcruxes,
finding six of them.

“Harry insisted on remaining as anonymous as possible throughout the search, and Ron and I
abided by that, finding no reason to counter it. We eventually found, as I said earlier, six of
them, but for the last few months we were turning up futile leads as to the location of the last
one, until, that is, Harry made the final conclusion.

“He believed that he was the last Horcrux, and that Voldemort accidentally created a Horcrux on
the night of his birth when he meant to kill Harry. Much to my … a - and Ron’s dismay, I could find
nothing to disprove this hypothesis. One of the Horcruxes we destroyed was Voldemort’s pet snake,
Nagini, which proved that Horcruxes can house themselves in living, breathing, beings.

“As we continued to disprove other leads, the list of possible Horcruxes grew thinner … and
thinner, to the point that I truly believed Harry’s theory. Of course, I didn’t want to believe it
at all. You see, to eliminate the creator of the Horcrux, you must, essentially, destroy the
Horcrux before combating the creator. Destroying the Horcrux means … killing it, really.

“For Voldemort to die, Harry needed to die as well.”

This statement tore the silence around the hall immediately; uproars of complaints from every
living person, newscasters were crossing out their scratched notes of ink on their loose parchment,
shaking their heads in disappointment.

A seemingly living howler screamed out from the crowd. “You-know-who’s dead! You said it
yourself! That’s why we’re all here isn’t it lads!” Raising his beefy arms and looking at his
supporters around him they all nodded their heads firmly.

Hermione was getting uneasy, as if the nervousness inside of her didn’t make her feel bottled
enough. “P – please, allow me to explain!” *They don’t even know* half *of the truth!*
“Please, calm down!”

Hermione’s uneasiness remained even after the crowd’s noises died down. “Thank you, I know I’m
sounding a bit like a hypocrite right now, but I do have a theory as to the explanation of
this.”

“Of course she does!” *Oh no…* The slime ball Draco Malfoy waltzed into the Great Hall, his
father right behind him. “She just doesn’t want you all to know the truth!”

*What the devil is he talking about*?! Hermione’s head was spinning out of control. *Oh
no…. Oh no, no, no … this isn’t right!*

“She just wants to take the credit of it!” The crowd was now spinning even more than her head
was. Cries of outrage and scandal screamed out at her as she tried to gain the attention of the
crowd once more.

*They* need *to know!* She kept thinking to herself. *They* need *to!*
Pulling out her wand, Hermione did something that even McGonagall would suspend her for.
“*Morsmordre*!” The all too familiar symbol of Lord Voldemort floated eerily in the night sky
that was the ceiling of the Great Hall. The silence that ensued felt more eerie than the aura of
the Dark Mark could ever give off. Hermione quickly waved her wand to dispel the Dark Mark and, for
a moment, relished the look of fear on both the Malfoy’s stupid faces. “Thank you, now even if I
were to claim credit for the killing of Lord Voldemort, in doing so, I would claim the credit of
killing one of the best people I have ever had the fortune of knowing.

“You see,” Hermione continued with, much to her pleasure, the throng’s attention. “I saw the
killing curse come from one of Voldemort’s wands, his left one I noted, and I saw it contact with
Harry’s spine region.

“Now, I have read about the killing curse quite a lot in my life. The sentence it brings with
the casting for outdoes any other sentence for any crime in this world, with the exceptions of the
other two Unforgiveable curses. My peers and I actually witnessed the casting of it in our fourth
year with the supposed Alastor Moody as our professor, though that is another story entirely.”
Hermione smiled in spite of the situation, she could see Malfoy jr. glaring up at her from the
entrance of the Great Hall, venom leaking from his grey eyes. “I remember the professor told us
its, essentially, an instant killer.

“However, I have actually met with a couple of experts on the killing curse. I do not have the
fortune of having them here today, though I expect that they will be pleased their research will be
released into the world. You see, they are Muggles.” A collective awe of shock was apparent in the
hall. But Hermione ploughed onward. “And while many wizards and witches leave Muggles to deal with
their own affairs, Muggles are just as interested in magic as we are. These two experts that I met
are Mr. and Mrs. Hover and are parents to a certain … Alice Hover I think, who happens to be a
witch. I, like her, am born in a Muggle family with no known relative of magical relation.

“Anyway, the parents of Alice are *quite* interested in the mechanics of magic and
especially the more dangerous kinds, the killing curse for example. The Hovers set up a lab in
their basement and using their daughter, who is now of age and *quite* brilliant, have
concocted a safe haven for their, potentially dangerous, experiments. Thanks to Alice’s brilliance,
they were able to keep themselves anonymous to the Ministry’s spell detectors. For the Hovers were
very interested in the killing curse, that, they say, is their main study focus.

“Using both magic and Muggle technology, they were able to see what exactly happened when a life
form is touched by the killing curse. The curse, it seems, clogs the many arteries and vessels in
your body, draining them of the oxygen and blood that they each need. That’s why a victim of the
curse seems so bloody pale, the blood wasn’t able to get anywhere for the last few seconds of
his/her life. The curse moves from the hit spot all around the body, halting the progression of
blood until it reaches the heart. And that’s when the victim dies.

“Now, when Harry Potter was hit by the curse, he lay perfectly still for *about* two
seconds before disappearing with a sharp crack.” Muttering begun to brew within the crowd, but
Hermione continued to plough onward. “This is when it gets *really* weird; apparition is
rather difficult when a strenuous situation is present, correct?” Nods of agreement were visible
throughout the throng. “But I suppose Harry thought the threat of splinching is far more appealing
than death. And he is too right for his own good.” Smiling yet again in spite of herself she paused
to breathe and take a drink from the table next to her. Feeling the cool liquid flow down her
threat was overwhelming, to say the least.

After placing the empty goblet back on the table, she resumed her memorized speech. “When I
performed the killing curse on Lord Voldemort and watched as the life drained from his body, I knew
that Harry was dead. Though the knowledge of how the killing curse actually works is making me
create a theory of my own.

“That Harry is only part dead in the place that he apparated to. I have already asked the
Minster to search for any part that resembles Harry throughout Hogwarts, The Burrow and even Privet
Drive. Places that Harry grew up and enjoyed being in, though I can hardly say that he enjoyed
being at the Dursleys!

“Right now, Harry could be somewhere only dreams can take us, or he could be suffering without
an arm and without any life support. I need you all to look out for him; I need you all to look for
the true saviour of the entire world as we all know it.” And with that said, Hermione marched down
from the Headmaster’s seat and, without saying a word to anyone else, she left the Great Hall and
Hogwarts entirely.

Apparating back to their former hideout to find Ron pacing from wall to wall, he rushed up to
her as soon as she entered, but she shook her head sadly and went to her room to sleep.

Though as she lay on the bed, a *very* familiar voice seemed to whisper right into her
ears, even if it was only a whisper, it sounded like a horde of trumpets roaring in her ears.

“Uhh .. where am I?”



2. Part II
----------

Part 2:

Harry Potter awoke feeling utterly drained. He tried to make out his surroundings, but found his
vision quite blurry. He attempted to reach out for his glasses – which he usually left on a nearby
nightstand – but found his arms not responding. Then he remembered what had happened. Memories of
being hit by the killing curse flowed into his mind and the *quite* eerie feeling of being on
death’s bed because of that same curse came back to him.

He dismissed the thoughts from his brain, trying to rise and wipe his eyes clean of slumber, but
yet *again* he found that his body wouldn’t respond.

“Uhh …” he attempted to say out loud, but finding no voice coming from his throat. “Where am I?”
A soft gasp of fright made him on edge, he *knew* that voice. “Hermione?”

A pause, a very, very, long pause. “H-Harry…?” She seemed to whisper but it came quite clear to
Harry. “Harry, where are you?”

“I don’t know!” He said defensively, and telling the truth. “That’s what I was asking you!”

Another pause and then Hermione spoke once more, this time in fevered mumbles. “Oh no … no….
This *can’t* be happening….”

“What can’t be?” Harry asked curiously, but was only answered by a squeak of fright from
Hermione. “What, Hermione?!”

“Umm … Harry? I think … I think….” For *some* reason, Harry could now feel his lips moving
and his tongue contracting as if he were talking. It felt *very* strange to Harry. “I think
you’re inside of me.”

*Well,* he thought wryly, *that would explain the contracti- wait … INSIDE OF
HER?!*

*“*Yes, Harry….” Well, it seemed as if Hermione could *actually* read his mind now. “I
– I think … when you were hit by the killing curse from V-Voldemort…. You apparated away somewhere.
I – I have Scrimgeour looking *all* over the world for you right now! But – But … it seems
you’re right here…. You apparated inside of me….”

*Wait … HOLD ON A SECOND!* Harry’s mind was in jumbles right now, but for *some*
unknown reason, this all made *clear* sense to him, though he remembered he was sharing
Hermione’s mind and, at the same time, *she* was piecing things together…. *I’ve got a
headache…. A really bad headache….*

Hermione chuckled and Harry felt one of his hands move up to his head on its own accord. “I know
what you’re talking about….” *Alright, so she can read my mind…. Well, not really, I’m*
technically *in her mind right now*. “You *could* put it that way, Harry, I guess….” She
said, confirming his assumptions.

“This is painfully awkward you know?” Harry said rather bluntly after – what seemed like to him
– a *long* moment of silence. Harry felt his head nod agreeably. And, to his displeasure, that
declaration didn’t seem to help at all.

~*~

“Ms. Granger, I have a family you know!” Healer Frocks wasn’t very enthusiastic about checking
on Harry and Hermione’s … combined condition. Or so it seemed to them. “Look at them!” He pointed
to – what seemed like to the both of them – a beautiful photograph of a seemingly simple family of
three. “You-know-who’s finally dead, and … and well, the Minister’s decided to let us all have a
break. Merlin knows we all deserve it.” He added, rising from his seat and retrieving his cloak
from a nearby coat hanger with a simple wave of his wand.

“Look, Mr. Frocks.” Hermione said urgently as Harry continued to babble in her mind.

*Hermione…. HER – MIONE!*

The seemingly old – yet experienced – Healer looked up looking mildly interested. “I know the …
the … condition is qui – quite…”

“Original?” He supplied wryly. Hermione looked flabbergasted. “You see, one of my close friends
happened to be a Death Eater, quite strange I must say, I’m worried that those boys down at the Law
Enforcement will charge me for treason. Between you and me, I *did* tell him about some of the
people attending our funerals, so … so I feel responsible for…. For, well…” he stopped, but
Hermione couldn’t ignore her, and Harry’s, growing fury inside of them. “And he spoke of the
Malfoys quite often you know. All of them were convinced that you and your late friend Mr.
Potte-”

“He’s *not* dead!” Hermione shouted, slamming her fists on the table angrily and rising
slightly from her chair. From the look on Frocks’ face, Harry assumed that he was thoroughly
frightened. No doubt he could feel the fury imbedded magical waves pulsating from Hermione’s
clenched fists. “He’s … in … my freakin’ *body*, Mr. Frocks.” She said through gritted
teeth.

Yet they kept it in check. Merlin knew they needed a Healer *right now*. “As I was saying,”
he continued, attempting to ignore Hermione’s outburst. “The Malfoys firmly believe the both of you
are … are stirring up tr-”

“*Stirring up trouble*?!” *Oh no,* Harry thought, *he’s screwed*. “*STIRRING UP
TROUBLE?!*” Now, Harry was starting to enjoy this. Ron knew nothing about shouting until he felt
the angry pulses erupt all over Hermione’s body, though … no one else could feel that, really….
Other than the two of th-

“Ms. Gran-”

“NO, NO NO *NO**!* I’m so bloody tired of this, Brocks. You are accusing Harry, who
saved the entire world’s arse from the greatest antagonist of all time, of *stirring up
trouble*?! That is … that is …”

*Pathetic*?

“PATHETIC!” *Thank you, Harry*, she thought, knowing that he could hear it. “I’ve found the
Ministry lacking in the gratefulness department. All his freakin’ life, Harry has been going from
one place to another, saving people from death and *all – you – can – do* is *turn him* …
turn him….”

*Err … a walking advertisement?*

*No … no, Harry that doesn’t work….* “A standing joke? You think it’s funny that he was
made famous because his parents were killed and he was branded a *bloody HORCRUX*?!”

The old healer was beginning to back away slowly. “Ms. Granger…. Please, I – I meant no
offe-”

“Oh, oh that *is* rich!” Hermione began to howl with laugh, sarcasm dripping from every
breath that left her mouth. “You’re just glad you don’t have to kiss his shoes because he’s,
apparently, *dead*, when you *know* I’m telling the bloody truth.

“The bloody truth that he’s right – here!” She pointed at her skull. “And right now, he is
droning about Quidditch which, while being an enjoyably competitive sport, is *quite* boring
because I have heard the same conversations relay around my peers a thousand times ov-”

“Alright, Ms. Granger!” He held up his hands in defeat, taking off his cloak. “Alright! You win!
I just want to say that I’m hesitant to do this, after all … I can’t ruin my reputation you
know?”

Hermione stared at him blankly, as if she couldn’t believe this guy achieved the necessary
grades to become a Healer. “You are going to be helping the two most talked about magical folk in
the entire world … *why*, in the name of bloody *Merlin*, would you lose
reputation?!”

Realization dawned upon the Healer as he sucked in her words. Leaning back in his magically
enhanced, leather seated, ergonomically correct, swivel chair, the Healer looked at her report that
the secretary had her fill out.

*Patient(s) names:*

*Harry James Potter – son of James Marvin Potter and Lily Regina Farina Evans*

*Hermione Jane Granger – daughter of Daryn Keith Granger and Mia Edlima Huntley*

*Symptoms:*

*- Signs of thought communication*

*- Conversations with “deceased” individuals*

*- Brain intrusion*

*- Seemingly harmless brain intrusion*

*- Lack of energy for both recipients after small amounts of exercise.*

It seemed to the Healer that the list kept going, from brain intrusions to thought convulsions.
In thirty years of working as a Healer, he had never even *heard* of thought convulsions, let
alone anything like this. Taking a deep sigh, he tossed the paper into the nearby wastebasket,
which gobbled it up.

“I – I honestly do not think I am the person suitable for this.” He said sadly as he watched the
wastebasket wolf down the insane document. “I don’t think anyone is really, not even the Death
Eaters know anyth-” he cleared his throat, suddenly looking away from the wastebasket.

*He’s one of em’, I know it.* Harry thought firmly, feeling his head nod on its own
accord.

*We’ll get him once this has all been settled, Harry.* She thought with a soothing tone.
*Just be patient*.

“I’d … I’d try….” The Healer said after he thought the uncomfortable silence elapsed. “The
Department of Mysteries, no one knows what they do there … but there’s *bound* to be something
similar to your case there!”

“Thank you, Mr. Brocks. Thank you.” Hermione rose from her chair, her anger dismissed entirely
as she held out her hand and shook the – what both Harry and Hermione thought – ex-De’s hand.

*You know, Hermione*. Harry thought as she shut the door behind her and strolled down the
white tiled hallways of St.Mungos, *I’m really starting to like this*.

*Yeah, Harry … me too. It’s nice having a half dead lunatic in your head.*

*HEY!*

*Just kidding, Harry*. Hermione smiled and giggled as she waved to the secretary she had
booked the appointment with Brocks with.

All the while, even after a long week of this, Harry could *not* dismiss the eerie feeling
of smiling when he didn’t feel like smiling and … *actually* … giggling. He was a man! Men
don’t giggle.

*Of course they don’t, Harry*.

*Bloody hell…*

~*~

Harry had tried not thinking about it, but not having a body to do *anything* kind of
hindered the attempts. The entire experience was quite magical to Harry. Another reason to love
magic! But, honestly, he was beginning to grow bored of it. Actually, he was *already* bored
with it! He had been bored of the entire endeavour since he had landed himself inside of her!

Honestly, Hermione wasn’t the problem. She, in Harry’s books, was a pleasant girl, a seeker of
knowledge and an admirably loyal companion. But one could only take *so* much of her! One
could only take *so* much of *anyone*, really!

Harry longed for the ability to wield his arms once more, to be able to step around the house
and place food in his *own* mouth. He found it *quite* disturbing every time he ate,
seeing as he tasted stuff that he didn’t really like.

Hermione kept with the routines at Hogwarts. For snacks, she produced a load of sugar-free
candies which her parents had presented her that Harry found not only as far from scrumptious one
could get, but utterly … disgusting. He had hated Hagrid’s rock candies for a reason! And to him,
these tasted the same … except they were *a lot* easier to chew….

Though Harry could only take Hermione for so long, not because of those candies or because she
was bothering him … the two of them had great conversations all the time, whether they are dripping
with sarcastic, flirtatious, tones or downright furious tones didn’t matter, he had always enjoyed
the friendship that he had shared with Hermione.

Many had actually commented on their ability to speak silently, portray their thoughts with
merely their eyes while the rest of the company was oblivious to their mute conversation. It was a
gift really, between the two of them; that this encounter only magnified.

No, Harry was becoming obsessed with Hermione. *That* was the problem.

Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, was *not* good with girls. That was a firm fact. His
history with them is outrageous. First was Cho Chang, and that lasted … what? Did it even start
really? Then there was Ginny, who Harry had dumped on the pretences that they would get back
together … but … due to these … err … circumstances….

And, of course, Hermione had to end any threat of further spouses during their hunting for
Horcruxes by just existing; girls didn’t seem to understand the whole “choices” issue which
involved Harry picking either the “girlfriend” or Hermione. Now, anyone who knew Harry would
*know* that he would choose Hermione instead.

Now why would he, really? I mean, isn’t she that bratty, annoying, snotty and, of course,
know-it-all bitch that Ron and him merely used during their school years for academic purposes? No,
in fact, Harry was outraged when the *Daily Prophet* claimed he had quoted that on the day
that he died.

*Apparently Mr. Potter,* writes Gregory Gory (what a name eh?), *was not in the least
fond of his, supposed, best friend. New sources have detailed that the Boy-who-lived actually
called young, frail, Hermione Granger an obnoxious know-it-all, a title that is usually reserved
for the ex-Potions Master and ex-Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Severus Snape, who was
unavailable for comment on the subject of this feud between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger that
goes on even after death.*

*“Professor Snape would always taunt her in classes.” Said a timed Neville Longbottom, who was
a classmate of the two heroes of the world. “Hermione helped me out a great deal in the class, she
helped everyone really… Especially Harry, though he nev – never really noticed….”*

*So has Harry under appreciated the abilities of Hermione Jane Granger? To everyone,
especially viewers of her after-the-defeat speech (as we at the* Daily Prophet *have deemed
it) who have called her “brave” “loyal” “the best friend one can get.” All in all, all of us can
be* quite *glad that the Boy-who-lived is no more, all his life, as Ms. Granger reminded us
all, he has lived through tragedy after tragedy and yet, that didn’t stop him from becoming a
pompous show-off.*

Hermione had thoroughly burnt the paper and unsubscribed to the *Daily Prophet* with a
little note saying “Harry’s *not* dead, if any of you were even paying the *slightest*
bit of attention to my speech you would have digested that information thoroughly enough so that I
wouldn’t have to wake up to this garbage every morning.”

Harry had commented on her bluntness with humour in his tone, but Hermione had merely slammed
her mug of coffee quite firmly on the seemingly crude wooden kitchen table to make him shut his
trap.

But Harry could not *believe* people could think of Hermione Granger in this way. He found
her presence comforting, while the rest of the world continued to endlessly debate whether he was a
fake or not; she firmly believed everything he said. Not counting the Malfoy stuff, that was just a
bad year … according to her. She, and Ron of course, had apologized for their outrageous behaviour
throughout the year, what, with all the hormones flying in every which direction, striking even the
first years quite badly. Harry remembered, with a cringe of course, the crush that … that Romilda
Vane had on him. It seemed bad enough that she had it in the first place, but to send caldron cakes
laced with love potion was just going beyond any conscious thought.

It seemed Harry was trying rather hard to avoid the topic of Hermione Granger and his …
developments concerning her. Even in this retelling, Harry continued to avoid his confession. A
procrastinator once, a procrastinator for life!

Harry Potter, as stated before, was becoming obsessed with Hermione Granger. He was beginning to
realize how structured and organized her daily routine was when he was apart of it, even if he
*was* half asleep or *fully* asleep at the time, he could still feel his – or rather: her
body – move about the kitchen, preparing some morning tea for the both of them. They listed “extra
helpings of food required for full satisfaction” as one of the many symptoms on the document the
secretary had presented them at St. Mungos. And it was *quite* justified, seeing as Hermione
was gobbling down heavy loads of food, more so than even Ron would take on because of fear of
stomach implosions.

He was also beginning to realize how amazing it felt to be apart of her, to be hear her amazing
brain tick. Harry had heard Snape criticize Hermione’s “know-it-all” attitude numerous times in the
many classes he had shared with him and had found it quite justified, though he had never told
Hermione that.

“I mean,” he said to himself one day whilst Hermione snored contently. “Its one thing memorizing
the text and it’s another thing entirely too actually *learn* something from it right?” Of
course he was right! But now that he was hearing the ticks, whistles and bells of Hermione’s brain
working all the hours of the day, he could believe the intelligence of his best friend.

*No, no, blackcurrant isn’t suitable in the morning….*

*They got it wrong! It was a growth spur charm that the Weasleys’ used in their Ton-Tongue
Toffees! It was an engorgement charm!*

*Clearly the PERUvian Vipertooth is native to bloody Australia…*

*Honestly, it* clearly *states in* Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them *that
Hippogriefs are* NOT *dangerous* UNLESS *they are untamed and wild!*

*How sad Mr. Thruston would be if he read this… Apparently he died last year of over exposure
to the music he plays and the … deals he provokes. He actually lives in an apartment in London
along with the rest of his band.*

*Why in the name of* Merlin *himself would clocks be healthy for your immune
system?!*

*VerITAserum**! Not Vertaserum you bloody morons!*

*NO! There is NO WAY what-so-ever a metamorphagus can be made in a bloody lab! Just ask
Tonks!*

*Even* I *know there’s only two bludgers in a Quidditch game even when Quidditch was
being developed and they were using rocks and lead as the bludgers there were* still *only*
two *on the field at once!*

*Wow, I thought the bluebottle upgraded to a thief-countermeasure system a* long *time
ago! I guess they only* just *got news of this today, eh?*

*Now why would Hitler have* any *involvement with World War One? Actually … he did if I
recall, though he was merely a solider in the German army, an exceptional one if I recall.*

And this is just a sample of what his brain was filled with every day. Maybe killing Voldemort
was a good thing, it made the world a better place to live in, no more threats of seeing the Dark
Mark lurking above your house after you come back from a party or something, it made Harry realize
that he had missed *a lot* about Hermione Granger; a bit too much if you ask him.

But really, *must* he suffer with this *all* the time? It was slowly driving him mad….
Though now Harry had a new admiration for her, not only had she thought up stuff like that
*all* the time, disproving people wrong, bringing new facts to people, but she had to put up
with Ron’s stubborn and frail attitude, with Harry’s every day conflicts involving the Dark Lord,
taking care of Crookshanks, homework *and* looking out for herself. Harry knew that she could
hold her own in any fight (though the memory of her being hit by that still unfamiliar purple cloud
curse sent by Dolohov still haunted Harry).

Harry couldn’t understand *how* Hermione could deal with all of this and not turn out …
neurotic. Totally … neurotic….

He sighed in discontent as he tried to roll over, but remembered it was Hermione’s body… How he
wished for control…. How he longed to move his feet.

And then it happened.

First of all, the eyes opened, while was odd because Harry could still hear Hermione’s soft, yet
oddly pleasant, snores, then he felt tingles in his little fingers. He lifted them up and stared at
them, suddenly aware of the control he possessed.

“I’m free…” he said, but it came out in Hermione’s … feminine voice. All in all, it sound
downright crazy to Harry as he attempted to rise from the bed, trying to not to awaken Hermione by
any sudden movements. When he could hear her soft snores even after the squeaking of the springy
mattress that was her bed had subsided, he knew the coast was clear.

“Time … to go for a run!”



3. Part III
-----------

Part III:

Hermione awoke with the *strangest* feeling in the world. Her parents had told her on
numerous occasions that sleeping was meant to relax your entire body. Since every human uses an
excruciating amount of energy during the day, sleep was used to recharge that energy.

Though this was proven wrong when Hermione got out of bed with sores all over her body; her leg
muscles were burning with numbness and her head felt like someone just whipped a frying pan at
it.

*More like five dozen pans*! She thought angrily to herself, forgetting for that moment
that Harry was still there. When she heard a distinctly male groan in her ears, she knew her best
friend had awoken.

“Had a nice nap?” It was nice being able to talk out loud to Harry now seeing as Ron had moved
out on the grounds that he wanted to keep his sanity in check. Hermione was actually beginning to
worry about her own, though the pain in her thighs could only point to one thing….

Harry’s voice held guilt within it. “I guess….” Even though he only spoke two words, Hermione
could feel the hesitant atmosphere.

“I didn’t think you could actually take over my body.” I said idly as I changed. Of course, the
first day was complicated while I was changing though Harry said as long as I didn’t look down, we
were fine. Now I don’t care what Harry sees out of my eyes, it seemed as though I was beginning to
get comfortable with this extra … presence in my mind.

“Neither did I,” Harry said, glad for the fact that Hermione wasn’t yelling at him, though he
could undoubtedly hear the angered thoughts in my head. “I – I just wanted to have *some*
control, you know? It’s not like I mind being in here and al-”

“Harry,” Hermione said cutting him off with the suppleness of her tone. “You’re starting to
sound like me, rambling on and on about nothing.”

There was a pause before I begun to hear the distinct chuckle of Harry in my mind once more.
“Well, I *am* in your body; it’s to be expected right?”

Hermione chuckled in response to that and quickly left her room to prepare breakfast for the two
of them.

Now was a time that she missed Ron, seeing as he had inherited his mum’s skill in the kitchen,
but it seemed as though Harry wasn’t half bad at it either and once he had … entered her mind,
Hermione found she had progressed *immensely* in the necessary skills. She wasn’t as clumsy
with the tools and she knew what all the dials, whistles, bells and all the other paraphernalia
meant.

So maybe having Harry in her mind wasn’t such a bad thing. Hopefully he would avoid midnight
runs though… In *her* body. In fact, Hermione decided it was time to scold him for that.

“Next time you do something like that, Harry.” She said randomly during their breakfast with a
few loose bits of toast spewing out of her mouth (it seemed she had inherited some male qualities
as well) “Make sure to inform me *before* you do something like that.”

Harry was immediately defensive, of course. “It – it just happened Hermione! I just wanted it to
ha-”

“Spare me the details, Harry.” She quickly intervened. “Just, *please*, tell me?”

Harry sighed deeply. “Alright,” then he added. “I’m sorry.”

Always the compassionate one isn’t he?

~*~

When the day of our meeting with the dreaded Department of Mysteries rolled by, Harry was – to
say the least – hesitant to go.

“They’ll … they’ll put plugs in your ears, Hermione!” He positively screamed loud enough that
Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, actually hissed and jumped off the nearby table she had curled up on.
“Y – yeah! Y … you remember that brain room, right! THAT’S what they do to people like us! People
like me who apparate *into* other people!”

Hermione shook her head sadly as she reached for her cloak. “You’re being silly, Harry.
Honestly, they’re not bloody Nazis, Harry.”

It was sad to think that only people with a Muggle upbringing would understand the reference in
that. “I’m not saying that they are! *Few* people are!” As Hermione reached for the door knob,
Harry took one last stab and relished the moment, seeing as it worked.

“*HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU LET ME BACK INTO MY OWN BODY THIS INSTANT*!” Harry had taken
control and was whistling idly as he took off his cloak and placed it back on its hook with an air
of victory prominent in his fingertips. “HARRY, I’m WARNING YOU!”

“Oh, do you think you can match up to the seven year Seeker veteran?” Harry taunted her, finding
it oddly weird to hear his own voice for once. Though Harry was taken aback as he was shoved into
the wall next to him. Bracing himself, Harry was caught off-guard once more when he was thrown to
the other wall, slamming his head into the dry wall.

“*Merlin,* Hermione…” He moaned as he rose from the ground, rubbing his forehead where he
could feel a distinct bump protruding from the very spot. “This is your body, you know?”

“But *you’re* in it, Harry!” She reminded him and, with a sigh, Harry gave her control once
more, knowing she could come up with something even more devious than that last wall-smacking.

Once Hermione took over, not a second had passed before she stumbled and had to brace herself
against the wall nearest to her. “Ow… You’re right….” Hermione moaned painfully as she grabbed at
the bump, attempting to nurse it with her hands. It didn’t help that she didn’t know *any*
practical medi-spells right now without one of her trusty textbooks.

“See?” Harry said; glad to be the one smiting rather than the one receiving. “Just be glad that
you can function properly!”

“Oh shut it, Harry.” Hermione gathered her wits and held out both her arms in front of her,
attempting to balance herself. She continued to sway and her head relentlessly throbbed more
painfully than even when Harry was shouting his head off. “We’re … we’re going to the Department of
Mysteries…. I can’t *stand* this anymore!”

“W – wait, Hermione! We just go into th-” but he was cut off by, one more, Hermione.

“No, Harry…. My head hurts….” Honestly, she couldn’t think of *why* that was a clear reason
to wanting Harry out. Maybe it had to do wi….

“Hermione! I….” He said, interrupting her thoughts.

She expected him to go on, but there was just silence in Godric’s Hollow.

When he spoke once more, it was in a tone she was unused to; the one that was specifically used
to refer to himself as a Horcrux. “I have a theory. I … I think, I’m dead.”

“What?” Hermione blurted out. “But you’re….”

Harry’s tone was still the same dead one. “I’m only alive because I’m inside of you right now….
I was hit by the killing curse, remember?”

Hermione’s head begun to spin once more, whistles, bells and alarms started going off inside of
her head. *Could she have been wrong*?

It was something so simple, when the killing curse hits you, you die. She had taken simple to
the next level with the Hovers’ experiments and she thought she had something there. And when Harry
appeared in her mind it seemed like her theory was affirmed, but Harry continued to point out the
simple truth.

“But … but the prophecy’s been fulfilled right?” Hermione said, not liking her dead tone that
seemed to match Harry’s vocal dynamics. “*Neither can live while the other survives*,
right?”

Hermione could *feel* Harry shaking her head right now. “Well, you’re kind of right, but
you’re forgetting the first part. *Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live
while the other survives.* You killed him, Hermione.”

Hermione’s voice squeaked. She *may* have sealed Harry’s fate right there and then. “What …
what does this mean?”

“You could only kill him, because I was already dead….”

That thought stayed with her for the long moments she merely stood in the living room of
Godric’s Hollow, her expression and thoughts as hollow as the house’s name.

“Hermione, if … if the Mystery dudes *do* separate us….” Hermione was brilliant enough to
piece together the truth even before Harry said this.

“Oh, Harry….” She mumbled, collapsing onto the floor. “I – I don’t know what to do….”

Harry said nothing for a moment, but then he did the unthinkable. “Go ahead…. We’ve got a
meeting and I think we’re way behind schedule right now.”

“WHAT?” Hermione rose from the floor, knocking her head against a nearby doorknob which caused
her head to spin once more. “Oh … I need….”

“A vacation?” Harry supplied wryly.

“Yes, Harry…. We can go to … go to the Caribbean! I’ve *always* wanted to go there!
Tropical places are so attractive at tim-”

“Hermione,” Harry said simply, bringing her back down to reality. The reality that Harry
wouldn’t be able to go with her.

Her dream of the Caribbean beaches with Harry and Hermione sun tanning vanished only to be
replaced with a blurry vision of Godric Hollow’s living room. It was only then that Hermione
realized she was crying and because of the sadness welling up inside of her, she collapsed onto the
floor once more, missing the doorknob she hit on her way up.

“Oh, Hermione…. Its okay, I knew I was going to die fighting Voldemort.” While his efforts were
acknowledged, Hermione’s wails only increased in volume. She couldn’t believe that she would never
*ever* see the tousled raven hair she had grown to love, the sparkling emerald eyes that
always shone brightest whenever something magically astonishing whisked by and she would sorely
miss his heroic statute, the fact that he would never be there to save her life scared her.

She was afraid of losing him, her salvation in the real world; she admitted it finally.

“I … I need you, Harry.” She whispered, but she knew Harry heard it clearly enough.

“I know, and I need you too, Hermione.” His tone was gentle, how she would have loved to curl up
in his arms right now. “Just do one more thing for me and let me go. Voldemort was right, I’ll be
able to see my parents again and Sirius…. And everyone who died in the war.”

Hermione cringed, wrapping her arms around herself, imaging that it was him she was clinging
to.

“I’ve accepted my fate; I’ll wait for you to accept yours….”

~*~

The eerie feeling of the Department of Mysteries made Hermione even more hesitant in entering.
It seemed so surreal that she was now the one fussing about the – as Harry deemed them – Mystery
dudes seeing as he had *probably* forgotten they were called Unspeakables and when she woke up
this morning she had *every* intention on going to them today and riding herself of this
burden the two of them shared.

“Ms. Granger?” A quiet voice said from behind her. Turning around abruptly, she found herself
facing the one and only Luna Lovegood.

“L – Luna?” Hermione said astonished. “Wh – what are you doing here?”

“I work here, Ms. Granger.” She said promptly. “If you would follow me, I’ve been looking over
your file.” And Hermione thought her situation was surreal, *this* topped it completely. Here
was Luna talking coherently and utterly professional. Ahh, the live of an Unspeakable.

“Ms. Granger, please come, I’m afraid we’re incredibly behind schedule.” Luna said, prompting
Hermione to chase after her.

Hermione found that she could not soak in her surroundings, though she doubted anyone
*really* could besides the Unspeakables. The architects were weird like that, making the
design dreamlike enough to make sane people go crazy down here.

*No wonder the Unspeakables are the way they are*. She thought to herself as she followed
the long blonde haired girl in front of her. *I mean, they turned a flawlessly insane person into
a living sane girl who works quite diligently it seems, who says they can’t do the
opposite*?

“You’re probably right,” Harry said. Speaking up for the first time since they entered the
Ministry of Magic.

“I’ve never actually heard of anything like your case, Ms. Granger. Or should I say Ms.
Grator?”

Hermione thought she heard something quite stupid come out of the person she just called a
diligent worker. “Um … pardon me?”

Luna smiled as she placed herself gingerly upon her comfortable looking swivel leather chair.
She indicated with an extended hand at the chair across from her, Hermione promptly seated herself
in it. “It was just my attempt at humour.”

“Oh….” Hermione said, not knowing what else to do. She felt no impulse to burst out laughing at
the sad attempt really.

“Anyway,” Luna said, pulling out a simple looking folder from one of her drawers, she laid it
out in front of Hermione who peered at it, expecting to see the word SCREWED itched in red across
the parchment. “I’ve got quite a few people working on this and they are *quite* interested in
a few things.”

“Would one of them happen to be getting Harry out of here-” she pointed at her forehead “-and
into his own body, alive and well?” She distinctly heard Harry’s snort, but chose to ignore it
entirely.

“Of course, but we all imagine such a thing occurring is quite….” For a moment, Luna looked
distraught over the entire issue, but the emotional face was replaced by the brick wall Hermione
was beginning to loathe in no time at all. “Impossible, theoretically of course.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, they probably agreed with Harry’s theory too.

“We believe that he is actually … dead, but is naturally feeding off of your … your body.” Oh,
Hermione never heard that come from Harry’s mouth! She promptly decided to speak about it with
Harry after the meeting was over.

“I don’t think I’ll be here after this meeting….” Harry said sorrowfully, causing Hermione to
fidget in her, now quite uncomfortable, chair.

“So, it’s up to you to decide Hermione. After all, it *is* your body. Will you let Harry go
now, and live on with your life, or will you stick with him until the end, only when you die of a
natural cold because your immune system is too bus-”

“Stop it, Luna!” Hermione said abruptly, rising from her chair and shutting her eyes tightly.
She pressed her hands against her head. “I – I can’t do this right now!”

“But, He-”

“No! Do you have *ANY* idea of what you’re asking me to do?!” Luna shrugged her shoulders
slightly. “Well, I’ll tell you then!”

Hermione leaned forward until her face was mere inches from Luna’s blank expression. “I happen
to care about Harry a lot. A *LOT*, I swear to Merlin that if this all hadn’t happened I would
be married to him by now, but of *course*, Harry has to make things difficult and … and….”
Hermione shut her eyes once more and stepped back from Luna. “I … I love him.”

“Hermione….” Luna’s voice sounded weird…. As if it were both her’s and… oh shi….

“HARRY!” Hermione’s back cracked as she straightened herself up, realizing she had indeed said
*all* of this in front of him.

“Oh, Hermione….” Harry said his tone oddly soothing. “I’m so sorry…. I’ve only come to realize
that I … I….”

“Harry….” Hermione breathed, her heart hammering inside of her.

“I love you too, Hermione Jane Granger.” With that said, Hermione promptly fainted.

~*~

“You … you think you have an idea?” Hermione’s head was still spinning, but maybe that was
because she was sitting down. She attempted to raise a hand to her forehead, but found it wouldn’t
move.

“Oh no…. He’s in control….” Hermione said, finding her lips not moving at all. It felt oddly …
eerie, to say the least.

“Hermione, you okay?” Harry’s voice in her mind sounded both emotional and soothing.

“Yeah… I think.” Hermione rapidly answered, not wanting him to worry about her condition.

It was Luna who spoke up this time. “Yes, in fact I do. One that can separate you into your own
body, but I *need* to know one thing first.”

Hermione’s ears perked up, she and Harry were both listening intently.

“You apparated *into* Hermione, correct?” Hermione felt her head nod in confirmation.
“Good. That means we can solve this here and now.”

“What?” I said, forgetting that I wasn’t in control of my body.

“Harry Potter,” Luna said, rising from her seat and stepping away from the both of them. “Why
don’t you simply … apparate *out* of her?”

“Holy *fuck*….” Hermione had never used the dreaded F word before, but there was *no*
other word in the English language that could be used in this situation as properly as fuck. “We’re
stupid, Harry. We’re so fucking stupid….”

“No way, Luna!” Harry said as soon as I finished with my scolding-myself speech. “It … it can’t
be *that* simple!”

“Why not?” Luna said cocking her head to the side so it partly touched her shoulder. “You
apparated *into* her, why can’t you apparate *out* of her?”

And Harry proved it to be correct when he appeared right at Hermione’s side to catch her as she
fell to the ground in an obvious fainting gesture.

~*~

“Evelyn, get over here *right* now!” Evelyn walked into the small kitchen with guilt
written all over her face. Looking up at her parents, she knew they had figured out her scheme. She
had taken *so* long to plan it; she had even got Dobby into her plan! She glared at him while
he busied himself with sweeping up the floor, looking anywhere but at her. “Dobby has an
interesting story to tell, you know.”

Evelyn Potter said nothing, but she merely continued to stare at the tiled floor wondering how
that *distinct* brown stain appeared there. Maybe Crookshanks did something disgus-

“Eve, look up at me.” The calm and gentle tone of her father caused her to look up, only to see
him kneeling in front of her, running an hand through her short black hair, finding quite ruffled.
“How many did you take?” He asked in the same, calm, tone.

The single child of Harry and Hermione Potter fumbled over how many, she tried to recall just
how many cookies she had reached while Dooby held her up high enough with his magic. She had dipped
her hand in three times, taking out three each time. Or maybe four…. What was a good number?

“Ten?” She said tentatively making her dad smile.

“You’re lying.” He said simply and Evelyn wondered *how* he was able to do that just by
looking at her. Was it a parent thing?

“Dobby said she had taken four out each time she put her hand in the jar.” Hermione said, coming
to kneel before Evelyn too.

Harry shook his head in astonishment. “Those are *nice* hands, Eve. Quite good for gripping
a Quaffle, wouldn’t you say?”

“Harry…. Now’s *not* the time!” Hermione huffed, but stopped when Harry gave her a quick
smirk and a kiss on one of her cheeks. “Oh, fine … You win this time, Harry. But I’ll have my way
with her! You’re tainting her!”

“No, Hermione.” Harry said with a wide smirk as he took his adorable daughter’s small hand and
begun to lead her to the backyard, planning on teaching her the great game of Quidditch. “I’m
saving you, Hermione.”

“Saving me?!” Hermione positively shouted as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Yes, love, saving the right of being someone as brilliant as you,” He stated simply. “Only you
have that right in this world!”

Hermione fumbled over her response, usually she was *so* good with arguing with him, but he
had never taken this tactic before. He had never *complimented* her like this while feigning
innocence. When she couldn’t formulate anything, Harry smirked once more and then was gone with
Evelyn in tow.

Hermione wistfully stared after them, watching her loving husband show the many balls to his
daughter who was positively glued to the concept of Quidditch already. And then she realized
*just* what Harry said.

“He thinks I’m brilliant? What have I … oh, yeah….” Hermione sighed, remembering the events of
Voldemort’s death. “What a fine duet we made, playing in the same body…. Though he *just*
realized how brilliant I was in that time frame….”

It was then, that Hermione decided to join her family, her amazingly wonderful family and
decided to tell Harry that night that she wanted to extend the family once more.

Author’s Note:

There you have it; I thought the final part with Evelyn would just be something cute to add in.
Hope you liked it! I don’t think there’s any way I can write a sequel to this unless *it’s*
happening to Evelyn and someone else, but if there are enough reviews…. ;)

Thanks for reading! And PLEASE review! I love it when you guys do that!



