Chapter 5: Making it right.
***June 29th, 1996, Granger residence early afternoon***
Remus and Tonks slumped into their seats in silent terror. What they just heard couldn't be true – it mustn't!
Once again, it was Remus who first regained his composure.
"He died? But you said he was getting better?" he croaked, his voice betraying him.
"I brought him back," Margret told him, ignoring her husband's sniggering. He loved the line of jokes that this statement triggers. "It took me 2 minutes of CPR to stabilize him, but he came back."
Both magicals were looking at each other. In unison, they turned to Margret. "CPR?"
"I gave his heart a massage to make it beat again."
That was a shock to both. In the magical world, there was a simple rule: If your heart stops beating, you're dead.
"You restarted his heart? But if he died, his soul was already gone!" Tonks blurted. She had a muggle father, but she never got that involved in muggle culture. Clothes and music were just fine. Using electric appliances was something she could do, but she certainly had no clue about muggle medicine. She always found that healing spells and potions won hands down.
"If so, then it came back," Margret said pointedly. "CPR or electroshocks are used regularly in our medicine. It's rather easy to bring someone back if his heart stopped beating only a few moments ago. Don't you have anything like that to revive people?"
Tonks shook her head. "No, we have a simple rule. If the heart stops, and you stop breathing, you are dead. It never occurred to anybody that you could restart a heart. Amazing."
Remus was amazed, too, but his curiosity won out.
"What happened?"
"Well, we started the ritual after I gave him some strong muggle painkillers. We believe they helped, but his body cramped for hours. It took about three hours, and then suddenly stopped. He trembled a bit, and then stopped breathing. I immediately started CPR, and Henry helped with the resuscitation. After a few minutes, he came back, but fainted straight away. We took him into the guest room and started treating him as best we could."
She softly petted Hermione's hair, wo had cried herself to exhaustion on her dad's shoulder, and continued. "Hermione here made every potion she could, and we'll start that treatment when he awakes later. You see, we couldn't give him any potion while he was passed out. So I gave him normal painkillers and a relaxant which should knock him out till at least mid afternoon." She paused a second, assessing the two in front of her.
"I've got one question for both of you. Will you help us?"
Remus agreed immediately, but Tonks procrastinated. She was raised to see Dumbledore as an idol, a more than life-sized man who never did wrong. But all she had been told today indicated the opposite. That Dumbledore had knowingly sent a child to live in an abusive home and had stooped so low as to use a borderline dark technique on a toddler was hard to digest.
But still, she was an Auror, whose job was to see the facts, and those were solid. She sighed and nodded at Margret.
"Ok, I'm in."
At this point Margret went and made some tea for her guests to make planning more pleasant. Shortly after tea was served, Henry gently took Hermione, who had finally fallen asleep, and carried her to bed.
"I beg your pardon; what did you just say?" Margret inquired, as she had missed Tonks mumble something while watching her husband care for their most precious.
"Nothing. I just noted that she acts as fanatically as a life-debtor. Remus! Look at the mess you've created!"
But Remus wasn't bothering. While still fighting the coughs of his spit-take, he pressed two words out which made Tonks groan. "She is."
"Merlin's hairy balls!" Tonks yelled. "Any more big news left for tonight? What else could go wrong?"
She suddenly tensed and looked at Remus.
"Please, don't tell me you're gay!"
While the now glowing werewolf was sputtering denials - which seemed to soothe Tonks enormously - Margret cleared her throat and tried to put that train wreck of conversation back on track.
"Not to change topic, but I'm changing the topic. What happened to Hermione? Is it bad?"
"Please let us wait for your husband," Remus pleaded.
"Oh yes, definitely." Tonks quipped. "I'm certainly not going to explain that twice.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Granger, it's not life threatening. It's just a bit of a mess to clean up." Remus tried to soothe Margret's nerves while they waited for Henry to return.
When said husband returned five minutes later, he was not looking too happy.
"Let me guess, she woke up again and is frantic to find other ways to help Harry, isn't she?" Tonks welcomed him back.
Henry stopped walking and stared at her. "How...?"
"Remus, you're the one with teaching experience. Explain while I try to think of a solution, would you, darling?"
Eyeing Tonks cautiously as she furrowed her brows and cycled her hair colour in thought, Remus made a mental note for a later conversation and soldiered on into the breach into which he had just been ordered.
"First of all, this is not life threatening. It is uncomfortable, but it happens every now and then in the wizarding world," he started after Henry had taken his seat across Tonks and next to his wife.
"Hermione owes her life to Harry: he saved her at least once in first year, and then a second, or maybe even more times if we consider the recent battle they were involved in. I believe Harry also owes his life to her at least once, but who's keeping score."
"So they have helped each other often, so what? Why isn't he fussing over her?" Henry replied.
"He is," Margret interrupted her husband. "Remember when he tried to stand up and go to her? If that's not fussing, then what is?"
"As I said," Remus continued, "Saving someone causes what we call a life debt. It makes you try to repay that debt."
"It's not a strong compulsion - you could go on your whole life completely ignoring it - so don't you even think for just one second that this debt made them friends. The act might have, but the debt surely didn't. Peter Pettigrew owes Harry a life debt, but he still actively helped to capture him and even hurt him to collect his blood for the resurrection ritual," he continued quickly when he saw Henry's face darken.
"I fail to see the problem, then." Margret interjected.
"The problem is," Tonks took over, "that your daughter has a conscience."
"Not helping, Tonks," Remus cut her off. "Please return to your pondering, and let me continue."
Seeing her shrug, grin, and nod, he turned back to the Grangers.
"Where was I before I got so rudely interrupted? Argh! Tonks! Stop that! I told you to ponder, not to pummel me!" he said, rubbing his now bruised ribs.
"Ok, the debt. In Hermione's case, she has probably convinced herself that it is her fault that the ritual nearly killed Harry. Knowing her, I am sure she must feel terrible. And the debt increases the feeling that she should make it up to him, so between herself and the debt, she is driving herself insane."
Both Grangers nodded their understanding. Henry voiced their most imminent question.
"How do we stop that?"
That was the moment for which Tonks had been preparing, and she took over from Remus with a smile and a nod in his direction.
"The nicest solution would be if Harry could convince her that it wasn't her fault."
"Fat chance," Henry snorted. "As if anybody could convince Hermione of anything after she's made up her mind."
"Well, then," Tonks continued, "another way would be to repay that debt. Saving his life would be possible, but that can't really be planned, since he must be in real, acute danger. Since they are too young, an arranged marriage is out of question, too."
"You bet!" Henry chuckled. "Is there any way to solve this that doesn't demand a life-long formal binding?"
"Well, history told us another way, a failsafe one to make it right… Ah, could you please put down your tea, Mr. Granger?"
Henry was a bit confused by that request, but he did as she asked. It was quickly revealed why she did do so as her next line caused him only a coughing fit, saving her and Remus both from being doused in spit tea.
"A quick roll..." she said, already cringing at the expected reaction.
"You are kidding us, aren't you?" Margret asked for confirmation.
"Sorry, but no, I'm not. Usually the debt is repaid by doing something for the debtor or being punished by him somehow. The way I mentioned would be the traditional way, but maybe an extended snog with Harry might do the job, as well." Tonks joked, but her words faded slowly at the sight of the Grangers sprouting wide grins.
"Ok, what did I miss?"
After a quick double proclamation of "Nothing!" the topic was quickly changed to the near future. They had a short look at the still sleeping Harry and Remus instantly proposed to get a trustworthy healer for tomorrow, while Tonks instructed the Grangers in the use of the potions, as she knew much about that from her medical class.
Tonks also volunteered to spy a little on the Order to find out what they already knew. They agreed on reconvening tomorrow in the early morning.
The Grangers lead their guests out then split up to clean up the kitchen and look after Harry.
Later that afternoon, both doctors sat in Harry's room, as they already thought about it, and watched the teen sleep.
Margret took the time to look around the room. They had already placed some cups of potion on the table by the window. Harry's trunk stood in front of the wardrobe - they should put his stuff away into it, she thought.
Her mental checklist was interrupted by the sound of Henry clearing his throat. When he had her attention, he spoke.
"We need to tell him, you know."
"Of course; he would freak out if those two just show up here." Margret smirked.
"Margret, stop that. You know what I mean."
"Sorry. You mean Hermione and her not so secret fantasies?"
"Yes. I believe they are a big part of this mess. And he might not know how to deal with it if he doesn't know all the facts."
"You know, it could seriously hurt their relationship. It could ruin everything."
"We'll have to see. I am not really happy to give them a free pass. She's still my princess, you know?" Henry asked, still not too happy about his girl growing up.
"Come on. Even if we don't, they are at boarding school - they'll probably end up as bedmates by next summer, at the latest. Also, they've been practically dating for 5 years by now, if I go by the letters Hermione has sent. I don't think they are suddenly going to hurt each other or rush things," Margret concluded, and they fell silent.
Some time late in the afternoon, Harry started stirring. Margret went over and sat on his bedside. A few minutes later, he was awake and listening to her.
He was easily coaxed into drinking the potions, and the effect was noticeable. He wouldn't be able to consume more than two per day, according to Tonks, but it did help a lot. Margret made an optimistic estimate that he would be able to move around again in two days. They also made Harry aware that they now had help from Remus and Tonks, which he didn't take too well until they told him about the oaths given.
After Harry had eaten a light meal, Henry braved the topic.
"Harry, we - or better, Hermione - need your help."
The Grangers couldn't help but smile as Harry instantly responded. "What can I do?"
He would do anything for his best friend. For a second, he contemplated since when he had considered her his best friend, but that wasn't important now.
Margret decided to use her typical blunt approach.
"She is driving herself insane because she believes that she nearly caused your death. Remus said that there might be some life-debts aggrieving her situation. By now, she's been working non-stop for two days, without sleeping even an hour."
After she had given him the details of what Remus had told them, he gave them the only possible answer of which he was aware.
"How can I help?"
"Excuse me if I get a bit long-winded, but I have to. When Hermione was about eight, she was through nearly every book we had in our library, and when we were out at work, she went and raided my secret stack of books."
"Oh, now you are curious, aren't you Harry?" she smiled at him as he perked up.
"Well, it was my collection of, well, erotic literature," she started, but Henry made a cough which sounded definitely like "housewife porn", which earned him a death glare from his wife. Thankfully, he seemed to be immune, and only beamed a Cheshire grin at her.
"Ok, it was a bit kinkier than your usual paperback, but not that bad." she huffed at him.
Of course, Harry had understood what she had meant. His facial expression was best described as 'trout-slapped'. Henry sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Come on, Harry. I know that all those wizards still live in the Victorian era and think sex is something disgusting, but you grew up in the real world. Don't look so shocked; do you think your friends have ever seen lingerie commercials or girls in bikinis? I bet they still wear those striped suits for swimwear," he joked, as Margret snorted at the mental picture.
"Well, picture my surprise when she came to me that evening and asked me what a 'manliness' is, and how it could be throbbing. As I knew she would look it up anyway, I fetched Margret and we proceeded to give her the talk. Since then, we've been open about that topic in our family, especially after she walked in on us once when school had quit early." Henry told him, blushing slightly, while Margret did the same, only much more pronouncedly. Harry still couldn't put the hints together, and kept blushing madly and wondering what the hell they were telling him that for.
"Ok, time to be blunt. My wife and I do some role-playing in the bedroom, and Hermione wanted to know why her mum was wearing a maid's dress and was bent over a table, of all things. Don't give us that look, young man. We are certainly not doing that chains and wax and leather stuff, although chains might come into play. Come to think of it, wax might, too." Henry explained, and faded out in thought for a second before he shook his head and started talking again.
"Anyway, we play roles. Like duke and the maid, warlord and slave, such stuff. Got it? She combined the knowledge that you can play roles in the bedroom with those paperbacks and formed her idea of how the ideal relationship should be like."
Harry had to laugh at that statement. It was just like Hermione to plan how her perfect relationship should look at an early age, and out of books, even. "Ok, but how does that concern the problem?"
"Do I have to get the crayons out for you?" Henry huffed, throwing his hands into the air.
"She wants to somehow make it up to you, and her magic demands that she does, as well. Traditionally, it was commonplace to have a betrothal over such things, but we do not want to use both barrels for the first try. So, because of her crush on you and her fantasies, it might be enough if you demand that she'd be your girlfriend. She would agree before you finished asking," Henry concluded his speech.
"Since you already confessed your love to her, I don't believe that it would be a burden on you, right Harry?" Margret smirked at a brightly red blushing Harry.
Grinning broadly, he shook his head. He was a bloody idiot when it came to girls, but if he could help Hermione by being her boyfriend, well, whenever, wherever. He certainly wouldn't refuse that offer.
"You really think that she likes me?" he asked timidly. He didn't want to ruin their friendship just on chance.
Margret shot him a smile and reached for a bag on the table. Within moments, she had produced a warped piece of silver, and Harry immediately recognized the silver plate by the runes engraved in it. Henry's eyes widened as he saw it. "She didn't! She really used her trophy?" He wondered, before looking at Harry. "She definitely likes you - that's the next best thing to a proposal!"
At Harry's confused look, Margret turned the plate so that he saw the face. 'Spelli.. .ee' was the only thing that still was legible, since it was the biggest engraving on the completely ruined trophy.
"This was her greatest treasure, a trophy from winning the district's spelling bee in her age group. She didn't hesitate to ruin it for you."
Harry felt really moved and a bit sorry that Hermione did that to help him. But that he meant that much to her made him really happy in a way he wasn't used to. Right then, he remembered the conjunctive used before. "You said 'might be enough'. What did you mean by that?"
Now it was time for Henry to blush. That was a conversation he was certainly not prepared to have with his daughter's boyfriend - ever! No father should! He shot a pleading glance at his wife, who laughed and took over.
"Depending on how much of this funk she's in is caused by her own guilt and how much is caused by the debt, well, you might need to punish her somehow to make things right. Dunno, maybe spank her or something," she told Harry, her final words lingering in the air as she watched Harry's stunned face.
"You're taking the Mickey, right?" Harry gasped. "You want me to hit her?"
Margret sighed. "Oh come on, giving her a few playful slaps on the butt doesn't mean you beat her up. Done right, it's quite an enjoyable way to get things going," she explained. "And that's part of your problem - you're just too kind for your own good. You would dance around her for years, waiting for a neon sign and signed permissions to do the slightest things, why she is waiting for you to take the initiative. And sometimes, that might mean you have to slap her butt or kiss her senseless!"
"And don't worry, you still got years and years of holding hands and exchanging chaste kisses before you will ever come to this point," Henry pointed out. Margret simply rolled her eyes and snorted a brief laugh when he did so. "You're just being in denial, darling!"
"And I like it that way. Just don't tell me anything - I will happily continue to have a virgin daughter, even if I already am a great-grandfather," Henry huffed in reply, crossing his arms.
This made Margret laugh out loud, but she immediately caught herself.
"Ignore him, Harry. And don't think we do this just to get Hermione well. I was already sure that you both would get together during this summer even before I knew about that debt problem. And I was ok with that, I love the thought of you being with her and part of our family. I trust Hermione, and I do trust you, Harry. I just want you two to take care and be responsible in your decisions, alright?"
Harry just nodded, too moved to speak at this proclamation of trust. As Margret noticed his watery eyes, she captured him in a warm hug, giving him time to compose himself.
"It's ok, Harry, I know you are not used to be trusted or deemed responsible for anything, but we do like and support you. We'll get Hermione for you, so you can get this stupid mess out of the way right now. Just try to be firm, and to project authority, and I promise you that everything will be fine."
"Just remember, we support everything you decide to do, Harry," was Margret's farewell as the Grangers left in search of their daughter.
While Harry was recovering from his most embarrassing conversation ever and preparing for the next candidate for that particular title, Hermione was still tossing in her bed where she had been brought. She was tired but unable to sleep. She had to make her mistake up to him. Even as tired as she was, she couldn't manage more than a few fitful minutes of sleep.
She just had woken again, at least the tenth time that afternoon, so the knock on her door came not inconvenient. She sat up and called out to enter.
"Honey, Harry wants to talk to you." Her father spoke, softly.
She instantly jumped to her feet, not even bothering to change out of her summer-time sleeping attire, consisting of silk shorts and a lacy camisole, just quickly throwing her silk kimono over it.
She turned to wait for her parents to lead, but her mother grabbed her arm and softly whispered into her ear, while shoving her towards the door. "Alone. Go to him. He knows."
Only a minute later, a still confused and very meek Hermione knocked and entered at Harry's call. Without looking into his face, she knelt down next to the bed. In a timid voice, which Harry hadn't heard since their first year, she addressed him.
"My parents told me you wanted to talk to me?"
Harry took his time to look at her. Of course, she looked like death warmed over, with her hair a fright and deep circles below her eyes. Harry didn't think he would look any better if he had been brewing potions for two days without pause. She was wearing a lightweight bathrobe, exposing her smooth, muscular legs. For a minute he wondered why they were that well formed, until he remembered how many stairs were between the common room and the library.
While her parents were fetching her, Harry had thought over Margret's advice and decided to try a different approach from usual. Instead of asking questions, and looking stupid by exposing his lack of knowledge, he would try to let her tell him how to proceed. That damned hat wanted to put him into Slytherin, for pity's sake, so he should start acting a bit like one. So he tried to channel Snape on a good day, and began speaking.
"Your parents told me what happened," he addressed her, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. "Do you want to say something about it?"
Hermione cringed. She had pondered what her mother tried to tell her, but her worst fear would be that he was upset about the botched ritual and his close call with death. She knew she certainly would have been. The fear of losing him started to take over.
Unbeknownst to her, Harry nearly called his own bluff as she shrank into her self. Tears started rolling and she sobbed silently. Slowly, she took a breath before she spoke.
"It's my fault. I should have researched that ritual in depth instead of just winging it. You nearly died because of that. I have no excuse."
To say Harry was a bit surprised would be an understatement. If she had looked at him, she might have seen through his ruse, but she was so occupied with feeling sorry that she didn't notice his mood. Misjudging his silence for anger, Hermione desperately blurted the first thing that came to her mind, and then blushed brightly.
"I'm sorry, please - I'll do anything you want if you forgive me."
It took all the power he could muster to not gawk at her. Her parents were right. She had said something he would never, ever, have expected her to say.
After a long look at her, he decided to act.
"Take that robe off." he told her.
Surprised, she stared at him. Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she slowly stood up and undid her robe, revealing a hint of nothing covering her nubile body. His eyes followed the fabric down as it pooled around her legs and then roamed upwards over her now exposed body. Her shapely legs, smooth and so soft, which ended in a lacy slip, her firm stomach, her…
"Harry? Are you all right?"
Her voice pulled him out of the hormone-induced vision he just experienced. He had to take a few breaths to steady his now hammering heart and was glad that those potions prevented him from feeling any pain.
At the other hand, he deemed the potential pain worth that vision. He stammered a short excuse and continued to steady his breath, fighting his blush and other responses to no avail.
Hermione was confused. After she had blurted out her embarrassing offer a few seconds ago, she was scared. She had - without thinking it through - offered everything to him, but he hadn't responded, yet. 'Why can't he finally say something?' she thought over and over again.
Finally glancing upwards, she had noticed Harry being spaced out. His eyes were locked at her, but had a dreamy expression to them. As she noticed his breathing getting laboured, she got concerned and called to him.
For some reason, he had jerked at her voice, but had returned to the present. She was afraid that it might have been a Voldemort vision, but he mumbled that he had just goten caught up in his thoughts. Dropping his hands to his lap, he leaned back into the cushions, closing his eyes.
When he started to blush violently, she contemplated the reason. Before Harry had regained his bearings, she had already put the pieces together. The pledge she gave a few seconds ago, his reaction, and not to forget her mothers warning.
With a broad, lascivious smile, she waited for Harry to reopen his eyes.
"Were you considering some corporal punishment?" she asked, smiling innocently, stretching the word in question to its maximum length.
'Gotcha!' She shouted out loud in her mind as he groaned and re-blushed, his hands pressing down at his lap, vigorously. She barely constrained herself from starting a physical victory dance, which would have been as shameless and brazen as her unrestrained mental one.
"You're evil, you know that!" he gasped through clenched teeth, knowing he was busted. "You certainly have earned yourself some punishment for that!"
As she was now experiencing her own vigorous blush and hormone assault, Harry finally had some time to recover.
"Can we talk for a while without innuendo?" he pleaded, to which she nodded affirmatively, still slightly pink in the face.
"My parents told you." It was a statement of fact, not a question. She just knew that her matchmaker of a mother had instigated this.
"Yes. But given some hints, I could have figured you out myself, too!" He quipped. "In a century or so," he admitted under her disbelieving glare, grinning.
Hermione shook her head, and stalled a bit. Finally, she spoke the question of which she was afraid.
"Where does that leave us?"
Harry took his time to ponder that. Hermione was a good friend, and a blessing. There was not much he would have achieved without her help. Ok, she pushed him often, but every time, it was only to help him to achieve something.
It was quite a course-correction his mind had taken the last days, and he didn't see her as 'one of the boys' anymore. In fact, he had noticed that he had seen her as something completely different for a long time already. It became so obvious that he had even told her when he was afraid he might not survive the ritual.
But now, his new love interest was not only a healthy, intelligent young female, but he had been told that she had an extremely kinky side, to boot. Somehow, it all didn't add up. And when in doubt, there was always one thing to do. Ask Hermione.
"I don't know. I certainly want to explore that possibility. But it is a bit weird that the spokeswoman of SPEW" - he bravely ignored her shouted correction of "S-P-E-W!" - "secretly would like to be subservient in some way to someone. It doesn't add up."
Hermione nodded. Of course, with her carefully constructed public persona, it wouldn't.
"At first glance it doesn't, but think again. I don't want to be enslaved; I want someone to look up to. It would be voluntary, just a game of teasing. Just think of cooking. I know you hated it to cook for the Dursleys, but how about cooking a fancy meal for me? Wouldn't you like that?"
Pondering that for a while, he agreed.
"Well, if I agree to follow one's orders, I am not powerless. In fact, I am in control, since I'll decide if I play along with the orders given. Those poor elves don't have that choice." she rationalized.
"Ok, so it's about context. But why being bossed around in the, well, bedroom?" How he could say such a thing without blushing surprised him, but he did.
She actually took her time to think it over. As always, Harry was drawn into watching her worry her lip in thought. To him, it was the definition of cute.
"You know how I love to follow rules; it just extended into my romantic life. Also, I like the naughty feeling if I get punished for breaking a rule. I refrain myself from breaking any at home or at school because I don't fancy being punished by my parents or a professor."
"Oh yeah, this would certainly ruin your fantasies," he laughed, while deciding to not invoke any related pictures to that, ever. "But punishment? What exactly do you mean by that? Doing lines?" he joked.
Hermione couldn't prevent a snort at that. "No, you silly, usually punishment would be having to do something that is especially pleasurable for you. Or something which, while being slightly painful, also is pleasurable for me. Or something that feels good but makes me feel ashamed, as well."
"You lost me there, Hermione. The first thing makes a little sense, but the other ones? How would you do that?"
At that point, Hermione got scared. Dropping her gaze a little, she started responding, with a slight shiver in her voice that betrayed her brave façade. "Sometimes, pain or shame might increase the intensity of pleasure. Like getting your butt slapped while masturbating. Or pinching nipples. Or making me do indecent things in public… Are you disgusted with me now?"
She shot him a betrayed look as he snorted in laughter.
"Hermione," he softly spoke, after gulping heavily, "I'm a teenage male - there's no chance that my reaction to a pretty girl asking to practically be my sex slave would be one of disgust. That I promise you!"
He had to clench his teeth as a brown-haired missile launched herself at him, hugging him hard. Even magical pain potions had their limits. While she alternated between sobbing and asking if he really thought of her as being pretty, he just relished in the feeling of being held by her. It was as good as back in the bus, just with fewer clothes between them.
'Fewer is definitely better!'
"Hermione?" he asked after he had luxuriated in her touch for a few minutes.
"M-hmm?"
"I just wondered. Why are you that open with me? You know, talking about sex that casually with a girl is kind of strange. Not that I'm complaining..."
"Good question. I think the answer is easy. I trust you, and I am very sure that you are as much in love with me as I am with you. Also, since I practically forced my parents into giving me 'the talk' at the age of 8, we were always outspoken about love and sex in that house. Especially my mother and I are. Dad still tries to see at least a bit of his baby girl in me, ignoring all evidence to the contrary, so I spare him the juicy talks." She responded. "Most of them," she added with an evil grin, wiggling her eyebrows.
"So basically, I treat you just as any other member of my family." Hermione concluded, not knowing what exactly she just had told him. "But I'm sure you realise that my feelings for you go beyond family, I mean I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, after all." Feeling him shiver, she looked at him curiously.
"Harry? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" she shouted as she saw tears streaking down his face freely. In response, he just hugged her tighter, and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent, his hot breath at her neck making her shiver.
"That was the first time that anybody had included me in his family. Sirius spoke of me living with him and the Weasleys joked about making me an honorary Weasley sometimes, but you just told me that you actually see me as a family member already," he responded, between sniffles and sobs, before breaking down into a good cry. All she could do was to hug him and smile while he cleansed his soul on her shoulder for a long time, probably for the first time ever.
When he was finished, he suddenly barked a laugh. "You know, that makes another first time. You were the first who I remember hugging me, back in first year, and last year, you were the first to ever kiss me."
"I was not!" Hermione huffed. "That was Cho, earlier this year!"
"Honestly, that kiss from Cho doesn't count. She was crying and started mashing her lips on mine while she sobbed even harder. I don't know what a kiss is supposed to be like, but certainly not like that. I mean the kiss on the cheek at Kings Cross when we went home last year," he told her off, and a giggling Hermione snuggled into his shoulder even more, while she promised herself to take care of several other first times, should the occasion arise.
A bit later, Harry noticed that Hermione had relaxed against him, dozing lightly. Falling asleep as well, he didn't have the heart - or the will - to send his cuddly bedmate away. As he wiggled himself into a lying position, she woke up and began to slowly extract herself from his bed. Having nothing of that, he held her fast, shooting her a lopsided grin. 'Gryffindors charge!' He thought.
"No way, my little lady. Since I am bed-ridden because of you, the least you could do for now is making me comfortable. Your parents gave me free pass for everything, so you will stay as my cuddly pillow for tonight."
For a split second, he thought he had crossed the line. He had actually ordered her to spend the night with him. He felt her stiffen, and saw the colour racing into her cheeks. But then, she gave him a bright smile, and nodded.
Still smiling through her own yawn, she slipped out of her kimono and crawled under the sheet, snuggling into his shoulder.
"Sleep well; I'll continue your punishment tomorrow", he whispered and chuckled as he felt her purr in to his shoulder. 'This commanding business is not to bad,' he thought, as sleep finally claimed him
Later that night, a door creaked as it was opened slightly. There was a bright smile and a deep chuckle, and one ten pound note changed hands.
"I told you they would still be dressed, darling", a female voice whispered.
"I think I have to show you again what happens if you dare to be right about something, wench", a soft baritone threatened.
That was followed by a soft click of a door closing, some feet dashing off into the distance and a faint 'Squee!' some seconds later.
Hermione had briefly stirred, but only pulled herself closer to her warm pillow, without ever losing the smile on her face.
Chapter 6: Reaching the next level.
***June 30th, 1996, Granger residence ***
The next morning, Harry woke up with a strange feeling. It was different, yet known, like a room missing one tiny piece of decoration. The first difference he noticed was that there was something lying on his right arm. Something with plenty of bushy curls on it.
Comparing those curls with some samples from his memory, he identified the object in question. Basking in the feeling of sweet joy flowing through him at the memory of last night, he tried to stay still, lest he woke her and ended that sweet moment of bliss.
Concentrating, he noticed another sensation, or more precisely, the lack of one. He was not in pain. That was certainly good, but for some reason, the permanent tiredness that he had felt all his life was gone as well. Harry wasn't sure what Hermione had ended up brewing for him but he couldn't help but hope she'd made plenty for the future as well. 'Whatever it was, the stuff worked great!'
His joy from earlier was transformed into near ecstasy as Hermione shifted, burrowing deeper into his shoulder. In doing so, she had pressed her body closer to his. Her scantily clad body, at that. Harry marvelled how soft her legs felt as they curled themselves over his own. Fighting the natural response became a futile exercise as he noticed something else very soft being pressed into his side with her next move.
Just as his arousal was beginning to show, a sound caught his attention. Someone had just cleared his throat.
Two things happened at the same time. Hermione's relaxed form beside him stiffened, while his natural reaction did the opposite.
Hermione had been happy waking up in the position in which she found herself that morning. Not only had she slept free from nightmares for the first time since the battle at the Ministry, but she had also awoken in the arms of her hero. She assumed that Harry's presence next to her had kept her personal demons at bay that night. He had woken her though, with the tensing of his body, and Hermione assumed that he was awake now, watching her as she slept.
The feel of his skin against hers and was intoxicating and even as she thought it, there was another sensation; it was a strange but familiar feeling. Like a book on the wrong shelf. Shelving that though and smiling at the pun, she wiggled herself closer to the boy next to her. The increased contact sent a thrill of pleasure through her and she nearly sighed, but realised she was pretending to be asleep. She refrained from giving herself away and simply luxuriated in the feeling of comfort that he provided. However, she soon began to feel proof for her theory of his awareness.
While she was breathlessly waiting to find out how much 'proof' there would be, her research project was cancelled by a known sound. Her dad was clearing his throat.
As a horrified Harry was grabbing for his glasses to identify the blots of colour he could see at the door, she cursed her parents briefly - and silently - and then vocally wished them a "Good morning! Slept well?"
She squeaked and turned around at near light speed, clenching the sheet to her chest as Tonks replied with a happy "Not as well as you, Hermione!"
Nearly dropping his glasses in shock, Harry found himself wishing for a Death Eater attack for the first time in his life. As Voldemort proved to be as unhelpful as ever, he decided to 'pay the piper', as they say.
"Good morning, Mister, Misses Granger, Tonks," he pressed out through clenched teeth, before, with a groan, adding "Professor Lupin" to his litany. At least they all wore grins, thus making corporal harm improbable.
"Good morning, you two. It's good to see that Harry is well cared for. Though I hope he doesn't complain about your bedside manner, Hermione," Henry said with a chuckle, prompting the girl to flush slightly at the implications.
Remus and Margret just grinned teasingly, but Tonks couldn't let a possibility like that go to waste.
"Well, I would have bet money on you going Florence Nightingale on him, Hermione, but I did not expect you to use the Marvin Gay approach."
While everyone started chuckling at the Nightingale reference, the second part got people confused.
"And when I get this feeling, I need sex-ual-heeealing" Tonks broke into song, swaying seductively, totally ignoring the groans erupting all around her.
The adults completely lost it when Harry blurted "But we didn't do anything!" while Tonks half sang, half moaned "Baaaaaaaa-hey-byyyy" in a quiet background voice, still swaying like a pole-dancer.
The following minutes were spent with the laughing Grangers calming Harry down with reassurances that everything was fine between them, Hermione huffing at everyone from under the sheets, and Remus rolling on the floor as a laughing Tonks repeatedly broke into song with different parts of the lyrics.
After the proverbial Mickey was completely extracted from the teens, real topics were brought up to the foreground, again.
The first item was to send Hermione to go and dress, since the healer would arrive anytime now, and she probably won't like to meet him in her pyjamas.
Then a now very disappointed Harry was put under close scrutiny. What the common eye had noticed was confirmed as soon as Healer Josephus Brown, whose arrival had quelled the beginning discussion, had taken a few minutes for various tests.
"I don't really know why exactly you fetched me. He is a bit banged up, but nothing a few days taking it slow wouldn't fix." he pronounced, earning a few unbelieving looks. "What?"
"Josey, just yesterday that lad was a single living bruise, worse than anything I've ever suffered during a transformation" Remus elaborated, ignoring the outburst from said boy, "and now you tell us that after only one healing potion and a night's sleep ..."
"In the arms of his girl," Tonks sniggered, which made Hermione protest.
"Ok, after one good night's sleep," a grinning Remus corrected, again ignoring Harry's protests, Hermione's squeak, and the laughter of the other participants, "this guy is completely ok? That's a miracle, I need 2 days to bounce back from less, and I'm a werewolf! How could that happen?"
"What exactly caused these injuries?" the Healer asked.
After some glances were exchanged and the healer had pointed out that his oath meant that he would keep confidence, he was filled in about the blood wards.
"Okay, first of all, I would like to check his Hammerstein index," the healer stated.
"That measures the size of his magical core," Tonks added for the Grangers' benefit.
"Why? Do you believe his core might be damaged?" Remus asked, concerned.
"Oh, no, I can assure you his reserves are rather full," Healer Brown replied, "I just would like to have some measurements before I start spouting theories."
After a complicated wave of the healer's wand, a glowing 83 hovered over Harry's chest.
"Not too shabby!" the healer whistled, while the other wizards gaped. "No wonder he's healing that fast."
Harry's face fell. "Dammed," he softly whispered, "I hoped it would rise after those dammed wards were removed."
Bedlam followed. Healer Brown was staring, Tonks and Remus were spouting expletives and Hermione was rattling off questions at Harry. This went on for several seconds, until Henry made everybody stop with a bellowed "SILENCE!"
"Much better. Now, would anybody be so nice and explain this to us mere mortals?" he continued, indicating himself and his wife.
"Sorry, Dad," Hermione apologized, while Tonks already started explaining.
"Mr. Granger – Henry - what makes a human a wizard is his magical core. The core is the magical reserves of a wizard. Think of it like a well: you can take water out, and more seeps back in from the sides. Its size and thus, the wizard's power varies greatly. That index measures the available power in a wizard's or witch's core. The average is about 60, but that index is not linear, since in magic, one and one is greater than two. A wizard with a 50 is a lot more powerful than a wizard with a 40."
"Think of it as 'to the power of' or logarithmic, Dad," Hermione assisted.
"Thank you, as least I think so," Tonks said, eyeing Hermione warily as she took over again.
"So Harry having a power of 83 makes him a more powerful wizard than the average. At his age, he's probably the most powerful student in Hogwarts. Even outside, there are not many adults who will surpass him. Dumbledore is legendarily powerful, said to be ranged in the low 120's, but Harry will easily add a ten or two to his index while he grows up, so he is extremely powerful. I, for one, am a 79, so he's already surpassed me, and I'm a power-house in the squad."
"62" Hermione said, as her father glanced in her direction, and Remus added a "58" without prompt.
Henry was satisfied with that. Harry wasn't.
"Oh come on, I'm not that powerful. All the time in school, I've had to struggle to keep up. If I were that powerful, it wouldn't be that hard for me to cast spells. And Pomfrey checked me every time I was under her care. I was a 74 after Voldemort's resurrection, and a week ago, after the battle, I was already an 83. I had thought my index would rise heftily after we get rid of those bloody wards."
"Ok," the healer began, before clearing his throat. "As much as that story defies pretty much all that I know, you do have a certain reputation for doing the impossible, Mr. Potter." While saying that, he waved his hand towards the scar on Harry's forehead.
"So, if I may, I'd like to try a theory that might fit the facts. It's a shot into the blue, but we might as well try. Is there any continuous spell you could cast which takes a lot of power?"
After Harry had grinned at him and nodded, he continued. "Great, now I'd like you to do so using this wand; it will prevent any underage magic from being detected, preventing any warning you might otherwise receive, while I cast some charms on you. And please use as much power as you can," he asked, while removing a wand box from his bag.
While every other magical person in the room started chuckling in anticipation, Harry grinned and grabbed the offered bright red wand from the healer. With a wink at Hermione, who blushed brightly, he scrunched his face up in happy concentration and swished the wand toward the empty part of the room.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
To his defence, it should be said that Healer Brown was professional enough to only stare a few seconds at Harry and the enormous, bright stag the boy had produced. Hermione's parents took much longer. The gorgeous creature was nearly twice the size of a man, barely fitting into the room - actually, its antlers were partly penetrating the ceiling already. The feeling of happiness it radiated was nearly palpable.
"Impressive, lad, now hold it as long as you can," prompted the Healer, and settled to watch Harry, whose face got contorted with agony while he apparently struggled to hold the silver animus alive.
"OUCH!" Twenty seconds and a failed attempt by Margret to pet the misty animal later Harry dropped the charm and the wand, which had started smoking at the tip. "Bugger me! That wand got bloody hot!" he explained.
"Well, it's a standard diagnostic wand, made for wide compatibility with nearly everyone. They are not as sturdy as usual wands. Certainly not used for stuff as powerful as you just did. With that kind of magic, I'm surprised it didn't burn out." Healer Brown explained. Meanwhile, he carefully levitated the still smoking wand carefully back into its box.
"Mine doesn't get hot. Never has." Harry insisted.
"No? How strange. But let's take a reading, now," the Healer murmured and repeated the intricate pattern he had woven before. He dropped his wand in shock as, again, a glowing 83 appeared.
Remus had to steady Tonks, who showed signs of fainting, while Hermione shrieked "Impossible!"
To Harry, it was an extremely uncomfortable situation. While he had promised himself to accept himself as a talented, special someone, standing out still was something he didn't like. And according to the reactions of the others, he was standing out, again.
"In all my years… I never thought it would be possible…" Healer Brown murmured as he bent to pick up his wand, still in shock.
"Could you please tell me what I did this time?" Harry huffed.
Remus was the only one able to answer. "Harry, casting that Patronus for such a long time should have dropped your index at least thirty or fifty points and made you feel exhausted. But it didn't. We could see how you had to concentrate to keep it up. Was anything different to you?"
Harry paused a bit, pondering.
"Now, as you ask, yes. It was easier. Normally, I feel drained and tired while and after a Patronus charm. It had not been exhausting, not at all, just painful because the wand was getting hotter by the second. Right now, I feel like I could do it again without problem."
"You could. Easily," Hermione piped up. As everyone's head, except for the still shocked Healer, turned to her for an explanation, she laughed out loud.
"Honestly, don't you all see it? It's so clear, so obvious." At this, she straightened and itemized with the help of her fingers.
"He was under a blood ward, but still could cast. We had the theory that he somehow had more magic than the wards could absorb. We assumed it was his power level, but we were wrong. It all became clear when he told me that he felt drained back then, but now doesn't. Also, his power level didn't sink when put under stress. It's self-evident!"
A loud crash sounded behind causing her to notice that Tonks had truly fainted now, taking out a chair with her. The healer moved quickly, casting the necessary spells.
Soon Tonks was sitting up but she kept staring at Harry, the expression on her face was truly a comical one, she looked much like a fish out of water.
A grinning Hermione confirmed the Auror's conclusion. "Correct, Tonks. He replenishes his magic faster than a ward can draw it in. He could potentially hold his Patronus till kingdom come and then some, if he were inclined to."
"But how?" sputtered Tonks.
Healer Brown cleared his throat. "There is a very obscure discipline in Arithmacy which might explain this. I do not want to bother you with details," he said, not noticing Hermione's pout at his proclamation, "but it is called 'Fluidal Magic' and describes the way magic flows."
"You see, every core has a limit, like a barrier. As mentioned, it works like a well. You take water out of it and it replenishes, but there is a certain rate at which it can come out of and seep back into the well. Theoretically, there is the possibility of something like a super-recharging core. It is akin to a river flowing directly through the well, refilling it faster than you can possibly drain it. Even the blood wards could only take so much per time unit, so they left Harry at a normal recharge level."
"So basically Harry is plugged into the power grid, while all others run on batteries?" Henry asked; which Hermione confirmed with a nod in his direction, but didn't explain the meaning of the muggle terms to the others. This was highly unusual for Hermione, but could be explained mostly by the brilliant smile that just about split her face, which spread across the room as everybody else also came to terms with what this meant.
Remus was the first to vocalize it.
"The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord…"
"Wow!" Tonks said.
"Yeah, that word is used a lot in connection with Harry. Like back in his third year, when he drove away hundred Dementors with one Patronus." Remus added.
Hermione of course had a question. "How did he do that if the wards drain him to a mere mortal level?" she asked - earning herself a sharp reprimand by said proclaimed deity, which everyone present blatantly ignored.
"That's a rather daunting question, young lady," Healer Brown said with a grim smile, "I can think of two plausible theories. One, the wards could have sensed the imminent danger to Harry defected temporarily, allowing him to use his full power and thus preventing their own destruction, and when it was safe again they'd reattach themselves to Harry quite quickly. The better option, though, would be this: Mortal danger usually makes people do extraordinary things. It's completely possible that the person in question's magic could override the blood binds and close the connection until the danger had passed. So in keeping with this line of thought, in life or death situations Harry would have access to nearly all, if not all, of his potential." This last thought seemed to cheer the Healer up slightly and he smiled happily.
"You mean like those stories of people lifting cars to save people trapped underneath them?" Margret quipped in, finally finding a point of reference to which she could cling.
"Yes, something akin to that. Please mind that this is just an assumption by me, since all other people that had been subjected to that abhorrent thing usually were without wands, so they couldn't cast anyway. Of course, such overexertion would probably lead to unconsciousness due to the shock of magic rushing out of your already exhausted body when the bind is reactivated, but that would only happen after the danger has passed."
"Seems plausible to me - it would explain my usual dead faint every time I had a big adventure." Harry laughed. "At least I can now tell Pomfrey that I was right all the time. I really was okay - it was just the blood ward that made me faint. But still, even back then, my wand didn't get hot like yours!"
"That's strange, Harry," Remus said, "Every wand gets hot when casting magic, that is one of the universal laws of magic. There is always some residue of spells left in them. That's why we can cast priori incantatem on wands. My Patronus is nowhere near your level, but even my wand gets noticeably warm when I cast it. Mind if I take a look at your wand?"
In a few seconds, Hermione had gotten Harry his wand from his discarded clothes on his trunk, and he had handed it over, handle first, as they were taught to do, to Remus. Remus grabbed it gently, and immediately frowned.
"Strange. Normally there is a feeling to a wand, a reaction when you touch it. With this wand, I feel nothing."
"Lumos!" he called, with no effect.
"LUMOS!" He incanted again, louder this time, but nothing happened.
After Tonks and Healer Brown had tried and failed, too, they returned the wand to a frowning Harry.
At the first sound of 'lumos', the wand instantly lit with an immensely bright light, which was quickly nox-ed by Harry, sheepishly apologizing, while the others were blinking the spots out of their sight. "Oops!"
After people had their eyesight restored and were collectively wondering why the wand had worked for Harry, but not for Remus, Tonks suddenly perked up and gazed at the window. For a few seconds, she waited calmly while the other people started talking, and finally let out a desperate groan, causing all conversation to cease and everyone to focus on her.
"Harry? May I try something?" she asked, ignoring all the questioning glances. "Would you please close your eyes, and then cast a lumos again when I give you my wand?"
Harry agreed, she quickly blindfolded him with a large handkerchief she conjured, and Harry felt a slim wand pressed into his hand. Without hesitation, he cast the spell and heard a common gasp. 'Dammed, too bright, again," he thought, concentrating on reducing the power flow.
After a short pause, he heard Tonks ask if it felt different from his own wand. After a bit of consideration, he responded negatively, and was ordered to take the blindfold off.
For the next five seconds, give or take, he stared in shock at the ray of light the pencil in his hand emanated, just like everyone else had been doing.
"Yup, Harry, you probably burnt it out with that Patronus and have been casting wandless ever since. It came to me as I noticed no owl coming for underage magic." Tonks told him.
"ARRGH!" Hermione screeched, stomping her foot, drawing all attention to her.
"All that time, while I knew I was less powerful, I was proud to be at least faster at getting the spells down than Harry, and now it turns out he was casting wandless all the time! Honestly, is there no way to beat you, Harry?" she scolded him, before moaning in shame and hiding her face in her hands as all the adults guffawed at her outburst.
When everybody had calmed down, Healer Brown got serious and took a long look around. He sighed before turning to Tonks, pleading at her.
"Just be careful to not obliviate healer school from me, ok?"
After the healer was escorted out with his memories still intact, but oath-bound to silence, the whole group, including a now dressed Harry, migrated into the living room, where an impromptu party followed.
Room was sparse, but Hermione solved that particular problem by claiming Harry's lap as her seat, which received Harry's enthusiastic approval. About half an hour later, the teens were beginning to get accustomed to the teasing they received for it.
Before lunch, Margret took Harry aside and reassured him that she and Henry both approved of the relationship.
Henry, after a bit of reflection on the information about Harry's magical power, refrained wisely from the "angry father threatens the suitor" talk he had prepared years ago. Losing one good opportunity for joking paled in comparison to losing his life.
At lunch – pizza, this time, as the kitchen still resembled a battlefield - Tonks gave the report about the order's activities that she had promised to spy on.
"Well, first of all, they can't track you anymore. Dumbledore has started using search teams combing London and surroundings with a very fine-toothed one. Remus and I are currently assigned to keep watch at the Black Mansion. Since no one can enter, we are supposed to wait at the doorstep."
"Why can't you enter? I still know the address, so the secret is still around." Harry demanded.
"No one can, at least not until the new owner has claimed it and allowed people back in. Old Mansions are often protected that way. Most probably, you are the one in question. Come to think of it, it might be a good hideout, since no one would expect us to use it already. It's only a matter of time until Dumbledore gets wiser and comes looking for you here. I'm rather surprised that he hasn't already."
"Although that might be due to the state of his pet death eater," Remus interjected.
"Snape? What happened to him?"
"Well Harry," Remus continued, "the more important and funny question is, 'What happened to Voldemort?'. According to Snape, dear Tommy was forced to witness all of your ritual, and obviously without the help of painkillers. The other Eaters summoned Snape and forced him at wandpoint to help Voldemort. Of course, even with that motivation, he was unable."
"Snape had a nervous breakdown after his return to Hogwarts," Tonks grinned. "The twins allegedly have pictures."
A lot of laughter was had, and Harry's vow to get a copy of those wasn't at all challenged by Hermione, or her parents. Even after her daughter's relatively toned-down reports of the Potions Master, her parents knew enough to appreciate justice due.
"What's the current status of Voldemort?" Margret asked. "It has been half a week since the ritual."
"Royally pissed off," Tonks snorted and continued recounting, her hair changing colour with every new sentence.
"According to the greasy git's latest reports, healers have been unable to do much for him. He is still alive, but his body has ceased to function correctly. He seems to need a few blood replenishing potions per day to stay healthy. Snape is being forced to find some potion to cure him or to improve the effect of the potions. The dark one is supervising and co-researching this, while all his men are leaving no stone unturned to find you, Harry. He is convinced that a repeat of the resurrection ritual would cure his predicament. Of course, he had vowed to use every last drop of your blood this time."
"Greedy bastard", Harry mumbled, attempting to cheer up the conversation. He had moderate success, eliciting some smiles all around.
Remus cleared his throat. "That brings up an important point. We are not safe here. Any day, either the Order or Voldemort might find us here. We should find some safer place." he stated.
"Any suggestions?" Henry asked.
Even before Remus had answered, Harry already knew what he was about to say. "Well, Harry has a house in London that's perfectly suited. Only Harry can allow entry, and only the Order can even see it."
"But mum and dad don't know the secret, they would not be able to come and go without one of us escorting them." Hermione objected. "They, and we, would be stuck in there."
"Nope; since it's now Harry's property, the secret has been transferred to him. He can tell it to anyone he chooses. Sirius could, too. The owner is always a keeper of the secret. Also, I believe the Black Library would suffice to keep you occupied for a while," Remus hinted, with a broad grin.
Harry took a long look at Hermione, who was staring into the distance and knew that he was outvoted. "Not fair, Remus!" he lamented, taking another look at his girl, who was currently wearing a dreamily smile, almost smitten. "And stop seducing my girlfriend!"
Hermione was brought back to reality by hearty laughter around her, and harrumphed as no one was forthcoming with an explanation of what she had missed.
*** Early afternoon, London, Grimmauld Place ***
"I'm still not sure that we should do that. It's Sirius's place." Harry said, for the umpteenth time, while kicking a piece of paper litter out of his path.
Remus sighed. He knew it would be hard for Harry, but they had to do this. It was imperative that they find a good hideout for his honorary nephew.
"Yes, it was, but he would have loved for you to have it and use it to thumb your nose at the Headmaster. You know how much he loved such stuff. Go on; try."
Harry's stomach was in knots. Although he knew that Sirius was dead, he still expected that old dog to jump out from behind some dumpster and yell "Surprise!"
Only his girlfriend's hand in his kept him from turning and walking away. After all the hassle of being apparated here by Remus and Tonks, he could at least try.
Remembering his dream, he hoped that Sirius had truly found the afterlife he had wanted, and reached out to the serpent doorknob.
"I, Harry James Potter, claim possession of Black Manor."
Instead of some amazing light show, a gong sounding in the distance, or sparks running over the door frame, the only response was an anticlimactic click. The door slowly swung open, granting him entrance into Number twelve's not so spotless premises. A slight waft of decay was in the air. Harry naturally felt uncomfortable with that.
"Remus! Tonks! Take a look!" Harry spoke and motioned for the adults to look ahead.
As both ran into an invisible wall at the last step, Harry remembered a certain fact. After taking over a warded property, the owner had to allow other people entry. In case of Black Manor, the only way was through the door, since the wards did not allow any apparition or portkeys in. He would later have to open the Floo for them.
"Remus Lupin and - sorry for this, Tonks - Nymphadora Tonks are allowed to enter Black Manor. I also grant entry to Hermione, Henry, and Margret Granger." He hastily said after stepping aside, thus enabling his friends to pass the door. He would have to tell them the address later, now that he had control of the wards.
After a quick search, the source of the stench was identified as the remains of Kreacher, decaying in his hidey-hole. That locket they failed to open and believed to have thrown away had burnt a hole through his chest, and was resting on the ground under him, open wide, next to a molten disk of flat metal that Hermione identified as the chain that was attached.
Not even Hermione could chastise Harry for being happy that he now wouldn't be forced to take Kreacher's life himself.
Tonks was the first to point out that a Manor this size was not sustainable without the help of at least one house-elf, wondering where they could get one.
"Dobby!" Harry said suddenly as he remembered a possible candidate, and "Arrgh!" was his next word as the tiny creature immediately appeared and asked for his wishes.
"Sorry, Dobby, you scared me," Harry began talking, but stopped immediately, taking a long look at the house-elf before him.
"Why are you so black?"
In fact, the tiny creature was covered in soot all over, except for only his big eyes, making them stand out even more than usual.
"The other elves and Dobby is cleaning one version of the come-and-go room. There has being a fire in there two days ago, and we is still cleaning, Master Harry Potter, Sir," he replied eagerly.
"After two days?" Hermione inquired.
Dobby nodded, making his ears flap, forming a small cloud of soot around his head.
"There is have being a lots of magic objects being in there, Miss Master Harry Potter's Grangy, Miss. The fire was being very hot."
Tonks and Remus winced at that. Most magical people had firsthand experience with how bad a magical fire could be. And most would rather forget about that.
"Oh, sorry to hear about that. But anyway, I would like to hire your services, if you would like to." Harry continued, remembering his original intentions.
"Dobby is sorry, but Dobby can't, Master Harry Potter, Sir."
"Oh, too bad - maybe you know a house-elf who would like to work for me?" Harry replied sadly.
"Dobby knows one who would, if she could be bound to Master Harry Potter, Sir. Winky is extremely unhappy in Hogwarts and would like to have a family to serve to." Dobby answered happily, and took a glance left and right, before he added, "Dobby would need her to keep this house clean, it's too big for Dobby alone."
Harry had already opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and looked at Dobby.
"Ahem, Dobby, didn't you just say that you can't work for me?"
"No, Master Harry Potter, sir. Dobby was saying that he can't be hired for work by his Master, now that wouldn't be proper," the small elf said, shaking his head in a no-no gesture.
At this point, Hermione was completely lost. And wherever she had arrived at, Harry was there already, waiting for her.
"But Dobby, Harry freed you. Why is he your Master?" she tried, again.
"Miss Master Harry Potter's Grangy, Miss, Dobby became bound to Master Harry Potter, Sir, when he was taking orders from Master Harry Potter, Sir, in the come-and-go room and chose to obey. Dobby was never happier in his whole life - Dobby would do everything to please his Master!"
True to form, Dobby was bouncing on his toes at his last sentence, producing a black cloud wafting around him.
Hermione was trying to glare at Harry, but his grin and wink told her that he knew another person who was willing to do anything her master wants. Her blush was inevitable when he pulled her close and whispered into her ear.
"You know that I would never punish anybody other than you."
"We need to talk, Harry!" she whispered back while trying to suppress her shudder. "Later," she added, as a cough demanded their attention.
"When you two are done whispering sweet nothings into your ears, we could move on and hire that other elf Dobby talked about," Tonks interjected, "and then we would be ready for maybe a visit in Diagon Alley or Gringotts. You need some stuff, Harry!" she proclaimed, noticing that Harry wore his school uniform in lieu of proper clothes.
After getting - well, cajoling - an okay out of Hermione, Harry had Dobby fetch Winky. The tiny elf was visibly drunk, but had at least cleaned up a little since the last time Harry and Hermione had seen her. After being accepted as servant, she instantly cried tears of happiness on Dobby's shoulder, while the little fellow awkwardly patted her back, looking around uncomfortably.
"Ok, you both take care of this house. No punishing yourselves; if you do something wrong, you bring it to me and I decide, ok? And call me Harry."
Both elves stared at him, shocked to the core. "May we be calling you Master Harry, at least?" Dobby cautiously asked, wringing his hands, to which Harry agreed, much to Dobby's relief. Winky had to try a few times before she managed to address him that way, and the long pause every time she addressed him in her speech made Harry suspect that she still said the other words, just silently. At least he didn't have to hear them anymore.
With a broad grin, he ordered the elves to silence and dispose of Mrs. Black's portrait as their first task, which took the elves an ear-splitting half-hour battle against the portrait's enchantments, but practically doubled or tripled the estate's value.