~ After the War ~

Harry sprinted through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. He swept past the line of people at the lift and slammed through the rarely used stairwell access door. 

Ron barged through right after him. They hurried down to the Department of Mysteries. There was a crowd of Unspeakables, Aurors, and healers alike in the Department of Mysteries atrium. 

“Where is she?” Harry hollered, a burning ache in his chest fuelling him.

Heads turned in his direction. No one answered.

“Where is she?” 

The Head Unspeakable stepped forward, shrouded in his black hood. He gestured for Harry and Ron to follow. Harry stormed after the Unspeakable. His hands were shaking. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. 

They'd been informed of an emergency in the Department of Mysteries late last night. The entire floor was shut down. Harry and Ron had stayed up in the DMLE all night awaiting answers. Hermione was an apprentice Unspeakable. She was down there.

“Well?” Harry demanded the moment they were enclosed in the Head Unspeakable's office.

The man lowered his hood to reveal the old, lined face of an Asian man he'd met briefly before. It was Otis Spratt, a man Harry knew vaguely as the husband to Professor McGonagall. The old wizard looked a moment away from collapsing in on himself.

“Have a seat, lads.”

“A seat?” Ron scoffed at the same time as Harry seethed, “Where is Hermione?”

The Head Unspeakable was quiet for a long moment. “She's gone.”

“Gone where?” Ron demanded as he gestured with his arms. 

“She fell through the Veil.”

The air was sucked straight out of Harry's chest and all that remained was the undefinable ache inside of him. A flash of memory of Sirius falling through the Veil during the battle in the Department of Mysteries years ago burned through his mind. And suddenly, the pain Harry felt in his chest made sense. It had begun sometime last night, like a bad omen – his magic telling him what he didn’t want to know.

She was gone. Gone for good, for there was no way back from the Veil.

“You're lying,” Harry whispered.

Otis shook his head. “I'm sorry, lad. It was an accident.”

“She shouldn't have even been in there!” Harry shouted. “She's apprenticing in the Hall of Time!”

Otis raised a grey eyebrow. That was knowledge Harry wasn't supposed to have.

“It was an all-hands-on-deck emergency,” he explained reluctantly.

“She's an apprentice!” Harry roared. “And now-” his eyes watered “-You've fucking killed her.”

Otis flinched. His eyes fell shut as he looked down.

“There must be a way,” Ron pleaded.

The man shook his head.

Ron swore.

Harry turned and stormed from the office. He ignored the stares of the people in the atrium and hurried back through the staircase to the ministry's main atrium. Ron was shouting after him, but Harry refused to slow down. 

He apparated away the moment he reached the apparition point. He appeared in the Forest of Dean. The familiar trees were all around, closing in around him in a comforting embrace. This was the forest he had spent one endlessly long winter in with his best friend. They had hidden away here in their tent, hopeless and terrified. 

When Harry thought about Hermione, he thought about the Forest of Dean. He thought about the undying faith she had in him. She would follow him to the ends of the earth. She basically walked into hell with him.

Dead. She couldn't be dead. The ache in his chest burned tauntingly. No more could he feel her soft, comforting presence. She was gone and all that was left behind was the absence of what she had once been.

He raised a hand to his face, now covered in tears. 

She couldn't be gone. She wasn't allowed to die. He wouldn't let her.

~ Three Months Later ~

Harry was just finishing up packing when Ron found him. He ignored his best friend as he tucked away the candles and crystals into the expandable bag.

“Mate,” Ron implored.

“I’m busy.”

“Right. It’s Friday.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?” Ron scoffed. “Better than last week, I suppose. It’s family dinner night. Come on.”

“I’m busy, " Harry said between clenched teeth. He didn't look up from what he was doing.

“You can’t just stay holed up in these godforsaken places,” Ron argued, gesturing to the dark and dirty Grimmauld Library.

The old house had fallen even further into disrepair in the last three months. They’d been in the middle of renovations when it happened. Hermione had been in charge. Harry had pushed her to do it. He didn’t know anything about interior design, but he knew whatever home he had, he wanted Hermione to feel at home in it. Once she had given in, she’d enjoyed spending his money. 

He had liked watching her be happy.

Harry swallowed thickly and shoved the Potter Grimoire into the bag. He finally turned to Ron. His best friend looked good. Better than he had in a while. He’d moved back home after it happened. He quit the Aurors and was working with George at the shop. 

“You look like shit,” Ron bluntly informed him.

Harry was painfully aware.

“Is that her purse?”

Harry looked down. Clutched tightly in his hand was Hermione’s beaded bag. She had left it at the house one night that week. She had begun staying there to help with the renovations. They were going to paint the new kitchen a bright, happy yellow. The paint cans were sitting in the kitchen still.

“I didn’t realise you had it,” Ron continued softly.

Harry liked to use it. It felt like he was keeping her close. She wasn’t gone. Not totally. He wouldn’t let her. He was doing this.

“I have to go.”

“Harry, please.”

“I’ll see you around,” Harry said as he brushed past Ron.

His friend let him go. It was a glaring difference between Ron and Hermione. Hermione never would have let him go. She would have known he was up to no good.

Harry exited Grimmauld Place and apparated away. He landed on a grassy hill in the middle of the pouring rain. The full moon’s ascent into the sky was completely blocked by the thunderous clouds.

Harry ducked his head and headed through two tall stone pillars that let him through the magical wards. There was another smaller circle of pillars within that were mostly broken or missing. He stopped at the edge of the second circle and toed off his boots. His feet sunk into the cold, muddy earth.

When Harry stepped onto the ancient ritual ground, he felt magic shift around him. No magical ritual had taken place at Stonehenge in centuries. It was made illegal during the witch trials, the ancient space was abandoned to muggles. Over the years, the Wizarding World stopped practising in the old way. Ritual grounds weren’t necessary except for in the Department of Mysteries or in extremely delicate healing rituals. 

There were a few fallen pillars at the centre of the ritual ground. Harry set Hermione’s bag on the makeshift altar and pulled out the wiccan paraphernalia he had collected for the ritual. He set up the altar with the crystals and candles – charmed to stay lit amidst the raging storm.

The magic of the ritual space stirred excitedly beneath his dirty feet. The mud was already smeared up the ankles of his trousers.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked immediately after. He looked up at the sky and let the rain hit his face. In the eye of the storm, he thought. Almost out the other side.

Now or never.

“Old ones!” Harry called into the storm. “I call on you. Old Father! I beseech you.”

He pressed the athame to his forearm and made a small cut. He turned his wrist over and let the blood hit the brass bowl that was quickly filling with rainwater.

“Take my blood – your blood. Feel my magic – your magic. Dagda, Father of Gods, Father of the House of Potter, I call thee.”

A moment passed. Harry couldn’t hear anything past the pouring rain and the sound of blood rushing through his ears. The magic of the ritual circle exploded outward. The flames of the candles burst a foot into the air, hot with an ancient power. Harry felt an old but familiar magic pour across Stonehenge.

Lightning struck. Thunder cracked.

“Harry Potter,” a deep voice echoed.

Harry whirled around. A man stood before him. He was huge with animal pelts across his shoulders and a thick beard covering his face. Dagda. A king of gods in the Celtic tradition. The family god of the House of Potter. Harry had read all about him in the grimoire. His family had stopped worshipping him a few generations ago. Harry wasn’t sure if the god would even come.

“Harry Potter,” the god said again, this time in an admonishing tone of voice, “consider what you’re doing before you make a mistake.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’m not making a mistake,” he shouted over the rain.

“Insulting the gods is always a terrible mistake," Dagda intoned. He didn't need to shout over the sound of the rain, like Harry. His voice carried with his power, deep and powerful. 

Harry ground his teeth. “Bring her back.”

Dagda shook his head. “That’s beyond my power.”

“Then get me someone who can!”

The earth rumbled. Dagda stepped closer. His magic tightened around Harry warningly. “Watch yourself, child. Remember who you stand before.”

Harry could feel the tears in his eyes. He pointed at the ritual ground. “I called you here to help me.”

Dagda shook his head. “I do not have dominion over the dead. I understand you’re upset. I understand why. I gave your family your magic. Your gifts. She was meant for you and you, her. You will always feel her loss.”

Harry’s tears fell and immediately mixed with the rainfall on his face. His chest burned with anger as much as it ached with emptiness. “I don’t want to feel her loss . I want her back. Tell me how to bring her back.”

“There is no way. The price is too high. The necromancy you speak of is forbidden. You know this. You studied it when trying to take down Tom Riddle. At the very least, there must be a sacrifice of great importance – a human sacrifice. Is that something your witch would want?”

“Depends on the life,” Harry shot back. “So it is possible.”

Dagda studied Harry for a long moment. The god sighed. “If she died normally, perhaps. But the Veil is beyond us all. Death takes and she does not give back.”

“She gave me back.”

“You are special.”

“ Hermione is special,” Harry seethed.

Dagda shook his head. “I cannot and will not help you. This will only end poorly. I’m sorry for this pain. I can take it away.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Harry snapped as he stumbled back and away from the god. “I don’t care what you say. I’m bringing her back.”

“You will die.”

Harry stared into the eyes of the immortal god before him. He took a breath. “Then I guess I’ll see her either way.”

“Harry-”

-He knocked over the brass bowl into one of the candles and broke the ritual. Dagda disappeared between one raindrop and the next. The magic of the circle moved restlessly, most likely displeased at the improper way that Harry had ended the ritual.

Death, Harry thought as he stared at his ruined ritual. Death was the only one who could give him Hermione. Sacrificing a person was a bit unpleasant, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get his hands on a Death Eater.

But he needed Death to know the sacrifice was for them . Harry used his blood to summon Dagda. He’d need something else to summon Death.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

He knew what he had to do.

~ Two Months Later ~

The hardest part, interestingly enough, was sneaking into the Department of Mysteries. It had been such an easy task when they were children. Hermione had taken down the protection wards with disturbing ease. In hindsight, it was obviously due to Riddle’s involvement. This time around, Harry spent an entire month studying the security wards around the Department of Mysteries. 

He got the information from an unknowing Otis – the Head of the Department of Mysteries. He felt bad about going to Otis and Minerva's home on false pretences, pretending like he was reaching out for comfort when he’d really only been there to get into Otis’ office. It worked though. 

The easiest part was choosing the Death Eater to sacrifice. It was with a dark sort of humour that Harry chose Antonin Dolohov. The man had tried to kill Hermione multiple times. He was obsessed with her. He would send her letters from Azkaban sometimes. Those letters had started being sent to Harry after it happened. Harry never read them.

He spoke with a guard at Azkaban and with barely any money exchanged, Harry had himself a magically bound Death Eater. He broke into the Department of Mysteries with a cool, uncaring confidence. 

This was it for him. Success or failure. Failure meant death. He planned to throw himself through the Veil if that’s what came of it. When he reached the door to the Death Chamber, he paused. He hadn't entered this place since Sirius died that dark, awful night so long ago. He still had nightmares of Sirius falling into the Veil. Now, his nightmares included Hermione falling in too.

Harry closed his eyes and felt along his magic to that terrible emptiness that existed inside of him now. He tried to remember what Hermione's magic felt like alongside his own. He wondered if he'd be able to feel her through the Veil.

Harry swallowed and gently pressed his fingers against the walnut wood of the door.  The door to the Death Chamber clicked and then swung all the way open. 

Harry levitated Dolohov into the room and stood before the Veil. A roiling hatred burned through his gut as he stared at the magical artefact. It had claimed the lives of not one but two of the most important people in the world to him. 

Death takes and it takes. 

“Today you will give back,” he vowed.

He cut Dolohov’s arm and painted his ritual circle onto the ground in front of the Veil. Candles were lit at each point of the pentacle. He levitated Dolohov into the centre of the ritual space. The man's eyes were wide as he stared up at Harry. He was a smart man. He knew what was happening.

"In darkness, in light," he began softly. "In night, to day. Death -- Harbinger of the End, Immortal Ferry of Souls, the Deathly Hallow."

Harry grasped the hair at the top of Dolohov's head and lifted it up. He readied the athame. 

"Accept this offering so one lost may once again return to life."

Harry swiped the blade across Dolohov's throat. The spell holding him in place fell. Blood bubbled up, bright red and running like a river down his neck. The man raised his hands to his throat, but it was useless. He jerked desperately. Harry watched him pitilessly.

"With this death, cometh life.”

Harry stood and from his pocket he produced the Resurrection Stone. He stepped over Dolohov’s still struggling body. 

Magic entered the chamber. Harry turned and was unsurprised to find Dagda standing behind him. The god’s magic had been following him since the aborted ritual at Stonehenge. The god's unseeing eyes had followed Harry as he took the next steps in his plan. He hadn’t interfered until now.

“Harry James Potter,” the god intoned. “Stop.”

“It’s too late,” Harry responded with a shake of his head. 

It was. Harry had started the ritual already. Stopping mid-way would only create more problems, not solve them.

“You will die.”

He stared into the eyes of the god. “Then I die,” he returned solemnly. 

Deagda stepped forward but was careful to avoid the ritual circle painted in blood on the ground as well as the barely struggling form of Antonin Dolohov. “You are the last Potter," he implored. "Your magic is special. Important. With each magic house that dies, magic weakens.”

“Then help me.”

Dagda shook his head. “I can’t interfere. Not when I know this will only lead to death.”

“Then we know where we both stand in this.” 

Harry turned to the Veil, ignoring Dagda as he tried to sway Harry away from his mission again. Harry raised the Resurrection Stone. The Veil rippled like a flag in the wind.

“Unto Death. Unto Life.”

“ Harry! ”

Harry tossed the stone into the Veil. The gem disappeared from the world. Time slowed. Harry saw the slim, pale hand of Death reach out from the Veil. A chill swept over him. The hand snatched his wrist and pulled him forward.

Time sped up. 

Harry gasped and quickly used his other hand to grasp the stone arch of the Veil. He could feel Death’s cold fingers drawing him closer into the emptiness of the Veil. He grasped into the nothingness. Half his arms had completely vanished as if he were wearing the cloak of invisibility. It was with an uneasy feeling that he realised that the rippling of the Veil looked just like that of the rippling of his cloak.

“Come on,” he whispered as he grasped out into the great beyond. “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

A hand grabbed his own. Harry gasped as he felt the familiar warmth of Hermione’s magic wrap around his fingers. It slid across his skin and stopped where Harry's arm appeared in the mortal world again.

“Hermione,” he breathed. 

He turned and met Dagda’s stunned gaze. The god rolled his eyes and with a howl of anger rushed forward. He stepped over the lifeless corpse of Antonin Dolohov and grabbed hold of Harry’s upper arm. 

“This is going to hurt,” Dagda warned him.

“Do it,” he snapped back.

Dagda’s magic funnelled into him. Harry screamed. The almighty power burned through his veins and stole the breath from his lungs. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and held onto Hermione’s hand for dear life. 

He wouldn’t let go.

He wouldn’t let her go.

Harry had died and come back to life. It was Hermione’s turn now.

“It’s done!” Dagda shouted. “Pull her through!”

Harry and Dagda pulled with all their strength, even as Death clawed them closer. Harry managed to pull all the way back to his wrist. Just a bit more and Hermione would break free.

He pulled and pulled and-

-A bright white light exploded across the Chamber of Death.

~ Oblivion ~

A bright white light exploded outward.

Hermione blinked into the sudden brightness. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. White. White in every direction.

“Hello?” Hermione called out. 

She turned on her heel. It was all the same in every direction. 

“Anyone?”

Silence and nothing met her voice. There was no echo to her words. They spoke and died in the same breath. Hermione looked down at herself. She was wearing a white dress and a set of white robes over top. Certainly not something she owned or had even been wearing that morning.

That morning. Harry and she had been bickering about the colour of the kitchen cabinets. He said nothing but white when with yellow and why would they paint the kitchen yellow. Because it was cheerful, Hermione had argued. 

“Harry?” she called into the nothing.

An uneasy feeling began to fill her. Where was she? What had happened?

“Ah ha!” a voice exclaimed.

Hermione jumped and turned around. An older wizard in similar white robes had appeared. 

“I knew it! I charted it. An accident in the Department of Mysteries, yes?”

Hermione blinked slowly. “What?”

The man scowled and marched forward. Hermione stumbled back. “Are you or are you not an Unspeakable?”

“I- I am. A trainee.”

“Clearly,” he responded, snidely. “Well? Was there an accident in the Department of Mysteries or not?”

“There- there was,” she replied, suddenly recalling it herself. “In the Death Chamber,” she mumbled.

“Obviously,” he said in that same snide voice. “How else would you have ended up in the Veil?”

Hermione’s head shot up. “What?”

“The Veil,” he responded slowly. “This is why they shouldn’t have let women into the department. Not cut out for this work.”

Hermione glared at him. “And who exactly are you to pass judgement like that?”

“Francis Aldridge the Third,” the man said as he tilted his chin up. He sniffed imperiously.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “Never heard of you. Clearly, you weren’t very important.”

Francis glared. “Oh, so brave and calm now. Give it some time, girl. You’ll end up like the rest of the ones with low-level magic. Eaten away by the nothing .”

Hermione felt a chill run up her spine. “I’m leaving,” she told him and turned on her heel. 

“At least tell me if I was right?”

Hermione glared over her shoulder at him.

“I charted the next accident. The timing of it. It’s 1892. Isn’t it?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “It’s the year 2000. Best go back to the drawing boards on that one.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away, further into the nothing.

Eventually, when she looked back, Francis was gone. Silence greeted her from all around.

The Veil. She was in the Veil.

“Harry will never forgive me.”

She felt a pain in her chest at the thought of her best friend. Normally, she felt warm and comforted at the thought of him. Like magic, the very thought of him made her feel safe. Now, it only struck a pain through her.

She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest at the very real pain she felt.

“You can still feel pain here,” she told herself. 

A good lesson to learn early on.

Hermione continued to walk. On and on she went. Every once in a while, she would run into another Unspeakable. Most of them seemed to be examining the Veil, continuing their studies and work even in death. 

Once, she stumbled across a man that couldn’t talk. He had nothing behind his eyes, like he’d been kissed by a dementor. Hermione hurried away, unnerved by the thinness of the man as if he were slowly wasting away.

There were others there too. Hermione knew the history of the Veil. She’d studied it after Sirius fell through in her fifth year. It was used, at one point, to execute criminals. Hermione was cautious whenever she came upon a new person. She had seen groups in the distance before and always stayed away.

Otherwise, she walked and walked. Until she finally found who she was looking for.

He was sitting on the ground wearing the same white robes as all of them. His head of curly black hair stood out starkly against the white nothingness of the Veil. Hermione’s breath caught.

“Sirius?”

He looked over and his silvery eyes widened. “Hermione?” he breathed. 

“Sirius!” she exclaimed.

Sirius jumped to his feet just in time to catch her as she flung herself into his arms. Sirius laughed wetly as he pulled her in close.

“Oh, Merlin.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her curly head of hair. “What’re you doing here?”

Hermione pulled back and looked up at him, teary-eyed. “I fell in. I’m an Unspeakable. There was- there was an accident.”

Sirius’ face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Is there even a way to tell?”

Sirius sighed. “Suppose not. Come here, let’s sit.”

They took a seat in the middle of the nothing. Emptiness surrounded them. 

“You look younger,” she told him.

He did. He looked healthier than he had in life. Azkaban had done Sirius no favours. In death, he looked more alive. There was still a sadness in his grey eyes, but he didn't look as frantic as he once had.

“Side effects, I think?" He shrugged. "I’m not sure. I’m… healthy. Whole. I certainly wasn’t before I got here.”

Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand. “How has it been? Here? Does it- is it always like this?”

“Nothing?”

She nodded.

“Pretty much. It’s- forever.”

Hermione’s chest ached.

~ Oblivion ~

“Holding up?” Sirius asked.

Hermione sat with her chin on her knees as she stared out across the nothing. “I just… I’m processing.”

Sirius hummed from where he was lying on the ground beside her. “Denial will come soon after.”

She looked over at him. “And then?”

“Anger. Then acceptance. Finally, boredom. Unrelenting, eternal, boredom.”

Hermione nodded. “Great. Looking forward to it.”

Sirius chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

They were quiet for a bit. Sirius was being far more respectful of her privacy than she would have expected. But she supposed he knew what she was going through. 

Hermione sighed and lied down beside him. They stared up at endless white above them.

“The war’s over,” she told him in a soft voice. “We won.”

Sirius released a slow breath. “Harry?”

“Auror training.”

“Yeah?” She could hear the smile in her voice. “Good for him. He’d make a good one.”

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Tell me everything.”

She did.

“I miss him,” she cried an indeterminable amount of time later, after they’d shed tears over Remus, Tonks, Fred, and so many others. “I miss them all.”

Sirius nodded.

“And I- it just hurts so much. I feel this ache in my chest. I don’t think it’ll ever go away. I used to feel him there. But now all I feel is pain.”

A long silence passed. Finally, Sirius said in a quiet voice, “James and Lily… they had this thing. This weird sort of ability to feel each other in their magic. James never spoke about it with me. I don’t think he was allowed to.”

Hermione turned her head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Sirius shrugged. “Different magical families have abilities. The Blacks are tinkerers, for example. We're good at playing with magical objects. It helped us a lot with the map -- my family's ability. We tend to be Unspeakables because of it. A few of the Unspeakables lost in here are acutally my ancestors."

Hermione blinked at that. She had thought she'd spotted Sirius a few times before finding him.

"Magical families keep their gifts private for the most part. But Lily told me about it before they got married.” Sirius turned to look at her. “Did you two ever?”

She wiped away her tears. “What?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. You know.”

Her eyes widened. “ Sirius .”

He smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Sirius!” she laughed and smacked his arm.

He barked out a laugh. “Come on. You were on the run for a whole year? You never shagged the boy of your dreams?”

Hermione looked away even as her cheeks burned hot. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Is it? I saw you two together.”

“I had a crush on Ron, actually," she replied in an imperious tone of voice.

Sirius nodded and grinned. “Uh huh. And so what happened when you snogged Harry?”

She glared at him. Sirius smiled charmingly.

“You’re so annoying.”

“It’s one of my best qualities.”

Hermione scoffed loudly. A comfortable silence fell over them. Hermione closed her eyes and couldn't help but press against the ache in her chest. She wondered if she pressed her magic into his enough, she would be able to catch a glimpse of Harry in it still.

“He’s going to be so upset," she whispered.

“He’ll be okay," Sirius said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. "He’s got the Weasleys.”

“Will we?" she asked and turned to him again. "Be okay?”

“Of course," he immediately replied and wrapped an arm around her. Hermione cuddled close, feeling impossibly small and entirely safe in Sirius' fatherly embrace. "We’re gonna be just fine. Stick with me, love. I’ll keep you safe.”

~ Oblivion ~

Hermione gasped and sat up.

“Kitten? Hermione!” Sirius hurried over from where he’d wandered off too. “Are you okay?”

“Harry.”

“What?”

She looked up at him. “It doesn’t hurt. Harry- he’s-”

-The Veil shuddered.

Hermione gasped. Sirius pulled her to her feet. They looked around as the Veil vibrated and shook.

“What’s happening?” Sirius asked.

“Harry," Hermione breathed, eyes wide. "It’s Harry, it has to be.”

“What the hell is he doing? That bleeding idiot .”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

A soft clink reached their ears.

Hermione looked over and saw a small object on the ground. She and Sirius hurried over. Her eyes widened.

“A gemstone?”

“No,” she breathed. She bent down to examine it. “It’s the Resurrection Stone.”

“What?”

Magic rippled through the Veil. Hermione and Sirius turned as a tear opened in the veil. Darkness. A hand shot out.

Hermione felt the magic in her chest swell.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “What is he doing?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius replied. He gestured to the hand that was grasping out desperately. “Go!”

Hermione’s head whipped around. “What?”

“Take the hand. Take his hand!”

Hermione shook her head. “What about you? You take it! Harry needs you!”

“Not more than you.”

Hermione’s face crumpled. “I’m not leaving you here!” she cried.

Sirius grinned. He nodded. “Alright. Take his hand. You can pull me through too.”

Hermione nodded. She turned and grabbed Harry’s hand. His fingers tightened on her in a death grip. He wasn’t about to let go any time soon. 

Hermione turned to Sirius and held out her hand. “Sirius, come on.”

Sirius stepped forward before his eyes widened and he stopped suddenly. “Sweetheart, you’re glowing?”

Hermione looked down and back at Harry. Sure enough, a glow was emanating from their clasped hands. The glow began to spread across her body. She felt Harry’s magic in her chest grow stronger. 

“Give me your hand! Quickly!”

Sirius slowly shook his head as he stepped back. “I don’t think this is a two-person trip. You’ll be okay, love.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She waved her hand at him. “Sirius, give me your hand! Sirius !” she cried desperately.

He smiled softly, eyes shining with tears. “Give him my love, okay?”

“Sirius!”

~ The Department of Mysteries ~

Harry collapsed backward and fell to the floor as an unexpected but wholly welcome weight landed on top of him.

His chest swelled with warmth and magic.

Hermione.

He looked down and tears blurred his eyes at the sight of her familiar curls spread across his chest. He pushed them back to reveal her face.

“Hermione.”

She didn’t stir.

“Hermione?”

Harry set her down on the floor outside of the ritual circle. He checked her breathing and her pulse. All fine. 

Why wasn’t she waking up?

“Potter!” a voice hissed.

Harry’s head snapped up. Otis Spratt. The man’s eyes widened at the sight before him. Harry with Hermione at his side. Dolohov, sacrificed before the Veil. Dagda was nowhere to be seen.

Otis hurried towards him. “You bloody idiot. Come on. Before you get thrown in Azkaban.”

Harry stood and pulled Hermione into his arms. “The body.”

Otis waved his wand. The body sailed through the air and straight into the Veil. “What body?”

Harry grinned. “I’m going to take her home.”

“No. Take her to ours. I need to look her over. Take the emergency floo. Third door next to my office. Go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry hurried out of the Chamber of Death, fully trusting that Otis would scrub away the evidence of his dark ritual. He took the emergency floo straight to Lovage Lodge. 

“Otis?” Minerva's familiar voice called out.

“Professor!” Harry shouted as he hurried Hermione to the only sofa by the stairs. 

Minerva hurried down the stairs and froze on the landing at the sight of Hermione. She pressed a hand to her chest. 

“Lad?”

Harry looked up at her. “She won't wake up.”

Minerva swallowed thickly as she pulled herself together. She hurried the rest of the way down the stairs and pulled out her wand. 

“What did you do?” she hissed furiously as she cast spells over Hermione.

“Gambled with Death, maybe? Pissed off a god, certainly.”

Minerva choked. She turned and gave him a wide-eyed stare.

Harry stared right back. “I had to save her,” he confessed in a soft whisper. 

She pressed a hand to his cheek. “You're a good man, Harry Potter. Impossible and certifiably insane, but a good man.”

Otis slammed through the front door. “Is she awake?”

“Not yet. She's breathing and her heart is beating.”

“She's warm,” Minerva added as she tenderly brushed her fingers across Hermione's cheek.

Otis joined them and cast a few spells. He frowned at the immediate result he got. “This isn't necromancy.” He waved his wand and a few more spells began to cast colours over Hermione.

“I followed the tenants of a necromancy ritual,” Harry said, confused as he watched the magical lights dance over Hermione.

Otis glared at him. “I'm aware. I let you take papers from my office so you could see the risk wasn't worth it. Hermione would come back wrong – a shade of herself. You did it anyway.”

Harry's head shot up. “You let me steal from you?”

“As if you could get into my office without me knowing.”

Harry's mouth twisted. “I copied the papers detailing the security wards around the Department of Mysteries. Not the necromancy rituals, I've already got plenty of that from the Black Library and our Horocrux research.”

Otis narrowed his eyes. “That's how you got in? That would have taken time to dismantle.”

“I practised for a month or so." Harry shrugged.

“A month?” Otis scoffed disbelieving.

“Is she alright?” Minerva asked. She had taken a seat at Hermione's side and was gently stroking her hair. 

“She's alive. Properly alive. Doesn't make sense.”

“She was never dead,” Harry reasoned.

“It's the Veil of Death," Otis argued.

Harry shrugged and nodded. "Sure. It belongs to Death, but I don't think she was dead inside there. Or maybe Dagda did something?”

“Dagda?”

“The Potter god. He tried to stop me. I went to him first. Then I did it anyway and he helped me. I don't think he even knew it was possible. But once it was clear I could succeed, he helped. We should ask him.”

“I doubt he will be able to help. He's not supposed to interfere. He'll be in trouble with the others for this.” Oris raised an eyebrow at Harry. “You as well.”

“Why isn't she waking up?” Minerva asked.

“Her magic is recuperating, I think,” Harry said. He knelt down by Hermione's head and cupped her jaw. Their skin glowed upon contact.

Minerva gasped lightly. “Harry…”

“Merlin, boy," Otis murmured.

Harry brushed his thumb along the apple of Hermione's cheek. He watched the glow of their skin as they touched, fascinated. “Dagda did this. I'm not sure what it is but the feeling of Hermione in my magic is stronger now. It hurt when he did it, but I'm fine now.”

“I imagine it did hurt,” Otis scoffed. “Magic like that without consent is always painful. Come on, let's get her to the spare bedroom.”

“I've got her.”

Harry picked her up and headed upstairs. He set Hermione on the bed and tucked her under the covers. He stayed for a moment and tucked a lock of curls behind her ear. 

He revelled in the feeling of her magic pulsating like a beating heart right alongside his own. God, he had missed her. He felt, for the first time in months, like he could breathe again.

“You said, when we were on the run, that we were going to become dangerously codependent. I think it's safe to say now that you were right.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, ‘Mione. You're safe now.”

Harry headed back downstairs. Minerva and Otis had migrated to the kitchen where a kettle had been set on the stove and biscuits on the table. Harry picked up a chocolate one and shoved it in his mouth. He groaned, feeling how starved he was and most likely teetering on the edge of magically exhausted.

Minerva shot him an exasperated look before getting up and opening the fridge. Harry shoved another cookie in his mouth.

“How did you get in?” Otis asked.

Harry chewed and swallowed. “I told you-”

“Not the DoM. The room. The Chamber of Death. How did you open the door?”

“The Hallows," Harry replied with a shrug.

Otis narrowed his eyes. Minerva looked over, shocked.

Otis leaned forward. “I thought you got rid of those.”

“I did. But there's… a connection. I wasn't actually sure I'd be able to get in. It was the one thing I couldn't know for sure. But… during the battle that happened there when I was fifteen… I opened it then. I wasn't sure if it was a fluke or accident or what. But I assumed if I'd done it once…?”

Otis sighed heavily and shook his head. Minerva set a plate of food in front of him. “Eat, you're magically exhausted. Don't know how you're even awake still.”

“I'm right on the edge," he agreed. "I'll need to sleep soon. But I need to make sure all our bases are covered first. You're right. The ministry is going to be upset.”

“They're the least of our worries," Otis scoffed. "The gods are going to be displeased.”

“Dagda helped me.”

“Exactly. Death will be angry.”

Harry shook his head. “She was there.”

“What?” Minerva hissed from her seat.

“She grabbed me after I tossed the Resurrection Stone into the Veil.”

“You did what ?” Otis exclaimed, eyes wide and face turning red.

Harry ate a forkful of mashed potatoes and roast beef. He swallowed and sighed before explaining, “I needed to connect the ritual to Death. Dolohov was a sacrifice. A life for a life. But I needed it to be clear that I was appealing to Death herself. The Veil belongs to her, so it stands to reason that Hermione belongs to her too -- once she was inside the Veil. So I gave her something in return for taking Hermione back.”

“Death – she accepted your offer?” Minerva asked stutteringly.

“I mean… she allowed me to partially enter the Veil. I had an arm in and then Hermione grabbed my hand. I couldn't pull her out though, not until Dagda helped me.”

“He bonded you," Otis explained. "You and Hermione. Magically. That's not something that can normally be done without ample consent on either side. Even by a god.”

“I think maybe he could get away with it because we already were connected. I've always felt Hermione in my magic. I didn't realise until after the Horcrux was gone. But I can feel her. Dagda said he chose us for each other. Like a gift. And he apologised, because I would always feel her loss.”

Minerva rested a hand over his own. “That's what made you so fixated on bringing her back.”

He shrugged. “I would have done it either way. But I think it helped me stay focused, at least.” 

Otis nodded. “What's your plan now that she's back? Planning to go back to the Aurors?"

Harry made a face at the thought. He'd quit within a week of Hermione's death. He knew what he was planning was illegal and he didn't need detectives all around him, keeping eyes on him. Now, it felt dishonest to go back to his job when he'd engaged in such dark magic.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just... do nothing for a bit."

Otis scoffed. "No, you won't. You'll work for me."

Harry's eyes shot to Otis and his fork froze halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"You think I'm going to let the boy who defied a god and gambled with Death work anywhere else but in my department?"

"I don't have the credentials."

"I just said your credentials. Do you know how long it's been since we had someone master being able to open the door to the Chamber of Death?"

Harry shrugged.

"Since the Peverells. The Peverells."

"Can't you open it?" Harry wondered.

Otis shook his head. "I can open it through my position, but I haven't mastered it." His eyes flickered across Harry. "Well?"

Harry grinned. "Can I partner with Hermione?"

Otis rolled his eyes. "I suppose. If you two are magical matches," he raised and eyebrow at Harry who's grin only widened, "then I suppose we'll have to see what you two can get up to studying the Temple of Love."

Harry nodded his head and took another bite of food.

Minerva sighed and shook her head. "If you two are quite done. I do have a question, Harry? How were you planning to introduce Hermione to the Wizarding World again without getting in trouble for necromancy?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? I hadn't thought that far ahead yet.”

Otis sighed heavily. He turned to his wife. “I get it. I get it now.”

Minerva chuckled.

~ Days Later ~

Hermione’s eyes slowly opened. She stretched and yawned as she slowly came awake. Her first indication that something was wrong was the fact that her bed was too small.

Hermione blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling. She shot upright in bed and looked around frantically. Her wand was missing. She was wearing her work robes.

Hermione threw back the covers and quietly stepped to the door. She tried the handle. Unlocked.

She silently opened the door and slipped into the hallway. In front of her was another door and right beside it was a Wizarding photo of Minerva McGonagall and Otis Spratt at their wedding.

Hermione blinked and looked around again. The floral wallpaper was the same as downstairs. The wood panelling and flooring were the same warm brown she was used to when she visited. 

Hermione had never been upstairs before. Had she slept over? Hermione rubbed her eyes. She couldn't remember. Her wand was missing and so were some of her memories. 

She felt a warmth in her chest burning bright and hot. Harry. His presence in her magic was stronger than ever. She could feel that he was close by. Downstairs.

Hermione headed for the stairwell and made her way down. From the landing, she spied Otis, Harry, Ron, and Percy of all people. They were all hunched over the kitchen table together, clearly having some sort of serious discussion. Minerva was nowhere to be found.

“That won't work,” Percy said with a shake of his head. “The Ministry will snoop that out in a second. I still think our best bet is with the magical adoption.”

“That's asking a lot,” Ron replied. “Hermione won't like it. She takes a lot of pride in being muggle-born.”

“Well, we have to do something. Because hoping for the best ,” he said scathingly with a pointed look at Harry, “isn't an option.”

“It's worked in the past,” Harry replied meekly as he ran a hand through his hair.

The action was so achingly familiar. Tears burned Hermione’s eyes. She stumbled down the last of the steps, suddenly desperate to be with her loved ones.

“Harry,” she gasped.

Heads turned. Harry's eyes widened and a huge smile spread across his face. 

“Hermione!” 

Harry was across the room in a second. He pulled Hermione into his arms and held her tight. Hermione felt a burst of sadness and happiness in equal measure burst from her chest. It was eerily similar to what she'd felt when Harry sprang back to life at the Battle of Hogwarts. She wasn't sure why she was feeling it, but it had her grasping the front of his robes and holding on for dear life as she cried.

Harry tenderly cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Hey, hey. It's okay. You're okay.”

“What happened?” she cried.

Harry's eyes flickered. “You don't remember?”

She shook her head.

“What's the last thing you do remember?”

“I- I'm not sure. It's sort of fuzzy.”

He stroked the side of her face. “That's okay. You feel okay otherwise?”

She nodded.

He moved to step back and Hermione felt a flare of panic. She pulled him closer, eyes wide and frantic.

“Whoa. Hey. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere," he promised as he wrapped his arms around her.

She nodded but didn't release her death grip on his robes. She pressed her face into his chest as her shoulders shook. She felt Harry turn and she knew he was saying something to the others, but she couldn't hear anything past the blood rushing in her ears and the pounding of her heart.

A familiar presence stepped up beside them. Hermione looked up and saw Ron's familiar face.

“Hey,” Ron greeted softly and Hermione burst into sobs. “Oh, shite.” 

Harry ran his hands up and down Hermione's back. "It's okay. I promise, everything is okay. You're safe," he whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Let's get her back to bed," Ron whispered loudly.

"I've got her," a feminine voice stated.

Hermione's head shot up and she felt relief at the sight of Minerva McGonagall. Minerva smiled lovingly as she joined them.

"Hello, love."

"Hi," Hermione choked out past her tears.

"I've got some clothes for you. But perhaps a warm bath first? Yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"I can take her up," Harry offered with his arms still firmly wrapped around her.

Minerva raised her eyebrows at Harry. "Whatever you do in the privacy of your own home is your business, Harry Potter. But you will not be bathing Hermione in my house."

Harry stuttered out a denial.

"Nor will there be any sort of funny business." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied meekly.

"Harry, dear, you've graduated. You may call me Minerva now."

He grinned. "Minnie?"

Minerva scoffed. "You're cheeky when you're planning to break rules. Go plan your law-breaking in Otis' office."

She gently extricated Hermione from Harry's arms. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath when his hands left her side. But Minerva's presence was warm and comforting in a familiar way that also calmed Hermione. She hugged the older woman tightly. 

Minerva pressed a loving kiss to the top of Hermione's head. 

"Come now, dear. Let's get you in a bath."

~ That Night ~

Harry snuck into her room in the middle of the night. Hermione smiled when she saw him tip-toe across the floor to her.

“You're not supposed to be here,” she teased, voice soft in the dead of night.

He shot her an amused look. “I won't tell if you won't.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to get me in trouble, Harry Potter?”

“Always," he replied with a charming grin.

She laughed under her breath and scooted back on the tiny twin bed. She pulled back the covers and Harry slipped into the bed beside her. 

They lay on their sides, noses almost touching with how close they had to stay. Neither complained. Their magic burned warmly between them. Hermione had never felt it so strong before. She could feel Harry's magic wrapped tightly around her. She had never felt so safe or loved.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“ Harry .”

He didn't answer right away.

“Ron brought me dinner. He told me he was worried about you. He didn't know what would happen if you didn't get me back. I know I was in the Veil. I know you all thought I was gone for good. And I know you did something . So what did you do?”

“I pissed off a god.”

Her eyes widened.

He shrugged a shoulder. “Pretty sure he’s not mad at me anymore. He helped me get you out.”

“A god ?”

“The Potter family god, Dagda. He said- he implied…”

“What?”

“That we were magical matches.”

Her brows rose. “Soulmates? He said that?”

“He didn’t use the words. But he said he chose us for one another. It was meant to be a gift. But because you were gone, that meant all I could feel was your absence. Pain. He said it would never go away.”

“I felt it too.”

Harry's eyes widened. "You did? You remember?”

“Not- no. But I can feel your warmth and magic and I feel… relief. Like it was missing. I think I could feel it too.” She poked his side under the blankets. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Harry's eyes flickered across her face. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You never could, Harry.”

“I ritually sacrificed Antonin Dolohov in a dark ritual to bring you back from the dead.”

Hermione stared at him as she took in that wealth of information. Harry had killed for her. That wasn’t new. They’d killed in the war. This was different though. Harry had murdered for her.

“Okay,” she finally said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Okay," she agreed. "Do you feel different?”

“Different?” he asked with a confused frown.

“You performed necromancy, Harry.”

He raised his eyebrows again. “Did I? I'm not so sure.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I was in the Veil.”

“Yes. But we have no proof that it kills you, just that you can't come back from it. As good as dead, I suppose, but doesn't mean you actually are dead on the other side. And you can't remember.”

“No,” she agreed. “Not really.”

“Not really?” he pressed.

“I feel things. Worry. Loss. Overjoyed that I'm here with all of you. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

“When I died, I went to that In-between place. I came back from it. I wonder if the Veil is a similar place?"

She felt a chill run through her. “No. No, it's not. Maybe not death entirely, but it's not… not like that.”

Harry studied her for a long moment. “Right. Otis agrees that it's not necromancy. My magic hasn't been damaged. Not yet, at least. It can take time for their to be consequences of dark magic.”

"But you did it anyway," she whispered.

Harry stared deeply into her eyes. "I have no regrets. Not a single one."

Hermione swallowed thickly. “So, now we just find a way to keep this all away from the ministry.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Percy mentioned an adoption?”

Harry’s eyes flickered. “Yeah. A blood adoption. But that’s pretty extreme. You wouldn’t really be you anymore. Or, well, you would, but you’d also be related to whoever adopted you. You’re old enough, your magic settled enough, that you won’t appear any different. But that just causes more issues.”

“I have to already look like whoever adopts me.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “At least a little bit. Otherwise, it won’t be believable.”

“Min and Otis are too old.”

“Unfortunately," he agreed with a single nod. "Minnie already offered, but it just wouldn’t make sense. Mrs. Weasley would do it too, but you clearly aren’t a Weasley.”

“It would just raise eyebrows.”

“Exactly.”

“Who else is there?”

Harry raised a hand to her cheek. “I’ll figure it out. You need your rest.”

“Will you stay?”

He nodded.

Hermione snuggled closer. Harry shifted to lie on his back and Hermione pillowed her head on his chest. 

“Harry?” she whispered into the night.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~ In the Morning ~

The sun woke Hermione up gradually. She pressed her nose into Harry's shoulder and felt his fingers tighten on her side. She hummed and pressed her body close to his own. Harry turned his head and brushed his lips across the crown of her head.

"Morning," he whispered, voice deep with sleep.

Hermione hummed again in greeting as looked up at him. He smiled at her, sleep rumbled and bathed in the early morning light. He raised a hand and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She curled her fingers around the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. Harry went willingly and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

Hermione made a face as she turned her head away. Harry laughed and pulled back. He grabbed his wand and cast a few teeth cleaning charms on both of them. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth again.

“Better?” he asked against her lips.

Hermione hummed happily. She held Harry’s face close and deepened the kiss. Harry shifted forward and slipped a knee between her legs. Hermione moved fully onto her back and welcomed Harry's weight on top of her. This wasn't something they'd done much of or at any rate of frequency. Where had the rush been? Why would they rush through something they had the rest of their lives for?

Now, back from the dead and magically bonded, Hermione couldn't but think they still didn't have a thing to rush for. Harry broke the kiss to press his face into her neck. They lied in bed together, circled in each other's arms, and breathed together. 

There was a knock at the door. Harry and Hermione tensed, eyes wide as Minerva’s voice called out, “Hermione? Are you awake?”

The handle turned.

“Changing!” Hermione shouted. “I’m changing!”

The door halted, only open a crack. Hermione held her breath.

“Breakfast is up. Will you be long?” her old professor asked.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Hermione replied, voice higher than normal.

The door closed again and the two of them sagged with relief.

“I’m gonna apparate outside and pretend like I went for a walk.”

Hermione nodded. “Good plan.”

Harry got up and looked around for his shoes. Hermione got out of bed after him. He caught her elbow before she could grab her things to change.

“Hey.”

Hermione turned to him and smiled into the soft kiss he pressed against her mouth. Harry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. When the kiss broke, he pressed his face into her neck and inhaled deeply. Hermione could feel the relief coming off of him. She wondered if perhaps the trauma of her dying in the first place would be the consequence in Harry's magic. She had a sinking feeling that he would never get over it.

Harry pulled back and smiled at her. “See you in a minute.”

“See you.”

Harry apparated away. 

Hermione quickly changed into an outfit from her beaded bag. It had been sitting on the dresser when she went to bed last night. She felt warm at the thought that Harry had kept it. her wand was fully gone. Into the Veil with her, they'd said. They would have to take her to get a wand once the world knew about her.

Hermione headed downstairs and was met with an amused-looking Otis and an exasperated-looking Minerva.

“Good morning.”

“Apparently,” Otis mumbled.

Minerva scowled at him. “Come get breakfast, lass.”

Hermione joined her old professor at the stove and put together a plate for herself. She was just sitting down to eat when Harry arrived. 

“Morning! Sorry, stepped out for a walk.”

“Breakfast is up.”

Harry gathered a plate and took the seat next to Hermione. 

“How did you sleep?” Minerva asked.

“Good,” Harry replied and took a bite of his eggs.

“That’s surprising. That twin bed is far too small for two people.”

Harry and Hermione froze. They stared up at Minerva. She stared back over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip of tea.

“Nothing happened!” Hermione exclaimed at the same time Harry said, “It was harmless!”

“You said no funny business,” Harry continued. “There was no funny business.”

Minerva continued to sip her tea.

“We kissed!” Hermione revealed.

Harry's head shot around to her. “Hermione!”

“We did!” She turned back to Minerva. “But that was it. I swear! It was just a kiss.”

Harry dropped his face into his hand as he sighed deeply.

A long moment of silence passed. Then Otis chuckled into his coffee mug. Minerva lowered her teacup to reveal a grin that could only be described as the cat that caught the canary.

Harry fell back in his seat. “I think I just lost ten years off my life.”

“Serves you right,” Minerva returned.

Hermione leaned forward and pressed her burning hot face into her hands. “We never got caught at school snogging anyone, but of course it would happen at our professor’s house .”

Minerva chuckled as she turned to her breakfast. “Eat up, lass. Your food will get cold.”

Hermione shook her head and stood up from the table. “I need a cup of tea after that. A large one.”

Harry turned back to his breakfast as Hermione fixed her tea. 

“I had a thought about the adoption last night.”

“Oh?” Otis looked up from his plate. “Have someone in mind?”

“What about Andromeda? She’s young enough to have another child. We could argue Hermione was home-schooled because of the war. And she’s a Black so-”

Black .

Hermione blinked slowly. The world tilted.

Black .

“Sirius,” Hermione whispered as her teacup slipped from her fingers.

The teacup shattered against the tile and tea splashed across the floor.

“Hermione!”

Harry was at her side in a second. Minerva waved the mess away with a swish of her wand. 

“Harry!” Hermione gasped.

He grabbed her arms. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Sirius!”

He frowned. “What?”

“Sirius was there! I was with Sirius!”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“He was-” she gasped, “-he was supposed to take my hand. He didn’t take my hand.”

“Hermione, what’re you-”

“-I tried to save him,” she cried. “I tried.”

“Hey,” he soothed as he cupped her cheek. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head. “We have to get him. We have to get him out!”

“Hermione, I-”

“-We have to. Harry, we can’t leave him there. It’s awful.”

Harry’s expression turned dark at that. “What do you mean? Do you remember it now?”

Hermione swallowed thickly. “I- It’s nothing,” she whispered. “It’s just nothing… forever. We need to save him.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment. “Okay.”

“ Harry ,” Otis scolded.

He looked over at the two older magicals. Otis clearly disapproved, but Minerva just looked worried.

“I understand what I did the first time was hard enough for you. We can leave, if you like. But we’re doing this.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Minerva decided.

Otis threw his hands into the air. “How? How will you do this?”

“I can sacrifice the Elder Wand. And… and another Death Eater.” He nodded. “I can do that.”

“That’s the simple part,” Otis seethed. “Don’t you remember? You almost couldn’t bring Hermione through. Dagda did that. He helped you. And he had to form a magical connection between you two. What connection do you have to Sirius Black?”

“He’s my godfather!” Harry snapped.

“That’s not good enough!” Otis snapped back. “You will die. If you don’t have a connection, if you don’t have the assistance of a god, you will fail and die. What good will you do Hermione if you’re dead?”

Harry’s face crumpled. 

“The Black family,” Hermione asked slowly, “do they have a god like the Potters?”

Otis’ eyes snapped to Hermione. “Yes,” he replied cautiously. 

“Queen Medb,” Harry supplied, eyes focused intently on Hermione. “She’s a warrior queen and quite capricious. I didn’t ask for her help because I assumed I’d have a better shot with Dagda. But there’s a summoning ritual in the Black Grimoire.”

“And she gave the Blacks their magic.”

He shrugged. “That’s the way it works, apparently.”

“What’re you thinking, Hermione?” Minerva asked.

“I’m thinking that if a godfather isn’t a good enough connection… what about a father?” Harry opened his mouth and Hermione quickly added, “To me ?”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Kill two birds with one stone. Sirius comes back – but not Sirius, a relative of the Blacks long lost or something. And me – his daughter.”

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Otis stated.

“So it’ll probably work like a charm,” Minerva finished. “But the blood adoption would need to happen before , wouldn’t it?”

“I imagine Queen Medb could make something like that work,” Hermione reasoned. “If she created their magic and she’s a goddess? I mean, it’d be a simple thing for her to do.”

“But would she agree to such a request?” Otis asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied immediately. “Dagda… he fought me every step of the way because he said if I died, the House of Potter would be lost. Old magical families, when we are gone for good, magic weakens.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know. But he didn’t want it to happen. There are hardly any Blacks alive now. And most of them that are still alive have been absorbed into other magical families. I think Andromeda is the only Black left. Maybe Teddy. I’m not sure. I think Queen Medb would be happy to get a Black back.”

“And a daughter to boot,” Otis agreed.

Hermione smiled. “This will work. I know it will.” She turned back to Harry and found him staring off into the middle distance where the hallway leading to Otis’ home office resided. “Harry?”

“I think our conversation has earned us some interest.”

“What d’you mean?”

“When I summoned Dagda, I didn’t close the ritual properly. He’s lingering around, keeping an eye on me.”

“He heard?” she whispered as she stepped closer to him. She slipped her hand into his and was immediately comforted by the warmth of his magic.

He slowly turned away from the hallway to meet her gaze. “I think it’s safe to say, yes.”

“Will he stop us?”

“Only if Queen Medb doesn’t agree. But I think it’s in all of our best interests that they do. If we can’t get proper cover for you, then the ministry will come knocking.”

“Andromeda is still an option,” Otis advised.

Hermione shook her head. “Not with Sirius still lost.” She turned to Harry. “When can we summon her?”

“The next full moon. We’ve got time to prepare first.”

Hermione nodded. “Okay.”

~ The Full Moon ~

They summoned Queen Medb in the basement of Grimmauld Place. Off the old kitchen was an old storage room. They'd cleared it out and created their own ritual space. For now, the pentacle was drawn in coal, but Harry thought it might be a good idea to engrave it. He had a feeling that Dagda and Queen Medb would be active in their lives. He could feel Dagda round, staving off whatever infection his dark ritual should have caused in his magic. He had a feeling Dagda would be asking a favour of him in return of that gesture. Harry couldn't find it in himself to worry about it.

Hermione was back. She was alive.

He looked over at her on the outside of the ritual circle in a pretty black dress she'd worn for the occasion. Whatever the gods would ask of him, they would handle together. He had her at his side and soon, he would have his godfather too.

Harry turned to Queen Medb. “Have you spoken with Dagda?”

The goddess tilted her head consideringly. She had long, billowing black hair and sharp silver eyes. She was armed to the teeth and looked ready for battle at a moment's notice.

“I have," she confirmed in a drawling voice.

“Then you know what we plan to do.”

Queen Medb turned to Hermione and extended a hand. “Step into the circle, daughter. I will turn your blood and then we will go catch ourselves a little dog star.”

Harry grinned as Hermione stepped into the ritual circle.

THE END