Chapter 1

Harry Potter looked at the stars above. He spotted Mars, gleaming brightly amongst the other stars, which looked like dull pinpricks in comparison. A fleeting image of the centaur Firenze flickered through his head, saying "Mars is unusually bright tonight." He couldn't help but break into a grin at the memory.

A light flickered on from the house behind him, bathing him in a pool of yellowish light. Harry squinted at the sudden brightness, and twisted around to see who had interrupted his peaceful night. Above him loomed a quaint cottage, once completely demolished but now repaired and gleaming. In fact, it was the very house Harry's parents had lived in before they had been murdered, wrecking the house in the process. A little magic here and there, however, had it back to its original pristine state. In the window where the light flowed from was a dark figure, silhouetted against the brightness. As he looked closer, Harry realized it was Hermione. She stood huddled in her bath robes, looking at him adoringly. He quickly hurried back to the house.

"Hello, Harry," she said quietly as he entered, shutting the door behind him a softly as possible.

"Hey, Hermione," he said, pulling her into his arms and feeling a rush of affection as she wrapped herself around him. Harry laid his cheek on her bushy hair and they remained there for a while, listening to the sound of each other's breathing. Eventually Harry pulled away and brushed curls out of Hermione's face.

"It's late," she said, checking a clock and frowning. "We ought to get to bed, we're setting a bad example for the kids." Harry laughed and took her hand, guiding her up the stairs. He enjoyed the feeling of her soft hands and slender fingers entwined in his. With a glance back, he could see Hermione's face softly glowing in the light, calm and tired- looking.

Once they entered the bedroom, however, Hermione seemed to change at once. She closed the door with a soft click, then leaned against it, biting her lip with a smoldering expression on her face. Slowly, she untied the robe and let it slip to the floor, revealing lacy lingerie underneath. Harry could feel hunger stirring deep inside as he took in her soft curves and smooth skin.

She seemed to drift towards him, as if he were in a dream. Soon, she had reached him, pressing up against him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He could feel her perfect breasts against his body, her hands sliding down his back and moving quickly to his chest, removing his shirt in one flourish. His muscles rippled in anticipation, and when he could take it no longer, he threw her on the bed and pressed his mouth to hers.

The kiss was gentle, sweet, but quickly became much more intense as they progressed. She let out soft moans and gasps every once in a while, and he gripped her hips firmly. Hermione was his, and only his.

In the morning, Harry woke and found himself sore and squinted against the glaring light of the sun. The smell of bacon wafted gently up the stairs and he eagerly pushed out of bed, his stomach rumbling. The smell was coming from the kitchen, but Harry sat instead next to Hermione at the dining room table, where she held a coffee and was examining the newspaper.

"Ugh, that Skeeter woman is absolutely dreadful," scoffed Hermione, casting aside the Daily Prophet with disgust.

"She's still alive?" Harry asked, incredulously. Hermione had opened her mouth to reply, a look of exasperation on her face, when the door burst open. Two very hyper children tumbled into the room.

"Dad!" Cried the oldest of the two, jumping across the room and practically falling over with excitement. "Dad, you'll never guess what happened!"

"What is it James?" asked Hermione, still looking quite shocked after the dramatic and unexpected entrance of the children.

"I did it! I did magic! I got really mad at Rose (he gestured to the girl behind him) and that ugly vase just flew off the table and smashed into the wall!" Harry was bursting with pride, happy at his son's excitement. Hermione, however looked skeptical. "She didn't get hurt or anything," James added quickly, glimpsing the expression on his mother's face.

"The ugly vase... You mean the one Uncle Ron gave us for Christmas?" Hermione asked. James, staring at the floor, nodded sheepishly. Hermione looked like she was about to scold him, but thought better of it and simply said, "Ah, well. Ron does have a poor taste in home decorating. It was pretty ugly." James looked up, his eyes sparkling.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Harry said, and the two kids quickly scrambled up in their chairs, glancing at the kitchen eagerly. Harry pulled over the copy of the Daily Prophet to see what business Rita was sticking her unwelcome nose into now. He saw the headline, flashing menacingly with the words THE MINISTER'S SECRET LIFE, with a subtitle that read The covered up past of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry skimmed through it briefly. Mostly it was rubbish about Kingsley's dabbling in the Dark Arts as a teenager, contacts he still had with dark wizards, and how he might have aided Voldemort in rising to power. The name still sent a stab of emotion through Harry, comprised of anger, pain, and fear. Struggling to keep his cool, Harry scoffed just as Hermione did and pushed the paper back towards her.

The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open, and a line of house-elves carrying platefuls of delicious food tottered into the dining room.

"Good morning, Harry Potter, sir," squeaked Winky, passing with toast and jam, which she set by Hermione. Harry smiled in greeting.

"Some bacon for you, Master Harry?" croaked a familiar voice and he turned to see Kreacher, eagerly holding up a plate full of the sizzling meat.

"Thanks, Kreacher," he said, taking the plate from the elf, who bowed and returned to the kitchens.

"I still don't see why we need house-elfs," frowned Hermione, looking disapprovingly at the eager creatures, setting plates of food around the table. Harry sighed.

"Come on Hermione, not this again," he groaned.

"I am perfectly capable of cooking and cleaning on my own!" she said loudly, causing the remaining elves to look at her scathingly and leave the room, offended. "These poor creatures need to be free," she added, lowering her voice.

"But Mom, don't you see? They like working for wizards. It's their life purpose," whined James. Hermione turned around with a look of fury on her face and Harry buried himself once more in the newspaper to remove himself from the conversation.