Chapter 1 - For the ones we love

Harry grunted heavily as his back slammed against the wall, only the thin membrane of the Cloak he still wore about his shoulders providing any padding, a mere second before the grunt became a moan as those lips crashed against his own with a fierceness he'd never felt before. Gasping at the air when they finally released him, he was totally unprepared for the echoing slap that met his left cheek, displacing the mighty grin he had been wearing.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! Don't you EVER do that to me again!" Hermione screamed at him, mere inches from his reddening face.

"I'm sorry Hermione. It was the only way." He replied, looking a well dressed down little child.

He tried to look innocent, but his childish grin kept forcing its way to the front. He was alive, despite all the odds. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since Voldemort had killed him in the forest. And she was alive. His heart wasn't big enough to hold all the love that was surging through him at that moment. The only way to take it was to smile.

He knew she was furious with him for sneaking off to die, but it was his destiny. She'd been studying for months for a way to remove the Horcrux from his head and in one wand movement, Voldemort had done it for her.

She looked ready to erupt at him as chaos bellowed from the Great Hall behind them. Harry's face hardened once more as he realized he still had one more job to do. As their eyes met again she understood. They would finish this later. Side by side they burst into the hall searching the battling groups for their target.

Voldemort was in the centre of the hall, back to back with Bellatrix, as they attacked all who drew near. Slughorn, Kingsley and McGonagall were in a pitched battle with Voldemort as the remaining Weasleys duelled Bellatrix. Killing curses were flying dangerously in all directions from the centre of the circle as the two maniacs cackled at those insects buzzing about them.

Harry rushed toward the group, knowing he had to intervene before one of the stray curses ended another of his friends. He looked a strange sight charging across the hall, half there, half not as his Invisibility Cloak surged around him. The assembled crowds seemed to part before him as he approached allowing him to focus on the red eyes that now met his own.

He was ready to act as he saw Voldemort raise his wand and cast in his direction. What he had failed to see was Bellatrix's wand poking up under her master's other arm.

"HARRY!" Came the scream as his body was tackled aside.

Voldemort's green curse whizzed just above his head as he hit the floor. But the second curse did not. It had hit something much closer to home. Time stopped for him as he looked into the vacant eyes of his best friend now splayed beneath him. Bellatrix's curse had caught her as they fell. She was dead.

Harry felt the dreaded thump of his own heart in his clutching chest as he looked up at the terrible pair leering down at him.

No one would ever forget the sound that left his throat at that moment. Wild magical energy erupted across the entire hall, bringing every fight to a sudden halt. Words cannot describe the anger, hate and longing that sound encompassed. His wand lost in the fall Harry glared at Voldemort as he grinned back, moving his wand once more.

Resting back on his knees, Harry's hand lifted to point palm first at the bitch who had taken his heart. Not a sound left Harry's mouth as Bella was cast at amazing speed across the hall, echoing sickly as her body crushed against the stonework. Everyone in the hall flinched at the sound her body made as it peeled slowly from the wall and collapsed to the floor.

Voldemort's eyes went wide with fear and anger as he watched this unfold. His mouth already forming the deadly killing curse as the Elder Wand flew from his hand. He watched helplessly as it soared into his enemies outstretched right palm. He trembled with fear now as Harry raised his left hand and slowly clenched it into a fist.

The second most terrifying scream anyone in that room had ever heard rang out through the hall as Voldemort's entire body pulled in on itself. His arms shortened, bones cracking loudly. His body didn't move from its position in the air as his legs pulled up underneath him. Every cell in his body was being compressed together with tremendous force, pushing the air from his lungs in the most horrifying death rattle. Blood gushed from his ripping and tearing body flowing onto the destroyed floor beneath him as he finally stopped twitching. Yet still, his body continued to crush in on itself.

The hate in Harry's eyes was not yet sated. The fingernails on his hand were digging painfully into his palm but he wasn't finished. The wild untamed magic pouring through him screamed for this justice. The blackened cloak slipped off the trembling form still held in the air. It was now the size of a pitiful red pea. Harry released his hand and it fell to the floor, so small it made no sound in the silent hall as it hit the folds of the cloak that had once enwrapped it.

Every eye was on Harry as he knelt there, blood flowing from the wounds he'd inflicted on his own hand. He just stared into the dead eyes of his friend. After what felt like an eon, he stretched forward his right hand, to close her eyes when he froze. He still held the Elder Wand.

He knew there was no spell that could revive the dead. No matter how powerful the wand, but something else screamed out in his mind, and in that moment, his course was set.

He tucked the wand into his pocket and slid his hands under Hermione's still body. He hadn't held her this close in days. Not since they left Shell Cottage on their foolish heist. Lifting her with him he stood and without a word to anyone, he disapparated the entire castle shuddering at his departure.

A moment later he reappeared. The rising sun trickled light in through the gathered branches. The entire scene changed so much from when he last stood here, no more than an hour before. Careful of the limp figure in his arms, Harry stooped to one knee. Resting Hermione on his leg he stretched out his fingers into the mossy ground. All those Death Eaters that had thundered through here and no one had seen.

The gold band slipped over his third finger and as he raised his hand once more fell to rest at the base of the ring finger of his right hand. He used that hand to pull the hood of the cloak fully over his face as he stood, once more hugging the lifeless body to his chest. His plan was crazy and doomed to fail, but it was the only thing keeping him going. The only thing that could make sense in this world now she wasn't in it.

ϟ

Chaos.

It was the only word that accurately described what Croaker was seeing. People were running everywhere, with seemingly no purpose. The first survivors of the battle they now knew had taken place at Hogwarts overnight had brought such news. Most felt compelled to celebrate.

He couldn't understand it. His mind was fixed on a different task, one that Kingsley had handed him. Quite literally. He was still struggling to determine whether he'd been having him on. The small angry ball of flesh in his hand couldn't possibly be the remains of Voldemort.

And the fanciful story about where it had come from. He'd watched for years as others in the Ministry flipped back and forth in their assessment and opinion of Harry Potter. Croaker had kept a more subdued eye. The boy had talent, that was clear to anyone with half a brain. But to reduce the most powerful Dark Lord in years to a ball of flesh? And wandlessly if Shacklebolt was to be believed.

He'd long planned to tempt the young wizard to his department, believing it was where he would be best utilized. But now he was wondering if he might not be better luring him here for study.

His thoughts were derailed once more as the door above him shattered open. As the dust settled from the violent action a body seemed to float into the room. Croaker had always found himself to be a logical man, but now he was once more struggling to believe what his senses were showing him.

If it hadn't been for the dust from the broken door, he might not have figured it out. It gathered about what must have been a mighty powerful invisibility cloak as someone carried this body into the chamber.

"Oi. The hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Step aside." A voice replied as the figures swept past him down the stone benches.

"Now see here. You can't just come barging in here."

The speed with which the figure turned had the cloak swishing out about him, revealing who was underneath. Croaker fell silent as he saw the eyes of Harry Potter glaring into his own for a moment before the cloak fell still once more. Even hidden by its shimmering fabric, he could still feel the heat of that gaze boring into his soul.

"Apologies, Mr Potter." Croaker meekly replied, earning his name.

The intense stare moved on as the body once more turned away from him, continuing to the large dais below. He could hear rushing footsteps approaching above, but Croaker couldn't tear his eyes away as the body moved toward the archway.

Harry stopped right at the tattered curtain, looking through it as though willing to see beyond the veil. A shudder passed through him as he, at last, heard the whispering he had expected from the moment he entered the room. But it was different this time. Louder, more chaotic. As though a million voices were all crying out at once.

"Hello love."

Recognizing that voice, Harry tore his eyes from the veil and looked upon the body he held. Hermione looked just as she had in the Great Hall. Unmoving. Lifeless.

"I'm in here, Harry." The voice giggled.

Harry's heart broke and swelled at the same moment. She was talking to him from inside the Veil.

"Hermione…" His voice broke as he stepped closer to the wavering fabric.

"HARRY, NO!" A deep voice roared from somewhere behind him.

Pulling his wand, Harry ignored it. He clutched Hermione's body to himself, taking one last longing look at the face of the woman he had loved more deeply than any other. He pressed his lips to her cool forehead, took a deep breath; and stepped into the Veil.

ϟ

Four sets of hands grabbed him. Passing him back and forth, from one to the next. Harry had never felt more out of sorts in his life. The whispering was still incessant. But now it was like they were screaming at him.

"Harry! What were you thinking?"

"Bloody bravest thing I've ever seen."

"How I've missed you, sweet boy."

"Once today wasn't enough for you, eh?"

"Had to one-up me, again did you?"

His eyes were burning as the brightness pressed in on him, more forcefully than all the grasping hands. Suddenly, all the hands disappeared and a vice-like force enwrapped him from head to toe. A familiar warmth spread throughout his body as it enveloped him. Realization pushed hard against the light preventing him from seeing, but he knew what he was feeling.

"Hermione?"

The force wrapped around him shuddered as if laughing. "Yes."

"Lady-killer." Came one of the prior voices.

"Like father, like son."

Another warmth suddenly held Harry, and the shining brightness finally pulled back from his aching eyes. He could feel Hermione's arms holding him tightly. Smell her hair as it tickled his face. And what he suddenly realised were his mother's arms holding the two of them.

"I'm so very proud of you Harry," Lily whispered in his ear.

As the two witches pulled gently back from him, Harry could see the Marauders arrayed behind them. But this was no ghostly remnant as they had been in the forest. They were real. He could touch them. Or he would if he ever planned to let go of the witch still mostly coiled about his body.

"Hermione." He whispered, lifting her face to his own. Her cheeks were drenched with tears, but her eyes glowed with that familiar presence that he'd missed so much since the Great Hall. "Hi."

"Hi."

ϟ

"What the fuck Croaker!?" Kingsley Shacklebolt screamed. "You just let Harry Fucking Potter WALK into the Veil?"

"I think that you'll find that nobody lets Harry Potter do anything." Croaker yelled turning on his friend. "And I'd pay good money for anyone to have tried stopping that man doing what he just did."

"He wasn't a man. He was just a boy. A boy who'd just seen his best friend murdered in front of his eyes!"

"What just walked through this room was no boy, Shacklebolt. I've never felt anything like that before. And you know full well some of the shit I have seen."

A veritable army of people was now crowding about the broken door frame trying to overhear the conversation. They'd seen a cloaked figure practically storm the Ministry and knock aside anyone who dared to step in its way. It had moved with almost singular purpose, not stopping to open any doors as they just burst open or apart at its approach. Now they were hearing that it was Harry Potter, the boy who'd just defeated Voldemort. And he'd stepped willingly into the Veil of Death.

"Fuck me," Kingsley swore. "There is going to be hell to pay when this gets out. We just killed our saviour. And with this lot," he indicated over his shoulder "it'll get out right quick."

Croaker ignored the tall wizard and just descended the last few levels down to the dais. He'd spent many hours over many years studying the subject of this room. He knew that once one passed through the Veil, they did not return. Kingsley was right. In the eyes of the world, they may not have said the words, but they'd sure pointed the wand. They had handed Harry the very tool with which he had killed himself.

He stared at the fluttering fabric of the Veil. It was like it was celebrating its new addition. He'd never seen it so active before. But the most disconcerting factor was that apart from the voices in the hallway above, the room was silent. In all the times he'd been in this room, he'd never not heard voices coming from the archway.

He'd even heard the clear voice speaking before Harry had stepped through. He didn't recognize it, but he was sure that Potter had. It had been what made him take that final step. And from the moment that the fabric had swung back through the archway, the voices had completely disappeared.

Croaker looked at the small ball of flesh he still held, clutched in his right hand. He was disappointed. They'd failed the boy. Thrown him against this massive evil, held him there as a shield. And then failed him when he had given everything they'd ever asked. And yet the evil bastard was here, on this side, while the saviour was gone, body and soul.

The disgust surged inside him at what he held. After what he'd just seen, he could believe the fanciful story now. And he wanted nothing to do with the remains. He took two steps toward the Veil and hurled the small bundle straight through it, with every ounce of strength he had.

And proceeded to fall flat on his ass as someone stepped back out of the Veil as it swung once more back through the stone archway.

"Fuck me!" he whispered.

Standing above him, with his hand outstretched, was Harry Potter.

"Need a hand?"

"Always such a gentleman." Came the voice from behind the young man. "He'll just keep standing there if you don't take it."

Croaker couldn't have moved in that instant if he'd tried. The other voice was coming from the girl he'd stepped into the Veil with. The very much dead girl. And yet now she was standing there smiling at him.

Harry stepped forward and grasped Croaker about the shoulders, lifting him to his feet like a child.

"Thanks for the help." Harry grinned, brushing the dust from Croaker's clothes. "But if you don't mind, I've somewhere to be right now.

He took a single step back, grabbed the girls hand, and disapparated.

"Fuck me!" Croaker whispered once more. The paperwork on this was going to be a nightmare.

ϟ

Hermione honestly couldn't believe it. It was all too much. It had to be a dream. She was sitting on a private plane, snuggled up to her husband on her way to Australia. Not twenty-four hours ago she was dead. She'd felt the curse hit. She knew she was dead. She'd even had a delightful conversation with her grandfather while there. And then he'd stepped in.

Just stepped into her new world and thrown it just as out of whack as he had in the previous one. It had taken her a moment to believe he was really there before she had hurled herself into his arms. It was where she had belonged. From the day they had met it was always where she would belong.

And finally getting to meet his parents. It had been overwhelming. If she weren't already dead, she might have soon been with some of the things they were saying. But only one was of any real importance. They approved of her. Even with Sirius casting his stupid jibes at us. He was the one who's lucky he's dead.

Pulling her thoughts back Hermione glanced at Harry. He finally looked his age. The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and now he could just be Harry. Her Harry. She could still feel the ring on her finger. It was odd how it managed to feel both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. She supposed she get used to it in time. After all, they'd only been married a few hours.

Even though he'd never been on a plane before, he'd fallen asleep almost the moment they'd taken off. But not once had his grip on her fingers lessened. She had a feeling he wouldn't be letting go of her again for a long time. And she didn't want him too. She was still waiting for all of this to turn out to be one big joke. Or her own personal hell. Taunting her with the one thing she could never have. Harry was alive. She wasn't.

His eyes shot open and she was wrapped in his arms, crying into his shoulder.

"Shhhh, it's ok Hermione. You're ok. I'm here for you." His hands rubbed up and down her back as she willed herself to believe it. "You're safe now. We're going to find your parents and then we're going to live together until we're old and grey."

"Say it again." She whispered between sobs.

"We're ok. We're going to get your parents and then find somewhere nice and happy to live the rest of our long boring lives. You and me Hermione. The way it was always meant to be."

Hermione had no idea how he knew that was what she needed. But every time she broke down, it was what he said. It was how he brought her back to her senses.

"Do you really think we can find them?" She asked keeping her face firmly buried in his shirt.

"I think they'll be ready and waiting for their little girl." He kissed her forehead gently as the plane tilted, indicating they were coming in to land. "Are you ready?"

"I'm with you. That's all I'll ever need." She said straightening up and looking into his deep eyes. "Is this real Harry. It's not a dream?"

He just leant in and kissed her. Everything he felt for her screamed through their lips. He was her touchstone. Her proof that she really was back in the land of the living. And with that, her earthly concerns came rushing back. The dread of what her parents would say. That they'd hate her for sending them away. That they'd hate Harry. That they'd try to separate them.

"Hey." He lifted her gaze to his own. "They're going to love me. You do. And they already love their Hermione."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "You died for me, Harry. Of course, they'll love you."

His trademark, lopsided grin glowed off his face. "Third time's the charm."

She slapped his hand as the plane shuddered as the wheels touched down. Harry grabbed her bottomless bag and pushed her toward the exit. She glanced back at him uncertainly, but he just kept smiling at her.

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione was pulled off of the last two steps and into the strong embrace of her father. She could feel her mother's arms wrapping around her as her feet dangled above the dusty ground. As they swung around, she could see Harry standing on the airstairs watching her, that damnable smile still spread across his face. She managed to extricate one arm and held it out to him.

He bounded down the stairs and happily joined his new family. Having given up the Stone and Wand to return to life, Harry was no longer the Master of Death. But he was certain that this was the best thing he had gotten out of the deal. Convincing Death to restore the Grangers memory meant Hermione had her family back. And now she was his wife, he had them too.

And he would spend the rest of his hopefully long life, enjoying that fact.