PROLOGUE –

My name is Harry James Potter. If you ask the vast majority of the Wizarding world, they’ll tack
a few titles onto the end of the name. Like; ‘The Boy-Who-Lived’, ‘The Chosen One’, and my
least favourite, ‘The World’s Most Eligible Bachelor’. Allow me to tell you a little more about my
life.
I was born in 1980 to two loving parents, James and Lily Potter. From all accounts, they were a
lovely couple. Shortly after they died, I was sent to live with my maternal aunt and her husband.
They were not a lovely couple.
When I turned 11, I received a letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...
the finest school of magical learning in the world. So, I went. While I was there, I met a couple
of people who became my best friends; Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jane Granger.
Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s sorta... important. You see, as we were growing up
together, we started to develop feelings for each other. We were a Trio of friends in the normal
sense, but, as hormones started to kick in, we were seeing the signs of a slightly different kind of
Trio.
Let me give you a bit of background on the Wizarding world. Polygamous relationships are
more common than in the Muggle world. At least, they used to be. These days, they’re not that
common, but don’t quite carry the stigma the Muggles would bestow. However, if a Trio were to
be announced, there would be a certain amount of scandal involved, especially considering it
would be the last scion of an Ancient and Noble house, a half-blood, a pureblood form a very old
family, and a Muggleborn witch.
So, that’s the history of our situation.
Now, let me tell you a little about my friends.
Ronald Weasley. He’s a good guy. He provides comic relief whenever we’re off on our
‘adventures’. Aside from one little blip during out fourth year, he’s been by my side since I met
him. He’s loyal, adventurous, and a perfect counterpoint to my other best friend. He’s a tall guy,
and quite thin. Not skinny thin, but... lanky. Due to years of Quidditch, he’s got quite a few
muscles to him. All in all, he’s a pleasing package. Except for his jealousy, and he’s gotten a lot
better over the last couple of years. Apart from that, he’s my best mate.
Hermione Granger. Man, this woman makes my blood boil in my veins. She’s beautiful,
brave, intelligent... the perfect woman. One thing I love about Hermione is that she can take
charge of a situation. Give her a few facts, and she’s off. One thing that annoys the living crap
out of me is her constant need to be in charge of a situation. Apart from that, I love her to pieces.
However, things changed, came to a head. I was betrayed. This is our story.
 – CHAPTER ONE –
And So, It Begins...

The downward spiral was pretty much completed during the train ride home, after the end of
our sixth year. Ron, Hermione and I made our way to an empty compartment, intent on enjoying
the ride home, before we split for the summer; me, to Durzkaban, Ron back to the Burrow, and
Hermione heading to Guildford to spend most of the summer with her parents, before we all met
up at the Burrow for the last few weeks.
That was our plan, anyway. I was planning on enjoying the train ride, but the events of
Valentine’s kept coming back to haunt me. I knew then, that the trio had pretty much collapsed.
Hell, that’s a nice thing to call it. If I’m honest, it never truly began. But, I’ll get to that later.

As always, the Hogwarts Express pulled out of Hogsmeade station at exactly eleven o’clock.
Harry had been waiting on the platform, for just under an hour, for Ron and Hermione to turn up.
When they did finally stumble out of the carriage, sporting that ‘just-shagged’ look, he knew why
they were late. As usual, he had to stamp down a hint of jealousy and annoyance.
Without saying a word, he grabbed his trunk, and hauled the thing onto the train, finding an
empty compartment near the end of the last carriage.
For three hours, he watched Hermione and Ron kissing each other, their hands sneaking under
clothing before a breathy moan would answer. What did he get? Nothing. Not even a glance. With a
quiet sigh, he stood up, determined to go and find somewhere else to sit.
He peered into compartment after compartment, seeing various couples in... controversial
positions. He finally found an empty compartment, halfway up the train.
Harry fluffed up his jacket as a makeshift pillow, and started to doze off. His dreams, that a
year ago would have been full of passion and desire, were now filled with regret and angst. Such
was the fate of the saviour of the Wizarding world.

When the train arrived at Kings Cross, Harry awoke with a start. He realised that the train had
arrived, and dashed back to his compartment, intent on grabbing his trunk, and saying goodbye to
Ron and Hermione.
When he arrived at the compartment, he found it empty, just his trunk in the overhead rack,
with a note pinned to it. With a sinking feeling in his heart, he pulled the note off.
Dear Harry,
Me and Hermione are off to the Burrow. We didn’t see you as we were getting off the train, so we’ll
see you when you get to the Burrow in a couple of weeks.
Take care of yourself, mate.
Ron.
Harry laughed to himself, a bitter, pain-filled laugh. They hadn’t even had the common decency
to say goodbye to him. And what the hell does it mean ‘me and Hermione are off to the Burrow’? I
thought Hermione was going to meet her parents?
 With a strangled sob, he pulled his spiralling emotions under control through a ruthless use of
Occlumency, before grabbing his heavy trunk.

Vernon Dursley, a man that was so large Sir Edmund Hillary would have been nursing wood
and reaching for his crampons, was waiting on the other side of the barrier for him. His face turning
puce as he saw his nephew, he threw a thumb over his shoulder, silently commanding Harry to drag
his heavy trunk out to the car park.
With another muffled sigh, Harry hiked the trunk onto his back, and followed his corpulent
uncle out of the train station.

The ride home was as pleasant as ever, i.e. not at all. Vernon didn’t say a word to him
throughout the whole trip, preferring to swear at other drivers during the half-hour ride back to
Little Whinging.
When they got there, Vernon dashed into the house, well, as much as a fat man can dash,
leaving Harry to mangle the trunk and his owl cage into the house. Harry managed to get all his
items into the tiny bedroom, before Petunia rushed up the stairs, locking the door quickly, leaving
Harry alone.
Ha! Alone. I’ve been alone throughout this whole damned thing... Why do I bother? This was
one of Harry’s major thoughts: nobody cared. All through his life, he’d never experienced love. The
thought of the Trio relationship, having two people love and support him unconditionally, had
bolstered his flagging spirits just after Sirius had died, giving him the boost he needed.
Now, though... now, he really wondered. What the hell was happening with them? For a year,
he’d been shoved to the side... a year of neglect and indifference. He remembered Dumbledore’s
words, about how neglect and indifference can lead to greater pain than torture, and found them
true.

He had been back at Privet Drive for five days. Five days. He hadn’t heard a thing from his
‘lovers’ during that time. He’d decided to play a waiting game; he would respond to any letters that
they sent him, but he wouldn’t initiate anything.
At the rate things had been going, he wasn’t exactly going to lose out. However, when Errol,
the Weasleys’ decrepit postal owl, turned up, he felt a glimmer of hope.
This is it... He thought to himself. It’s taken them five days, true, but this is it. They’re going to
invite me over, and we can come out.
That hope was dashed when he opened the letter, not seeing the chicken-scratch of his best
mate, or the impeccably neat handwriting of his best friend, but instead saw the vaguely squashed
writing of Molly Weasley.
His heart sinking low into his chest, he read the missive.
Dear Harry,
How is your summer going so far? I hope those Muggles are treating you properly, and making
sure that you are well-fed.
Normally, I would be only too happy to invite you to spend your summer at the Burrow, however,
Ron and Hermione’s new relationship would be strained if you were to be here with them. I’m so
happy for them! I’ve been suspecting something like this would happen for years, and now that is
has, I’m thrilled! I remember all those vile rumours in the Daily Prophet during your fourth year,
and I’m happy to see now that they were all false.
So, I’m sorry that you won’t be coming here this summer, but I’m sure I’ll see you at Grimmauld
Place during Order meetings.
Love,
Molly Weasley.
Harry scrunched the letter in his fist, before swallowing down a scream of rage. When the
bloody hell did they become a ‘couple’, considering we’re supposed to be a Trio? He thought for a
moment. Ah... they wouldn’t want to tell Molly, ‘cause it’d be a big disappointment to have a
bisexual son.
At least I know where I’m going when my birthday comes. He thought morosely. The prospect
of returning to Grimmauld Place was less than pleasing. He threw the letter into his bin, before
lying down on his bed.
After a moment, he got up, pulling the tattered letter out, straightening it, and putting it onto his
desk. He took a quill, wrote the date on the corner, and made a few notes at the bottom.
Journal/Thoughts:
• Molly Weasley thinks that the ‘Trio’ is a couple
• Ron and Hermione have not corrected this thought
• Why do they deny me?
Harry suspected that Ron and Hermione hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t there with them, so
he was going to start a record of their encounters. That way, when it came time for the truth, he’d
have his evidence. In a perverse, heart-breaking kind of way, this could be fun.

Harry’s summer holidays, never the best of times, proceeded as normal. The Dursleys, aware
that Harry would be able to do magic in less than three weeks, seemed intent on getting all they
could out of him. He was to wash the car on a daily basis, paint every room in the house, clear out
the loft, plant the new rock garden, weed the flowerbeds every other day, and a host of other menial
tasks that they could not be bothered doing themselves.
Of course, Dudley enjoyed his time, watching Harry performing back-breaking labour while he
sat on his fat arse watching television, or blowing up aliens on his computer.
It had been a week since Harry had received Molly’s letter, and he hadn’t bothered to reply to
it. What was the point? Instead, he buried himself in his school books, intent on making sure that he
had a good grasp of his coursework; when he finished school, he intended to go and find a good job.
This, however, had always been the plan. You can’t be friends with Hermione Granger without
studying. A lot.
That had been the plan for the Trio. However, since Harry was becoming very much aware that
there wasn’t a Trio, just a Couple plus one, he was thinking about going to another country. America
was supposed to be nice, especially down in Florida.
While he was outside, pondering life down in the Keys, a small, furry tennis ball launched itself
towards Harry. It didn’t take him long, (well, not that long, anyway) before he concluded that it was
Pigwidgeon, Ron’s hyperactive owl. With a sigh, he jumped up, catching the flying menace, before
he pulled a very small letter from the bird’s leg.
With a grimace, he threw the owl back into the air, ignoring his panicked ‘hoot’, as he opened
the letter. With a fading grin, he recognised the handwriting of Hermione. He leaned against the
shed to read the note.
Dearest Harry,
Well, we’ve arrived at the Burrow. Molly seems to be extraordinarily pleased at our relationship.
She said that she wouldn’t be able to invite you to spend any time at the Burrow during this holiday,
so, we won’t get to see you, unfortunately. Please know that you are in my thoughts.
Ron’s been pestering me to play Quidditch with him, since you’re not here. Unfortunately, I’m still
no good at this blasted sport.
Ginny says ‘Hi!’
Write back soon.
Love,
Hermione
Harry looked at the letter in disbelief. How can she just dismiss me so casually? Do I mean so
little to her? ‘Molly seems to be extraordinarily pleased at our relationship.’ The relationship that
you appear to be refusing to admit to. He fumed silently. There isn’t a ‘Trio’. He thought morosely.
There never was.
Am I some kind of prize to her? Since I’m supposed to be in a relationship with them, is she
‘keeping me off the market’? She doesn’t want to see me with someone else, but doesn’t want to
acknowledge me...
Harry’s thoughts drifted down a dark path. Write back soon... And say what? It’s nice that you
remembered me in a letter, since you didn’t at the bloody train station? No, I’ll not be writing back.
He sighed to himself, staggering into the house and up to his room. He placed the parchment
with Molly’s letter, scribbling a few more notes onto the bottom.
• Hermione doesn’t see my exclusion
• Ron seems to be focussing on Quidditch, dragging Hermione into it
• They don’t care.
Harry placed the parchments into a notebook, which he slammed into his trunk, before going
back outside to manhandle more rocks into place.

The days continued to pass slowly. Harry, now aware that he would be turning seventeen in six
days, carried on with his back-breaking labour. He’d finished with the loft, filling up twenty-six
jumbo-sized black bin-bags, full of Dudley’s useless junk.
It had been eleven days since he’d received the letter from Hermione. Eleven days, and she’d
not written back, not even demanding a reply. He knew that it took approximately three hours for
Hedwig to fly from Surrey to Devon, (double that for the tiny Pigwidgeon and ancient Errol), so a
reply within thirteen hours would have been normal. 264 hours had passed, however.
Harry idly wondered what the pair was up to. Knowing them, they’ve probably shagged in
every room of the Burrow. Twice. His dad’s shed. The orchard. The chicken coop... actually, maybe
not the chicken coop. Plus, there was reading to do, twins to play pranks on, Molly’s excellent
cooking, Bill’s innate cool-ness, leading to some fascinating stories at night, wizards’ chess,
exploding snap... the list seemed endless. All things that he couldn’t do at Privet Drive.
A soft hoot from Hedwig prompted him to look outside. She’d become a marvellous warning
system for when owls were on their way. He saw a regal tawny owl swooping closer, with the
hyperactive menace struggling to keep up.
Hedwig let out a mournful, disapproving hoot. She detested Pigwidgeon with a fiery passion.
He smiled at her. “Should have listened to you, girl, shouldn’t I?”
 She stared at him imperiously for a moment, before letting out a soft hoot, full of reproach.
Harry translated it as ‘of course you should, you silly little human’. He scratched under her belly for
a moment, before seeing to the incoming owls.
He grabbed Pig out of the air, intent on getting rid of the menace before he could annoy
Hedwig, as he inevitably would. She glared at Pig before turning her back. He grabbed the note and
flung Pig out of the window as hard as he could, getting a series of snuffles from Hedwig, which he
strongly suspected was the snowy owl equivalent of laughter. Again, Hermione’s neat handwriting
stared back at him.
Dear Harry,
We’ve not heard back from you yet. Is everything okay there? Do you need someone to come and
‘rescue’ you from the Dursleys? Have we said something to upset you?
Please write back soon, Harry. We miss you.
Love,
Hermione
Harry laughed mirthlessly. ‘Have we said something to upset you?’ How about everything since
last Valentine’s Day? You remember, where you told me I had to tone down my affections towards
you, and that I couldn’t speak to anyone about you? Or maybe the part where you’re happily
spending your summer at the Burrow, shagging Ron left and bloody right, while I’m left here with
no options other than a bottle of lotion and my hand?
Yes, you’ve said and done plenty to upset me. ‘We miss you’? More like you miss my bloody
tongue.
He placed the owl on the desk, before turning to the regal owl. He recognised it as a school
owl, and felt a pang in his chest. Normally, the reminder that school would soon be starting again
generated an excitement so intense he’d feel his nipples harden. This time, it was a reminder that
he’d soon be going back to being ignored, shunned, laughed at, and would invariably face a fresh
encounter with He-who-must-be-hyphenated-cause-everyone’s-too-chicken-to-say-Voldemort.
With a sigh, he opened it, noticing a shiny badge fall onto the floor. What? Have I been named
Quidditch captain? Something for Ron to be jealous and huffy with me about. Bloody marvellous...
He opened the note with a heavy heart.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
HEADMASTER: Albus Dumbledore
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that that your will shortly be starting your seventh and final year at
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and
equipment.
The term will begin on Monday, 1st September, 1997. The Hogwarts Express will depart from
Platform 9¾ at precisely 11am.
Kind Regards,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry nodded to himself. Nothing surprising, really... until he came to a penned in note at the
bottom. He recognised the loopy handwriting of the Headmaster.
Congratulations, Mr. Potter, on being selected Head Boy for this year. Normally, you would not be
a Head Boy as you have not been a prefect, however, since it was my interference that robbed you
of that honour, I have decided to do this to make up for it. Miss Granger has been made Head Girl.
Well done, Harry.
He read the note with growing horror. This was not good, for several reasons; one, Ron had
wanted to be Head Boy since his first day at Hogwarts. This was so that he could measure up to his
brothers. Two, the Head Students shared a small dorm and common room, away from the rest of the
student population.
Normally, this would have been a great thing for Harry... apart from the fact that it gave Ron
and Hermione a completely enclosed room, which would only escalate their sexual escapades.
Leaving me behind. Again. He scrunched up the letter, debating whether or not to send it back to
McGonagall with a stiffly-worded note.
No... I should have been a prefect. I could have been Head Boy on my own merits. He decided
he’d accept. If Ron and Hermione don’t like it... well, fuck ‘em. I know I never will.

Harry’s birthday rolled around, and he could practically feel the blood wards begin to
deteriorate around him. He packed up his trunk, making sure to take everything that had ever
belonged to him, and made his way downstairs.
He found the giraffe, walrus and baby whale sitting having breakfast in the kitchen. He’d
placed his wand into his sleeve in case the ‘family’ became abusive or nasty.
“I’m leaving, today.” He announced, marching into the kitchen after leaving his trunk behind
the front door.
Vernon looked up, from his newspaper, snorting. “Like hell you are, boy.” He growled. “You’ve
still not completed the garage, and Dudders’ room still needs painting.”
Harry ‘tsked’ under his breath. “Have you forgotten what day it is, dear uncle?” He asked.
“Thursday.” Vernon grunted. “And you have until the week-” He stopped producing noise as
Harry flourished his wand.
“It’s Thursday, you’re right. However, it’s also Thursday, July 31st, 1997. My 17th birthday.” He
paused for a moment. “Which means that I am now seventeen. A legal adult in the Wizarding world.
Which means that I can legally use magic.”
Dudley squealed, and ran from the room, running headfirst into the wall next to the door, and
knocking a Dudley-sized hole in it. Harry had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud.
“So, I shall shortly be leaving this...” He looked around the kitchen, a look of disgust on his
face, “house. I shall collect my inheritance, which is somewhere in the region of fifty million
pounds, and go to my new manor.”
Harry waved his wand, dropping the silencing charm on Vernon, who finally processed what
Harry had said. “Fifty million!” He spluttered. “That should be ours!”
“For what?” Harry snapped. He’d expected this. “For making me work like a slave? For being
given your leftovers to eat? Dudley’s cast-offs? I don’t think so.”
“We took care of you, boy!” Vernon shouted. “That money should be ours by right!” His eyes
lit up with pure undisguised greed. “We’re going straight to the bank! You can sign it over to us for
looking after your freak hide for the last sixteen years.”
Harry snorted. “Like hell. You’re lucky I’ve not called Child Services on you for abuse and
neglect.” He looked away for a moment, staring at the door to the cupboard under the stairs. “I still
could, you know.”
 Vernon’s meaty hand grabbed Harry’s arm painfully. He leaned closer, letting Harry see the
remnants of Vernon’s breakfast intertwined in his moustache. “Now, you see here, boy, you’re going
to sign-”
Harry just waved his wand. He’d really have to thank Lupin for teaching him silent ‘casting.
Vernon dropped to the floor, unconscious. That’s two out of three... I wonder what I can do to Aunt
Petunia? He turned to face the horse-faced woman.
She had a sad smile on her face. “Good luck, Harry Potter.” She said softly, before she turned
and walked out of the kitchen.
Weird... Harry shook himself back to the present, wishing he had a camera so he could take a
final photo of Dudley’s folly, before he marched to the door, grabbing his trunk.

The trip to Grimmauld Place was utterly unremarkable. Instead of waiting for the Order to
bungle their way through an operation, he simply got on the Knight Bus, and made his way through
London.
Upon arriving, he closed his eyes, remembering Dumbledore’s note from two years ago, ‘The
Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,
London.’ As soon as he had completed the sentence, #12 had pushed it’s way into the street. For a
silly moment, Harry had an image of number 12 getting a pair of boxing gloves on, and duking it
out with numbers 11 and 13. He laughed softly to himself as he opened the door, and stepped inside.
The hallway was as decrepit and dismal as the last time he had been here. With a sigh, he
hauled his trunk up the stairs, hearing Mrs. Black launching yet another tirade about the purity of
blood. He let himself into the Master Bedroom, his now that Sirius was dead, and dropped his trunk
onto the floor.
He drew his wand, casting Scourgify charms all over the room, clearing away the dust and
debris from fourteen months of being empty. Cobwebs vanished, and several peeling strips of
wallpaper were removed. Harry looked at the ancient faded green wallpaper, and made a decision.
“Evanesco!” The vanishing spell removed the wallpaper from the walls, leaving smooth plaster.
God, this would have made things so much easier at the Dursleys. He thought idly, waving his wand
and silent ‘casting the rest of the wallpaper away.
He thought for a moment, picturing some suitable replacement wallpaper. He finally decided on
scarlet wallpaper with a fine gold thread running through. Perfect for a proper little Gryffindor.
Several rolls appeared. Again, Harry waved his wand, straightening out the paper and applying a
permanent sticking charm to it. It flew onto the walls, lining up neatly before the sticking charm
kicked in, locking to the wall with a soft squelch. He carried on, removing the tattered green carpet,
before creating a soothing gold carpet, which again was locked down with a permanent sticking
charm.
It’s so easy to decorate with magic. He thought idly, while transforming the bed into something
more comfortable. A few flicks of his wand repaired and polished the remaining furniture. With a
happy sigh, he tucked his wand back into its forearm holster, then ambled downstairs.

The kitchen was riotous. Harry was tempted to turn around and walk back upstairs. With a sigh,
knowing that he was going to get a bollocking, Harry stepped into the kitchen. As soon as he was
seen, silence reigned in the kitchen.
Harry waited a beat, before speaking. “Okay... so who’s gonna start?”
As one, the Order started shouting at him. Harry waved his wand, creating a cone of silence
around himself. He’d wait, until the ‘grown ups’ actually started acting like adults. Knowing the
‘adults’ in the Order, this could take anything from twenty seconds to fifteen minutes. With a sigh,
enjoying the silence, Harry ambled over to the stove, flicking his wand at the hob, starting a merry
fire going, which he lowered the kettle onto.
He looked up, checking to see if people were still... ah, there was Molly, her jaw still flapping
in the breeze. Another... ooh... ten minutes in her yet. Ignoring Molly’s ranting, he made himself a
cup of coffee, knowing that he’d need the caffeine to get through the inevitable guilt trips people
were going to try and lay at his feet.
Twenty minutes later, Molly slumped into a chair near the fire. Guess, correctly, that Molly had
run out of steam, Harry dropped the cone. “Feel better now?” He asked, looking around the room.
“That was rude, Harry.” Dumbledore said reprovingly from the head of the table.
“Really?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Then again, isn’t ranting at a person as
soon as he walks into a room rude?”
Dumbledore pondered for a moment. “True. I apologise, Harry.”
“Accepted.” Harry replied, sitting down at the far end of the table. “So, aside from ranting at
me for risking myself by taking the Knight Bus here from the Dursleys instead of waiting for an
impossibly large guard from the Order, was there anything you wanted to discuss with me?”
That had taken the wind out of most sails. Looking a little sheepish, most of the Order shook
their head. Harry just shrugged. “Okay, then.”
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “There is something I need to advise you of, Harry.” He glanced
at Remus. “As you are probably aware, now that you have come of-age, you gain your full
inheritance. This means that Grimmauld Place is now your property, as opposed to being held in
trust by Remus. I would like to ask-”
“Not a problem, Headmaster.” Harry interrupted. “The Order is welcome to use this house,
provided they allow me some privacy. The second floor and library will be mine exclusively. I
would prefer that any meetings be held in the main dining room as opposed to the kitchen, so that I
may come and go for food as I wish, without being locked out by the Order.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Perfectly acceptable, Harry. Are there any other restrictions?”
Harry thought for a moment. “Yes. Kreacher is permanently banned from this house. If he
enters it again, I will kill him on sight for his betrayal of Sirius. I know I can’t release him, since he
knows about the Order, but he stays at Hogwarts.”
Lupin growled slightly, remembering the actions of Kreacher, and idly wondered if Harry could
be convinced to leave Kreacher in a room with Moony during the full moon.
“While I’m here, I’ll be doing some decorating, so I’d request that people don’t interfere with
that. I’ll happily set up some bunk rooms for Order personnel on the first floor, as well as
appropriate hygiene facilities.”
“Thank you, Harry.” Dumbledore said gratefully. Truthfully, he’d expected Harry to be
amenable to letting the Order use his house, but it was nice of Harry to offer it so easily. “What are
your plans for the summer, Harry?”
Without looking at Molly Weasley, Harry pondered for a moment. “Well... I was thinking that I
could add a few courses to my current timetable. So, I’ll probably be doing a lot of studying, as well
as redecorating this place.”
Tonks glanced down at Harry. “Won’t you be going to the Burrow, Harry? Ron and Hermione
are staying there, aren’t they?”
Again, without looking at Molly, he answered. “Well, yes, they are, Tonks, but this is pretty
much the first time they’ve managed to spend some time together without me around since they
started dating last September. I wouldn’t feel right imposing on their privacy.”
Molly let out a quiet breath, relieved that Harry had not forced her to stop him going to the
Burrow.
Dumbledore eyed Harry oddly, before shrugging.
“Well, if anyone wants me, I’ll be up in the library, looking up something interesting.” Harry
waved with his coffee cup, before leaving the room.
 – CHAPTER TWO –
Pain, Misery and Torture? Ooh, Yes Please!

September 1st rolled round with surprising speed. Harry had really become engrossed in his
school work during the month at Grimmauld Place. He flooed from Grimmauld Place directly to the
Wizarding side of Platform 9¾, opening his cage and letting Hedwig fly free. While she could
simply sit on the train, the long flight to Hogwarts would do her good after being unused during the
whole of August. After all, who’d he had to write to?
He entered the train, not bothering to wait for Ron and Hermione. He didn’t really see the
point. They’d probably be running late, intent on getting one last shag at the Burrow before being
slightly constrained at Hogwarts.
He picked a compartment close to the front of the train, not the Trio’s usual hangout, and pulled
out a book. It was Advanced Arithmancy, something he’d found quite fascinating during his time at
Grimmauld Place. Not to mention, it was invaluable for spell creation or modification. He’d already
planned to ask Professor McGonagall if he could be entered for the OWL under self-study, as well
as for Ancient Runes.
He glanced out of the window, idly noting that it was 10:55am, when he noticed Ron and
Hermione, barely dressed, come barrelling through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Sighing
to himself, he turned back to his book, noting absently that he was right.
The train departed at exactly 11am, steaming out of Kings Cross like a bat out of Harrogate.
Since Harry was near the front of the train, he got first dibs off the snack trolley. He bought a couple
of chocolate frogs and a large flask of pumpkin juice, purposely not buying enough for Ron and
Hermione.
It’s time to see if they’ll notice being snubbed. He doubted it, though.
A voice, one he could happily never hear again, drew him out of his thoughts. “Ah, Scarhead!
What, no Mudblood or Weasel here with you?” Malfoy sneered.
Harry didn’t even look up. “No, Draco. I think they’re further down the train, if you’re looking
for them.”
This response threw Malfoy, who entered the compartment, throwing himself onto the bench
opposite Harry. For once, he was alone, Crabbe and Goyle suspiciously absent. Harry looked up to
see his nemesis smirking at him. “Something I can help you with, Draco?”
“If they’re further down the train, Pothead, why are you up here?” He sneered again, managing
to look both imperious and mincing at the same time. Privately, Harry was impressed. He doubted
anyone could pull off that level of camp apart from Malfoy... and possibly his dad.
“We’re friends, Malfoy, not symbiotes. They’re not attached to me.”
Malfoy started chuckling dangerously. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Harry looked up, a raised eyebrow and slight smile on his lips. “Oh?” He asked softly. “Do
share, Draco... what have you heard?”
Malfoy’s smirk grew to immense proportions. “I’ve heard rumours, Pothead, about strange
goings on in the Gryffindor Boys’ dorms. Rumours about threesomes. You wouldn’t know anything
about that, would you?”
 Ron and Hermione had been making their way up the train, after finally managing to finish
dressing, looking for Harry. They approached the front carriage, looking for their missing lover.
Hermione pulled Ron to a stop outside a compartment, when they heard Malfoy’s voice ring out.
“...about threesomes. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Ron and Hermione each shared a terrified glance, until they heard Harry’s voice cut through the
bowel-loosing fear.
“That’s utterly ridiculous, Malfoy. Where do you come up with this rubbish?” There was a
pause. “I do hope you’re not paying anyone for information, Draco. You’re being robbed blind.”
“So... you’re saying nothing goes on in your dorm, Potter?” Malfoy’s voice snapped.
“Well, nothing like that, no.” Harry replied. Ron looked at Hermione, his eyes widening again.
“Ron and Hermione often spend time there... er... Susan Bones spends as much time in Dean’s bed
as she does her own. I’m not sure about Seamus, but since he is a horny Irish pervert, I’m sure
people make pit-stops in his bunk all the time.”
“What about you, Scarhead?”

Malfoy stared at his long-time rival with glee. Oh, a chance to stoke the rumour mill...
“I’m quite happy with things the way they are, Draco.” Harry replied calmly, before eyeing the
Malfoy scion. “Why the sudden interest in my love-life?” He smirked, before marshalling his face
into a sympathetic frown. “Are you not getting any, Draco? Is that the problem?”
Malfoy practically threw himself to his feet, rushing out of the door, with a hasty “Fuck off,
Potter!” as his retort.
Grinning impishly to himself, Harry rose to his feet, poking his head out of the doorway. He
noticed Ron and Hermione stood there, listening intently to the conversation. He nodded at the pair,
before noticing Malfoy’s pale blonde hair scurrying away. “Is Pansy not putting out, Draco?” He
shouted.
“Fuck off, Potter!” Malfoy shouted as he sped up down the corridor, not even looking back to
deliver his latest witty quip.
“Want me to have a word with her for you?” Harry shouted, enjoying the game as several
students poked their heads out of the compartments, wondering what all the shouting was about.
Malfoy spun on his heel, screaming one final “Fuck off, Potter!” before turning and mincing
away.
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione’s dumbfounded expressions. “God, I love winding him up.”
He pulled himself back into his compartment, sitting down on the bench and picking up his book.
Ron and Hermione entered the compartment, sitting next to each other, on the other bench, very
closely, before looking at Harry.
Ron’s attention was immediately drawn to the lone chocolate frog sitting on the bench besides
Harry. Harry rolled his eyes, and handed the frog over.
“Is this all you got?” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of wriggling chocolate.
Ungrateful bastard. Harry thought uncharitably, nodding absently while continuing to read.
“How was your summer, Harry?” Hermione asked softly, looking at Harry intently.
Oh, great. Now she cares about me. “It was fine, Hermione.” Harry replied politely. “I spent
most of it doing some reading. I was thinking about asking McGonagall if I could take some OWLs
at the end of the year. I did a lot of reading on Arithmancy and Runes. Plus, I was thinking that
Muggle Studies would be a breeze for me, since I lived for ten years as a Muggle.”
Hermione immediately went onto a diatribe about the benefits of the different courses. Of
course... neither of them noticed that Harry had completely depersonalised the conversation.
Harry Potter 1, Bastards 0. He thought, as he told them that they had to go to the Prefects’
Meeting.

The Heads meeting went by in a blur. Harry had read through the rule book, conducting the
meeting with a precision that even impressed Hermione. Of course, Ron, as the 7th year male
Gryffindor prefect, was present, and Harry could tell from the glazed look in his eyes that he was
concentrating on the Head Girl, rather than the meeting. Of course, mentally shagging Hermione
hadn’t stopped Ron’s intense glare of jealousy at Harry’s Head Boy badge, but Harry just dismissed
it.
As Head Boy, Harry could have assigned Ron a nice long patrol, leaving him free to spend time
with Hermione, but the rapid breathing, slight blush, and erect nipples while she stared longingly at
Ron made him change his mind.
All’s fair in love and war. He thought idly, chuckling to himself as he dismissed the meeting,
intent on returning to his compartment. Not that I’d know much about the ‘love’ part, considering
I’ve been abandoned by the gits. Almost an hour later, Ron and Hermione entered the compartment
again, looking suitably shagged.
Harry, while breathing in, could immediately tell that the two had had sex. The vague odours
coming from both Ron and Hermione practically made his skin crawl. Do they do this to me on
purpose? He wondered. Make sure that I know what they’re doing, and what they’re excluding me
from? No... they’re too bloody ignorant to notice, aren’t they? Harry re-started their conversation
about school work.
The remaining six hours of the trip blurred together, as Harry and Hermione constantly
discussed schoolwork. Ron got bored and fidgeted, before he decided that a five-hour nap was just
the thing.
Considering all the sex he’s probably had, this must have been the most exhausting summer for
him ever. Harry thought, nodding his way through a conversation about microwaves. Of course, this
would be a perfect time for Hermione to throw herself at me. Wanting to share a bit of alone time.
Naturally, Hermione was oblivious to Harry’s thoughts, as she has been for over a year, Harry
concluded, and was happy to discuss their studies.

When the train started to slow to pull into Hogsmeade, Hermione shook Ron awake, telling him
“We need to change into our robes.”
She immediately started to undress. When Harry looked up, he felt a sudden urge to not be
present, excusing himself from the compartment, and heading off to a lavatory to change.
I’ve waited for a year to see her naked. Harry thought to himself as he buttoned up his shirt.
Why did I leave the room when she was getting naked? He pondered some more as he started to
wrestle with his tie. I mean... I do find her sexy... Great rack, gorgeous arse... why don’t I want to
see her naked?
It took him the rest of his time getting dressed, slipping on his final shoe before the penny
dropped. This is part of my rebellion against them. I want the moral high ground, so I’m refusing to
see them naked, and refusing to be naked around them. Sometimes, I think I was born to suffer.
 Harry left the toilet, shrinking his trunk and placing it into his breast pocket, before leaving the
train. He saw Ron helping Hermione into a carriage, generously placing his hands on her bottom as
they climbed in. Lavender, Parvati, Dean and Seamus completed the carriage, setting off at a brisk
clip.
They didn’t even wait for me... He thought, feeling his heart break a little more. These days, he
really was wondering how much more he could take. It wasn’t that bad during the summer; oh, he
knew what they were up to, and that was bad enough, but that was far different than seeing it in
front of him.
With a sigh, he headed to an empty carriage, passing the white-eyed Thestral pulling it. Once it
noticed him, it started chomping at the bit.
“Petunia?” He asked, going over to stroke the beast. Indeed, this was the same Thestral that
Harry had ridden to the Ministry of Magic at the end of his fifth year. He stroked her bony neck, the
reason he had named it ‘Petunia’, that, and his Aunt had the perfect face for a horse, before he
looked around. There were no other students around, so he unhooked the Thestral from the carriage.
“Feel like giving me a ride, girl?” He asked, chuckling when Petunia snorted and nodded,
lowering herself onto bony knees, allowing him to climb onto her back. She whinnied slightly,
before taking off, soaring over the carriages that were slowly making their way up the school drive.
Harry felt elated. The wind rushing through his hair, the feeling of pure power that always arose
from soaring through the air... he’d missed this.
All too soon, Petunia arrived at the doors to the Entrance Hall. He climbed off her back, giving
her a rub down her neck. “I’ll come and see you soon.” He promised the creature, who licked his
hand, before scampering away and hurling herself into the air.
Harry went up the steps, seeing Professor McGonagall stood waiting for the first years. He
made his way over to her, noticing her eyes drop to his chest, where his Head Boy badge gleamed in
the torchlight.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Potter.” She said, smiling slightly at him. “And I’m pleased to see
that badge upon your robes.”
Harry smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, Professor. It’s always good to see you. Have you had
a good summer?”
McGonagall nodded. “I took some time out to see my niece in America, Mr. Potter. Have you
ever been?”
Harry shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. But, I’ve been thinking a lot about going there after I
finish here at school.” He turned slightly, noticing the first students getting out of the carriages. He
carried on talking with McGonagall while Ron and Hermione went past, oblivious, both staring into
each other’s eyes. When they heard the booming footsteps of Hagrid, McGonagall shooed him
away.
Walking into the Great Hall, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were surrounded by their
year-mates, leaving him some space with the fourth years. Without complaint, Harry sat down,
ignoring the gasps and awestruck expressions on the young girls.
Hermione glanced up to see her second lover sitting quite far away from them, and frowned.
Why isn’t he sitting with us? Her thoughts were diverted by Ron’s hand smoothly making its way up
her thighs, brushing against her sex, and all thought of Harry stopped.
Harry, watching Hermione, noticed her eyes glaze over, and just rolled his eyes. It’s not getting
to me anymore. He told himself. It’s not... He closed his eyes, desperately trying to convince
himself. He knew it was folly, though; he could see them, he could smell them, and he could feel all
his hopes, desires and dreams die a little more each day.
 Dinner went on for far too long, at least in Harry’s opinion. Considering Hermione’s facial
expressions during the two-hour dinner, it was going just fine for her. Unfortunately, he knew from
this that as soon as she got back to the dorms, she’d pounce on Ron, since he’d been teasing her for
so long.
Just once, please, let them use silencing charms. I really not in the mood for listening to a
shagathon tonight. He prayed to every deity in the pantheon, but knew, with absolute certainty, they
would complete ignore silencing charms.
I wonder if they do that on purpose? He idly wondered, as Dumbledore started giving the start
of term announcements. Do they think they’re doing me a favour? Since I can’t join them, I get to
listen to them instead? For the brightest bloody witch of the age, she’s remarkably dumb sometimes.
With a final announcement, Dumbledore dismissed the students. Harry stood up, dread filling
his stomach, as he made his way back to the dorm room.
Being Head Boy and having his own room would have been a great advantage to Harry if he
wasn’t in his current circumstances. Now, it was just torture, pain at a level reserved for child
molesters and taxmen.
Like walking the Green Mile, it took him a half-hour to get back to his rooms. Let them have
shagged themselves out and fall asleep by now... He asked, looking up at the ceiling.
As soon as he opened the portrait, the sounds and smells hit him. The sounds of damp hips
hitting each other, Hermione’s gentle moaning and gasping, and Ron’s animalistic grunting. The
smell of sweat and pheromones filled the air in the common room. With a sigh, Harry made his way
over to one of the small desks, pulling out a sheet of parchment, writing out a letter. He wouldn’t
use it at the moment, but if things continued on in this vein, he wouldn’t have much choice if he
wanted to hang on to his sanity.
With a slight huff, hearing the high-pitched moaning that meant Hermione was close, Harry
stomped over to his bedroom, slamming the door once he got inside. He threw a silencing charm at
the door, hoping to block out the sounds.
The sounds vanished, giving Harry a moment of peace. He picked up his Arithmancy book,
flopping onto the bed as he carried on reading. After a moment, Harry’s door opened, revealing Ron
in his birthday suit, quite obviously halfway through shagging Hermione.
Harry kept his eyes on Ron’s, not looking down at his obvious arousal. “Something the matter,
Ron?” He asked politely.
Ron just stared at him for a moment. “Would you mind not slamming doors, Harry?” Ron
asked tersely. “It’s very distracting.”
Is he fucking serious? Harry thought incredulously. He’s shagging his girlfriend, loudly, in the
middle of my dorm room, without the use of silencing charms, and he has the nerve to tell me about
being distracting? With a slight shake of his head, Harry focussed. “Sorry, man. I’ll be more
considerate in the future.”
“Thanks.” Ron replied dismissively, shutting the door on his way back to Hermione’s room.
After a moment, he heard muffled voices, then the disgusting soundtrack start up again.
What the hell? I’ve got a silencing charm up. How can I hear them? He glanced around the
room, noting idly a small grate in the wall, right next to the ceiling. It didn’t take a genius to work
out that it connected the two dorm rooms. Oh, bloody marvellous. I can’t even escape them in here!
He began to think about the various places in Hogwarts he’d be able to go to without hearing
the shaggers. The library? No, Hermione loves doing it in there. Keeping silent gives her more
powerful orgasms. The kitchens? No, Ron likes it down there. Poor elves... No broom closet or
empty classroom is safe... Not even the bloody potions room. Outside? No, Hermione likes doing it
out there, too.
Harry could only come up with the Great Hall as a place of refuge, only ‘cause Ron was too
scared of being caught to do it in there. Looks like I’m gonna be in the Great Hall a lot over the
next ten months. Casting a Muffliato around his head, Harry dropped off to sleep.

His view on being able to keep the peace with regards to Ron and Hermione’s sexual escapades
was rapidly diminishing. Harry had been at Hogwarts for two weeks, and was about out of patience.
Absently, he pulled the parchment from his pocket, where he’d taken to carrying it. It’s time...
He smiled sadly. I never thought I’d end up doing this. Hogwarts is my home... and I’m going to
leave it early.
His decision made, he started to pack up his belongings, leaving his school robes on the bed.
He’d have no need of them where he was going. Everything else went into his trunk, leaving
himself out a single set of robes which he’d wear to leave in.
With a final glance around the room, he shrunk down his trunk, placing it into his pocket.
Without breaking stride, he left the room, heading for the Great Hall. He had one last stop to make
before his final departure from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Great Hall was full of people. Almost all students gathered there during dinner. Some
preferred to stay in their dorms, or were working on research projects.
The Gryffindor table was noticeably missing the Golden Trio. Harry was making his way into
the room, clad in a beautiful burgundy robe, one that was definitely not school issue.
Harry had chosen this time because he knew, with the absolute certainty that only someone
who’d heard them at it, that Ron and Hermione were busying shagging in the Head Girl’s room.
Time to get this over with. Ignoring the whispers and pointing, Harry calmly walked up the centre of
the Great Hall, the fat envelope in hand.
He stood in front of the staff table, Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes staring back at him. After a
moment of staring, Dumbledore spoke. “Those are nice robes, Mr. Potter. Is there some event
you’re going to?”
Oh, I couldn’t have put it better myself, Headmaster. Harry thought, as he handed over the
envelope. As soon as it left his hands, he started walking briskly towards the doors, intent on
escaping the school as quickly as possible.

Dumbledore opened the misshapen envelope, noting the badge that fell onto the table
immediately. As soon as it dropped, McGonagall stopped eating, looking over her shoulder.
“Albus?”
He didn’t answer, as he read through Harry’s note.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
It is with the greatest respect that I hand in my Head Boy badge. Due to personal circumstances, I
am no longer able to fulfil the duties required of me. I apologise if this causes any inconvenience.
For the same personal reasons, I am withdrawing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry. The six years I have spent here have been the happiest of my life, irrespective of the
dangers that I have faced.
I would like to thank you, and ask you to pass on those thanks to the rest of the teaching staff
(except Snape and Filch) for all that you have taught me while I have been a student here.
For the time being, I shall reside in Grimmauld Place, and will work on my studies independently.
When the time comes, I shall take my exams at the Ministry.
Once again, sir, thanks for everything.
Kind Regards,
Harry James Potter.
Dumbledore wordlessly passed the note to McGonagall, who read it through, gasping loudly at
the note of Harry’s withdrawal. The gasp drew the attention of the students sitting nearest the staff
table. McGonagall finished the note, dropping it onto the table, before staring at Dumbledore for a
moment.
After a second, she got to her feet, and briskly made her way down the hall, moving as quickly
as her old bones would allow. She burst through the doors, almost knocking two students over, not
noticing who they were, and headed into the Entrance Hall.
She passed through the main doors, seeing Harry about a third of the way down the path
towards the main gates. As soon as he reached them, he’d be able to Apparate away. She morphed
into her Animagus form, the grey cat putting on a burst of speed, cutting the down the distance,
before she got close enough to morph back and call out his name.

Ron and Hermione, after getting their balance back from a rapidly accelerating McGonagall,
entered the Great Hall. Immediately, all eyes locked on them. Ron shrunk back slightly, his face
blushing from the attention.
Dumbledore beckoned the two to come forward. With a sinking sensation, convinced that they
had been caught, they walked down the aisle, stopping just in front of the staff table.
With a heavy heart, Dumbledore passed Harry’s note to Hermione, who started to read.

Harry heard McGonagall call his name, and cursed silently. He stopped, seeing the aged witch
scurrying down the pathway behind him. He waited patiently for her to catch up, before walking
slowly towards the gates. She fell in beside him.
“What’s going on, Mr. Potter?” She asked, breathing heavily. Animagus or not, a third of a mile
sprint will take a hell of a lot of energy for a 76 year old.
“I’m leaving, Professor.” Harry replied tonelessly. “I can’t stay here anymore.”
“That’s what your note said, Harry,” McGonagall replied, “but it didn’t state why you feel you
must leave.”
“I can’t talk about it, Professor.” Harry said. “I’m under a Magical oath to not discuss it.”
McGonagall placed a hand on his arm, drawing him to a halt. “What can you tell me, Harry?”
Harry looked at her fondly. If he was honest, she was his favourite professor. “Not a lot,
Professor. I’m sorry. Truly. But, I can’t stay here.” It’s too painful. He added silently.
“And nothing I can say will change your mind?” McGonagall asked, knowing that the young
man in front of him was as stubborn as his mother.
“I’m sorry.” Harry replied, meaning it completely. He didn’t want to leave, really. But, it was
too hard for him to stay.
She released his arm, and started walking to the gates. “I trust you’ve said your goodbyes to
Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?” She asked. “I shall walk you out, Harry.”
 I think I’ve communicated enough with my ‘lovers’. Harry thought as he followed McGonagall
out. As they passed the winged boars, the wards lifted, allowing Harry to Apparate. Before he left,
he smiled at his old Professor.
“I know this is inappropriate, Professor, but...” He said, pulling the old woman into a hug. She
was startled for a moment, before she wrapped her arms around Harry, feeling, for a moment, like
she had a favourite grandson.
“Take care of yourself, Harry.” She said, swallowing tears.
“You, too.” Harry replied, as he vanished into a trail of white smoke, disapparating with a
nearly inaudible ‘pop’.

In the Great Hall, Hermione finished reading the note, before she passed it to Ron, who started
to translate the chicken-scratch into English.
Dumbledore stared at Hermione. “Can you think of any reason Mr. Potter would leave
Hogwarts, Miss Granger?” He asked.
Hermione racked her brains for a moment. “I can’t think of anything, sir.” I don’t understand.
She thought to herself. He’s considered this castle home for the last six years. All his friends are
here. His lovers are here... why would he go? Hermione’s mind glossed over the fact that she’d
spent the last year with Ron alone.
She looked up at Dumbledore, tears in her eyes. “I can’t think of a reason he’d just leave, sir.
Did he say anything to you?”
“He didn’t say a word, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore replied, his eyes noticeably devoid of
twinkling. “He handed me the envelope. As soon as I touched it, he turned and walked away.
Minerva has gone after him. We shall see what she has to say.” He turned to Ron, who’d finished
reading the note. “Can you think of anything, Mr. Weasley?”
Ron’s anger was famous, and now was no exception. “I can’t believe he’d just leave without
telling us!” He raged quietly, not wanting to gain more attention from the students; a pointless
endeavour, since they were all watching ardently. “He’s not said a bloody thing to us!” Ron’s mind
was also busy glossing over, in his case, the fact that Harry’d not had any opportunity to talk to
them in private, since when they were in private, he was usually buried up to his nuts in Hermione.
At that point, McGonagall re-entered the Great Hall, making her way straight to the head table.
Dumbledore noticed her approach, and called out to her. “Did you catch him, Minerva?”
McGonagall waited until she was at the staff table to answer. “I did, Albus. He simply told me
that he couldn’t stay here anymore. I asked if there was anyway I could make him stay. He told me
no.”
Dumbledore slumped back in his chair, looking every day of his hundred and fifty-plus years.
“I shall ask Remus to get in touch with him at Grimmauld Place.” He said wearily.
“I’m going to write to him, too.” Hermione said firmly. “He’d better have a damned good
reason for just up and leaving school.”
McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged wry glances. Hermione Granger was a very tenacious
witch...
 – CHAPTER THREE –
Freedom!

Harry woke up in the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place, with a sense of light-headedness.
For a moment, he didn’t understand why he felt this way. It took almost a minute for the memories
to make their way to the front of his mind.
Ah... that’s why. I feel free, now that I know I don’t have to hear, see and smell Ron and
Hermione. Of course, it was the ‘freedom’ of an exile, but compared to what he’d been living with
over recent weeks, it was a blessing.
With a yawn that would have made a tiger proud, Harry staggered out of bed, making his way
to the en-suite to take care of his morning ablutions. With sparkling teeth, an empty bladder, and a
good scrub, Harry felt ready to face the day.
First... breakfast. Then... He pondered for a moment. I think a spot of Arithmancy. Break for
lunch. Then Runes. Break for Dinner. Transfiguration, then bed. With a vague plan in place, Harry
made his way into the kitchen. Opening the coolbox, he dug out eggs, cheese, butter and bacon. An
omelette for breakfast.
He’d just finished cracking the eggs into a bowl, when the doorbell rang. He sighed as he
placed the bowl down, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands with.
And so, it begins. As he walked towards the door, he wondered who Dumbledore had sent. His
first bet was Remus, as long-time family friend. His second thought was Tonks, as the only member
of the Order even close to his own age. An idle thought of it being Ron or Hermione were quickly
dismissed. After all, it was a school day, and a student withdrawing during the term was not enough
of a reason to justify sending out other students.
He peered through the spy-hole in the door, noting the ragged appearance of the werewolf that
had been his father’s friend. Heh... I was right.
Opening the door, he smiled at the broken old wolf, gesturing for him to come inside.
“Morning, Moony. Fancy a spot of breakfast?” He asked, heading back into the kitchen. Lupin
crept behind silently, not wanting to wake the vicious portrait.
He settled at the kitchen table, and stared at his unofficial god-nephew, hoping that the quiet
would disturb the young man into speaking his mind.
Harry smiled grimly at the stove, quickly noting the waiting game Moony was playing, and
deciding to play along. After all his Occlumency lessons with Snape, and later Dumbledore, he’d
learnt enough self-control to make a werewolf jealous.
After serving the omelettes, and pouring two ‘brickie brews’, tea hot enough and strong enough
to scour the stains from an explosion, he sat down at the table, watching Lupin.
Moony sighed, accepting his loss of the first round. “You can probably guess why I’m here,
Harry.” He said, spooning a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
“I’d hazard a guess that Professor Dumbledore sent you here to find out my reasons for leaving
school.” Harry replied calmly, digging into his own meal. He swallowed, before looking up.
“Unfortunately, Moony, I can’t explain. I’m under orders to not reveal that secret. Unfortunately, it’s
magically binding.”
 Moony sighed. There was no point in trying to get someone to talk about an oath-bound
subject. It would be an exercise in utter futility. “I had to try, cub.” Remus said heavily.
Harry placed a hand on Moony’s, silently telling the older man that he appreciated the gesture.
“It’s not a problem, Moony. Really. At least you got yourself a free brekkie out of it. I’m okay with
what happened.” He scooped up more food. “Hey, this way, at least I can have coffee while I’m
studying.”

Moony had left immediately after breakfast, presumably to report to Dumbledore. Harry made
himself a huge pot of coffee, and retreated to the library to begin his studies. He firmly expected to
receive letters from both Ron and Hermione at some point during the morning.
He wasn’t disappointed.
A pair of school owls arrived shortly before noon, one carrying a plain white envelope, while
the other wielded the blood-red envelope of a Howler.
Before reaching to take them, he guessed that the Howler was from Hermione. He was right. As
soon as he took it from the owl, which launched itself into the air as quickly as possible, it exploded
into action, forming a mouth, with Hermione’s voice filling the room.
“Harry James Potter!” Harry winced as he saw one of the windows in the library crack from
the volume. With a silent flick of his wand, he repaired the glass. “What the hell do you think you’re
doing, leaving school two weeks into the term? If you’re having problems, why didn’t you bring
them to me? I could have helped you, you know! That’s what I do!”
Harry snorted. This howler was far more intelligent than others, not surprising, considering the
source. It seemed to wait while he did other things, like refill his coffee cup. Apparently, Hermione
wanted to make sure he got the full blast.
“Why couldn’t you tell me or Ron about what was wrong? We’re your lovers, Harry! You’re
supposed to share any problems that you have with us! That’s all part of the foundation of a solid,
stable relationship.”
Harry coughed on his coffee, unable to believe what the howler was spewing. Is she serious?
Harry wondered, as he mopped up the spilled coffee. At what point did we have a ‘solid, stable
relationship’? Again, the howler waited while he was busy.
“We need to talk, Harry, and more importantly, you need to get yourself back to school! We’ve
had people coming up to us all night, wondering where you are! Do you know how stupid we look,
saying that you’ve left and we have no idea? You’ve managed to embarrass me and Ron, and I don’t
appreciate that at all!”
Harry cleared his throat, prompting the howler to pause again, while he had a rant. “How stupid
they look?” He shouted indignantly. With a deep scowl, he waited for the howler to start up again.
“More to the point, you need to come back for NEWTs, Harry! This is our final year! You won’t
be able to pass them without my help! I expect you to be back by this evening, Harry, with an
apology and a proper explanation!”
With a final boom, the howler detonated, spraying confetti all over his books. Harry fumed for
a moment. I need her help to pass the NEWTs? I should apologise? What the hell did I ever see in
them in the first place? With a heavy heart, he ran though his checklist, agonisingly confirming that
yes, he saw a lot in them and more agonisingly, yes he still loved them.
While still in his bad mood, he grabbed Ron’s letter, silently glad it wasn’t another howler. He
opened it up.
Dear Harry,
Okay, what the bloody hell’s going on? Why’ve you just decided to leave school without consulting
with us first? Don’t we matter to you? Is your opinion of us so low that you can just go?
Hermione’s very upset and angry, Harry. I am, too. I want to know why you just decided to waltz
out. What could we have done to make you want to just walk away? Why now? The schoolwork’s
straightforward, our relationship’s going great and Quidditch is starting soon.
You need to fix this. Hermione told me that in her howler, she told expects an explanation and an
apology. Frankly, Harry, you’re gonna be in the dog-house over this, mate. You need to come up
with a suitable way of calming Hermione down, and you need to come up with a way to make it up
to us both.
You can’t just do this sort of thing without checking with your partners, Harry. I would have thought
that you’d have known that by now. After all, we’ve been together for over a year. Why did you feel
you couldn’t talk to us? If you were having a problem, why didn’t you go to Hermione? Or, if it was
a guy problem, you could have come to me, and I’d’ve helped you.
I’ll see you when you come back tonight, Harry.
Ron.
Harry read through the note twice from Ron, feeling his bad mood disappear like dust in the
wind. He burst out laughing, startling the remaining owl. Oh, this is fucking priceless! He thought,
tears of laughter running down his face as he cherry-picked his favourite parts of the note.
‘...without consulting us first’? That’s rich. I don’t think you two’ve consulted me on a single
damned thing!
With another chuckle, Harry got up, going over to the cupboard and pulling out his laptop and
printer. The letter he was going to write back was going to be very long, since it would contain the
record that he’d been keeping ever since summer.
It took him nearly four hours to type up the whole thing. He placed paper in the printer, and did
a final spell-check, before printing out the document. Even with small typing, it was a long letter.
He folded it, placed it into an envelope, and was about to tie it to the leg of the owl when a thought
struck. Why the hell should I do things on their timetable? They’ve ignored my feelings for over a
year. He looked at the Hogwarts owl. “I don’t have a reply for them.”
The owl hooted disapprovingly, before heading out of the open owl-hole at the top of the
library. With a muffled snort, Harry went back to his Arithmancy.

The days came and went. There’d been several Order meetings during that time, where Harry
politely left the kitchen, not wanting to get involved. His seeming lack of interest in anything had
several members of the Order worried, and not a day would go by without one of them probing him
to find out why he’d left.
Each time they arrived, Dumbledore and McGonagall carried a letter from Ron or Hermione.
Once, even Snape had one, which he handed over to Harry like it was carrying the plague. Harry
politely thanked them for the letters, which he would read in the library, make modifications to the
file on the laptop, then carry on with his studying.
Harry was reading through his potions book, when the flashback of Mad-Eye Moody trying to
act as a relationship counsellor rose to the top of his mind. The paranoid psychopath asking if Harry
was having ‘wand problems’ would give him chuckles for years to come. However, the memory of
Moody passing him a box of magical condoms would fuel nightmares so severe even Voldemort
would flinch.
The day when several members of the Order each carried a howler from Hermione was another
memorable day, and that was probably when Harry decided it was time to send his return letter to
Ron and Hermione. He’d conjured a cloth sack, and cast the Muffliato charm on it. The Order
quickly deposited the letters, which when they sensed each other, erupted at once.
The sight of all the howlers screaming for dominance made it look like Harry was holding a
sack with puppies wrestling inside. He went back to the library, printing out the final revision of the
letter, which he sealed in an envelope. He summoned Hedwig, tying the heavy missive to her legs,
and sent her off.

Three hours later, the tired owl swept through the mail-hole at the top of the Great Hall,
heading straight for Hermione. She untied the letter, absently thanking Hedwig, as she flew away.
Ron immediately brightened when he saw Harry’s familiar leaving the hall, and rushed to
Hermione’s side as she held a fat Muggle envelope.
“Well? What does he say?” Ron asked.
Hermione quickly ripped open the letter, pulling out several sheets of Muggle printer paper,
filled with tiny script.
Dear Ron&Hermione,
Thank you for your recent letters. I must say, having my home filled with Howlers has really
improved my disposition.
Now, do you notice the way that I wrote your names at the top? As though both of you are a single
entity? ‘Ron&Hermione’. Did you also notice that it doesn’t, and never has said
‘Ron,Hermione&Harry’?
“What the hell does he mean by that?” Ron asked.
Hermione shook her head. “I really don’t think that this is the best place to read this letter,
Ron.” She quickly folded it, jumping up and racing from the hall. Ron eyed the food at the table,
before reluctantly following his girlfriend out of the room.

Once back up in the Head Girl’s suite, Hermione dug the letter out of her robes, and started to
read aloud.
Dear Ron&Hermione,
Thank you for your recent letters. I must say, having my home filled with Howlers has really
improved my disposition.
Now, do you notice the way that I wrote your names at the top? As though both of you are a single
entity? ‘Ron&Hermione’. Did you also notice that it doesn’t, and never has said
‘Ron,Hermione&Harry’?
“So, what does that mean?” Ron asked again.
Hermione pondered for a moment. “If I had to hazard a guess, it’s because you and I are the
public couple.”
Ron nodded slowly, and waited for Hermione to continue.
Now, if I know you two, and I do, very well, then you’re asking yourselves, ‘What does Harry mean
by Ron,Hermione&Harry’? Well, I don’t mean the fact that everyone thinks that you two are dating
and I’m single. It’s because of the fact that you two are dating, and I am single.
“No, he isn’t!” Ron said loudly. “He’s part of the Trio, as we all are!”
“Shh, Ron.” Hermione said, carrying on.
Allow me to give you a chronology of events. Ron, that means that I will be listing what things have
happened. First of all, let me advise you: There is no Trio.
How can I say that? That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it? Well, carry on reading, and I shall
explain.
After our crappy fifth year ended, the three of us decided that we would, instead of having two
couples, breaking the delicate balance of our friendship, have a Trio. This means that Hermione,
Ron and Harry would be in a three-way relationship, with no outsiders.
You have no idea what this meant to me. I’ve never told you, because frankly, you’ve never shown
an interest. I’ll tell you now. It made my bloody day. I’d just lost Sirius, one of the few remaining
links to my folks, and probably my last chance at a stable, happy home. Then, my two best friends,
the people that I love, and could happily see myself marrying and growing old with, tell me that
they want to have a relationship with me.
This, as you can imagine, cheered me right up. I’ve not been loved since I was fifteen months old,
and to have the two people I’m closest to, offering themselves to me... ah, it felt like bliss. I didn’t
care how bad my summer was that year. The Dursleys. The slave labour; gardening, cooking. Nope.
I had two people who loved me, waiting for me.
We met up on the Hogwarts Express, and my heart lifted. Ron, gotten taller, more muscular, very
buff. Hermione... well, looking gorgeous would be a very inadequate way of describing it. Two
beautiful people, who told me they loved me.
“I don’t understand.” Ron interrupted. “We know all this. It’s true. He was looking great, you
were looking beautiful.” He said to Hermione. “Why’s he telling us this?”
“Well, if you let me finish, Ronald,” Hermione said primly, “we might find out.”
School started up, and I was happy. I was having Occlumency lessons with Professor Dumbledore,
lessening the pain in my head, and learning to truly block my thoughts from Voldemort. Without the
pressure from his migraine-inducing visions, I was able to work through my feelings regarding
Sirius’ death.
I was coming to terms with it. My life was getting better.
Then, we had the joyous day of Thursday, 19th September, 1996. Hermione’s 17th birthday. Now, I’d
booked a private table at the Three Broomsticks, so that the three of us could go out and celebrate
Hermione’s birthday in both style and privacy. I did this in secret, as a surprise to the two of you.
Why did we need the privacy? That’s a sore point for me. I’ve had years of being dragged through
the mud by the press and the kangaroo court of public opinion, so I guess I’ve got a thicker skin
than most. You two, however, were afraid of being caught in a Trio. Remember? I do. We had to
keep it secret. But, I didn’t mind. Not really. As long as you two were happy, I was happy.
So, I’d booked the table. Bought Hermione’s present. Arranged for the passageway to Honeydukes
to be clear so that we could sneak out. After an afternoon session with Professor Dumbledore, I was
making my way back to the common room, when I get stopped by Luna Lovegood in the corridor.
“How is any of this relevant, Hermione?” Ron asked. “This is really hard to sit and listen to,
you know.”
Hermione huffed, lowering the paper to her lap. “Don’t you want to find out why Harry’s just
up and left, Ronald? I do. And, if he felt it important for us to read this, don’t you think we should?”
“Fine.” Ron sulked.
What does Luna have to do with anything? Well, Luna was carrying around a new piece of gossip,
which had travelled around Hogwarts at warp speed, as does any new piece of gossip. Luna felt
that since it involved my best friends, I should be told.
“That was when we kissed in the common room.” Hermione whispered, looking up at Ron with
horror in her eyes. For a moment, he looked blankly at her, before his brain caught up, moulding his
face into a similar pose. He nodded, and waited for her to continue.
Of course, that juicy little bit of gossip was Ron and Hermione, clearing almost five years of sexual
tension by practically shagging on the common room couches. I managed to translate that to you
two have a snogfest on the couch.
At this point, I must admit, I was a tad upset. Why were you two making out on the couch? We
hadn’t yet decided who was going to be the public face of the relationship. In fact, we hadn’t even
discussed it. I knew that neither of you wanted to go public as a Trio, but why were you two the
public face?
I came back to the common room, to see you and Ron looking at each other with silly grins, which I
ignored. I went up to my dorm room, collected Hermione’s birthday present, and came back down,
passing it over. At that point, neither of you told me that you’d been snogging and groping. I waited
for almost an hour, before I went up to bed, lying and saying that I had a headache from my
Occlumency lesson.
Neither of you noticed that I’d gone.
When Ron staggered to bed that night, or rather, the following morning, I do believe there was more
lipstick on his face than on Hermione’s. A curious fact, considering he doesn’t wear it. Still, I didn’t
let you know that I’d heard the rumours, waiting for you to tell me. Which you did. The following
Tuesday. Four days later.
“That can’t be right...” Ron muttered, knowing in his heart that it was. “Did we really wait four
days before we told him?”
Hermione nodded slowly, remembering. “And we’d been kissing all that weekend... I
remember...”
A curious and little known fact about Occlumency is that is adjusts your memory, giving you almost
perfect recall. That’s why Snape’s such a good Potions Master. Can’t stand the man personally, but
you’ve got to admire his memory.
So, you two roamed Hogwarts, testing every broom cupboard, empty classroom and dark corner
that you could find. How do I know this?
“The map.” Hermione whispered. “Oh, god... he’d have seen us on the map...”
The Marauders’ Map. Of course, it has many functions, besides telling you where people are. It tells
you what they’re doing, too. So, you two explored each others tonsils while exploring the castle,
while I learned how to protect my mind from Voldemort, so that I could keep the people I love safe.
Not exactly the way that I would have chosen it, but it worked out.
Now, I was waiting my turn. I thought to myself... they just don’t know how to tell me. But soon, I’ll
be joining them. With my invisibility cloak and the map, we’d be able to roam the castle with
impunity, sampling the pleasures of tonsil hockey.
I remember you two coming up to me, after that free period just after charms, ‘cause you had
something to tell me. You told me that you two were caught kissing on the sofa in the common room.
But, it didn’t matter, ‘cause we were still a Trio. Lavender had seen you, and she’d decided that you
two were dating. It didn’t matter to you two, though, ‘cause we were still a Trio.
Then, I had to go to another bloody Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore, while you two got to goof
off. I was late for my Occlumency lesson, ‘cause I was watching you two go for another snogfest in
one of the broom cupboards.
Days passed, and September rolled into October. I’d still not been involved in a make-out session. I
was trying not to take it personally. But, it was difficult. The two people that I loved were excluding
me.
 “We were not!” Ron shouted. “That’s unfair! He was just never around when we were in the
mood! He should’ve made more effort to spend more time with us!”
Hermione shook her head. “That’s a poor excuse, Ron, and you know it.” She blinked, a single
tear rolling down her cheek. “We could have made the time. We should have made the time.
Instead, we just carried on without him.”
In every year of my life, something has happened on Halloween. Voldemort killing my parents.
Beatings from ’82-’90. The Troll incident in ’91. Mrs. Norris being petrified in ’92, causing the
whole castle to think that I’m the Heir of Slytherin. The attack of mad-dog killer Sirius Black in ’93,
before we knew that he was innocent. The bloody Goblet of Fire in ’94, which is where Ron turned
on me. Sorry to put it bluntly, mate, but we both know it’s true. The attack on Arthur Weasley in ’95.
As you can see, I don’t like Halloween, since it’s full of bad memories.
“Oh, no...” Hermione muttered. For once, Ron was ahead of her.
“That’s when we first had sex.” He muttered grimly. “You and I... not him..”
That was the day that you two made love. Again... you two went off and did something monumental
to the ‘Trio’ without me. Without discussing it with me.
Do you remember that letter you sent, Ron, just after I left Hogwarts? “Why’ve you decided to
leave school without consulting us first” you said. Why the bloody hell should I consult you and
Hermione for anything? You’ve never consulted me about anything.
So, you two shagged on Halloween. I was in the library, reading up on a way to strengthen
Occlumency shields and a way of casting protective charms on loved ones. I had the map with me,
of course, and I saw you two start.
I admit, I went straight to the Room of Requirement and cried. Yes, I’m a bloke. Yes, I cried. Why?
Because you two had gone from kissing, to groping, to making love. All that time, you’d been
together, and I hadn’t even been kissed by either of you. I think that was the first time I truly began
to realise that there is no Trio.
“My god, Ron...” Hermione breathed. “What’ve we done?”
Ron shook his head. “I think it’s more a case of ‘what haven’t we done’?” He stood up, kicking
at the couch on the way. “How could we not have realised?”
The fact it took you a fortnight to admit to me that you’d been intimate. Of course, I knew
beforehand, not only through the map, but through the fact that Ron’s silencing charms are utterly
shite. Dean, Seamus and Neville all knew as well. I tried thinking to myself “they’ll invite me in,
soon. After all, they love me. They said so.” Ha! If that’s love, I’m better off without it. It’s only
brought me pain.
Again, the weeks passed. I was basically left alone while you two tried to break the contraceptive
charm. Then, come December, I was invited into your bedroom antics! It’d taken months, but it’d be
worth it!
I do believe that all that time studying Occlumency burned out my brain. I really was delusional.
You two offered to teach me pleasure.
Of course, you never mentioned that I would be pleasuring you, and getting nothing in return. I
mean, don’t get me wrong, Hermione, making your orgasm gave me a sense of power that not even
producing a Patronus in my third year could match.
So, I join you in the bedroom. We seal Ron’s curtains, and you let me go down. You orgasm, giving
me a great thrill. Then, we hear someone coming. “Oh, no! Harry, you can’t be found here! What
will people say?” So, I grab my invisibility cloak, and go and hide in the bathroom. Neville comes
into the dorm, notices Ron’s curtains are closed, and quickly escapes.
I wait a couple of extra minutes until I’m sure he’s gone, then come back out of the shower room,
the biggest shit-eating grin on my face. ‘Cause I know it’s my turn! Oh, yeah, baby! I open the door
to the dorm room... and hear you and Ron shagging. At a rough guess, watching me pleasure his
girlfriend has turned Ron on, and Hermione was obviously still wet my from ministrations.
Again, I don’t mind admitting, I was hurt. I had tears streaking down my face as I locked myself in
the shower room. I punished myself. I denied myself the release I obviously didn’t deserve. I
believed that the stinging pain in my crotch was punishment, and that I would, at a later time, find
out what I had done that was so bad to deserve it.
“Oh, Ron...” Hermione broke into a fresh batch of tears, as they realised that they were guilty
of far more than just being a little absent-minded to their friend.
This continued three more times. I was allowed to pleasure Hermione, but something happened to
drive me away, and when I returned, you two would be going at it.
Christmas came round, and with so many students staying at Hogwarts with no classes, it was far
too dangerous for me to join you. So, you carried on without me.
I will admit at this point that I started to become quite disillusioned. But still, I hung in there. I kept
thinking to myself, they love me. They wouldn’t let me join in otherwise. So, we rolled into January.
Now, I was being ‘allowed’ to pleasure Ron. So, I did. Twice. I even swallowed, something, from the
rumours Dean passed on, that even Hermione wouldn’t do.
“It is gross.” Hermione whispered, staring at her hands.
Again, something would happen to drive me away. Do you remember, Hermione, that was when you
said it was getting dangerous in the dorm rooms?
“Oh, god!” Hermione again burst into tears, realising that she’d been so selfish.
“I know.” Ron grasped her in a hug, letting her cry herself out before they carried on with the
most damning piece of mail they’d ever received.
February came. Ah, we all know what that means, don’t we?
Hermione’s mind sparked. “Oh, Merlin... Valentine’s Day...” She turned to Ron. “Do you
remember-”
“Yes.” Ron spoke through gritted teeth, fury arching through his brain. Self-fury and self-
loathing battled for dominance in his mind.
Yes, the Valentine’s Day Debacle, as I privately call it, ended every single thought about sexual
relations between the ‘Trio’. Ha! Trio. My arse...
Picture the scene in your mind. Friday, 14th February, 1997. I woke up, one final, lone little hope in
my mind. I’d overheard the two of you talking about going down to Hogsmeade together. I knew
that I couldn’t come with you, because of the bloody scandal. But, you wouldn’t spend all day there,
and we’d spend some time together afterwards. We’d all make love together, affirming the ties
between us.
I woke up, leaping out of bed with all the grace of a frolicking gazelle. Or, more appropriately, a
tiger. That’s important, you see. At the end of November, when I’d finished my Occlumency training,
I switched to Animagus training. To Professor McGonagall’s intense pride, I managed to complete
my transformation in three months. Apparently, that’s a record. The fastest official transformation
took thirteen months.
Once I had my Animagus form, I received the usual benefits: enhanced senses. Being a tiger, my
hearing is better, my eyes are better, and my sense of smell is better.
So, I showered, dressed, and waited in the common room for you. After an hour, when the rest of the
lads came downstairs, they told me that you two had already left for Hogsmeade, and they had to
go and meet their dates. Each of them gave me a truly superb pity look. After all, the famous Harry
Potter hadn’t got himself a date.
And we all know why, don’t we? Yes, I could’ve got myself a date. Hell, I know of several girls
who’d let me shag them, just so that they could claim they’d nailed the Boy-Who-Lived. But, I didn’t
want that. I wanted the two people I loved most in the world.
I’d left gifts out for you both the night before. Cards, as well. Flowers for Hermione. Chocolates for
Ron. Not big things, true. But, it showed caring. At least, I thought it did.
Hermione glanced at her bedside table, noticing the everlasting roses she’d received from
Harry. Even now, almost eight months later, they were still there, still going strong, still filling the
room with a beautiful scent. She closed her eyes in shame for a moment, before going back to the
letter.
You two returned to the castle in the late afternoon, dashing through the common room on your way
to Ron’s bed, not even acknowledging me sitting there. You remember I mentioned enhanced
senses? I could smell you on each other. Quite literally. Both of you had mussed hair, and several
misfastened buttons. I could tell you’d had sex.
I could also smell the fact that you were both still very horny. I went up to the dorm room, no
intention of joining you. No, I intended to steal from Seamus, since I know the horny Irish pervert
keeps a stash of FireWhiskey under his mattress. If there was ever a day I wanted to suffer the sweet
oblivion of alcohol, this was it.
So, me and Ogden shared a pleasant evening together in the Room of Requirement. I will admit, it
took a hell of a lot of effort after that first bottle to stagger back to the dorm room to get the other
two, but I needed to do something. After getting into the fight with that suit of armour on the fifth
floor (and I still can’t believe no-one knows it was me – didn’t the broken knuckles give it away?) I
managed to nick the rest of Seamus’ booze, and staggered back to the RoR, where I drank myself
into unconsciousness.
Waking up with the worst hangover in the history of ever, I staggered into the dorm room,
showered, dressed, and headed for breakfast. I was in dire need of a fry-up. Upon entering the
Great Hall, Hermione, you dragged me out, ignoring my piteous pleas for bacon, and told me that
you needed to talk to me.
Hermione grimaced as she vividly remembered the conversation.
You told me that all the time you two were in Hogsmeade on your ‘romantic date’, people had been
coming up to you to ask you where I was, as it seemed strange to just see the two of you on a date.
You told me, and I quote: “Harry, you need to stop being so obvious with us. People are starting to
ask questions that I really don’t want to answer. You need to back off. Will you do that? For us?”
Unfortunately, I had my hand in my pocket, with my wand, so when I said “yes,” it sealed that as a
magical oath.
“You said that?” Ron asked weakly.
“I-I... I didn’t mean it like that...” Hermione replied woodenly.
It was then that I realised there was no Trio. It may have been possible for redemption, but the
‘relationship’ had fizzled and died before it ever truly began. All I was to the pair of you was an
extra set of hands or a tongue. I mean... neither of you had ever even kissed me. You both shagged
like bunnies, but I didn’t get a single kiss.
I remember the conversations we’d have, sitting in front of the fire in the common room. We’d be
talking about what would happen after we’d left Hogwarts. We’d all move in together, train to be
Aurors or Healers (still hadn’t decided about that) and be happy forever.
Bollocks. I don’t know if you were deluding yourselves, or lying for my benefit, but I just couldn’t
see that happening. Because, you see, you two were planning the future, and I didn’t have a say in
it. At all. Just like everything else.
I decided then that I wasn’t just gonna be a hanger-on. But, I couldn’t just go out and start dating
other people. Two reasons; one, I really didn’t think it was fair to either of you, and two, I didn’t
want other people. I wanted you two.
“Have you noticed everything’s past-tense?” Ron asked suddenly. “‘Wanted’, instead of
‘wants’?”
Hermione nodded, before carrying on with the letter.
Of course, I was a fool. I started to believe that neither of you wanted me, you just wanted to be
associated with the Boy-Who-Lived. After all, that would boost your own ratings.
Things carried on in a similar venture, you two shagging like bunnies while I lay there, night after
night, denying myself, until the end of June. Do you both remember what happened then? I ‘knew’
that I was going back to the Dursleys, Ron was going to the Burrow, and Hermione going staying
with her parents.
That train ride would have been the perfect time to show me a little affection. The sad part is, after
all the neglect that you showed (and yes, it is neglect), I still foolishly wanted your love. Your
caring. Like a beaten puppy, starved for affection, I wanted something. Anything.
Instead, you two basically sat sucking face the whole trip, rubbing each other the whole time. I left
the compartment, and you didn’t even notice. When I woke up, after the train had arrived at King’s
Cross, I went back to the compartment, only to find you’d both up and left, leaving a compartment
full of pheromones; I could tell you exactly how times you’d both orgasmed (Hermione 4, Ron 2).
The final nail in the coffin, though, was that thoughtful little note that you’d attached to my trunk. I
still have that, you know. I’ll write it in here: “Dear Harry, Me and Hermione are off to the Burrow.
We didn’t see you as we were getting off the train, so we’ll see you when you get to the Burrow in a
couple of weeks. Take care of yourself mate. Ron.”
Ron shook his head, his self-loathing growing to epic proportions, now.
Couple of small points; I had to take care of myself, since both of you had refused to do it. I
obviously wasn’t good enough for you. And my second point, why did you lie to me? Hermione said
that she was going to her parents’ house, and instead, she went to the Burrow, where you could
continue you sexcapades.
It was the final nail. The last straw. The straw that broke the camel’s back. However you want to put
it. That was it. The death of all my hopes.
Then, Molly got involved in the game. Didn’t either of you wonder why I never came to the Burrow
that summer? Did you think I wanted to go to Headquarters? Of course not. No, I got a note from
Molly, telling me that I couldn’t go to the Burrow, because she didn’t want me to interfere with your
relationship. “The Happy Couple”.
You were there for nine weeks, and you never told her that you were a Trio. So, that was it. You two
were a couple. Correction: you two are a couple.
The two letters I got from Hermione during the nine week break were also pitiful. “Please know
that you’re in my thoughts.” I wonder why that was? Am I a better pussy licker than Ron? Was he
missing me because I swallowed?
The beginning of this school year was actually amusing, in a ‘I’ve got a broken heart’ kind of way.
The prefect meeting on the train. Neither of you even bloody noticed that I’d broken up with you, as
you shagged in the Heads’ compartment.
Neither of you noticed that I left the compartment to get changed.
Neither of you noticed when you got into a carriage without me.
Neither of you noticed how I nearly cried myself to sleep every night, because I could hear you two
shagging through the airvent connecting our dorm rooms.
Neither of you know how much you’ve hurt me. Because of you, I’ve decided that I don’t want a
relationship again. My friendship with the two of you is critically damaged. My love pretty much
gone.
Of course, the plan of moving in together after graduation isn’t going to happen. It would be far too
uncomfortable for me, and frankly, I’m sick of thinking about everyone else. So, I’m gonna be
selfish. As soon as I’ve taken all my exams, I’m going to leave. I hear America’s nice, so I’ll
probably go there. With all of the money I’ve inherited, I’ll never need to wok a day in my life, so I
might enjoy what little time remains before Voldemort kills me.
You should ask Professor Dumbledore about me and love. It’s a fascinating conversation.
The tattered remnants of my love compel me to follow the old adage ‘if you love them, let them go’.
So, that’s what I’ve done. You two make a marvellous couple. I hope that you enjoy your lives, and
produce many babies.
Goodbye, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jane Granger.
Hermione folded the letter, and carefully put it back into the envelope. She looked up at Ron,
and burst into tears. He was still holding her, and pulled her to him as tightly as he could
“What are we going to do, Ron?” She asked through her sobs. “We’ve been so dreadful to
him... he’ll never forgive us.”
“We don’t deserve it.” Ron mumbled into Hermione’s hair.
“This... this just can’t be... how it ends.” She mumbled, dissolving into a crying mess.
Ron slowly stood up, pulling Hermione with him. “Let’s go and see Professor Dumbledore. He
should be able to give us permission to go and see Harry in person.”
Hermione clung to him. “I love you, Ron... I love, Harry, too... we have to do something.”
“We will.” Ron promised. “We will.”

The conversation with Dumbledore had been brief, and went entirely their way. Dumbledore
agreed whole-heartedly that someone needed to speak to Harry, and who better than his best
friends? Especially when they announced that they knew why Harry had left Hogwarts. He tried to
get them to tell him, but they said that they’d need to speak to Harry first. Dumbledore gestured to
them to step in front of the fireplace, while he threw in some Floo powder.
“Number 12, Grimmauld Place!” He called firmly. After a moment, Harry’s head appeared in
the fireplace.
“Professor Dumbledore.” Harry’s voice was cool, but polite. “Is there something I can help you
with, sir?”
Dumbledore poked his head into the fire. “Yes, Harry. I have Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley in
my office at the moment. They would like to come and speak to you, if you have the time.”

Harry leaned back slightly, not particularly looking forward to a conversation with his ex-best
friends. He looked at his watch. Ah... three hours. Just long enough for that letter to get to
Hogwarts.
 He leaned forward again. “I’m afraid my Floo connection is limited to conversations only, sir.
But, I’ll be happy to speak to them by Floo.”

Dumbledore stood up, wincing slightly as his knees cracked, and gestured to the fireplace. He
picked up his hat, and left his office.
Hermione scurried forward. “Harry?”
“Miss Granger.” Harry replied, his voice cooler than before.
“Harry, we really need to speak to you.” Hermione was trying to keep her voice calm and
collected.
“You are speaking to me, Miss Granger.” Harry replied formally.
“Look, mate, we really need to speak in person.” Ron said, stepping closer to Hermione, and
wrapping an arm around her waist.
Harry shook his head. “I don’t see a need for us to speak in person, Mr. Weasley. In fact, I do
believe that everything that needs to be said has already been said. In writing, so that any points that
you’re not sure of can be clarified that way. If there’s something you’re not sure about, it can be
said through the Floo.”
Hermione glanced at Ron, leaning her head on his shoulder slightly. “Harry...”
Harry’s voice became sharper. “Miss Granger, say what you need to say, please.” He sounded
impatient. “To be frank, you’re cutting into my study time, and I’m sure I’m interrupting your
personal time with your lover, there.”
“Harry, you’re supposed to be our lover, too!” Ron snapped.
Harry nodded stiffly, not really wanting to get into that particular conversation. “I know.
‘Supposed to’ was right. But, I’ve already dealt with that issue in my letter to you, which, I’m
assuming, you’ve read.” He glanced at his watch again. “Now, is there anything else, or can I go
back to my studies?”
“Harry, how can you just dismiss us like this?” Hermione asked.
“What makes you think that I’m dismissing you?” Harry replied casually. “In order for me to
dismiss you, I’d need to have some kind of feeling towards you. Right now, I really don’t. Besides,
after spending over a year being ignored by two people who were supposed to love me, I learnt
quite a bit.” Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “I know I’m a slow learner, Miss Granger, but even I
picked it up after so much practice.”
“Harry, please, just let us-” Ron started.
“Enough!” Harry snapped, cutting Ron off in mid-sentence. “As far as I am concerned, this
issue has been dealt with. You have your happy couple, keeping Molly very happy, and you’ve got
me out of the way, so I don’t embarrass you, or turn your little relationship into a scandal.” His face
was growing into a mask of emotionless calm. “Now, I’m going back to my studies. I’ll see you
around... possibly. Or not. You see, it really doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
Harry pulled his head out of the fire, firing an ice spell at the fire, banking the flame. After a
moment, he jabbed his wand, blocking off Floo communication access as well.
Without a backwards glance, Harry headed to the Black Library, where his schoolbooks were
all set out.

Hermione burst into tears again, while Ron was fuming. He stalked over to the door, almost
ripping it off its hinges, and stomping down the stairs. At the bottom, Dumbledore was stood, idly
reading a copy of the Quibbler. He looked up to see Ron approaching. “Ah, Mr. Weasley. Is
everything sorted now?”
Ron shook his head angrily, before forcing himself to control his temper. “Not really, sir.
Harry’s... well, he’s a bit upset with us at the moment.”
Dumbledore nodded sadly. “Yes, I feared as much. He has resisted the urges of many Order
members to talk to him about his problems. He seems to be throwing himself into his school work
as much as possible.”
“Sir, is there any way we can go to him?” Ron asked, looking down at his hands. “I mean, I
know it’s a school day, but we really need to speak to him in person.”
Dumbledore held out a long, stripy sock. “This is a Portkey to Grimmauld Place, Mr. Weasley.
As soon as you and Miss Granger touch it together, it will activate.” Ron was about to turn away,
when a hand on his arm stopped him. “Please, Mr. Weasley. Bring him back. I worry for him, being
alone in that house.”
Ron nodded, and stomped up the stairs.
 – CHAPTER FOUR –
Realisations of a Troubled ‘Ship

Harry was engrossed in his Transfiguration textbook, reading about turning one animal into
another. It struck a chord with Harry, until he realised that this was what Viktor Krum had done
during the Tri-Wizard tournament. Of course, he’d done a piss-poor job of it, but it showed the
possibilities.
A dull chiming sounded throughout the house. Harry groaned as he hauled himself to his feet,
and headed to the front door.
He peered through the spy-hole, and bit back an angry shout when he saw Ron and Hermione
stood there. He was tempted, for a few seconds, to leave the two of them standing there, but
Hermione was nothing if not persistent, and would probably set up a tent in order to wait for him.
With a sigh, he opened the door, waiting impatiently as the two walked inside cautiously. “Well,
come in, then!” He snapped.
“We don’t want to wake Mrs. Black.” Hermione whispered.
“You won’t.” Harry spat back. He turned and walked into the kitchen, putting the kettle on the
stove. “So, what do you want?”
Hermione glanced at Ron, a little unsure of where to begin. Ron decided to make a little small
talk while Harry prepared the tea. “So... uh... What happened to Mrs. Black?” He asked.
Harry pulled out the teapot, and three mugs. “A sledgehammer and an Incendio charm back in
August.” Harry replied. “Now that we’ve enjoyed this titillating conversation, why don’t you cut to
the chase? What do you want?”
Hermione spoke up, her voice trembling. “Why did you leave, Harry?” She whispered.
“I answered that in the letter, Miss Granger.” Harry replied crossly. “I even gave you reasons.
Examples. Dates. Would you like pictures? I’m sure if you give me a few moments with a Pensieve,
I could supply numerous examples.”
“Harry, we’re sorry.” Ron blurted out. “We didn’t realise that we’d excluded you so much.”
“Really, Mr. Weasley? You don’t notice for over a year that you have two lovers, one of which
you have never even kissed? How exactly does that escape your notice?” He waved his hand
dismissively. “Well, that speaks wonders for a ‘Trio’ relationship, doesn’t it?” Harry asked, handing
a mug to Hermione, and another to Ron. He gestured at the table, watching the two sit, before
making sure he was as far away from them as possible. “You didn’t realise that you’d been ignoring
the third member of your group.”
Hermione shook her head. “Harry, we didn’t think.”
“Indeed?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in a mocking fashion. “That much is obvious, Miss
Granger.” Harry retorted. “At first, I didn’t mind so much. Now, I just don’t care. You’ve already
made your feelings towards me quite clear.” Harry cocked his head, as something he’d thought
about during the summer crept back into his mind. “Actually, there was one thing. In one of the two
letters you sent me over the summer,” Hermione could hear the emphasis on ‘two’, and lowered her
head in shame, “you mentioned how pleased Molly was with your relationship.”
Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and nodded guiltily.
 “I ended up thinking something. About you, Miss Granger.” She looked up at him. “Since it
became blatantly obvious that you were not prepared to acknowledge me as a member of your
relationship, and personally, I believe that you never had any intention of including me, why did
you bother to propose it to me in the first place? Was is simply pity? You didn’t think that I’d be
able to handle the rejection when you chose Ron, so you decided to throw me a bone? You’d let me
think that I was in a relationship with you two, even though you both knew that it was a lie?”
Hermione stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. “Personally, I believe that you enjoyed the
idea of keeping the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ off the market. You didn’t want me for yourself, but you
didn’t want anyone else getting close. That way, you could enjoy your relationship with Mr.
Weasley, there, but make sure I was still very single.”
Hermione grasped the mug she was holding so tightly, her knuckles went white. “Harry! How
can you accuse me of such a thing?”
Ron spoke up. “Harry, you know that’s not true. Hermione loves you. I love you.”
Harry chuckled. “And you both have such a marvellous way of showing it, don’t you? No, you
two love each other. I’m just a friend.” He looked thoughtful. “To be frank... I’m not even sure
about that, anymore.”
Hermione reached up, and started to unbutton her blouse. “Harry, you want me to show you
how much I love you? How much I want you? Desire you?” She asked. Ron glanced at her, before
he started to unbutton his shirt. Harry’s next words stopped them cold.
“No.”
Hermione’s fingers froze on the last button. She looked up. “What? I thought this was what you
wanted...”
Harry nodded amiably. “I do believe that you’re a little behind the times, Miss Granger. A year
ago, this would have been an irresistible offer.”
Ron, who had stopped at the same time as Hermione, looked up at him. “What do you mean,
‘would have been’? Isn’t it still?”
Harry took a long drink of his tea. “Tell me, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley... I have two phrases,
and I want to know if you’ve ever heard of them. The first is; ‘too little, too late’?” He asked. Both
Ron and Hermione nodded. “Well, that’s where we are. You made it plain to me, during the course
of over a year, that I wasn’t important to you. That my feelings didn’t matter.” He could see that
Hermione was about to interrupt. He carried on. “The other phrase is; ‘pity fuck’.
Hermione reared back at that. “What?” She asked, her voice a dangerous, cold whisper.
Harry just continued. “A pity fuck is what happens when a couple is about to break up, and one
person, usually the female, offers the man one last sexual encounter. It’s not done out of love, or
even affection, but because they want to end the relationship on a high.
“That’s what you’re offering to me, here. What’s changed? Why do you suddenly now want to
offer me sexual relations, when you couldn’t even be bothered to include me from the beginning.”
He chuckled. “Here we are again, you two deciding what happens and when, without even thinking
of asking me.”
Ron stood up, his face red and angry. “We’re trying to show you that we care! That we want
you! Why don’t you want this?”
Harry snapped. “Because you refused to acknowledge me!” He roared. “Don’t you get it?
Valentine’s was the perfect example. I didn’t want a present from you. I was perfectly content to
wait at school while you went on your date. I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want to do it, but I
understood. Had you come back to school, and spent a little time with me, I would have been
perfectly happy. No... you came back to school, both of you, sporting that ‘just shagged’ look,
rushed straight to bed, and ignored me. All fucking day!”
Hermione was in tears during Harry’s diatribe.
“Frankly, coming here and offering me a pity fuck is pathetic!” Harry snapped out. “And that’s
what it would be. A pity fuck. You say you love me, but there has not been a single shred of evident
of that fact. What about those times when I was ‘permitted’ to join you? I was ‘allowed’ to go down
on both of you... but neither of you was prepared to return the favour. You remember the first time,
Hermione? I’d just brought you to orgasm, and someone was coming, so I had to rush away and
hide. When that person went away, I came back... to find you enjoying yourself with Ron. All the
times I was involved, something happened, and you’d go back with Ron.”
Hermione was about to offer a retort, when Harry started up again. “And don’t tell me that
you’re not here offering me a pity fuck. You had your chance. Instead, you were perfectly content to
live up to everyone’s expectations.” He looked at them both, feeling a vicious stab a joy at seeing
their faces. “No, can’t possibly admit to Molly that I love a man.” Harry said to Ron. “Can’t admit
that I’m bisexual.” He turned to Hermione. “Don’t want the Daily Prophet to talk about a three-way
relationship. How could we deal with the scandal?”
He looked at their guilty faces, and felt nothing. “You’ve made your fucking bed, and I’m most
certainly not in it.” He stood up, waving his wand at the fireplace, where a roaring blaze sprung up.
“There is the Floo. Please, feel free to use it.”
Harry stood up, ignoring the cries of protest, and left the kitchen, slamming and sealing the
door shut behind him.

Hermione looked at Ron, slowly buttoning her blouse back up. “What do we do now, Ron?”
She asked, tears in her eyes.
“I don’t know.” Ron muttered, putting his tie back on.
Hermione looked at Ron for a moment, before getting up, and rushing to the door, waving her
wand to dispel the locking charm. She tore the door open, and dashed up the stairs, heading straight
for the library. She saw Harry sitting at one of the tables, reading through a heavy textbook, making
notes in a Muggle ring binder.
“No, Harry.” She said, announcing her presence. “I’m not prepared to leave it like this.”
Harry looked up, discretely palming his wand. “What?” He asked.
“I’m not prepared to just walk away, Harry.” She said. “I love you. I want to be with you.” Ron
stood just behind her, nodding.
“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Harry asked. “I know I didn’t. Why are you
still here?”
“You said you love us, Harry.” Ron said.
Harry nodded, then clarified. “I do believe that is now in the past tense as well, Mr. Weasley.”
“Well, why won’t you let us in?” Ron asked, placing his hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “We
know we’ve been wrong. We want to make it up to you.”
Harry just shook his head. “No, see, we’re back to the pity fuck again. You’ve both just realised
that you’ve lost me. Of course, it took you months to see it, but that’s not my problem. However, I
realised that I never had you. Oh, you were both willing to say the odd kind word to me here and
there, but that’s it. Now, it’s too late.”
“No, I refuse to believe that, Harry.” Hermione said firmly. “I know we can work through this,
if we give it a chance.” Beside her, Ron nodded vigorously.
 Harry leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes drift closed. After a moment, he opened them
again. “No.” He leaned forward. “Didn’t you read the letter? Thanks to your actions, you’ve
completely broken my faith. I don’t have anything left. In the extremely unlikely event that I
manage to outlive Voldemort, I’m just gonna go away. Let you two have your happy life and happy
families. I’ll leave you all in peace.”
Hermione’s, and surprisingly, Ron’s eyes were slowly leaking tears. “So... that’s it? It’s over?”
Ron asked, his voice breaking.
Keeping his face impassive, Harry answered. “I don’t know.” He cocked his head slightly. “Did
it ever begin?” He looked at their incredulous expressions; quite comical considering both had tears
running down their faces. “I know it began for me. The summer we all agreed to become a Trio, I
was so happy. September, when you told everyone that you two were dating was a nail in the coffin.
You two making love without me. Another nail.”
He looked at Hermione. “Last December, you didn’t return the favour. Another nail.” He
looked at Ron. “January, when you didn’t return the favour. Another nail. Valentine’s Day? Another
nail. February 15th, where you told me not to say anything.” He looked at Ron. “Mr. Weasley, I
mean no offence, but out of all three of us, you’re the worst one at keeping a secret.” He turned
back to Hermione. “And yet, I’m the one told to be silent. Not asked, but told.” He sighed. “When
we broke up for summer. That was probably the final nail on the coffin. You didn’t even say
goodbye to me. No hug. No kiss. Not even on the cheek. You just went for your shagging holiday at
the Burrow, leaving me alone with people I hated!” Harry’s voice had been rising during the last
few sentences, leaving him red-faced and shouting.
With a visible effort, Harry calmed himself down, ignoring the muffled sobs from Hermione.
“Just... just go. Leave me alone.” He muttered, dejected. “It’s what you’re good at.”
Hermione started to protest again, but Harry’d had enough. “Stupefy! Stupefy!” His wand
flicked twice, launching bright red stunners at both of his ‘lovers’. With another flick of his wand,
he had the two floating behind him, as he made his way back to the kitchen. He opened the Floo to
Dumbledore’s office.

Dumbledore heard the Floo chiming for attention, and was secretly pleased to see Harry’s face
in the flames. “Ah, Harry!” He said jovially. “Has everything been sorted out?”
Harry’s face was back to his expressionless mask. “Everything’s been sorted out to my
satisfaction, Headmaster.” He replied politely. “However, I don’t think it’s been sorted to Mr.
Weasley and Miss Granger’s satisfaction.” Harry reached behind him. “I’ve got a couple of things I
need to pass to you, sir. Are you ready to receive them?”
Dumbledore looked confused, then nodded. Harry disappeared for a moment, then a pair of feet
appeared in the flames. Dumbledore grabbed them, pulling them through the Floo network,
realising that he was handling the unconscious body of Ron Weasley. A moment later, another pair
of feet appeared, leaving Dumbledore to pull Hermione through the grate. When she was lowered to
the floor, Harry’s face reappeared.
“When you wake them up, please pass on a message from me.”
Dumbledore looked pensive for a moment, then nodded.
“Tell them... ‘No’.” Harry vanished from the fire, which died away.
Not looking forward to passing on that message, Dumbledore drew his wand from his sleeve.
After casting ‘Enervate’ on both youngsters, he sat back down on his chair. Ron and Hermione
woke up, looking around in confusion.
“Hang on...” Hermione said slowly. “How did we get here? We were in the Library at
Grimmauld Place.”
“It appears Mr. Potter stunned you both, then sent you back through the Floo.” Dumbledore
replied quietly. “He asked me to pass on a message.”
Ron and Hermione both perked up on hearing that. Dumbledore was dreading his next words.
“He told me to tell you... ‘No’. That is all he said.”
Hermione burst into tears, grasping on to Ron, as a drowning man would grab onto a life
preserver.
Dumbledore sighed softly. He hated getting involved in teenager’s problems. As the
headmaster of a school, he had to do it far too often, and he hated it every time. He knew he wasn’t
heartless, but because of his great age, he was so far removed from their problems that he didn’t
really understand.
“I hate to pry... but if you were to talk about the problem, maybe I could help.” He offered
tentatively.
Hermione glanced at Ron, who nodded.
“Well, sir... that’s actually a rather... personal conversation.” Hermione began. “Normally, we
wouldn’t be discussing this.” She glanced at Ron, who nodded, rather more enthusiastically this
time. “But, if you promise to keep it quiet, sir, we’ll tell you.”
Dumbledore nodded, making a note to extract this memory and send it to Harry.
“It began, sir, about a year ago. Actually, the summer at the end of our fifth year.” Hermione
glanced over at Ron again, who nodded, smiling reassuringly. “You know that me, Ron and Harry
have always been very close, yes?” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, we started to look at our options
for... relationships.”
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. And suddenly, everything becomes clearer. The boys must
have been fighting over Miss Granger; Mr. Weasley won, leaving Harry alone. It was bound to
happen in triangle friendships.
“We decided, between the three of us, that we didn’t want to leave anyone out.”
Now, that’s different. Dumbledore thought, raising an eyebrow. Normally, one of a triangle
would be sent away.
Ron took up the story. “Well, since all three of us finds the other two very attractive, we
decided a Trio would work for us. So, we decided that’s what we’d do.” Ron looked guiltily at
Hermione. “However... we didn’t think the whole thing through. At least, I didn’t.”
Hermione carried on. “Me and Ron were in the common room, when we started kissing. Of
course, a piece of gossip in this school travels faster than light.” She looked down at her hands for a
moment. “Ron and I... we didn’t think about Harry’s feelings.”
Ron continued. “When we spoke to Harry earlier, he told us that he found out me and
Hermione were dating from Luna Lovegood.”
Oh, dear. Dumbledore thought dryly. That would not be good.
“When Harry came into the common room, we just ignored it, and pretended to work on
homework. After four days, we took him aside, and explained what had happened.” She cocked her
head slightly. “He seemed to take it pretty well.”
Ah, yes. Emphasis on ‘seemed’ to take it pretty well.
“So, we decided that the public face of the relationship would be me and Ron.” Hermione
continued. “Looking back, I realise that the ‘we’ who made the decision didn’t include Harry.”
And the fog clears even more. He was outcast from the very beginning.
 “So, we carried on that way. I told myself, ‘it didn’t matter that I was publicly dating Ron’.”
Hermione added. “We’d know the truth. We’re a Trio, that’s all that matters. I love my boys, and
they love me.” She shook her head. “I was a bloody fool.”
Ron pulled another tissue from his pocket, handing it to Hermione. “Well, sir... At that point,
we started doing what people in relationships do.”
Dumbledore’s eyebrow raised up to his hairline. “I see.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, sir. You know it happens in your school.”
“I know it happens, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore said primly. “However, that is slightly
different than students admitting it to me.” He thought for a moment. “That was the reason Mr.
Potter was selected as Head Boy. We don’t normally allow people in relationships to be Heads
together.”
Hermione laughed mirthlessly. “Looking back, Harry was a fine choice for Head Boy.”
What? How could that be, if he was in a sexual relationship with the Head Girl? “Explain.”
Ron looked at Hermione, who gestured to him. “Well... when we started, it was me and
Hermione. We didn’t invite Harry to join us that first time. We just figured we’d invite him next
time.”
“Oh.” Dumbledore said quietly, before realisation set in. “Oh!” He looked at them. “Would I be
correct in assuming that if I went to see Mr. Potter today, and asked him if he was a virgin, he would
answer in the affirmative?”
“Yes, sir.” Hermione and Ron replied in unison.
“At the time, we didn’t realise.” Hermione continued. “We were exploring each other. We
thought, ‘Harry’s a strong guy. He won’t mind being on the outside for now.’”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Dumbledore asked, now seeing the full picture.
“Yes, sir.” They replied together again.
“But... it was Valentine’s day that really doomed us.” Hermione said sadly.
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. “According to the portraits, Mr. Potter was drunk that day.
Can you explain why?”
Exchanging a guilty glance with Hermione, Ron spoke up. “That would be our fault. Me and
Hermione went to Hogsmeade together. We couldn’t take Harry with us, for obvious reasons. It
would start people talking.”
You foolish children. Dumbledore thought uncharitably. You did this to yourselves.
“While we were out, we were... well... intimate.” Hermione said, blushing heavily. “When we
got back to the castle, we were both still quite... stimulated... and went back to our room.”
“Leaving Harry alone.” Dumbledore concluded, disapproval evident in his voice. “On the day
for celebrating relationships, you two spent your entire day together, ignoring him.”
“Yes, sir.” They replied in unison again.
“What else?” Dumbledore asked sharply. “That was eight months ago. Why would he decide to
stay for another eight months after that?”
Ron glanced at Hermione, who nodded slightly, before speaking up. “Well... during Valentine’s
Day, we heard people speaking in the Three Broomsticks, asking where Harry was. When we saw
him the following day, we... I... told Harry that he needed to tone down his public displays of
affection. I also told him that he had to keep quiet.”
“Did he agree?” Dumbledore asked.
 “Looking back, sir, I didn’t give him the chance to disagree. Or argue the point. I just told him
to keep silent about it.”
“And he did.” Dumbledore replied. “There have been no rumours that I have heard. So... what
happened then?”
“According to Harry, summer was ‘the final nail in the coffin’.” Ron said. “We left the train
station together, me and Hermione, and headed back to the Burrow.”
Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “Leaving Harry alone at the Dursleys, and then at
Grimmauld Place. Why did you not invite him to spend the summer with you?” He asked. “That
would have been the perfect time to begin repairing some of the damages, reassure him.”
Ron looked guilty. “That would be partly my fault, and partly my Mum’s fault.” He admitted.
“Mum was thrilled when me and Hermione got together. When she found out Hermione was
coming to spend the summer with us, she sent a letter to Harry, telling him that he wasn’t invited to
the Burrow, since it would interfere with our relationship.”
Molly! Dumbledore thought viciously. You drove the saviour of the Wizarding world into a self-
imposed exile because of your child’s new relationship? Oh, he’d be having words with her at the
next Order meeting!
“We barely communicated with Harry over the summer.” Hermione admitted. “I sent him a
couple of letters, but I didn’t get any back. I just thought that the Dursleys were being mean to him,
keeping Hedwig locked up again. When we got back to school, I didn’t ask him about it. He was
just so quiet.”
“We got to the Head’s Suite... and...”
Dumbledore straightened up. “That would explain why Mr. Weasley has not been seen in his
dormitory since the start of term, I would assume?”
Ron nodded guiltily.
“There will be consequences for your actions, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley.” Dumbledore said
firmly. “However, I would like to point out not only the consequences that you have caused for
yourselves, but the entire Wizarding world.”
Dumbledore stood up, going over to a cupboard, and pulling out a shallow stone basin, with a
number of Runes etched onto the side. He set it into his desk, before using his wand to draw a
memory from his temple, which he placed into the bowl.
“Place your fingers into the silvery substance.” He commanded. All three pressed a finger into
the gooey mass, feeling themselves sucked down into a memory.
Dumbledore gestured around. “This is the Hog’s Head tavern, in Hogsmeade. I was here, in
September of 1979.” He pointed to another Dumbledore, sitting down with an odd-looking woman,
that both immediately recognised as Professor Trelawney.
“During her job interview, she gave a prophecy.”
In the memory, Trelawney suddenly stiffened, reciting the prophecy that would later shape
Harry’s life. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who
have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his
equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the
other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark
Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”
The three left the Pensieve, landing with a ‘thump’ back in the chairs in Dumbledore’s office.
Hermione looked at both Dumbledore and Ron with a horrified expression on her face.
“My god...” Ron breathed, the enormity of the burden of Harry’s life finally settling in.
 Dumbledore leaned back, secretly enjoying the discomfort the two were feeling. “Do you know
what I believe the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’ to be?”
They both shook their heads.
“Love.” Dumbledore said simply. Hermione let out a mew of protest, not at Dumbledore’s
words, but at what they had done to Harry. “When I first met Mr. Potter, I was overwhelmed by his
capacity for love. Considering the life he had led up until he arrived at school, it was nothing short
of miraculous. When he awoke in the hospital wing, his first thoughts were for the two of you.”
Dumbledore smiled at the memory, the first true smile in this whole conversation. “During his
second year, when you entered the Great Hall, Miss Granger, after being awakened from your
Petrification, the look of love on Mr. Potter’s face was magnificent. It reaffirmed my hope that Mr.
Potter would indeed grow into the hero he will need to be.”
He leaned back. “During his third year, his love for Sirius allowed his to produce that
magnificent Patronus, which drove away over a hundred Dementors. A Patronus that not even I
could produce.” He looked at Ron, fixing him with an unblinking stare. “The reason he was in such
pain during his fourth year, Mr. Weasley, was because of your separation. His love for you caused
him that great pain. When you became friends again, he was so happy.”
“All the time I have known him,” Dumbledore continued after a moment, “I have seen hints of
his true power. Whenever one of you was involved, that power was even stronger.”
His tone became cold, and both Ron and Hermione now knew why even Voldemort feared
Dumbledore. “And because of your selfish actions, your lack of thought... Merlin, your blatant
stupidity, that power, the very thing needed to defeat Voldemort, may now have been destroyed!”
Dumbledore roared at them.
He slumped back in his chair. “You are both dismissed.” He snapped. “I will need to make
some consultations before I decide on your punishment.”
The two nodded before getting up and scrambling out of the office.
Dumbledore turned to Fawkes. “Is there still hope, Fawkes?” He asked. The phoenix trilled
softly, the song filling Dumbledore’s very soul. “There’s still a chance?” Fawkes trilled again.
“Then all is not lost.”
Dumbledore moved over to the fire, throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. “Number
Twelve Grimmauld Place!” He shouted.

Harry groaned again. Enough of these bloody interruptions! He thought. How am I supposed to
get any bloody work done if people keep annoying me?
He got up, and headed into the kitchen, where the fireplace was chiming. He waved his wand at
the brickwork, accepting the call.
“Professor Dumbledore.” Harry said, completely unsurprised that the old man was contacting
him. “I’m not talking to Ron and Hermione again, sir. If they’re there, you can tell them, from me,
to bugger off. I’m really not in the mood.”
Dumbledore smiled. “I’ve just had a very interesting conversation with those two, Harry. If you
have a moment, I’d like to talk to you.”
Harry waved his wand, allowing Dumbledore to step through the flames. A moment later, the
Headmaster came through, clutching his Pensieve. He slumped into a chair at the kitchen table,
looking older than Harry had ever seen him.
“Could I trouble you for a cup of tea, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. “I’ve found myself with a
difficult afternoon, and quite a headache forming.”
Harry nodded, flicking his wand at the stove, igniting the burner, and placing the kettle on it. It
took a few moments for the tea to steep, before Harry poured his ex-Headmaster the soothing
beverage.
“So, how can I be of assistance to you, Headmaster?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore didn’t say anything, just placed the Pensieve on the table, before extracting a
memory from his head, which he placed in the bowl. He leaned back, gesturing at the Pensieve,
while he took a fortifying sip of tea.
Harry shrugged, and thrust his face into the memory, feeling himself being sucked down.

When the memory ended, Harry’s glassy eyes refocused on Dumbledore. “That sounds about
right.” He said after a minute.
“What do I do, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
“Sir... why are you asking me?” He asked, slightly baffled that the Headmaster would consult
with him regarding a disciplinary problem. “I’m not a student anymore. It’s not my concern.”
Dumbledore shook his head slightly. “Oh, but it is, Harry.” He said. “And since you’re no
longer my student, I would prefer it if you called me by my name.”
“Albus...” Harry said, trying the name out in his mind. “Fine, sir. Albus. Why is this my
concern? I’ve left Hogwarts. The fact that two of your students are having sex at school is more an
issue for Professor McGonagall, isn’t it?”
Dumbledore leaned closer, resting a hand on Harry’s arm. “Harry, I’m not supposed to tell you
things like this. You were one of my favourite students at Hogwarts. I know that you and Miss
Granger are also favourites of Professor McGonagall. She was very upset when you left. How do
you think she will react when I tell her why you left?”
Harry rest a hand briefly on Dumbledore’s squeezing slightly, before sitting back. “I understand
that, Albus. But, it’s not my concern. Once I’ve taken my NEWT exams, I’ll probably leave. I don’t
want to get in the way of their relationship.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Harry... both you and I know that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are
not capable of surviving on their own. Without someone to buffer them, they will self-destruct. You
know this, and I know this.”
Harry couldn’t keep the tinge of bitterness from his voice. “They’ve done pretty bloody well
for the last year, sir, with only minimal influence from me. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Harry... you saw them in my office. Already, the self-destruction is beginning. Pretty soon, one
of them will start to blame the other one.”
Harry stiffened slightly. “That’s not my concern, sir.” He replied coolly. “They made it bloody
clear that I was strong enough to... what was it they said? Ah, ‘He won’t mind being on the
outside’.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m on the bloody outside now. I’m strong enough to bear it. If
they’re not... well, that’s just their bad.”
“And what of your feelings for them, Harry?” Dumbledore asked softly.
Harry snorted. “Oh, I still love them, Headmaster. I’m not supposed to admit it, because they’re
afraid of the scandal, but I can’t help loving them.” He felt a wave of despair wash over him,
leaving him with tears in his eyes. “If they truly loved me, wouldn’t they be willing to face the
scandal?” He asked, all the confrontations coming back to him at once, making his voice break.
“Why, sir?” He asked, finally breaking into tears and muffled sobs.
 Dumbledore didn’t think. He just wrapped the young man in a hug, letting him get his tears and
frustrations out.
After a moment, Harry sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeves. He pulled
away from Dumbledore, looking at the old man with gratitude. “Thank you, sir.”
“Do you feel better now, Harry?” He asked gently.
“Well... better than I did, sir, but... I’m still miserable.”
Dumbledore sat back down in his chair, looking slightly guilty at what he was to ask. “What
happened here, Harry? Earlier today, I mean. Why would you send them back unconscious?”
Harry blushed. “Er... well... that’s, uh... that’s rather difficult to answer, sir.”
“Albus.” Dumbledore said reprovingly.
“Albus.” Harry repeated. “Well... when they came here, they had a letter that I’d written to
them. I explained about the, uh... the intimacy issue.” Harry’s blush became even more visible.
“They... they offered to have... uh...”
Dumbledore took pity. “They offered to make love to you here and now? To prove to you that
they do indeed love you?” His voice was soft and calm, but inside he felt a wave of revulsion. They
decided, after Harry had broken up with them, to offer him sexual relations out of a sense of
obligation, rather than real feelings... I’m disgusted with them!
Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. But, if I have to tell them about it, and they offer to do this after I
break up with them, which is pretty much what they wanted... Doesn’t that just cheapen the act? I
mean... Hermione gave up her virginity to Ron with no questions asked. Since we were supposed to
be sharing ourselves, shouldn’t I at least have been told that she was doing that?”
Dumbledore felt an infinite sadness at everything this young man had been through. “I
understand, Harry. If I were in your situation, I would refuse, as well.” He sighed noisily. “What
should I do with them?”
Harry shook his head firmly. “That’s not my decision, Albus. As students of your school, you
should discuss any punishments with Professor McGonagall.”
“Do you mind if I bring her here to discuss this with you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry shook his head quickly. “Yes, sir. I do mind. As far as people are concerned, this
conversation never happened.” He sighed. “They don’t want anyone to know about me. So, I took
myself out of the equation. They’ve got what they want. Each other. Why should we ruin it for
them? It’ll just hurt them.”
“Like they’ve hurt you, Harry.” Dumbledore rebuked gently.
“‘An eye for an eye’, Albus?” Harry asked. “No, I love them. I don’t want to hurt them. I won’t
hurt them.”
Dumbledore could sense Harry’s resolve, and put the issue on the back burner. “Well... there
was one other thing that I wanted to ask you, Harry.” He looked sad for a moment. “I didn’t want to
ask you so soon, but I feel I have no choice. Would you join the Order of the Phoenix, Harry? We’ll
need your help for the war, and I promised myself that I would not ask you while you were still in
school.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I’ll join.”

Dumbledore returned to school, angrier than ever at Ron and Hermione. He was tempted, for
just a moment, to track them down in the dormitories, and AK the pair of them, but a comforting
trill from Fawkes evicted that mental image.
 He’d promised Ron, Hermione and Harry that he wouldn’t talk about this with anyone, but he
felt the need to vent his spleen a little more. He summoned one of the House-Elves to take a
message to the miscreants, and sat back, waiting for them to arrive.

After a few minutes, the two entered the office, still nervous from the last time they had been in
the office, mere hours ago.
“Yes, sir?” Hermione asked tentatively.
Dumbledore’s face fell into a disappointed frown, which he kept in place. “I’ve just returned
from speaking to Mr. Potter at Grimmauld Place.” He said simply.
“How is he, sir?” Hermione asked immediately.
Dumbledore scowled at her, causing her to shrink back in her chair. “To be frank, Miss
Granger, he’s very upset. Understandably. I spoke to him of your earlier visit today. I’m rather
disgusted with the pair of you.”
“Sir?” Ron asked, looking confused.
“When you went there, you spoke to him. Yes?” The pair nodded. “What did you do after that?”
Hermione blushed. “Well... since Harry seemed to be upset about missing out of the... er... the
physical side, we offered to make love to him, right there. Prove to him the depth of our feelings.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “The young man breaks up with you, the pair of you, because of your
selfishness. And you think to offer him sexual relations, not out of affection, or love... but because
you feel guilty that you haven’t already done so.”
Hermione blanched. Put like that, it did sound bloody awful. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t-”
“Didn’t think.” Dumbledore interrupted. “It seems to me that the pair of you haven’t thought of
a lot of things.”
Ron’s face turned puce in anger, before realisation settled in, turning him a pasty white. “Yes,
sir.” He muttered.
“Now, I find myself in a quandary.” Dumbledore said. “A quandary that exists solely because
of your actions.”
“A quandary, sir?” Hermione asked, fearing the answer.
“My first inclination is too simply expel you both, since your actions break a number of school
rules.”
“Sir!” Hermione protested.
“Silence!” Dumbledore commanded sharply. “I said that was my first inclination. However, I
cannot do that, because I would need to talk to Professor McGonagall, and I promised you that I
would not do that.” Hermione and Ron both looked relieved. “I also asked Mr. Potter what I should
do with you.”
Both blanched again at that. They’d hurt Harry so badly...
“He refused to offer me an opinion. What he said was that you two got what you wanted. You
didn’t want anyone to know about him. He has made sure that won’t happen.”
Hermione’s eyes welled up again. Dumbledore felt a surge of irritation at her. “Miss Granger,
control yourself.” Hermione’s eyes shot open at Dumbledore’s harsh words.
“If anyone deserves to feel bad, it is Mr. Potter.” He snapped. “I don’t hear him complaining.
No, indeed, he says that he’s happy for you. He wants to make sure that you two are happy. As far
as he’s concerned, you both have what you want. Each other. He doesn’t want to ruin it for you.”
 Ron blushed. “Sir... can you think of anyway of fixing this?”
Dumbledore laughed dangerously. “I can. However, I won’t help you hurt Harry again. You’ve
gone too far.”
“Sir, please!” Hermione begged. “You’ve got to help us!”
Dumbledore’s aura flared, a true sign of his rage. “Got to? I’ve got to help you?” He asked
coolly. “Miss Granger, right now, I can barely stand looking at the two of you! By your selfishness,
you’ve hurt the boy I consider a grandson! All because your hormones and brainstem couldn’t work
together!”
Hermione burst into tears, while Ron became angry again.
“And you, Mr. Weasley. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Ron faced down Dumbledore. “Sir, I understand that you’re upset, but there’s no reason to
attack us!”
Fawkes trilled loudly, soothing Dumbledore’s nerves, and calming Ron down. Dumbledore
looked over at his Phoenix, and smiled gently. “Thank you, old friend.” He turned to Ron. “Mr.
Weasley. You said I have no reason to attack you?” Ron nodded.
“Do you not think driving Mr. Potter from school is a reason to attack you? That young man
has more pressure that anyone else in the world, and your pettiness and sexual lust have driven him
right to the edge of a nervous breakdown! No, I will not help you.”
He looked at Hermione. “Miss Granger. I’d like nothing more than to pull your Head Girl
badge, and send you back to the dormitories.” He looked at Ron. “Mr. Weasley, you will return to
the Seventh year boys’ dormitories immediately. I will be placing a ward on both staircases, to make
certain that you will not carry on with your disgraceful practices. I will also ward every single
broom cupboard to prevent the two of you carrying on with your habits there, and you will not be
able to enter a classroom together unless at least two other people are present.”
“Sir!” Ron protested, for a moment, not catching the big picture Dumbledore was painting. He
only saw the loss of his constant sex.
“Do you have a problem with these arrangements, Mr. Weasley?” Dumbledore asked.
Hermione hissed and elbowed him, hard, prompting him to shake his head.
“No, sir.”
“Now, as well as the wards, I’m forbidding you to go to Grimmauld Place, without the express
permission of Mr. Potter. You’ve hurt that young man enough.”
Both students hung their heads. They knew it was true. And neither of them could figure out a
way of making it right. They were buggered. Well and truly.
 – CHAPTER FIVE –
Lies in the Press

For Harry, being out of Hogwarts was an enlightening experience. He’d never had the chance to
just truly live. While staying at Grimmauld Place previously, he’d been dragged into doing endless
amounts of cleaning, which Kreacher made far harder, and undid their work as soon as possible.
Now, though, the house had been improved and cleaned, Kreacher cast out, and Harry could sit
drinking endless cups of strong coffee while reading his History of Magic book.
A month passed, Harry learning about many different things, excelling at everything he tried.
He missed his friends, but after the last year of suffering, it was a balm to his wounds to have some
peace. But then, something happened that broke the monotony of studying. It started when Harry
received his copy of the Daily Prophet. There, splashed over the front page, was an article that
made Harry laugh.
Harry Potter’s Love-Child!
By: Ben Dover.
Exclusive at the Daily Prophet, we have breaking news on Harry Potter’s love-life!
Earlier today, Cho Chang, 18, former student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
announced that she was pregnant with Harry Potter’s baby.
The former student told this reporter that she had been engaged in a long-term relationship with
Harry Potter, ever since Harry’s fifth year of school. They have been intimate on a vast number of
occasions.
Ms. Chang said this; “Harry’s an amazing lover. He’s so kind, gentle... he’s just remarkable. I know
that he’ll be willing to do that stand up thing, and propose to me shortly. I’m looking forward to
being Mrs. Potter, and I know he’ll be a great Dad!”
We here at the Daily Prophet tried to get hold of Mr. Potter for comment, but were unable to. This
raises the question; Why has Mr. Potter not yet proposed to Ms. Chang? Will he do the right thing?
We will provide more insight into this breaking story, as it becomes available.

Harry dropped the paper onto the table. After a moment, he burst out laughing. It took nearly
twenty minutes for him to gain control of himself.
Laughing softly, he picked up his jacket, and headed for the door.

Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, surprise and betrayal etched all over his face. When Hermione
approached him, it took three tries, and an unsubtle poke in his kidney, to get a response. Without a
word, Ron handed the paper over to Hermione, who read the article, before dropping onto the bench
next to her red-haired lover.
“No...” She muttered. “It can’t be... we would’ve noticed, right?” She looked at Ron, seeing
doubts running across his face.
Ron just shrugged. “It would explain stuff... And he did break up with us at the start of term.
He’s had enough time.”
 Hermione’s resolved firmed up. “No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t just run off and shag Cho
Chang. He said that he was faithful to us, and I know he wouldn’t lie to us.” Hermione sounded like
she was trying to convince both Ron and herself. Her final words were more damning. “Not like we
lied to him...”

Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron, intent on making sure that as many people as possible saw
him in the Alley. For what he had planned, he wanted as large an audience as he could get. He sat at
a table, and waited until Tom came over.
“Good morning, Mr. Potter.” Tom said diplomatically. “Are you here to meet your lady friend?”
Harry suppressed a childish snigger. “Wasn’t planning on it, Tom.” He replied casually.
“Actually, I just came in for a spot of lunch. Also, I’ve been a little out of touch recently. Thought
I’d catch up on the latest gossip.
Tom snorted. “Mr. Potter, you are the latest gossip. You gonna be a daddy, an’ all.”
“I’m gonna be a daddy?” Harry asked innocently. “When did that happen?”
“Aren’t you?” Tom asked, reaching for the waistband at the back of his pants, where he kept a
copy of the paper, usually for WC reading. “It was in today’s Daily Prophet. You and a... Miss
Chang, I believe.”
“Cho?” Harry squeaked convincingly. “Cho says that I’m the father of her baby?” He
sniggered. “I’d love to see how that happened.”
Tom kept his face straight. “Well, usually, Mr. Potter, when a boy and a girl like each other, the
decide to do personal things to each other. This-”
“Tom?” Harry interrupted, sounding bemused. “Are you trying to tell me about the birds and
the bees? Tab ‘P’ going into Slot ‘V’? I already know about that, thanks.”
“Are you sure?” Tom replied innocently. “You sounded a little uncertain, before.”
“Oh, I’m familiar with the basic mechanics involved. I was just wondering when exactly I did
the dirty with Cho Chang.”
“Well... I can’t really help you with that one, young Harry.” Tom said. “I would have thought
you’d remember doing that sort of thing. Unless you were drunk.”
Harry just snorted. “Never been drunk in my life, Tom.” He thought for a moment. “Well, I
have, once, but I locked myself into a room so that I could get pissed in private. I was completely
alone, until I passed out.” He grinned at the memory. “Never shagged, either. Still driving a ‘V-
Reg’, if you know what I mean.” Harry took a glance at Tom’s face. “No, you don’t know what I
mean, do you?”
He chuckled. “I’m still a virgin, Tom. Never known the pleasure of a woman’s touch. Never put
tab ‘P’ into slot ‘V’.” He gave him a penetrating look. “Understand?”
Tom nodded, a little embarrassed by the conversation. “I think I know what you mean, Mr.
Potter.” He said dryly. “But where have all these rumours come from?”
Harry snorted again. “Well, I’d hazard a guess that they came from Cho Chang.” He replied,
smirking slightly, which faded away. “I don’t understand why, exactly, she’s saying this. I mean,
don’t get me wrong, she’s not bad looking, but I wouldn’t just shag her.”
Tom took his paper back. “Well, then... you might wanna get that sorted out right quick, Mr.
Potter. You know how people are.”
Yes, I bloody well do. Harry thought viciously. Mindless sheep, who’ll tell me that I need to
marry her. I wonder why she’s doing this? With that in mind, Harry passed through the portal into
Diagon Alley. Now... how I do prove that she’s lying?

He made his way down the alley, surreptitiously keeping an eye on the little people, who were
pointing to him and whispering to their companions. Yep... the sheep are out in force today.
A viciously nasty idea entered his head. It was worked through a couple of times, before he
settled on a course of action. This was going to be fun...
He made his way to the front of Gringotts, and closed his eyes, summoning a great deal of his
power to conjure a stage. With a casual flick of his wand, the stage appeared. He clambered on top,
and placed a Sonorous charm on his throat.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please.” He shouted, the noise reverberating
throughout the whole alley.
Very quickly, a group of people, mostly nosey old people with nothing better to do, had
gathered in front of Harry’s impromptu stage. To his surprise, there were several goblins stood in
the entryway to the bank.
Probably wondering what’s going on with one of their biggest investors. He realised after a
moment. It made sense, really. “I’m here today to discuss the ‘reports’ in the Daily Prophet about
Miss Cho Chang carrying my love-child. I’m here to dispel those rumours as being utterly false.”
“And how are you going to do that?” A wizened old witch at the front of the crowd asked.
“I was thinking of three things. First, I can swear a magical oath. Then, Miss Chang can swear
a magical oath. Third, we can have some healers come from St. Mungo’s to perform a couple of
tests on us.”
The crowd nodded enthusiastically. To Harry’s ever lasting glee, a journalist turned up,
wielding an enchanted microphone.
“Mr. Potter? I’m John Royal, from the WWN. Do you mind if we transmit this procedure?”
Harry nodded. “Not at all. In fact, I’m a little ashamed I didn’t think of it myself. Now, all we
need is Miss Chang to arrive, and also an announcement for St. Mungo’s to send as many healers
here as possible, so that we can clear up this nasty business.”
Unfortunately, Cho Chang was actually in the Daily Prophet offices when the announcement
came over the WWN. She’d just given another tearful interview, telling how Harry Potter was not
standing up to his responsibilities.
Damn! This’ll ruin everything! She thought to herself, looking for a convenient place to
disapparate from. Unfortunately for her, several reporters ‘encouraged’ her to make her way to the
stage, set just a little further down the alley from their offices.
Of course, when you don’t want to be found, that drastically increases the odds that you will be
seen by someone you really don’t want to find you.
Which meant that Harry, while stood on his little stage, could see Cho exit the Prophet, and
start to scurry away. With a grin, and a hastily cast Sonorous charm, he dragged the attention of the
crowd.
“Oh, Cho!” He called, looking over the heads of the sheep. Naturally, they followed his eyes,
spotting the pretty Asian practically running away. “There you are, my little love-muffin! Why don’t
you come up here and say hello to all the nice people?”
Cho glanced over her shoulder at Harry, casting him a glare worthy of Severus Snape. With a
flick of Harry’s wand, Cho found herself flying backwards towards the stage, obviously the
recipient of a well-placed Accio charm.
 When she landed, Harry gently helped her to her feet.
“Here she is, ladies and gentlemen! The so-called ‘Mother of my child’. Well, let’s just test that,
shall we?” Harry looked down at John Royal. “Have the healers been called?”
Royal nodded. This was a great story in the making!
Harry smiled at the crowd. “Now, I said that I would swear a magical oath that Cho is not
carrying my child. I shall do this now.” He raised his wand. “I, Harry James Potter, Head of the
Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black,” Cho looked
up. She hadn’t know that. It would make him even richer! “hereby swear an oath on my magic and
my life that Cho Chang is not carrying my baby, by virtue of the fact that I am still a virgin. So mote
it be.” With a flash of light from his wand tip, the oath was sealed.
Since he had declared the oath on his life, it was obvious that he was not lying, since he hadn’t
dropped dead. With a charming smile, Harry turned to Cho. “Your turn, darling!”
Cho shook her head. “Harry, dearest, why are you doing this?”
Harry’s grin vanished, and his face became as hard as stone. “I am not your ‘dearest’, Cho. I’ve
never touched you, nor had the desire to touch you. You are the one who is lying, and you will either
swear your oath now, or I will sue your arse for defamation.”
Cho raised her wand shakily, before letting it drop back down to her side. “I can’t.” She
whispered. It was over. She’d lost.
Harry smiled at Royal. “There you have it, Mr. Royal. Miss Chang is unable to swear her oath,
because she knows it is a lie. Which means I shall shortly be starting proceedings against the Chang
family.”
Royal grinned. He was right. This was a brilliant story!
Cho’s face dropped. “You... you don’t need to do that, Harry.” She stepped closer, putting her
most seductive look into play. “I can help you with that virginity problem...”
Royal mused to himself. Hmm... Chang obviously doesn’t know that WWN microphones pick
up on the smallest of sounds. This’ll be brilliant. I’ll have to sell this story to... He trailed off as he
saw Rita Skeeter making her way though the crowd, poisonous Quill in hand.
“‘Problem’?” Harry asked. “Who said the fact that I’m a virgin is a problem, Miss Chang?
Surely you know, as the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, I’ve had many offers of sexual relations, some of them
as far back as my first year at Hogwarts. I am a virgin by choice, not by circumstances.” He looked
up to see several Healers making their way over from the apparition point. “Ah, and here come the
Healers, who’ll be able to confirm my status.”
“Mr. Potter!” The hated voice of the Skeeter bitch filled Harry’s ears. Swallowing his first
response, which involved a conveniently place blasting hex, he turned to face her.
“Miss Skeeter. You’re looking well.” Harry’s face hardened. “Is there something I can do for
you?”
“I’d like to interview you-”
“No.” Harry interrupted brusquely. “I’m already dealing with Mr. Royal of the WWN there,
Miss Skeeter. Frankly, I do not trust you to not write lies about me.” His eyes twinkled for a
moment. “And just in case you decide to write that I refused to be interviewed, I’m sure the people
listening on the WWN will be able to determine the real reason I refused.”
One of the Healers approached the stage, looking confused. “Uh... Mr. Potter? Why are we
here?”
Harry pulled the young Healer onto the stage, pumping his hand up and down. “You’re here to
confirm my current sexual status, please, Healer.”
The Healer, baffled by the request, shrugged, and raised his wand, casting a charm over Harry’s
crotch.
“Sweet Jeezus!” Harry hissed. “That’s cold!”
After a moment, the results appeared, floating on the air. The Healer looked at them, and
reported in a clinical air. “Yes, you are indeed a male virgin, Mr. Potter. Slightly higher than healthy
level of testosterone and an abnormally high sperm count.”
Okay, that’s information which doesn’t necessarily need to be shared with the general
population. Harry thought.
“What does that mean?” Cho asked sharply.
Harry bit his lip, trying desperately to keep silent. He lost the battle. “It means, Miss Chang...”
Harry couldn’t help but grin, “that I am not a wanker.”
The audience laughed, recognising that the entertainment for the day was coming to an end.
“That’s all, ladies and gentlemen, thank you. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that’s all.”
Harry leaped off the stage, intent on carrying on with his business. So far, it had been a fun day.

More days passed, with Harry continuing on his studies. A fascinating letter arrived, making
Harry laugh when he read it, and he saw a chance for a bit of dirty vengeance against his ‘lovers’.

Witch Weekly, December 14th 1997

We here at Witch Weekly have heard a fascinating piece of gossip, ladies. The best friends of Harry
Potter, the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ are engaged to be married! As soon as we heard about this, we
contacted Harry Potter, who recently left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to go into
intensive DADA training, to find out his thoughts on the matter.
“I couldn’t be happier that two people have found each other. For all the years I’ve known them
both, I’ve seen he chemistry between the two of them. I’m so happy that they’re now a couple. I
know that they’ll let nothing come between the two of them, as the vows say, ‘forsaking all others
until death do them part’. Good luck, Ron & Hermione, I know you’ll both do well!”
We tried to contact the happy couple in question, but were told by Headmaster Dumbledore that the
two were unavailable for comment.

Hermione read the article with horror. “Harry said... he...” Ron took the magazine from
Hermione, reading the article, before throwing it down onto the desk.
“He’s rejecting us.” Ron said. “I thought he still loved us?”
Hermione looked up at Ron. “You prat! He does! That’s why he said those things!” Her eyes
widened. “Oh my god... we’ve denied him in public so long... he thinks that we’re actually getting
married...”
Ron finally caught on. “Wait a minute... you mean... Harry’s been told we’re getting married,
and he believes it?”
“Of course!” Hermione said. “Oh, god!” She suddenly stood up. “We need to speak to him.”
She read the article again. “Also, Ron...” She pointed out part of Harry’s quote. “Do you see it?
‘The two of them’. Six references to the two of us, our being a couple, in only five sentences. It’s a
rather unsubtle dig at us, because we denied him... he’s pretty much confirming that there is no
Trio.”

The fireplace flared, revealing Hermione’s face. Harry ignored her for a moment, flipping his
pancake carefully, before setting the pan on the back of the stove. He turned to the fireplace. He had
to school his face into neutrality, while he decided on the best way to handle the upcoming meeting.
He decided to go with the ‘best friend’ persona. He wouldn’t squeal like a girl, though. He was too
manly for that.
“Ah, Miss Granger. Congratulations on your engagement!” He said, smiling warmly at her.
Hermione was thrown by his apparent happiness at that news. “Harry... could I come through? I
need to talk to you.”
“Just you?” Harry asked. Hermione nodded.
Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve, tapping out a pattern on the brickwork of the fireplace.
Hermione’s face vanished for a moment, then she stepped through.
When she arrived, Harry pulled her into a brief hug, before stepping away from her, leaving her
more confused than ever. “Harry?”
He smiled warmly at her. “I’m happy for you two, Miss Granger.” He said, moving back to the
stove. “I’m sure Molly must be thrilled for you. Can I see the ring?”
“Er... Harry...” Hermione began tentatively. “Ron and I aren’t getting married.”
Harry turned from the stove, before yelping and turning back as his pancake started to burn. He
grabbed a spatula, flinging it onto a plate, before he placed the pan into the sink. “You’re not?” He
asked, putting his plate on the back of the cooker to keep warm. “Witch Weekly contacted me, told
me that you were getting married, and asked me if I have any comment.” He looked at her. “Why
would they say that?”
She sat down at the end of the table, rubbing the bridge of her nose warily. “I don’t know. To be
frank, we’ve not talked about marriage since... well... since before you left.”
Harry clucked his tongue. “That’s not really the best subject to bring up, Miss Granger, is it?
After all, it leads to very uncomfortable conversations that we are not ready to have yet. Besides,
during the short time I was deluding myself into believing that the three of use had a future, we
didn’t really discuss marriage, though, did we?” He asked. “After all, we talked about the three of
us, but that never happened.”
“Harry...” Hermione said softly. “Why won’t you forgive us?”
“Forgive you, Miss Granger?” Harry asked, sounding perplexed. “Forgive you for what?”
Hermione was stunned. “Harry... we agreed to a Trio...”
Harry waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Never happened. Water under the bridge.” He
looked at her intently. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry Ron?”
Hermione blushed. “Of course I do. But... not just Ron.”
“Well... what then?” Harry asked.
“Harry... you know I wanted the two of you. I thought you wanted the two of us.”
“Did you?” Harry asked sharply. “I admit, I was under a great deal of mental stress during that
time. After all, Sirius had just been killed, and Professor Dumbledore had just dropped the prophecy
onto my shoulders. It’s only natural that I’d reach out for the first bit of kindness shown to me, isn’t
it? And you and Ronald were very kind to offer that to me in my hour of need. Besides, you got
your happily-ever-after with Ron Weasley.”
 Hermione stared at him pathetically for a full minute. “Harry... why won’t you come back to
us? We miss you.”
Harry stiffened. “Miss Granger, in order to ‘miss me’, you would have had to have had me in
the first place. We both know that saying that would be untrue. You had Ronald. I had a dream. A
dream that died a slow and very painful death at your hands.”
Harry stood up, grabbing the plate from the back of the cooker, before sitting down, a couple of
seats further away. To Hermione, they represented the chasm between her and her best friend.
“Harry... we need you. Things just aren’t the same without you there.”
He chewed slowly, swallowing the pancake before looking at his ex-friend. “You’re right, Miss
Granger. Things aren’t the same. Things are now the way you want them. You told me on February
15th that I had to back off. Well, I did. Why are you upset with me?”
Hermione sniffled. “Harry, you know that isn’t what I meant.”
Harry shook his head sharply. “No, Miss Granger, I don’t know that. You told me to back off,
because the people talking about us was too much for you. I have now backed off. Completely. You
and Ron can go fuck your way round Hogwarts. Frankly, I don’t care anymore.”
“Harry, please, just-”
“No!” Harry snapped. “You got your way, Miss Granger. Congratulations, you won. You got
the guy you always wanted. You should be happy.” Harry swallowed suddenly, noticing that tears
were trying to force their way through his eyes. “After all, ‘it does not do to dwell on dreams, and
forget to live.’” He looked at her pitiful expression. “You should head back to school, Miss Granger.
You know how jealous your boyfriend gets when you spend time with another man.”
“Harry, is there nothing I can do to fix this?” Hermione asked.
Harry looked thoughtful, before clicking his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve got it!”
Hermione smiled when she saw his expression. “Let me pop your cherry.”
Hermione felt her face drop. “Er... Harry... you do know-”
“That you let Ron do it without even thinking of me?” Harry interrupted smoothly. “Yes, Miss
Granger, I do know. You gave him something very precious. Your first time.” Without waiting for
her to object, he carried on. “Now, I’m not saying that I should have been your first time. But, I’m
saying it would have been nice to talk about it beforehand.”
Realisation struck Hermione, as once again she realised how badly they had treated Harry.
“People who love each other would have shared their first time.” Harry said quietly, after a few
moments of just eating his pancakes. “Instead, I had to lie in the next bed while you gave your
virtue to Ron. You didn’t consider my feelings.”
“No...” Hermione whispered. “I didn’t.”
“And at this precise moment of time, you are continuing that fine tradition. Frankly, you don’t
really care that you’ve hurt me. You feel badly yourselves, because you drove me away. So, all these
‘marvellous’ attempts to ‘get me back’, which we both know is impossible because you never had
me, are really just attempts to make yourselves feel better. You still don’t truly understand what
you’ve done, do you?” Harry didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “No, there’s no reason for me to
subject myself to even more pain.” His voice grew hard. “I’ve had enough to last lifetimes.”
She nodded dumbly. “Harry... please... is there anything I can do? I want you back...”
Harry’s next words cut deep into her. “You never had me, Miss Granger. You had Ron. Aside
from the odd tonguing session, that was all you needed.”
“No,” Hermione said firmly, “I need you, Harry.”
 “I’ll always be your friend, Miss Granger.” Harry said softly. “I don’t think I could cut myself
off from you that much. God knows, I’ve tried. If you ever need to talk, I’ll be willing to do that.
But, you don’t want a Trio. Your constant denial of me made that bloody clear.”
“Harry...”
Harry stood up, putting his now empty plate into the sink. “Anyway, I need to get going.
Molly’s asked me to come over to the Burrow for something.”
Hermione shakily raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Harry said, running his hands though his hair. “I’m not sure what she wants, but I
should go and find out.”
“Yeah.” Hermione said. She stood up, and gave him a hug. “We’re not giving up, Harry.” She
said, looking deeply into his eyes. “There must be a way to fix this. I’m not gonna stop until I find
it.”
Harry just stared at her. “Like rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic, it sounds, to me,
anyway, like an exercise in futility. Good luck with that.” He said, before he apparated away.

The Burrow. Harry’s home away from home... or, at least... it was. Molly’s recent action had
driven an immense wedge in the ‘Trio’, causing him to become very anti-social. He didn’t mind,
though. He was blazing through his studies with amazing results.
He knocked on the door. After a moment, Molly’s face appeared at the small window, before
she smiled, and opened the door.
“Harry, dear! How are you?” She asked, grasping him in a hug tight enough to bruise ribs. After
a moment, she let go, allowing Harry to slump down a little.
“I’m fine, thanks, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry said, stepping inside the Burrow. “Your call sounded
pretty urgent. Is everything okay?”
Molly shooed him to the table, where she placed a cup and saucer. “I was wanting to talk to you
about Ron and Hermione, Harry.”
You must be bloody joking! He thought savagely. Is my whole day gonna be uncomfortable
conversations? “What about them?”
“They’ve been very upset since you left school, Harry.” She said, pouring him some tea. “I was
wondering if you could tell me what happened?”
Harry quickly shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t, Mrs. Weasley. It’s not my story to tell.”
Molly smiled warmly at him. “Of course it is, Harry! After all, you’re the one who left school.
Don’t you want to go back? Surely you miss them?”
Harry looked at her for a moment, wondering her true motivation. “What’s this really about,
Mrs. Weasley?” He asked quietly. “I have a feeling it’s more than just going back to school.”
“Why do you say that?” Molly asked, glancing around uneasily.
“During the summer, you told me to stay away from the Burrow, remember? You didn’t want
me to get in the way of their relationship.” She nodded uncertainly. “Why are you prompting me to
go back to school? I thought you’d be glad I’m out of their way, and in no position to interfere. Not
that I would...”
Molly looked down at her hands for a moment. “I’ll be honest, Harry.”
“I’d appreciate that, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Well... it’s Ginny.”
 Oh, hell, no! Harry’s mind back-pedalled. “Is Ginny having a problem, Mrs. Weasley? If she’s
having trouble, you should really contact Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall. They’d
be in a much better position to help, since I’ve left Hogwarts.” He asked tentatively.
“Well... it’s not a problem, Harry. However, now that Ron and Hermione are together... I was
thinking that you could ask Ginny out.” She smiled winningly. “That way, we could have one big,
happy Weasley family.”
No! No! No! Were Harry’s thoughts. “First of all, Mrs. Weasley, I’m not currently looking for a
girlfriend. I’m far too busy with my studies to pay the appropriate amount of attention to a lady-
friend. Second, the last I heard, Ginny was dating Neville.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s just a fling, Harry.” Molly said, dismissing his comment. “I’m sure if you
were to ask her out, she’d be happy to go out with you.”
Harry debated telling the truth about Ginny, but decided against it. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley.
I’m just not interested in Ginny.”
“Oh, pish posh, Harry!” Molly said, smiling at him again. “She’s wanted to date you ever since
she was a little girl. She told me that she would save herself for you ever since she was four.”
Hah! That didn’t work. Should I tell her that Ginny’s been intimate with at least three other
lads in the last year alone? “I’m sure that’s very nice of her. But, again, I’m not interested in
Ginny.”
“Give her time, Harry.” Molly said. “I’m sure you’ll get on famously.”
Is she even listening to me? She’s bloody not. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley. Contrary to popular
opinion, I’m not my father. Redheads don’t really do much for me in the romance department.”
Except red-haired males called Ron... and they’re more bloody trouble than they’re worth. He said
firmly. “Besides, it’s too dangerous for me to be in a relationship. You know how Voldemort is. If I
was involved with someone, they’d be a target.”
Molly looked at him, an infuriatingly patient air about her. “Harry, why would You-Know-Who
be after you? You’re just a child. You should leave the fighting to the grown-ups.”
And by saying that, you’ve just proved your unsuitability to advise me. “Thanks.” Harry said
woodenly. “I’ll take it under advisement.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh, will you look at the time.
I’ve really got to go. You know, I’ve got that appointment at that place for the... er... the thing. Hate
to be late.” He dashed out of the door, apparating back to Grimmauld Place as soon as he got to the
edge of the apparition wards.

As soon as Harry arrived back home, he dug out a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote
Ginny a short note, warning her of her mother’s intentions.
Dear Ginny,
I know you probably weren’t expecting to hear from me, but I felt I should warn you. Your mum
invited me round to have a ‘discussion’. In this ‘discussion’, she was telling me to return to school,
so that I could ask you out. I pointed out that you were with Neville, and she dismissed it like it was
nothing.
She then told me that you were saving yourself for me. I didn’t point out that you’ve been with
Neville.
However, I should warn you that you’d probably receive a bit of pressure next time you speak to
your mum. She has this weird image of ‘one big, happy Weasley family’. It’s supposed to be Ron
and Hermione, and me and you. No offence, Ginny, but I don’t like you in that way.
So, that’s all the news that’s fit to print here. Let me know if anything interesting happens at your
end.
Harry.

Dear Harry,
Thanks for the warning. I got a letter from Mum this morning, telling me that she’d convinced you
to come back to school, and ask me out.
I’m not with Neville anymore. We had an argument, and have split up. So, if you want to ask me out,
I’m free.
A question, though. What did you mean when you said “I’ve been with Neville?”
Love,
Ginny

Ginny,
What did I mean? Basically, I meant sex. You’ve been intimate with Neville. And Michael Corner.
And Dean Thomas. Maybe more, but I haven’t exactly been keeping score.
And no, I’m sorry, but I won’t be asking you out. Remember when I said I’m not interested in you
that way? I meant it.
Harry

Harry,
How do you know that?!?! I’ve not told anyone, and they were all sworn to secrecy, too? Are you
going to tell Mum? What do you want in return for your silence?
Ginny

Ginny,
I don’t want anything. It’s none of my business who you’ve been with, or why. Buying my silence is
not necessary, because, to be frank, I don’t really care. However, if you’d like to stop your mother
from attempting to shack us up, I would be grateful.
Harry

Harry,
How grateful?
Ginny

Ginny,
Not that grateful.
Harry
 – CHAPTER SIX –
Working Towards What We Want

Hermione sat in the library, lost in thought. She’d been this way for days, ever since her most
recent encounter with Harry.
How do I fix this? She pondered, drawing out her notebook. Ever since that first day, she’d
taken to writing in the book, trying to categorise her feelings, and work out a way of bringing Harry
back to them. She’d used a weak sticking charm to make sure Harry’s exceedingly detailed letter
didn’t go missing, and the two of them would be able to use it for reference.
Her first thought was to simply go public with the relationship, but Ron had vetoed that idea
immediately. It would be difficult to explain to his mother. Upon further reflection, she’d decided it
wasn’t the best idea, since Harry had left them behind.
She decided she’d write a letter, summarising the content of the notebook, and get Ron to make
his additions.

Dear Harry,
I suppose the first thing that we should do with this letter is apologise to you again. I know that
we’ve already said this to you in person, but I feel that we should say it again. So, we’re sorry.
We miss you, you know. You’re right, we did pass you by while you were still in Hogwarts with us,
but now that you’re gone, we feel your absence like a gaping wound. It’s painful, not getting up in
the morning and seeing your beautiful face waiting for us at the breakfast table in the Great Hall.
She’s right, mate. It’s hard not seeing you or talking to you every day.
You said that you would always be our friend, Harry. While I know that this is a gift beyond
measure, it’s not enough for me. Nor me. Being your friend got me though five years of school,
Harry, but it’s not enough to sustain me for the rest of my life. I know it sounds selfish, Harry, but I
need more. We both do.
Both me and Ron have been thinking of ways that we could repair our relationship. I know, from
what you said that you’re convinced that there never was a relationship, but I don’t believe that.
Frankly, we all invested emotionally in a Trio, and I’m not going to break that. Again, nor me. So,
I’d like to know what it will take for us to earn our redemption. You said, back when we visiting
Grimmauld Place that it was too little, too late, but I don’t believe that. I don’t think we deserve
forgiveness, but I do believe we can earn redemption.
So far, my ideas have been... lacking. I simply thought about sending a letter to the Daily Prophet,
telling them that we’re a Trio. I would have already done that when we received your first letter, but
the fact that you don’t want us anymore stilled my hand.
I’d get up on the top of the Astronomy Tower with a super-charged Sonorous charm and tell the
world if you wanted me to.
With regards to the... physical aspect, I’m truly at a loss. Whatever we can offer you is all that I can
suggest. Whatever we can do, Harry. We mean it.
Please, please, please, let me know what we can do, Harry. This is tearing me apart inside, and I
know Ron feels the same way.
Love,
Hermione and Ron.

Harry sat in his library, reading the letter with a cool detachment that would have made Snape
envious. He read through each section, noting that they still didn’t seem to get the problem. Of
course... it’s a start. Had this been last September, I’d have been way more impressed. He dug out
the laptop, booted into a word processor, and started to reply.

Dear Ron&Hermione,
Well, that was an entertaining read. Thank you. I’ve not chuckled so much in weeks. I read through
it several times, and I have it next to me while I write the response. I’ll go through each of the
points you raised.
• You keep saying ‘sorry’. However, I still don’t believe that you understand what you should be
apologising for. An insincere apology is worthless. Keep working on this.
• “We feel your absence like a gaping wound”. Really? Since I was ignored for a year, I think
this is more likely to be a slight scratch than a gaping wound.
• “It’s painful, getting up and not seeing your beautiful face waiting for us.” I’m sure if you ask
Colin Creevey, he could find you a photograph. Sneaky little fucker’s been stalking me for five
years, I’m sure he’s got one. If you meant that it’s painful me not being there, all I can say is:
you gleefully did that for a year. I’m sure you could carry on with that. Besides, you get to wake
up and see Ron’s face waiting for you an inch and a half from your face. I’m sure you’ll cope.
• It’s true; I did say I would always be your friend. But then again, you’re friends with Parvati
and Lavender, and I don’t see you wanting to spend the rest of your lives with them. I don’t think
we fall into the category of ‘best friends’ anymore, though. Some ‘gaping wounds’ are too hard
to heal.
• You know, sometimes it’s possible to be optimistic to the point of ludicrousness. That, my dear
Hermione, is where you appear to be. There is no Trio. There was no Trio. You and Ron were
too ashamed to be with me. It’s understandable; I know I’m not some great-looking all powerful
being. I was barely worth your time and attention. I believe that, and you certainly reinforced
that feeling.
• “We all invested emotionally in a Trio”. Did you? Did Ron? Somehow, I doubt that. I know
that I did, and it filled me up with glee. Meanwhile, Ron filled you up with his seed, so it doesn’t
quite work for me.
• Yes, that’s a marvellous idea! Send a letter to the Daily Prophet, announcing that we’re in a
Trio! Simply brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, wait... you decided to do this after I
broke up with you! Nope, that would be pointless, since it would be a pack of lies, and I’d be
able to swear, under Veritaserum, that there was not, isn’t, and never will be a Trio.
• And did you notice? Again, you two are deciding what should happen, without asking me.
You’re telling me that you want to announce it to the world.
• Finally, the sex issue. You don’t get it, do you? While the sex was an issue, it wasn’t the main
issue. It was the complete lack of communication between the three of us. Oh, you and Ron
communicated lots. Usually in the form of ‘harder, faster, oh, right there!’, while I had to sit on
my bed and listen to you.
Let me ask you this; if I decided that I wanted to shag Padma and Parvati, without silencing
charms, while you lay in your bed next to us, how would you feel? Of course, I wouldn’t tell you
about it beforehand, because it means that I could turn the knife a little more by doing it sneakily.
Because of their Indian background, where polygamy is far more common, they’d happily announce
it to the world. I’d have a three-way relationship, and no-one would bat a fucking eyelid. They’re
beautiful, intelligent and fiery. A man could do worse...
Actually... I may just do that. Since the two of you decided that you didn’t want me, I cut myself off.
I’ve never been kissed, and I’ve never had sex. Christ, I refused to even crack one off. Maybe I
should look up the Patils... Hmm... a plan.
So, thanks for your lovely letter. I’m sure reading this will keep me warm on cold nights.
TTFN,
Harry James Potter,
The Boy-Who-Wasn’t-Loved

Harry printed the letter, packed it into an envelope, and called Hedwig down to him. “Here you
go, girl. Please take it to Ron or Hermione as soon as possible.”
Hedwig hooted softly, grasping the letter, and flying away.
“Now...” Harry muttered, picking up a dusty tome, “let’s see what joys of Transfiguration I can
learn today.”

Seven hours later, a brown tawny owl entered the house. Harry instantly recognised it as one of
the school owls. He opened the note, recoiling slightly when he recognised Ginny’s scrawl.
Dear Harry,
You sent a letter to Hermione earlier, and I have got to ask what was in it? As soon as she read it,
she burst into tears and ran out of the Great Hall, Ron running right behind her. It must have been
a juicy bit of gossip, and you have an obligation to share it with me, especially if it contains good
blackmail material.
By the way, I received another letter from Mum, asking me if you’d returned to school and asked me
out yet. I had to reply that you hadn’t. You should probably hurry up and get it done, Harry. Mum
doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Neither do I...
Love,
Ginny.
P.S. Hermione was really weird with Parvati in the common room earlier. She kept glaring at her. Is
there something you’re not telling me?
Harry chuckled at the news that Hermione had run off crying. Yes, it was cruel of him, but
revenge was a dish that is best served cold, and inside he was ice.
The news about Molly Weasley demanding to know why Harry returned to school made him
laugh, but Ginny telling him that he had to hurry up and ask her out was simply delusional. He
turned the parchment over, and wrote a quick reply.
Ginny,
Any private correspondence that I have with Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley is exactly that: Private.
If it was something that you needed to know, I would have told you. Since I haven’t told you, you
obviously don’t need to know.
Why do I have an ‘obligation to share it with you’? If you want gossip, go and see Parvati and
Lavender. That’s what they do.
I don’t care about your mother’s delusions. I am not going to ask you out. Why? Because I don’t
want to. You don’t seem to understand that I have zero interest in you, Ginny. You don’t do a thing
for me. In the painful conversation I had with your Mum, she told me that you’ve wanted to date me
since you were a little girl. How? You didn’t know me. This tells me that you want to be associated
with the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, not just Harry.
I don’t date fan-girls. That’s all you are to me, Miss Weasley. Just a fan-girl.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful to you for coming with me to the Department of Mysteries, but
Neville and Luna both came with me, and they aren’t convinced I should be asking them out; why
are you?
Also, your mother telling me that you’ve been saving yourself for me is hypocrisy of the highest
level. You’ve had at least three sexual partners that I know of, and I have no interest in gaining a
shag-buddy. I’d apologise if you find that harsh, but I refuse to lie, so an apology would be
worthless.
Kind Regards,
Harry Potter.
P.S. If Hermione’s having a problem with Parvati, why don’t you ask Hermione? I’m four hundred
miles away, and I’ve never really dealt with Parvati. Ask them.
P.P.S. There are many things I’m not telling you. Why? because they’re none of your damn business.
Harry attached the letter to the owl, sending it back straight away. He went back to his studies.

The following day, another piece of correspondence arrived, this one from Hermione. With a
sigh, he placed it onto the kitchen table, while starting to cook himself some breakfast.
When he sat down, he opened the letter.
Dearest Harry,
I got your letter, and I must admit, my first reaction was to burst into tears. Which I did, while
running out of the Great Hall. What you wrote hurt, but I can’t find a fault, because most of it is
completely true.
I should probably apologise to Parvati as well. As soon as I read your suggestion about a
threesome with the Patils, I saw red. I was glaring at her for hours... and she hadn’t even done
anything.
I don’t think I could handle you being in a relationship with someone else, Harry. Watching you be
happy with someone that isn’t me would drive me berserk. And now, reading that, I realise how
selfish it sounds. But, I can’t help it. I want to be yours, Harry, so much it’s painful. So does Ron.
We never realised just how much we excluded you. I know that sounds horrible, and makes us out to
be uncaring monsters, but it’s true. Each time me and Ron had sex, we got swept up in the
sensations, letting it overtake us.
It’s just struck me, and I had to check with Ron, and he agrees; we’ve never even seen you naked.
That’s simply dreadful; we were your ‘lovers’ for a year, and we’ve not done a single bloody thing
for you. That makes us both feel so guilty, but I’m not going to offer to remedy that, because you’re
right. It would be a pity shag. I don’t want to shag you, Harry Potter. I want to make love to you.
Many times. So does Ron.
As to what you said about being ashamed to be with you, that was simply not true. We’re not
ashamed of you... we were just afraid of the scandal. And out of the three of us, you are the most
attractive. Merlin, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the most beautiful being on the Earth. If
anything, we’re not good enough for you.
We are emotionally invested, Harry. We always have been. We’ve just been... selfish. If we’d
realised sooner what we were doing to you, we’d have had you in the RoR quicker than you can say
it, and we’d show you what we want.
With regards to ‘popping my cherry’, as you said at Grimmauld, there isn’t a way that I can offer
that to you, and that makes me feel just as bad. You’re right; there was no communication between
the three of us. If there was... can I say that it would have been you? No, I can’t, because that’s not
fair to Ron. It would have been something that you and Ron would have needed to decide between
you as to who got it, but believe me, you both would have been there.
The only thing we could do is offer our experience to make your first time memorable. Not some
fumbling encounter in a darkened room, like mine and Ron’s was, but something that you could use
to fuel 1000 Patroni. Whenever you want that, Harry, it’s waiting for you.
Please know that you’re in my thoughts, Harry. Properly, this time, not just thinking, ‘I wish Harry
were here’, but ‘We need Harry here. He deserves to be here’.
I love you.
Hermione
Harry chuckled as he finished his coffee. The letter was pretty much what he’d expected from
the clueless couple. They still don’t get it.
He quickly penned a reply.
Dear Hermione,
Thank you for that recent letter. It warmed my heart, while eating my breakfast, to realise that you
still haven’t got it. I could tell you, but you’re going to have to work for it.
The lovely comment of “the only thing we could do is offer our experience to make your first time
memorable” was in particularly poor taste. My first time would have been memorable regardless of
any little tricks that you know, because it would have been with people that I love. A fumbling
encounter in a darkened room would have been fine for me.
But, you still don’t get it.
By the way, knowing that I’m in your thoughts is nice. However, you phrased it wrong. You don’t
think ‘We need Harry here. He deserves to be here.’ What I believe you’re actually thinking is: ‘I
wish Harry were here so that I could give him the odd peck on the cheek while still shagging Ron,
that way, I wouldn’t feel nearly so guilty, because I’m showing him some attention. Good little
puppy.’
Still enjoy your life, Hermione.
TTFN.
Harry James Potter.
The Boy-Who-Doesn’t-Believe-You

It took two days for Hermione’s next response to make its way to Grimmauld Place. Harry had
been making excellent use of time his time, going to the Ministry to sit three OWL exams;
Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. He was now working on NEWT level work, and
thoroughly enjoying it.
When Hermione’s letter arrived, he sighed softly to himself, before opening the missive.
Dear Harry,
Frankly, we’ve racked our brains, and can’t think of what we need to do. We need your help.
Professor Dumbledore has forbidden us from going to Grimmauld Place unless you invite us. Can
we come over?
Love,
Hermione
He pondered for a moment, before shrugging. Why not? It’s not as though they’ll suddenly get
it. He headed into the kitchen.

Harry tapped on the bricks, opening the Floo to Dumbledore’s office.

“Ah, Harry!” Dumbledore’s joviality sounded a little forced. “To what do I owe the honour of
this call?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Ron and Hermione want to come over to my place. I’m giving them
permission for this time only. Can you see to it they get here soon?”
Dumbledore smiled. “Are you ready to forgive them, Harry?” He asked.
“Not yet. They’ve only now begun to realise how I feel. They want to talk about it.” Harry
cocked his head for a moment. “Albus, how good are you at communicating by Legilimency?”
Thrown by this apparent non sequitur, Dumbledore frowned for a moment. “Depends what you
mean, Harry.”
“Could you transmit suggestions or questions into someone’s head while being disillusioned?”
Dumbledore caught on. “Yes, I could do that, Harry. As soon as they step through the Floo, I
could disillusion myself, and Apparate straight into the kitchen. They’d never need to know I was
there.”
“Excellent. Can you let them know they can come over?”
Dumbledore nodded as the flames went out. I do hope they don’t mess this up. He penned a
note, which he gave to Fawkes to take to the idiotic pair.

Hermione noticed Fawkes flame into the library, wielding a note. She immediately grasped it,
reading that Harry had granted them permission to go to Grimmauld Place. With an excited ‘squee’,
she packed her books away, dashing from the library in an attempt to find Ron, so that they could
get their lover back.

The two flew out of the Floo into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. As they landed in a heap on
the floor, neither of them noticed the almost soundless ‘pop’ that signalled the arrival of
Dumbledore.
In Hermione’s hands was Dumbledore’s Pensieve. Harry was about to ask why they had it,
when a soft voice in his mind made itself known. Harry resisted the urge to look at the corner,
where he could tell Dumbledore was standing.
They asked to borrow my Pensieve, Harry. Dumbledore’s voice announced. From what I can
tell, they believe that they can prove to you that they did consider your feelings, and that things
have been blown out of proportion.
Harry allowed a mental snort to flow down the link. This could prove to be interesting.
However, I’m not sure how comfortable you’d be with seeing teenage sex.
Dumbledore’s voice sounded wary. I’m not particularly looking forward to it myself. He
admitted. However, I’ll somehow muddle my way through it. I hope you can obliviate me
afterwards.
No promises. Harry said.
By this time, Hermione and Ron had pulled themselves up from the floor, plonking the
Pensieve on the table. Hermione took charge. “Harry, you said in that last letter that we didn’t
consider you. We’ve been thinking about it, and asked Professor Dumbledore if we could borrow
this Pensieve to show you that we do care.”
Harry said nothing, just raising an eyebrow.
“So... where do you want to start?” She asked, pulling out her wand.
“How about...” Harry leaned back, closing his eyes in thought. “How about the time when you
first started kissing on your birthday? That’s where it all began.”
Hermione nodded, closing her eyes, and putting her wand to her temple. She extracted the
silver strand, dropping it into the bowl. She looked uncertainly up at Harry. “Okay... Professor
Dumbledore said that we have to put our faces into the memory to see it.”
Wait, Harry. Dumbledore’s voice called. If you tap the runes on the outside of the bowl at the 1,
6 and 8 o’clock positions, it will generate a 3-dimensional image.
Harry pulled out his wand, tapping the runes. A blast of light erupted from the Pensieve,
rearranging the kitchen so that it looked like the Gryffindor common room.
Ron and Hermione sat on the couch, both engrossed in their books. Every so often, one of them
would look up at the other, biting down on their lip as they gazed longingly at the other. This went
on for ten minutes.
“See?” Harry asked rhetorically. “You’re not thinking... ‘we wanna kiss, where’s Harry?’.
You’re both totally engrossed in each other here, not me.”
“No.” Ron corrected. “That’s not true.”
Harry snorted. “Let’s keep watching, shall we?”
After another five minutes, Ron and Hermione looked up at the same time, the smouldering in
their eyes reaching epic proportions. As one, they threw their books aside, Hermione dashing over
to Ron’s couch to start kissing him.
This continued for another two minutes, before Harry raised a hand behind his hear, as though
straining to hear something. “It’s curious... I don’t hear anything like ‘wait, where’s Harry?’ or
‘Hang on, we should talk about this with Harry’. No, all I see is you two, totally into each other.”
Hermione exchanged a guilty glance with Ron, but kept watching, hoping that something to
prove their point would come along.
In the memory, Ron and Hermione sprang apart when an ear-splitting ‘squee’ noise sounded.
All four people in the kitchen winced. “Really should fit that girl with a ‘mute’ button.” Harry
murmured. Lavender leapt from the stairs, throwing herself onto the couch. “Oh, my god! When did
this start?” She demanded.
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, before breaking into goofy smiles. “Just now, actually.”
Hermione muttered, smiling proudly. Lavender squealed again, running out of the portrait hole.
Harry tapped a rune, pausing the image. “Again, I’m not mentioned.” He raised his wand to his
temple, extracting his own memory. He dropped it into the bowl, mixing it with Hermione’s
memory. “This is where I found out, and when I came back to the common room.”
He tapped another rune, the image changing.
Harry made his way along the corridor, his very being screaming out abject exhaustion.
Another session of Occlumency with Dumbledore. As he staggered back, he ran into Luna
Lovegood, skipping down the hallway.
“Ah, Harry.” Luna sing-songed. “Have you heard the latest news?”
Harry shook his head. “Been busy. What is it?”
Luna smiled. “Lavender came into the Gryffindor common room, to catch Ronald and
Hermione... what was it she said? Ah, ‘burning up five years of sexual tension on the couch’. She’s
been running around for the last hour, telling as many people as possible.” Luna smiled again, and
carried on skipping down the corridor.
Ron and Hermione saw the expression on memory-Harry’s face, and felt their hearts break. The
look of abject defeat etched into his features was enough to melt even the hardest heart. They
looked at the real Harry, who was watching with a detached indifference.
Harry, are you all right? Dumbledore’s voice sounded in his mind.
I’m fine, Albus. Harry replied stoically. I’ve lived through this once. I can manage again. He
looked at his ‘friends’. “As you can see, when I heard that fascinating bit of gossip, I was a tad
upset. The rest of this memory last over an hour, where I came back into the common room, and
neither of you told me.” He tapped another rune, fast-forwarding. They could see Ron and
Hermione exchanging guilty looks, but neither of them spoke about what had happened.
When memory-Harry went off to bed, Ron and Hermione waited for a moment, before lunging
at each other again. Harry tapped another rune, manipulating the image, so that it showed memory-
Harry, sitting on his bed in his dorm room. Again, he looked desperately unhappy.
“Why?” He asked himself, sniffling back tears. “Why would they do this? We didn’t even
discuss who’d be the public couple... Couldn’t they wait?”
Again, Harry fast-forwarded, this time almost four hours worth, only to slow down when
memory-Harry looked up, noticing memory-Ron coming into the dorm room. His lips were puffy,
and covered with a delicate pink lipstick. He looked over at Harry, nodding slightly, before climbing
into his bed, closing the curtains.
Harry tapped a final rune, ending the memory, letting the image fade back into the Pensieve.
“Strange... I didn’t see a single mention of me there. I thought that was supposed to prove to me that
you care.”
Hermione looked at Ron for a moment, realising that that particular memory had done nothing
to help their cause.
“How about the time you two first had sex?” Harry asked, his voice sounding cheerful.
“Because that’s a good one. At least, it proves my point.”
Hermione and Harry raised their wands together, extracting the relevant memory, dropping it
into the bowl.
Hermione and Ron lay together on Ron’s bed, engaged in a ferocious lip-lock, hands roaming
over each other’s erogenous zones. Hermione’s hand was in the open zip of Ron’s trousers, stroking
him to hardness.
“I’m ready, Ron.” She whispered in between kisses. “Are you?”
He nodded, grinning like a monkey, before he started stripping off his clothes. Hermione was
next to him, following suit, practically tearing her clothes off.
Harry looked at the scene, his mask of indifference complete. Ron and Hermione looked up, to
see he had no reaction to the sight of his lovers naked.
“What about Harry?” Hermione whispered. “I don’t want him to hear.”
 Harry’s brow raised. Hermione looked up guiltily as she realised what her memory was
showing. Not only had they not discussed it, but they were trying to take steps to make sure Harry
wouldn’t find out about it. Not exactly a sterling example of dealing with a relationship problem.
Ron raised his wand, casting a silencing charm. He leaned closer...
Harry tapped a rune with his wand, shifting the focus of the memory to Harry, lying alone in his
bed.
Harry sat, looking up at the ceiling of his bed. When he heard Hermione’s first moan, he looked
sharply at Ron’s bed, his face a mask of disbelief. “No... they wouldn’t...” He heard them, the
sounds of sex becoming more apparent. The slapping together of their hips, the slight ‘squelching’
sound, the moans and gasps from both them filling the room.
Memory-Harry poked his head out of the curtains, noticing that Dean, Seamus and Neville had
done the same. With a look of shared disgust, all four young men raised their wands, casting a
silencing charm at Ron’s bed. With a grin of relief, the other three poked their heads back inside
their bed curtains.
Harry’s head stared longingly at Ron’s closed curtains, before he pulled himself, casting a
silencing charm on himself, before he drifted off to sleep.
The memory ended. Harry stared imperiously at Hermione. “What was it you said, there,
‘lover’? ‘What about Harry? I don’t want him to hear’?”
You were excluded from the very beginning, Harry. Dumbledore’s voice spoke up suddenly. You
know, the more I see this, the less happy I am with those two.
Hermione’s eyes were filling with tears. “I didn’t mean it like that, Harry...” She whispered. “I
just meant that it wasn’t fair to let you hear us when you weren’t involved...”
“And why wasn’t I involved, Miss Granger? Put simply, you didn’t really want me there.” He
replied, looking her straight in the eye. He turned to Ron. “What about you, Mr. Weasley? Didn’t it
bother you that you were excluding me?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Of course not. You were about
to shag your girlfriend. Thinking about me didn’t even enter your brain.”
Ron looked as distraught as Hermione. “Harry... mate, I’m sorry...”
Harry nodded wisely. “Yes, you’re sorry.” His face hardened. “You’re sorry you got caught.”
He ignored their protests. “How about we go to December? You remember? That’s where you
invited me to join you.”
Harry drew out another memory, staring at Hermione while she raised a shaking hand to her
temple, pulling out the silver strand. Again, Harry mixed them together in the bowl, watching the
memory rise up.
Memory-Harry pumped his fist into the air as he found out he’d be joining Ron and Hermione
in bed. He quickly showered, changed, and put of a hint of deodorant. He went back into the dorm
room, seeing Hermione smiling at him from Ron’s bed. He clambered onto the mattress, grinning at
Hermione.
Ron was laying on his side at the edge of the bed, watching his two lovers.
Harry quickly removed Hermione’s underwear, before laying down in between her legs, his
tongue snaking out, and quickly switching to Parseltongue. As expected, Hermione was bucking all
over the bed, at one point needing Ron to hold her down while she orgasmed.
As soon as she finished, the warning ward Hermione had set up went off.
“Harry, someone’s coming!” Hermione whispered urgently. “Quickly, hide!”
Harry leapt up, racing back into the bathroom, hiding in one of the toilet cubicles.
 The memory changed from Harry’s to Hermione’s. Hermione felt herself come down from the
most powerful orgasm she’d ever felt. Ron looked at her, a maniacal grin on his face.
“Was that good for you?” He asked.
“Christ...” Hermione breathed. “I’m so horny! Ron, get over here now!” They watched at
Hermione vanished Ron’s pants, impaling herself on his tool immediately, and riding him.
The memory changed back to Harry’s. Harry waited a few minutes so that whoever was making
their way to the dorm room could leave, so that he could go back and resume their interrupted
adventure. He re-entered the dorm room, hearing the unmistakable sounds of Ron and Hermione
having sex.
With a look of utter defeat, he went back into the shower room, closing the cubicle door and
sealing it with a Colloportus. His hand hovered over the bulge in his trousers for a moment, before
he dropped it back to his side, screaming out a blast of inarticulate rage.
The memory ended, Hermione now openly crying at their mistreatment. Harry looked up. “Was
it good for you, Hermione?” He asked politely. “because to be honest, it wasn’t that good for me. I
enjoyed the first part, but the ‘being locked in a shower cubicle’ wasn’t that pleasant.”
He noticed their horrified expressions. “I have many more memories like that. Would you like
to see them? The other three times you ‘allowed’ me to eat you out, or the two times Ron ‘allowed’
me to suck him off? Each time, it ends with me being forced to hide, and when I come back, you
two are shagging away.”
“Ooh, I know!” Harry said quickly. “How about the first day back at school? That’s a good
one.” Harry, ignoring the looks of panic on their faces, raised his wand to his temple, pulling out
another long silver strand. He dropped it into the bowl, swirling it with his wand, before tapping the
runes of the side of the bowl.
Memory-Harry opened the portrait, recoiling as the sounds and smells hit him. The sounds of
damp hips hitting each other, Hermione’s gentle moaning and gasping, and Ron’s animalistic
grunting. With a sigh, Harry made his way over to one of the small desks, pulling out a sheet of
parchment, writing out a letter.
Harry tapped a rune, pausing the playback. He looked at Ron and Hermione. “That was me
writing the letter I gave to Professor Dumbledore just before I left school. I knew that I wouldn’t be
able to take living in such close quarters with the two of you. To be honest, I’d thought I’d last
longer than two weeks, but your constant sex drove me nuts.” He tapped the rune, resuming the
memory.
With a slight huff, hearing the high-pitched moaning that meant Hermione was close, Harry
stomped over to his bedroom, slamming the door once he got inside. He threw a silencing charm at
the door, hoping to block out the sounds.
The sounds vanished, giving Harry a moment of peace. He picked up his Arithmancy book,
flopping onto the bed as he carried on reading. After a moment, Harry’s door opened, revealing
Ron in his birthday suit, quite obviously halfway through shagging Hermione.
Harry kept his eyes on Ron’s, not looking down at his obvious arousal. “Something the matter,
Ron?” He asked politely.
Ron just stared at him for a moment. “Would you mind not slamming doors, Harry?” Ron
asked tersely. “It’s very distracting.”
“Sorry, man. I’ll be more considerate in the future.”
“Thanks.” Ron replied dismissively, shutting the door on his way back to Hermione’s room.
After a moment, he heard muffled voices, then the disgusting soundtrack start up again.
 Harry paused the playback again, looking at the two of the piercingly, before he manipulated
the runes on the side of the bowl, increasing the audio. He kept twiddling with the runes, until the
muffled voices became clearer.
“I can’t believe he’d just slam the door like that.” Ron complained, shutting the door quietly,
coming back over to the bed. “I mean, I’m quiet when he has sex, I don’t think it’s exactly rude for
him to return the favour.”
Hermione pondered this for a moment, before Ron’s cleverly placed hand drew her attention
back to the matter at hand. With a grin, she pulled Ron forward so that he could continue his
ministrations. “Let’s just concentrate on this for now.”
The memory ended, leaving Harry staring at Ron and Hermione with an incredulous look on
his face. “I think that really sums it up, Ron.” He said slowly, his tone hardening slightly. “You’re
quiet when I have sex. Since you’re never bloody quiet, I think that proves that I’ve not had sex.”
He turned to Hermione. “And what about you? You knew you’d never made love to me, and Ron
saying that he keeps the noise down when I have sex... didn’t that clue you in that something was
wrong?”
Hermione, again blinking back tears, let her mind flash back. “I-I was wondering about that...”
She admitted slowly. “B-But when Ron started touching me again...”
“You forgot.” Harry replied coolly. “I understand. After all the practice that Ron’s had, he must
know all the right spots to touch to distract you.” He shrugged. “I, of course, don’t know a damned
thing about that, because you decided to exclude me.”
This is despicable. Dumbledore’s voice, filled with disdain, sounded in his head. I thought you
were exaggerating this, Harry, but this is... Words can’t express how disappointed I am with them.
Me, either. And they think that doing this would help ‘fix’ things. Hah!
“Shall we go on to Valentine’s Day? Or the time when you told me that I had to keep silent?
Would you like to see that? Or do you know accept that I’ve been treated like shit, and you two
were the shovellers?”
Hermione shook her head shakily. “God, Harry, I’m so sorry... why didn’t you say anything to
us?”
Harry let out a short, barking laugh. “I had to tell you that you were being crappy lovers?” He
asked, chuckling. “You can’t figure that out on your own? Ignoring one third of a Trio is normal to
you?”
Ron cleared his throat. “Harry... how can we fix this? Please, tell us!”
Harry leaned back, looking intently at the other two. “There is only one way, Mr. Weasley.” He
said formally. “You will need to travel back in time to September 19th, 1996, and change what
happened then. Otherwise, it’s far too fucking late.”
Hermione reached out, grabbing Harry’s hand. “Please, Harry, please, don’t let it end like this!
There must be something we can do... somehow make it up to you!”
Harry pulled his hand free, scrunching it up into a fist, which he rested on the table. Albus, can
you think of anything which would make this up?
Not really. Dumbledore’s voice replied. I’d need to think about it.
“What would you suggest, Miss Granger?” Harry asked, his voice sounding toneless. “What do
you think would be sufficient to rectify this... situation?”
“We could do everything with you. Everything that Ron and I have done we can share with
you!” She said, looking hopeful.
 Harry just stared at her. “And what makes you think that I want anything more to do with either
of you? You’re used goods. If anything, your little demonstration here has made things worse.
‘What about Harry? I don’t want him to hear.’ ‘I keep quiet when Harry’s having sex, why can’t
he?’ You went from ignoring me to actively lying to me. You didn’t want me to know that you were
having sex.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Hermione exclaimed, the tears flowing more freely. “I just didn’t
want you to be jealous!”
Harry’s monotone returned. “You succeeded. I’m no longer jealous. I’m now indifferent.” He
smiled at her. “You should be happy. You’ve driven away the competition. Not that there really was
any...” He muttered the last part. “You can Ronald can get married, and give Mrs. Weasley lots of
grandbabies.”
“We don’t want any of this without you!” Ron exploded loudly. “Don’t you get it? We want
you!”
Harry’s smile vanished. “The fact that you only want me after I’ve left says volumes, Mr.
Weasley. But, you’re still missing one of the most important things.”
Oh? Dumbledore asked.
Yes. What do I want? Harry replied.
Dumbledore sounded stunned. You mean... they haven’t actually asked you that?
Nope. Just told me they want to know how to fix it. They still haven’t figure it out.
“What, Harry?” Ron asked, making a visible effort to calm down. “I want to know. What is it
we’re missing.”
“That’s something you need to figure out for yourself.” Harry replied, looking at one and then
the other.
“Harry... don’t you miss us?” Hermione asked in a small voice. “Don’t you feel the pain that we
feel? We’re dying inside... why aren’t you?”
Harry’s face hardened into stone. “I’ve been in pain all my life, Miss Granger. You and Mr.
Weasley have added to it. Why would I willingly go back into a situation where all I feel is the hurt,
and none of the pleasure, because you’re too self-absorbed to realise? I’ve managed to escape that
cycle of pain, and have no wish to return to it.”
“But, we know now!” Ron exclaimed. “We can do better!”
“How?” Harry asked sharply. “How can you do better? You still deny me publicly, and, for
some reason I have to say this again; neither of you is doing any of this for the right reasons. You’re
only trying to make yourselves feel better.”
“But... we can make you feel better, too, Harry!” Hermione said, her voice rising. “We can give
you everything we are! We can teach you everything we’ve learned!”
Harry glanced at her, a mocking smile on his lips. “Really?”
“Yes!” Ron and Hermione said together.
“You’d teach me everything you’ve learnt?”
“Yes!” The replied again.
“You mean, you’d teach me everything you learnt together while ignoring me?” He asked, his
voice hardening. “Thanks. That’s a great reminder that you were both so ignorant. Let me tell you
this now: sex will not fix this. Again, you’re just thinking that if we have a random shag,
everything’ll be back to normal.”
 Ron slammed his fist down onto the table. “Then what? What will it take?”
“You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself, Mr. Weasley.” Harry looked at his watch. “Ah,
and it seems our time here is drawing to an end. Thanks for dropping by. It’s been... educational.”
Harry waved his wand at the fireplace, igniting the flames.
Hermione stood up, running around the table, and dropping onto her knees in front of Harry.
“Please, Harry, don’t leave it like this. If you’ve ever cared about us, give us this one thing. Tell us
how to make it better.”
Harry stood up, backing away from Hermione, his anger too great for his Occlumency to
handle. “If I’ve ever cared about you?” His voice was low and dangerous, making Ron, Hermione
and Dumbledore tremble. “If I’ve ever cared about you, I’ll tell you how to hurt me again?” His
eyes practically lit up in rage. “Get out.” He whispered. “Get out now!”
Ron grabbed the Pensieve and dashed into the flames, vanishing. Hermione jumped to her feet,
taking a step back as she felt his rage. “You still care for us, Harry...” She whispered. “I can see it in
your eyes... you wouldn’t be in so much pain if you didn’t care...”
“Pain you caused...” Harry hissed. “Pain you continue to cause me... Now, leave!” He roared.
Hermione scurried into the fire, vanishing as the green flames took her away. The instant she
vanished, Dumbledore dropped his disillusionment, rushing over to wrap Harry in a hug, as the
younger man burst into tears.
“Damn them.” Dumbledore whispered. “Damn them both to hell.”
It took fifteen minutes, and two large glasses of FireWhiskey, for Harry to calm down. All the
time, Dumbledore was plotting revenge scenarios, each more gruesome than the last.
Harry pulled away from Dumbledore, wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeves. “Thanks, Albus.” He
whispered. He chuckled unhappily. “She’s right, you know. I am in pain, because I still care.” He
looked up mournfully at his mentor. “Why can’t I get over this, sir? Why can’t I just let them go,
and move on?”
Dumbledore had to wipe away tears of his own. “Love is the most powerful force in the
universe, Harry.” He whispered back. “It can capture you and never let you go. It is implacable,
unrelenting. I wish I could help you, my boy, I really do.”
Harry sat back down, pouring himself a third glass of whiskey, offering the bottle to
Dumbledore, who nodded. Harry poured him a glass, putting the bottle back in the cupboard.
“So... what now? What the hell do I do, Albus?”
Dumbledore took a healthy slug of his drink, before looking at Harry. “I think you need to
make a decision, Harry. You need to decide if you will take them back at all. Either forgiveness or
redemption, it doesn’t matter. Do you want them back?”
Harry nodded slowly. “I do... but... I can’t bear it if things just revert to form. I can’t, Albus. I’ll
go insane.”
“So, you do want them back. But, you want them to realise the truth of the matter.”
Dumbledore stated. Harry nodded. “So, you know the course of action. You can either help them to
understand, or you can take a step back, letting them work it out on their own. However, situations
like this are only prolonging your discomfort. You’ve given them plenty of time to work it out. It’s
time to step back, Harry. Let them work on it, while you stay away.”
Harry chuckled. “Yeah... I think you’re right.” He sobered up. “I can’t keep doing this, though.
It’s bringing me nothing but torment.”
“So, I shall stop them coming here, Harry.” Dumbledore said firmly. “I shall also stop them
writing to you. That way, you will have a little peace.”
 “I’d appreciate that, sir.” Harry said, draining his drink. “Now, I’ve got some Runes to study,
and time waits for no man.”
Dumbledore nodded, finishing his own drink, before he stood, and headed for the fireplace. He
watched, with saddened eyes, as Harry left the kitchen, before he flooed back to Hogwarts.
 – CHAPTER SEVEN –
Are You Taking the Piss?

Harry was reading yet another heavy tome, locked in the Library of Grimmauld Place. The
room was a haven of Dark Arts books, allowing Harry to learn more about Defence than anything
the school could teach him. It had been almost two weeks since the knock-down drag-out with Ron
and Hermione in the kitchen, and Harry had not heard from them since.
A loud ‘hoot’ from Hedwig dragged his attention back to the present. He sighed, got up, and
headed to the kitchen, where his snowy owl was waiting for him.
In her talons was a copy of the Daily Prophet. He looked at her with confusion.
“Hedwig? Why’ve you brought me this?” He asked her. “We have plenty of toilet paper.”
Hedwig just hooted, pushing the paper along the table with her beak. Harry sighed, tossed her
an owl treat, and picked up the paper.

Weasley/Granger Split Up!

By: Phil McCraken
Yesterday, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the legendary friends of the ‘Boy-Who-
Lived’, Harry Potter, broke up in a large row in the Great Hall of school.
Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, both 18, have been dating since the beginning of their
sixth year. However, signs of strain began to appear in their relationship when Harry Potter left the
school earlier this year.
The confrontation in the Great Hall was seen by the whole school. Their friends had this to say:
“Personally, I don’t know how it’s last so long.” Seamus Finnegan, a close friend of the two said.
“They’ve always been a bit explosive, but with Harry here, he was able to buffer the two of them.
Without Harry, it was only a matter of time.”
Draco Malfoy, seventh-year Slytherin, added: “Weasley and Granger... Hell, I’m surprised they
haven’t killed each other before now.”
Headmaster Dumbledore refused to comment on the situation, saying only: “It is not our place to
discuss this.”

Harry threw the paper down in disgust, and looked at Hedwig. “I’m gonna have to sort this out,
aren’t I?” He asked her.
Hedwig just stared at him for a moment, amber eyes blinking slowly, staring him down. It was
a competition he knew he’d lose; her eyes were bigger than his.
Harry huffed, then stood up, grabbing his jacket. “Fine.”

The Great Hall was quiet. Ron and Hermione were sitting at opposite ends of the Gryffindor
table, with as many students in between them as possible.
Secretly, the other three houses were eager to see another blow-up. Mealtime entertainment was
so hard to come by at Hogwarts, and watching former lovers tear strips from each other was top of
the bill entertainment...
A loud thump on the doors into the Great Hall drew everyone’s attention, even the teachers. In
moments, wands were in hand, as the teachers prepared for an attack.
The doors flew open, hitting the walls behind them with a loud bang. In the doorway stood the
hero of the Wizarding world, Harry Potter.
He glanced at Dumbledore, nodding slightly. Dumbledore saw him, nodded back, and smiled.
He gestured to the teachers, who quickly placed their wands away.
Harry looked at the Gryffindor table, noting the vast distance between Ron and Hermione.
“Weasley. Granger.” He said stiffly. “With me.” He turned, and strode out of the Great Hall.
Ron and Hermione took one glance at each other, and shot to their feet, running after Harry.

They found him on the seventh floor, pacing outside the statue of Barnabas the Barmy. The
door to the Room of Requirement opened, Harry gesturing them both inside. The room was shaped
like the Gryffindor common room, with a triangular table, and three chairs, one per side..
Harry sat down, gesturing for the two of them to do the same.
For a moment, Ron and Hermione just stared at Harry, who looked back without any expression
on his face. He took a few moments to order his thoughts, before speaking quietly.
“Picture the scene; I’m reading in the library at home, when Hedwig delivers my copy of the
Daily Prophet. There, in huge letters on the front page, it announces that you two have split up.” He
looked up at Hermione, who was blushing and fidgeting, and Ron, who was squeezing the life out
of the edge of the table. “The couple of the ages has split up, because they can’t stop bickering with
each other.”
Harry took a moment to reflect. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Ron and Hermione both started to speak at once, before Harry slammed his hand down on the
table. “Enough!” He turned to Hermione. “Ladies first, Miss Granger. What happened?”
Hermione, looking chagrined at being shushed like a naughty child, spoke quietly. “You...
you’ve always been a buffer between me and Ron, Harry.” She glanced at Ron, before looking
down at her hands. “Ron’s personality and mine seem to naturally conflict. You buffered us, so that
we didn’t explode, but without you here, there’s been nothing to stop us.”
Harry nodded slowly, before turning to Ron. “Mr. Weasley, I’d like to hear your side of the
story.”
Ron tried to smile at his friend, but the cool countenance of Harry made the smile collapse. “It’s
basically what Hermione said, Harry. We’re like oil and water. We need you to stop us from
exploding on each other.”
Harry nodded again, looking from one to the other. “For twelve months, while I was still here at
Hogwarts, you two managed to get along very well, with only minimal influence from me. More to
the point, you’ve been at Hogwarts for a good two months without me being here. What has
suddenly changed that you can’t exist without me?”
Hermione pondered for a moment, Ron fidgeted, and Harry sat with serenity. After a moment,
Hermione spoke. “I think it’s been a combination of things, Harry.” She looked up at him sharply,
wincing as she realised what she was about to say. “I’m sorry, for this...”
Harry just arched an eyebrow, realising why she was apologising.
“A lot of the tension that we normally feel, we’ve been able to channel into... other pursuits.”
Ron looked up, blushing the famous Weasley red.
“You mean you could shag it out.” Harry said, looking completely composed as he said this.
“Well... yes, I s-suppose that’s one way of putting it.” Hermione replied uncertainly. “Well,
when we came back from Grimmauld Place the first time, Professor Dumbledore blocked off my
rooms, the boys dorms, and all of the broom cupboards from us.”
“So, Dumbledore’s stopped you two from shagging, which means that the tension you both got
used to humping away has been building up, yes?” Harry concluded.
“In a word, yes.” Ron replied, glancing over at Hermione.
“So, the ‘Golden Couple’ has broken up because of lack of sex.” Harry ‘tsked’ under his breath.
“That’s not a very good sign, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. Why didn’t you find an alternative place?
The Astronomy Tower, an empty classroom, hell, even in the Forbidden Forest. There’s plenty of
places that you could have gone to work off your tension.”
“Dumbledore warded the classrooms, too.” Ron muttered.
“Still, there are alternatives, Mr. Weasley.” Harry replied patronisingly. “You spent so much
time exploring the nooks and crannies of Hogwarts, you must know a dozen places where you can
go.” He sighed. “More importantly, why didn’t you sit down with someone and work out your
issues? Professor McGonagall offers counselling, and would certainly have been able to help you.”
“Well...” Ron looked a bit blank. “Well, in a way, it didn’t seem fair that we keep on doing what
we were doing.” Hermione nodded emphatically at Ron’s words.
Harry leaned back in his chair. “So... you decided to stop having sex... as a form of
punishment?” They nodded. “Why? You both plainly need that way of releasing your tensions. Why
deny yourselves?”
“Why did you deny yourself, Harry?” Hermione asked quickly. “All the times-”
“We’re not here to discuss me.” Harry interrupted sharply. “That’s a can of worms I have
neither the inclination nor the time to open now.” He sighed. “We’re discussing you two. You know
that you’re in love.” He ignored the pangs his heart was sending throughout his body. “You
shouldn’t be arguing over silly little things like this.”
“Harry, we want-”
“Enough!” Harry roared. “This ends now. I’m going to lock you into the Room of Requirement
until you fix this. When you both start acting like the adults your supposed to be, I’ll let you out.
Until then...” Harry trailed off as he stood up, waving his wand at the table, which turned into a
comfortable four-poster bed.
Ignoring Hermione’s protests, Harry stalked over to the door, waving his wand discretely, as he
locked the door.

Walking down the corridor whistling a jaunty tune, which in no way reflected his actual mood,
he made his way back to the Great Hall. As he walked, he waved his wand over the right lens of his
glasses, the monitoring charm he’d cast in the RoR making sure that he could see what was
happening. Ron and Hermione were talking, holding hands and looking at each other shyly. It was a
start...

When he entered the Great Hall, alone, all conversation stopped. Harry, ignoring the looks he
was getting, made his way up to the Head Table, and smiled at Professor Dumbledore. “Sir? Do you
mind if I join you for lunch?”
 Dumbledore just smiled, and pointed to an empty chair next to Professor McGonagall. Harry
made his way around the table, and stood next to McGonagall.
“Professor?” He asked politely. To his shock, McGonagall almost jumped out of her chair,
wrapping Harry in a firm hug.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Potter.” She said warmly, dabbing at her eyes, which had started
leaking. Harry hugged her back just as firmly, before pulling away.
“You too, Professor.”
“So... is everything sorted with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?” She asked, sitting back down.
“Not yet.” Harry said, grinning. “But, I’ve locked them in the Room of Requirement, so I
expect things’ll be back to normal in no time.”
She looked at him warily for a moment, then shrugged. “I assume I’d be better off not asking
you to explain that statement?”
Harry just nodded, before grabbing himself a plate.

Less than two minutes later, the hall was shocked into silence by Harry Potter screaming at the
Head Table, before ripping off his glasses, and throwing them onto the table. He quickly brandished
his wand, casting ‘Finite Incantatum’ at his glasses, before peeking at them, and slipping them back
onto his face.
“My eyes...” He moaned softly. He turned to McGonagall. “Please, Obliviate me!”
“What? What is going on?” McGonagall demanded.
“I had a monitoring charm on my glasses. I could see what was going on in the RoR.” He
shuddered. “I think it’s safe to say Ron and Hermione will be back to normal in no time.”
McGonagall looked blankly at him for a moment, then her lips thinned as she realised the
implications. “I should go and stop them.” She said bluntly.
Harry just shook his head. “They need this, Professor. Without it, they’ll never survive as a
couple.” He looked over his shoulder at the hourglasses that kept score. “Besides, I don’t think
Gryffindor has enough points for you to deduct for what they’re doing.”
Dumbledore peered over his specs at them. “I told you, Harry.”
“Thank you, sir.” Harry mock-glared at Dumbledore. “They need this, sir.” After a moment, a
foreign thought entered his head. And what of you? Do you not need this as well?
Not like they do. I survived before. I’ll survive again. Harry shot back politely, noting
Dumbledore’s resigned nod, before he turned back to his lunch.

Hermione sat on Ron’s lap, kissing him passionately, as two months worth of hormones raced
through her body. She felt Ron rise to the occasion, pressing up against her backside.
“Oh, god, Hermione...” Ron whispered in between kisses. “I want you...”
A synapse at the back of her mind suddenly fired off a message through the heavy jamming of
lust. She pulled away, ignoring Ron’s mew of protest. “That’s it!”
“What?” Ron asked, his eyes glazed over from lust.
“That’s it!” Hermione squealed, leaping off Ron’s lap, pacing the floor slightly. “I’ve figured it
out, Ron! I know what Harry’s been waiting for us to figure out!”
Ron straightened up, adjusting his pants slightly. “Tell me!” He demanded.
 “It’s all about ‘want’.” She said, pacing slightly faster. “Every time we’ve dealt with Harry
since we left school, we kept telling him what we want, not what he wants.” She cast her mind back
to the letters they’d received. “God, he even put it into his letters. You and I have made all the
decisions in this relationship. Not once have we allowed Harry to have a choice.”
Ron’s mind worked overtime. “We didn’t ask him who should be the public couple... we never
asked him about having sex... we...” He trailed off, as he remembered February 15th. “We never
even asked him to keep quiet. We told him. We never asked what he wanted to do.”
“Yes!” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “That’s it! All the time, we’ve
been so selfish. We’ve been offering him sex as a way of making up, but we never even asked him
if he wanted to have sex with us anymore.”
Ron’s mind did a slight flip. Who wouldn’t want to have sex? Of course, being eighteen and
male, he’d never be able to work out the answer to that.
“So... we need to find out what he wants, then?” Ron asked.
“Not only that, Ron.” Hermione said bossily. “We have to be prepared to do it, too. If he told us
he wants us to bend over and be buggered senseless, we’d have to do it. It’s the only way to show
that we’ve learnt what he wants us to learn.”
They took a moment to think about what Hermione had just said. Ron grinned goofily. “You
know... I don’t think I’d have a problem with that.”
Hermione smiled shyly. “I don’t think I would, either...”
“You’ve always turned me down.” Ron replied indignantly. “You said-”
“Not now, Ron.” Hermione replied. She looked at him apologetically. “You got the front...
maybe it’s only fair he gets the back.”
Ron grumbled for a moment, but only a moment, since he knew it was fair. “Fine...” Hermione
headed for the door, waving her wand to dispel the locking charm. Since the two of them had made
up, the door unlocked, letting the two run down the hallway.

It was only a few minutes later when Ron and Hermione appeared at the door to the Great Hall,
looking dishevelled. They looked up at him and smiled sadly.
Harry could see a question in their eyes, an offer that he definitely wanted to refuse. “No.” He
said simply, seeing their faces drop. The other occupants of the Great Hall looked at Harry,
wondering why he would say that randomly.
Hermione took a step forward. “Harry, please.”
Harry stood up at the Head Table, and took a step back. He looked up, closing his eyes,
reaching out with his mind.
The sound of chimes filled the Great Hall, causing Dumbledore to look up in abject panic. To
his right, the swirling smoke of a disapparition filled his eyes, as Harry Potter did the impossible,
and apparated out of Hogwarts. As soon as he was gone, the chimes again filled the Great Hall.
Hermione, with her ever-present thirst for knowledge, asked the question. “Sir... what... how...”
Dumbledore sighed, more annoyed with Hogwarts than with Harry. “Harry asked Hogwarts to
lower her anti-apparition wards for a moment. For some reason, she did so, allowing Harry to leave.
They have now been raised again.”
Hermione screamed in frustration, as she marched out of the Great Hall, Ron right on her heels.
“What the hell was that?” Snape asked, leaning across Hagrid.
 “Run, Harry.” Dumbledore said softly. “They’ll be coming for you.”

Hermione stalked to Hogsmeade, intent on getting past the school’s anti-apparition wards,
before she could get to Harry. Ron was following her, a little lost at the moment, since Hermione
hadn’t shared her latest idea with him.
“Hermione?” He asked tentatively.
“Absolutely not.” She snarled through gritted teeth. “I’ve just worked it out, and I’ll be damned
if he doesn’t let me explain to him.”
Ron just nodded, increasing his stride.

The two appeared in the park across the street from 12 Grimmauld Place. Without a moment’s
hesitation, Hermione stalked across the road, hammering on the door.
After a moment, she heard a sigh come from behind the door, before it opened. Harry stood
there, a resigned look on his face. For a few seconds, there was silence, before Harry relented.
“You’d better come in, then.”
The two stalked inside, heading straight for the kitchen. Hermione went over to the stove,
filling the kettle and placing it on the burner. Ron slumped into a chair, looking up at Harry, who
entered the kitchen a moment later.
He gingerly sat down on a chair at the far end of the table, waiting for the tea to be prepared.
“So.” Hermione snapped out. “You’re prepared to just walk away, Harry.”
Harry said nothing, just nodded.
“I’ve had enough, Harry.” Hermione said firmly. “I’ve figured it out.” She looked uncertain for
a moment. “At least, I think I have.”
Harry’s brow arched up to his hairline. He stayed silent.
“All this time, it was staring me in the face, and I never realised.” Hermione continued on,
pouring the tea into three mugs. “All this time, I was thinking that I needed to feel better about this
situation. I missed the bloody point completely.” She gazed at him with a withering look. “It was
never about that, was it?”
Harry said nothing, just taking a drink of his tea.
“We’ve been so selfish.” Ron added, leaning back to collect his thoughts.
He really has come a long way. Harry thought to himself. In the past, he would have simply
blundered forward, ignoring any potentially hurtful things he’d inevitably blurt out.
“In every conversation we’ve had since we left school, we’ve used the word ‘want’ a hell of a
lot.” He said firmly. “And looking back, it was always ‘we’ want, or ‘I’ want.”
Hermione looked up. “It was never what you wanted, Harry. We see that now.” She took a
fortifying drink of her tea. “We’ve never asked you, not even as far back as when we first started
out, what you want.” She glanced at Ron, who nodded.
“Harry, please tell me this. What do you want?”
“What will make you happy, Harry?” Hermione added quickly. “Don’t think of anything else
but yourself. Be selfish. What do you want?”
Bugger! Was Harry’s first thought. How is it they only figure this out now? He looked at their
expectant faces, and decided to answer honestly. “Frankly... I don’t know anymore. I thought if you
managed to work it out, everything would just fall into place, and we’d all be happy. Now... I just
don’t know.”
Hermione nodded slowly. “I understand. Would you like us to leave you alone while you think
about it?”
After a moment of pondering, he shook his head. “No.” He leaned back in his chair, and closed
his eyes. For the next half hour, Harry sat immobile. Ron had started fidgeting, but a sharp glance,
and a kick to the shins, from Hermione had stilled him.

Harry’s mind raced.

I still want them. But, I don’t want it to go back to the way it was.
I still desire them. But, will they just return back to screwing each other and ignoring me?
I still want the world to know about us. But, will they fold when Mount Molly erupts over her
son loving both a man and a woman?
I still want the dream. But, can things ever turn out like I imagined the first time round?
Harry couldn’t answer these questions. He wanted to talk to someone, but the only other person
in the know was Professor Dumbledore, and it was unlikely he’d come all the way to Grimmauld
Place just to talk about Harry’s love-life.
In his mind’s eye, a flash of flames drew him back to the present.
Fawkes?
Hello, Harry-Wizard.
How are you talking to me in my mind?
You and I share a connection, young wizard. Because my tears saved you, I linked my life to
your own. I can help you with your dilemma.
How?
I share a mind-link with you, and I share a mind-link with Albus. I can serve as the bridge
between the two of you to help you resolve your problem.
How is it no-one knows about this ability of a Phoenix?
It is a sworn secret, young warrior. You will never speak of this to anyone else. Magic will
not let you. Would you like me to serve?
Harry sent a mental nod down the connection, feeling Fawkes chuckle at the enthusiasm. After
a few moments, a new voice entered the link.
Harry?
Professor Dumbledore?
It’s ‘Albus’, child. Is everything all right?
Hermione and Ron are here.
Ah. Dumbledore’s mental ‘voice’ became colder. I told them to never approach your house
without your express permission.
Oddly enough, I don’t mind, right now. Harry paused for a moment. They’ve come here, and not
once have they apologised. They’ve finally figured out the problem.
Oh?
Yes. They came here, and Hermione told me straight away... Tell you what, watch my memory,
and see what you think. Harry concentrated on the memory of the meeting in the kitchen, feeling
Dumbledore’s reactions across the link. There was amusement, annoyance, pride, and ambivalence.
After a few moments, Dumbledore spoke again.
It’s true that they should have been asking this question from the very beginning.

Hermione watched Harry’s facial expressions while his eyes were closed. She took a sip of her
now-cold tea. His face was animated, like he was having a conversation, except for the non-moving
lips part.

Yes, it is. However, I now have a colossal problem.

You no longer know what you want. Harry, I cannot answer this question for you.
I know. Harry snapped back, a little more harshly that he intended. He sighed. I’m sorry, Albus.
It’s just so...
Frustrating?
Damn straight! Why couldn’t they have done this a year ago?
They weren’t thinking, Harry. Or, at least, they weren’t thinking with their heads and hearts.
They are now. But, what they asked you is a valid question. One I avoided asking you for this very
reason. As I said to you during your first year, “It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to
live.” However, this is a dream that can come true.
Is it? I don’t know anymore. They’ve hurt me so badly... And there’s no guarantee it will work
out. They’ll be pressure from all sides.
You do not know that it won’t work out. After all, there are only two guaranteed things in the
universe, Harry.
Death and Taxes. I know.
Dumbledore chuckled. Very true, Harry. Do you still want them?
Yes. Harry replied simply. But, I don’t want it to slip back into the way it was. Being ignored.
Being forced to listen to their bloody sexcapades.
That is not all, is it?
Harry sighed again. No. I’m still pissed... sorry about that, sir. I’m still... very annoyed at...
well... their first time.
I understand, Harry. I would be pissed off, too. Dumbledore replied, shocking Harry. Please,
Harry. I’m 157 years old. I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m willing to bet I’ve forgotten
more swear words than you’ll ever know.
You’re an Alchemist, you have a Mastery in Transfiguration, and that’s your proudest boast?
Such a delightful thought.
It’s my pleasure, Harry.
But, what do I do? They gave each other something, without any thought to me, that’s so
precious. That’s something that I’ll never share with Hermione, or Ron. How do I forgive that?
To be frank, Harry, I don’t think you ever will be able to forgive that. You can try, or you could
try to forget it.
Neither of which seem possible, at the moment.
Then, you will either learn to get past it in some way, or you will kick them out of your house,
never to return.
That’s two pretty unattractive options, Albus.
There was a pause for a moment. Harry, I do have an idea, but I would need to discuss it with
Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley first.
Ooh... you’ve piqued my curiosity now.
I’m glad. This may be a way to give you part of what you want, Harry. As to your virginity, I
can’t answer you.
Craptacular. Harry pouted for a moment.
Well, here are your options, at least, as I see them. You can go to a Muggle bar, and take up
with a woman there.
That sounds awful. It’d just be a night of sex. No making love there at all.
I did not say that was the best option, Harry. Merely an option.
Fair enough.
Second, you can go to any Wizarding bar, Merlin, any public area, and find a witch, wizard or
both, who would be willing to sleep with you.
Same as option one, Albus.
Third, you could come to Hogwarts and find a willing witch, wizard or both here. Someone
with whom you already have friendship and affection for. Miss Weasley, for instance.
No! Harry’s mental voice positively screamed. I wouldn’t touch her with... well, to be crude, sir,
I wouldn’t shag her with a stolen dick. She’s had at least three lads that I know of. And I’m sure
she’s had more.
Indeed? Disturbing... I wonder what her mother would say.
Well, if Ron comes out to her, it should provide a welcome distraction.
Indeed. Dumbledore sounded amused.
Any more options?
Well... with Miss Granger’s and Mr. Weasley’s history, they would be able to provide you with a
measure of experience, which could only enhance the encounter. Before Harry could interrupt,
Dumbledore continued. Of course, that would also be a vicious reminder of what they have
previously denied you.
True. Harry thought for a moment. If it was you, Albus, what would you pick? Put yourself in
my position, and tell me what you’d pick.
Alas, I cannot, Harry. You are effectively asking me to make your decision for you. That I am
not prepared to do. I would suggest discussing it with your friends, Harry. See what their opinion
is.
That’ll be a fun conversation.
I can think of another option, Harry. However, it is extreme. And I do mean that literally.
However, it would provide the greatest chance for the three of you to be happy.
I’m intrigued. Is that what you were gonna suggest before?
No.
Ooh, a second juicy option. I’m all ears.
Very well. Using Madam Pomfrey’s prodigious skill, it would be possible to regrow Miss
Granger’s maidenhead. We could then Obliviate all knowledge from the three of you. In essence, it
would remove the past year from your lives. You would all start afresh, and you could do things
right.
Harry was silent for almost a minute. You really weren’t kidding when you said that was
extreme, Albus. How would that work, though? They’d still be other people who know about Ron
and Hermione. Are you suggesting that you go around and Obliviate anyone with the knowledge?
That, or a Fidelius charm. People would know, but they would be unable to discuss it with
anyone. In essence, it would remove the knowledge from the population.
That... I couldn’t make that decision on my own. Albus, can you listen in on the conversation?
There was a pause for a moment. I can, but not for too much longer. Communicating like this is
very draining to Fawkes, even with his awesome power. I could always come there in person, if that
would help.
It might. I’ll let you know.

Harry opened his eyes, noting Hermione staring at him. “Are you all right, Harry?” She asked
tenderly.
“I’m fine.” Harry replied.
Liar! Dumbledore’s voice shouted in his mind.
“I’ve just been going over the various options available.” Harry said quietly, ignoring the
reprove from Dumbledore. “The first question really is: Do I still want you two?”
Both Ron and Hermione sucked in a breath, eager to know the answer to this question. If it was
a negative response, neither of them would ever be the same again.
“Well... the answer to that question is fairly obvious, at least to me.” Harry said, impishly
enjoying their trepidation.
Hermione’s eyes turned pleading.
“The answer to that question is...” He smiled at her. “Yes, I do. I still love you two, even after
everything that you’ve put me through.” Harry noted Hermione’s muscles tensing, probably in
preparation to leap out of her chair and hug him. He held up his hand. “I’ve never stopped loving
the pair of you. Merlin only knows why...” He muttered. “And he ain’t sharing...”
Ron let out the breath he was unaware he’d been holding. This was half the battle won...
“However, there are other issues that need to be worked out.” Harry continued, noting them
both slump a little lower in their chairs. “You both hurt me. A lot.” They each wore expressions of
guilt and shame, but neither apologised. It’s probably for the best. Harry thought, idly. Any
apologies would just piss me off.
They have apologised for the things they have done wrong. Dumbledore said soothingly. The
fact that they are listening to you, and taking your concerns seriously is far better.
“Your announcement to the people at school that you were dating, and wouldn’t accept me
rankles. It still hurts now, over a year later.”
“Harry...” Hermione had tears leaking down her face. “I know this sounds harsh, but you’ve
told us this already. You’ve not answered the question of what you want.”
“I’m getting there, Hermione.” Harry snapped. She looked down at her hands, not prepared to
meet his eyes. However, she was secretly pleased that he was calling her by her first name again,
instead of the impersonal ‘Miss Granger’. “Would you both be prepared to accept me?
Acknowledge me as part of a Trio?”
 “Of course!” Ron said instantly, followed a nanosecond later by Hermione.
“And what about your Mum, Ron?” Harry asked softly. “When she finds out about this, she
will start shitting broken glass.”
“Fuck her.” Ron said harshly. To his amusement, Harry’s face wrinkled in disgust.
“No, thank you.”
That was a mental image disturbing even to me, Harry. Dumbledore said. Even Fawkes is
shuddering.
“Are you prepared to say that to her face, Ron?” Harry peered intently at Ron, as though trying
to look into his soul. “Are you prepared to tell your mother, the ever-formidable Molly Weasley,
that her youngest son likes to look at boys? Is actually in love with another boy? Wants to make
love to another boy?”
When put like that, Ron’s face paled. Harry could read Ron like a book, and saw the conflicting
emotions on his face. After a moment, Ron nodded shakily, before gathering his resolve, and
nodding firmly.
“Yes, Harry. I would. If you want, I’ll go and do it right this instant.”
Harry’s minimal Legilimency ability told him that Ron was entirely truthful. He didn’t want to
do it, and he was scared, bloody terrified of her reaction, but he would do it for Harry.
Turning to Hermione, Harry raised his eyebrow. “And what of you, Hermione? Are you
prepared to deal with Molly’s massive guilt trips? Her accusations of being a ‘scarlet woman’?”
I love that phrase. Dumbledore thought fondly. It’s taken as an insult, and yet it’s such a
meaningless insult.
Thank you.
Hermione nodded. “For you, Harry, yes.”
“And what about your parents, Hermione?” He asked, searching her eyes. “Polygamy isn’t
common in the Muggle world.”
“They go to swingers’ clubs, Harry.” Hermione said simply. “I don’t think their opinion on the
matter would be against our wishes.”
“And what of the scandal?” Harry asked, leaning back in his chair. “That was one thing that
scared the crap out of both of you last year. ‘What will the Daily Prophet think?’”
“Full page ad.” Ron and Hermione said together.
“Ah, yes. You mentioned that in one of your letters.” Harry started giggling. “I can just see it
now: ‘Boy-Who-Lived becomes Boy-Who-Loves-Boys!’”
“Would that bother you, Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged. “Nah. It’s true, after all.” A thought occurred to him. “Hey, for once, they’d
actually be reporting something accurately!”
Ah, a rare occurrence indeed. Dumbledore’s mental voice became weaker. Harry, Fawkes is
becoming too tired to continue. Would you like me to Apparate to Grimmauld Place?
Can you appear disillusioned?
Yes. With the faintest whisper, the voice faded. Harry started drumming his fingers on the
tables, loudly, which masked the tiny ‘pop’ behind him, the noise letting him know that Dumbledore
had arrived. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed the new arrival.
“There was one other thing that I mused about.” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “And, to be frank,
that was my virginity.”
The other two lowered their heads in shame.
“Now, I’ve had the chance to discuss some of this with Professor Dumbledore recently.” Harry
said, leaning forward, and placing his hands on the table. “He gave me a number of options.”
Both perked up at the thought of the exceedingly wise Dumbledore offering to help with their
problem.
“One. I could go out to a Muggle bar tonight, pick up a man or woman, bring them back here,
and screw their brains out.”
The other two looked horrified and nauseated at this thought. Harry noted their looks. “I don’t
particularly like that option, because it’d basically be a random shag with some stranger.” They
looked relieved. “However, they’d be including me in their session because they want me there,
instead of thinking that they should hide.
“Option two. I could go anywhere in the Wizarding world and get laid, because of my bloody
fame. I don’t like that option either, because they’d be screwing the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, and not
Harry.
“Option three. I could go to Hogwarts, and cop off with one of our classmates. Someone like
Padma, or Parvati, perhaps.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Professor Dumbledore
suggested Ginny for this.” Harry was proud of himself. He’d managed to say that without any of the
accompanying revulsion being shown in his face or voice.
“Er... Harry?” Hermione said tentatively. “You do know about Ginny, don’t you?”
Harry chuckled. “Neville. Dean. Michael.” He recited. “I suspect several others.” Hermione
nodded. Ron looked angry, but a quick glance told Harry that it wasn’t him he was angry at. Harry
decided to toss him a bone. “Professor Dumbledore suggested that might be a good way to distract
Molly while telling her... other things.”
Ron nodded vigorously, eager at the thought of stopping his mother’s rant.
“The fourth option would be that I go to bed with the two of you, and let your superior
experience... what was it he said?”
Enhance the encounter. Dumbledore added helpfully.
“Ah, yes. ‘Enhance the encounter’.” Harry completed smoothly. Ron and Hermione nodded,
eager for the thought of getting Harry into bed with them. His next words crushed that hope. “Of
course, it would also be a vicious reminder of what you two denied me for so long.”
Harry waited for a moment, to let the two assimilate the thought, before he carried on. “He then
said two other things. One was that he could arrange to repair Hermione’s hymen, and Obliviate all
three of us, so that we could start afresh.”
Hermione looked oddly interested. “That’s not a bad idea.” She said slowly. “It would give us a
chance to do things properly.” She thought for a moment. “Of course, from a logistical viewpoint,
extremely difficult. There’s a lot of people he’d need to track down.”
“And he’d had a hell of a time explaining why I suddenly vanished from school for no reason.”
Intensive defence training, Harry. Dumbledore said quickly.
Harry waited for a moment, when Ron spoke up. “Out of all the options, Harry, I like that one
the most. But, it wouldn’t be right.” He said firmly. “It would be simply wiping our mistakes out.
Even if we don’t remember them, we still wronged you. Frankly, I don’t want to forget that. We’ve
been in hell since you left, and we deserve it. Erasing that would be wrong.”
Sometimes, he surprises me. Dumbledore said. That is, without a doubt, the most mature and
responsible thing I have ever heard him say. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your
enemies-
But a great deal more to stand up to your friends. Harry completed smoothly. You’re right,
Albus. I thought I knew him pretty well. This surprises the hell out of me.
Hermione looked at Ron, pride shining through her features. “I agree. It would be... too
convenient. We deserve whatever punishment you see fit to deliver.”
Ooh, that’s tempting. Harry thought. Imagine what I could do? I need to sit down... the
possibilities are staggering.
You are sat down, Harry. Dumbledore replied dryly. ‘With great power, comes great
responsibility’. He quoted.
You’ve seen Spider-Man, Albus?
A most enjoyable diversion.
Let me guess, after the film, you nipped in to Burger King and then went bowling. You baffle
me, sometimes...
“There was one last option.” Harry said, bringing all the attention back to the moment.
“However, he wouldn’t tell me what it was. He said he needed to discuss it with the two of you,
first.”
Hermione was already on her feet, and heading for the door, Ron close behind her.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, looking confused.
“We need to speak with Professor Dumbledore.” Hermione said, reaching for the door handle.
“Sit down.” Harry said sharply. Hermione turned round, looking at Harry with pleading eyes.
“Harry, whatever this option is, it could be used to get you what you want.”
“I understand that, Hermione.” Harry replied politely. “But, that doesn’t mean you need to rush
off in the middle of our conversation.”
As the two sheepishly made their way back to their chairs, they didn’t notice that the chair to
Harry’s right had been pulled out.
“Now, as it happens, you will be able to speak to Professor Dumbledore momentarily.” Harry
surmised. “However, I want to know what your opinions are on what we’ve discussed so far.”
Hermione went first. “Well, without knowing what option the Professor can offer, my choice
would be option four. I want to remember what we did to you, but I’d also like to be there for your
first.”
Ron just nodded.
Harry leaned back. Without a glance, he stood up, and headed for the door. “Wait here.” He said
to them, closing the door behind him.
Dumbledore chose that moment to make himself visible, sitting near the head of the table.
Hermione looked at the door longingly, before turning back to face Ron, and catching a glimpse of
the Headmaster sitting close to them.
“Sweet Jesus!” She shouted, drawing her wand before she noticed who it was. Ron was a
second behind her, before he lowered himself back down.
“Sir.” He said, tucking his wand back into his sleeve.
“Good day, Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger.” He said, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever. “I
hope you don’t mind my dropping in unannounced.”
 Hermione looked back at the door, then at Dumbledore. “Sir... were you here this whole time?”
“No.” Dumbledore replied cheerfully. “However, I am aware of everything that went on here,
today. I must say, I’m proud of you both for realising what you needed to do.” Both teens muttered
‘thanks’. “Now, I mentioned an option to Mr. Potter that would benefit all of you.”
Hermione leaned forward, looking eager for the option. “What is it, sir?”
Dumbledore suppressed a smirk. “Slavery.” He said simply, conjuring himself a cup of tea.
Both teens faces dropped at that word. “Sir?” Ron asked.
He turned to face Ron. “Put simply, yourself and Miss Granger will be entered into a slavery
contract with Mr. Potter, similar to the House-Elf enslavement.”
Ron was speechless. Hermione managed to find her voice. “Sir... how would that help?”
“I am not suggesting that you become Mr. Potter’s House-Elves.” Dumbledore replied, rolling
his eyes. “However, House-Elves are unable to betray their masters. This would provide Mr. Potter
with a measure of security that he has never had. You already know from Dobby how Harry treats
him.”
“Sir, I still don’t see how this would work.” Hermione said.
“Put simply, Mr. Potter wants to be in a Trio relationship with you. However, he is afraid of
getting hurt. What you have done to him over the last year borders on Unforgivable. He is willing to
try and forgive you, but his fear is holding him back.”
“Justifiably.” Hermione muttered.
“Just so.” Dumbledore agreed amiably. “However, by enslaving yourselves to him, you would
not be able to just leave him behind. You would not be able to do anything to hurt him, either
through action or inaction. He would have the final say in all matters of your relationship, providing
him with some much needed security.”
Ron nodded, running the scenario through his head. He couldn’t really see any downsides.
Harry was too good of a person to do anything bad to them. “I’m in.” He said simply.
“Sir... couldn’t Harry order us to do anything?” She asked.
“Potentially, yes.” Dumbledore replied. “Does that worry you?”
Hermione glanced at the door, hoping that Harry was not listening. “Not as such. However...
what were to happen if Harry were to become... angry? Could he order us to kill ourselves?”
Ron looked at Hermione, a hint of anger in his eyes.
Dumbledore looked at her, his Legilimency reaching out, and finding the real reason for her
question. “That is an excellent question, Miss Granger. I would give points to Gryffindor if we were
at school.”
“Hermione!” Ron hissed. “What are you doing?”
Dumbledore raised a hand. “Not what you think, Mr. Weasley.” He turned to Hermione. “In
answer to your question, he could make the order, but you are not compelled to obey it. There is no
termination order in the House-Elf contract.” He peered over his glasses. “However, you were not
asking out of concern for yourself, were you?”
Hermione shook her head. “No, sir.” She muttered.
Ron looked up. “Then why?” He thought for a moment. “Harry. It would kill Harry to know
that he’d hurt us.” Hermione nodded at him.
“In that case, sir, I’m in, too.” Hermione said firmly.
 “Excellent!” Dumbledore intoned. “Allow me to bring Mr. Potter down here, and we’ll sell the
idea to him together.”

Harry had retreated to the Library, dropping himself into his school work. The last few hours
had completely removed his mind from his studies.
A ghostly white Phoenix screamed into the room, which Harry immediately recognised at
Dumbledore’s Patronus. He reached out, letting itself dissipate against his hand, passing on the
message.
Please come back downstairs, Harry. I believe we have a satisfactory solution.
Harry sighed, closing his textbooks. Looks like I’m not meant to do any studying today.

He re-entered the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks. Dumbledore’s manic smile and mad
twinkle were enough to send any sane man running for the hills at light speed. A few of the insane
ones would probably join them.
Ron and Hermione’s happy smiles also unnerved him.
“Okay... I’m suddenly very nervous.” He said quietly.
“Please, Harry.” Dumbledore said jovially. “Sit. I believe Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley agree
with my other option, and would like to share this with you.”
Harry sat next to Dumbledore, looking at Hermione and Ron with a look of mild terror on his
face. Quickly, Hermione summed up the previous conversation, with Ron and Dumbledore nodding
at appropriate moments.
Harry leaned back in his chair for a moment, to let it all wash over him. “Let me see if I’ve got
this straight. You two want to be bonded to me as slaves.”
Hermione shook her head. “No. We want to be yours. But, more importantly, we want you to be
happy. We want what you want.”
“Really?” Harry asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. “And you feel that having
two slaves would make me happy?”
“They would not be slaves as you mean it, Harry.” A thought occurred to Dumbledore. “Are
you not already slaves to your feelings, Harry? Is Miss Granger not a slave to hers, or Mr. Weasley
to his? You all want the same thing. Each other. More importantly, you all want security. Harry, you
want to know that the relationship will be fair. This will allow it to be so.
“Miss Granger, you want to make Harry happy. By giving him the security of a loving, stable
relationship, you will be providing that happiness.
“Mr. Weasley. You want Harry to be happy. You want to give of yourself to him, and him give
of himself to you. Again, this will allow it to be so.”
“Sir, this has to be the maddest idea you’ve ever had.” Harry said, smiling at his mentor,
removing the sting from his words.
Dumbledore grinned. “Thank you, Harry.” He said warmly. “I must say, I’ve had quite a few
mad ideas in my time. Knowing that this is the maddest gives me a sense of accomplishment.”
Harry sobered up. “What happens after?”
“That will be entirely up to you, Harry.” Dumbledore said. “I will make no suggestions.”
Harry turned to Hermione. “Are you really prepared to do this, Hermione? To become, in
essence, a slave to my whims?”
 “Oh, god, yes!” Hermione moaned out. “I’ve been wanting to be that for quite a while.”
Leave it! Harry’s subconscious snapped. Now is not the time to be debating that point. She
looks so cute. Seriously, not now. Please? NO! “Ron?” Harry asked, turning to the redhead. The
lusty look in Ron’s eyes was enough to convince Harry.
“I’m still not sure about this.” Harry said, leaning back and closing his eyes. He suddenly
leaned forward, staring at Ron with an impenetrable gaze. “What do you want to happen after this,
Ron?”
Ron licked his suddenly-dry lips. “I could give you a few suggestions, Harry.” He said huskily.
The tone sent chills up Harry and Hermione’s spines.
“What about you, Hermione?” Harry asked.
“What should have happened last October, Harry.” She said in a soft voice.
Harry looked at Dumbledore, “Do it.” He then turned to Hermione and Ron. “I’m sorry to say,
we won’t be just leaping into bed.”
“What?” Hermione and Ron asked together.
Harry smiled at their alarm. “I want to go on dates. I wanna be able to sit in the Three
Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron, and not worry about what people say. I want to have a
relationship, not some random sexual marathon.”
Their faces dropped. “Believe me, I want a sexual marathon in the future. Lots of them. But I
don’t want to rush it.”
Hermione and Ron looked guilty. They had rushed it, and almost driven Harry away. Hell, they
had driven him away, and only what felt like divine intervention had brought him back.
“That may have been our problem.” Hermione whispered. “We just leapt before we looked.”
“Leave it.” Harry said sharply. “No recriminations on what happened, or I’ll go mad. Let’s just
start from here, and see where we end up.”
Dumbledore’s wand waved, linking the three in a complicated web of magic. For a moment, the
power rushed through him, leaving Harry breathless, and wanting more. After a moment, the web
faded, leaving Harry moaning, before he felt... something, at the back of his mind. He closed his
eyes, looking inward, and found traces of Ron and Hermione, loitering in the back of his mind. It
wasn’t enough to communicate, but he could feel their presence. It was comforting.
“Can... can you guys feel me?” He asked, his mind still whirling with strange new sensations.
“Yes.” Hermione whispered. “It’s... it’s like you’re there... in the back of my mind. I can feel
you... I can tell that you’re sitting in front of me...”
Ron nodded, marvelling at the new feeling. He could feel Hermione as well, although that was
far fainter.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Harry, as the master, you have the final say. Mr. Weasley and
Miss Granger will be aware of you, and will always be able to find you. It’s the same way that
Dobby is always able to find out where you are when he appears to you.”
Harry nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Also, Ronald and Hermione will be able to feel certain things from you, such as strong
emotions. This will allow them to know when you are unhappy, or in need of assistance.”
Harry looked thoughtful. “Or when I feel betrayed by them.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Yes.” He pulled out his watch. “I really must be getting back to
Hogwarts, Harry.” He glanced at Ron and Hermione. “You should as well. However, I will give you
a few minutes to say goodbye.”
Dumbledore vanished with a faint ‘pop’, leaving the Trio in the kitchen.
Hermione stood up, moving round the table to stand in front of Harry. She dropped down to her
knees. “What are your orders, my master?” she asked subserviently.
Ron immediately followed suit, kneeling next to Hermione, looking up at Harry adoringly.
For a moment, a number of scenarios ran through his mind, each more degrading that the last.
Oh... the possibilities for evil vengeance are here! Of course, it took only a moment for him to clear
those images from his mind. “Get up.” He said firmly.
The both stood instantly.
“I’m curious about one thing.” Harry said, settling himself into a chair. Ron and Hermione both
kneeled down in front of him, looking up at him. “No, please, sit down. Don’t grovel at my feet. It’s
degrading.”
“What if we want to be degraded?” Hermione asked, tentatively resting one hand on Harry’s
knee. “We’re yours now, Harry. You can do whatever you want with us.”
Ron nodded. “Anything.” He added.
“Don’t you have free will?” Harry asked, suddenly wondering why this wasn’t looking like
such a good idea anymore.
“Oh, we do.” Hermione replied, her voice taking on the slightly bossy ‘know-it-all’ tone. “Well,
I do, anyway. I just know that we’ve treated you so badly, I wanna do whatever you want me to do
to make it up to you.”
Ron just nodded.
“Fine. To start with, get up, and sit down properly. It’s... distracting... having you down there.”
Harry commanded. Both of them sat down next to him, one of either side. “Anyway...” Harry took a
moment to collect his thoughts. “That’s it. I was gonna ask you what made you figure it out. Last I
saw, you two were sucking face in the Room of Requirement.”
Hermione nodded slightly. “Well, I sat in Ron’s lap, and he was quite aroused. He said ‘I want
you...’, and it just clicked in my mind. We’ve never asked you what you want. It’s always been what
we want. So, we straightened up, and came straight here.”
“Huh.” Harry smirked. It was an odd way to figure it out... but hey, at least they’d made a start.
“There was something else, as well.” Ron said, looking a little reluctant to continue. Hermione
smiled winningly at him, nodding for him to continue. “Hermione said...” He trailed off, looking at
her pleadingly.
She huffed, and nodded. “I said, that not only did we have to ask you what you want, but we
would have to do it, to prove that we had figured it out.”
Harry nodded, shrugging slightly. “Makes sense.” He looked at Ron. “Why so reluctant to talk
about it?”
“Because the example I used was ‘if Harry wants us to bend over and be buggered senseless,
we’d do it’.”
Harry chuckled at Ron’s face. “Ron, mate... we’re talking about a relationship with two blokes
in it... didn’t you think that was gonna be a part of it?”
Ron blushed. “Well... yeah, I did... it’s just the way she put it.” He looked at her slyly. “And the
look she had on her face when she thought about what she’d just said.”
Harry glanced over at Hermione, his eyebrow raised. She blushed, looking quite shy. “And,
Hermione?”
Hermione blushed harder. “I said, now that I’d thought about it... it wasn’t exactly a bad
thought.” She noticed Harry’s smirk. “Plus, there was one other benefit, as far as you’re concerned.”
Harry grinned, loving the look on her face. “Oh?”
She nodded, still blushing furiously. “Since I’ve never allowed Ron to go there... it was
something that you could pop...”
Harry sobered up his face, looking at Hermione piercingly. “Something for me? I’m honoured.”
Hermione placed a hand on his upper thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. “It’s something
you should have had a year ago, Harry. I’m ashamed that it’s taken this long for me to offer it to
you.”
A flash of irrational anger filled Harry’s thoughts. Both Ron and Hermione flinched as they felt
it through their new bonds. Hermione pulled back, taking her hand away. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean
to upset you!”
Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, too.”
Harry managed to stamp it down, using his Occlumency training. With a deep breath, he let the
tension go. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to not make such comments at the moment.” Harry
said coolly. “As you can tell... there’s still some lingering anger.”
“I understand.” Hermione said meekly. “I’m sorry.”
Harry looked at the clock above the cooker. “Perhaps this would be a good time to finish for the
day. We can continue another time.”
Hermione looked pleadingly at him. “Harry, please, don’t leave it this way. I... I don’t like
making you angry. How can I make it better?”
Ron looked at him, the same piteous expression on his face. “Whatever I can do, mate.” He said
firmly.
Closing his eyes, Harry took a few deep breaths, cleansing his body of the adrenaline spike
he’d just received. “I’ll be fine. It’s time to go. I’ll be in touch.”
Hermione dropped back to her knees. “Harry, before we go... is there anything we can do for
you?” She looked up at him through long eyelashes. “Some way of releasing tension for you?”
Harry looked down as Ron knelt next to her, both of them gazing hungrily at his crotch. Harry
looked down at them. “You don’t like doing that, Hermione, remember?”
She shrugged, not taking her eyes away. “Doesn’t matter.”
Smiling, he looked at Ron. “What about you, mate? You’ve never done it before. What makes
you think you’d be any good?”
Ron was still staring at Harry, not noticing his own arousal. “Practice makes perfect... and I
really, really want this.”
“Not now.” Harry said firmly, ignoring the quiet groans from his lovers. “It’s too much, too
soon. I refuse to force the issue. If it happens, then it’ll happen in the course of time.” He pulled
them both to their feet, and gently pushed them towards the fireplace. “I’ll be in touch. Take care of
yourselves.”
Ron went through the fireplace, disappearing in a gout of green flame. Hermione was about to
follow him through, when a thought occurred to her. “Harry... what do you want us to do about
coming out?”
Harry shrugged. “You can do whatever you feel comfortable doing, Hermione.” He said,
blowing her a kiss as he pushed her gently into the flames.
 – CHAPTER EIGHT –
Wow... You Weren’t Kidding...

It took two days to set the Wizarding world into an uproar. Harry Potter and his two closest
friends had been in the newspapers several times in recent months, Harry for leaving Hogwarts, the
false pregnancy report with Cho Chang, Witch Weekly’s Ron/Hermione marriage scare, and the
Prophet’s break-up report.
This, however, was nothing compared to the article which appeared shortly after the Trio’s
bonding. When the copy was delivered to Harry, courtesy of a smug-looking Hedwig, Harry was
gob-smacked.
I knew they said they’d take out a full-page ad... but I wasn’t expecting to be on the front
bloody page!

The Boy-Who-Lived’s Real Reason for Leaving Hogwarts!

Yesterday, the Daily Prophet received a pre-written article from a student at Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry, revealing the real reason Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, left the
school.
“My name is Hermione Jane Granger, one third of the infamous ‘Golden Trio’ of Hogwarts. It was
directly because of the actions of myself and Ronald Bilius Weasley that Harry Potter left
Hogwarts.
In order to explain this in detail, it requires a substantial amount of background information, which
I have detailed below.
As we were growing up together, the Trio was always aware of how close we all were. We spent
practically all our time together, getting to know each other, and watching the others change and
grow. As our hormones started kicking in, we became aware of how attractive the other two
members of our Trio were becoming. This was true for all three of us. Instead of fighting each other
over who got to date who, we decided amongst us that we would have a Trio, a polygamous
relationship, so that none of us were left out.
Because we love each other.
While a polygamous relationship is frowned upon in the Muggle world, where both I and Harry
Potter were raised, it is perfectly acceptable in the Wizarding world.
So, we decided that we loved each other, and that we would go forward together. We decided this at
the end of our fifth year at school. We spent most of the summer with our families, spending only the
last week of summer break together. When we returned to school, we had not yet discussed how we
were going to manage this relationship, and neither myself of Ron wanted to go public with a Trio
at that time. It would have made things quite difficult with our families, so we were planning on it
being a secret relationship until we were of-age.
However, we had not come to a decision when matters came to a head in September of 1996. A
member of Gryffindor house spotted myself and Ron kissing on a sofa in our common room, and
immediately began to spread the juicy gossip around Hogwarts.
This was the beginning of our folly. We were so stupid... As I mentioned earlier, the Trio had not
discussed these matters, so everything was still up in the air. Harry heard about this piece of gossip
from a mutual friend in Ravenclaw house. When he came back to our common room, we didn’t tell
him straight away what had happened. Neither I nor Ron was sure of how to break it to him. It took
four days... four days for us to admit that we had kissed.
Of course, we reassured him that we were still a Trio, and the public couple concept was irrelevant,
since we all loved each other, and would proceed from there. However, during that four days, myself
and Ron spent as much time as possible kissing, while Harry was having intense defence training
with Headmaster Dumbledore. Looking back, I can see how ironically unfair it is. Harry’s learning
to protect his loved ones, while his loved ones are getting it on without him.
Shortly after this, myself and Ron became intimate, sharing our first time together. During our
stupidity, we decided that we’d hide this aspect of our relationship until we could include Harry. We
were so stupid. As we all learned from the Cho Chang fiasco, Harry Potter is a virgin. How did he
remain a virgin when he was included in a sexually-active relationship between myself and Ron?
It’s simple: we were stupid, and pretty much ignored him.
Things grew steadily worse for Harry during the Christmas period, and came to a head during
Valentine’s Day. The day to celebrate relationships... we left him behind. He’d given us both
thoughtful gifts just after we’d gone to bed so that we’d find them when we woke up. We didn’t get
him anything. Completely slipped our minds. We woke up, found the gifts, and me and Ron rushed
off to Hogsmeade, to enjoy the day. Leaving Harry alone in Hogwarts.
While in Hogsmeade, we enjoyed several intimate moments, before rushing back to Hogwarts,
heading straight to the dormitory to carry on with our relations. I later found out that Harry spent
Valentine’s Day completely alone in a private room of the castle, sampling several alcoholic
beverages, since he had no-one else to spend it with. We were selfish.
The following day, when an obviously hungover Harry made his way to breakfast, I grabbed him,
pulling him to one side. Did I explain our actions? Did I ask why he was hungover? No. I berated
him, telling him that people had been asking us uncomfortable questions while we were out on our
date. I told him that he needed to stop being so obvious. I told him. I didn’t ask him. I simply gave
him the command, then returned to breakfast with my boyfriend, completely ignoring the other
member of our trio. We were stupid.
We carried on in this vein for months, not noticing that we were driving Harry further and further
away. We just carried on like fools.
The ‘final nail in the coffin’ came during the train ride home at the end of our sixth year. At this
point, Ron and I had spent almost nine months together, having sex often, while Harry remained on
the outside, completely left alone. Because of his innate goodness, he didn’t sleep around, he didn’t
go on dates. He kept faithful to us, while we treated him like Hippogriff droppings.
During the train ride, we ignored him, before heading off to Ron’s house to spend the summer. We
left him behind. We didn’t even say goodbye to him. Just left him a note on his trunk, saying that we
were spending the summer together. Harry didn’t know that myself and Ron were going to be
together. As far as he knew, I was going to spend summer with my parents, while he was staying
with his relatives. It was when he read the note that he decided that the Trio was over before it ever
began.
After a summer filled with love and sex for me, and a lonely summer for Harry, we returned to
school for our seventh and final year. I was assigned as the Head Girl, while Harry was assigned
Head Boy, even though he had never been a prefect. One of the reasons for this is that couples are
not allowed to share the Head’s Dorms, due to impropriety. Of course, since everyone knew that I
was in a sexually active relationship with Ron, it wasn’t a problem for me to share the dorm with
Harry.
Of course, I shared my dorm room with Ron, leaving Harry alone. However, none of us knew that
the Head Boy’s dorm is connected to the Head Girl’s dorm by an airvent. This meant that Harry
heard our encounters, while he was left alone, ignored, forgotten.
At this point, Harry had had enough, turned in his Head Boy badge, and withdrew himself from
Hogwarts. Since he left, he has driven himself in his studies, so that he can take his exams
independently. It was only after he left that myself and Ron truly began to realise what we had done
to a young man we both love dearly.
Harry sent us a letter, detailing our crimes against him. And they are crimes. Our neglect borders
on unforgivable. After several months of trying to come to an arrangement, Headmaster
Dumbledore has stepped in with a solution that will benefit all three of us. We will be the Trio, as it
was meant to be from the beginning of our sixth year.
I’m proud to say that I am in love with two wonderful young men, who love me back. I’m ashamed
to say that I treated the kindest, most wonderful young man ever to walk the earth like utter
rubbish. I know it will take me the rest of my life to earn his forgiveness, but because I love him, I’m
happy to do it.”
We here at the Daily Prophet are stunned at this news. It explains much, but the ‘Golden Trio’ will
be under heavy public scrutiny for as long as they exist. At the present time, we were unable to
contact Mr. Potter for his comments on this news.
However, we feel this raises a question: Why was Mr. Potter unavailable for comment? Is this story
true? Or is it simply the delusions of a Muggleborn girl looking for a step-up in the Wizarding
world?
More on this breaking news story as it becomes available.

Harry slumped into his chair as he re-read the article. I said whatever they feel comfortable
with... Jesus... Harry read through the article again, noting how it did detail all the important things.
It was very well written... Harry privately wondered what was happening to the sheep in the
Wizarding world when they read this sort of article?

Two hours later, a knock on the door dragged Harry’s attention back to the present. He tested
the bond, discovering that Ron and Hermione was still very far away, so it plainly wasn’t them. He
hauled himself to his feet, trying in vain to pat his unruly hair down, as he ambled down the hall.
He peered through the spyhole, absently noting a shock of bright pink hair. He opened the door,
watching Tonks, trailed by Remus, enter the house.
He went into the kitchen, waving his wand at the stove, and Remus and Tonks sat down. He
saw, in the reflection of the cooker hood, Lupin and Tonks glance at each other, neither of them sure
where to begin. Filling the teapot, he sat down at the table.
“So, Moony.” He grinned at the older man’s unsure look. “Don’t really know where to begin,
do you?”
Remus shook his head. Tonks, obviously trying to contain herself, spoke up. “Merlin, Harry...
why didn’t you say something?”
Harry raised his eyebrow as he poured the tea. “I’m assuming that you read the article, yes?”
Tonks nodded. “Well, it was February 15th. I was ordered to keep quiet. It was a magical oath.”
“But...” Lupin looked upset. “Harry, there must have been something I could have done to help
you... You went through all that alone...”
Harry passed the cups down the table. “It’s okay, Moony.” Harry said comfortingly. “I know
you were there. Even though you couldn’t help, I still felt your support. You too, Tonks.” He said,
winking at the Metamorph.
 “But...” Tonks trailed off, not sure how to broach the next subject.
“Sex?” Harry asked, watching her jump slightly as he said the word. “Well, I must admit, I felt
a tad left out while they were shagging all over Hogwarts.”
Moony suddenly looked grim. “Do you still have the Marauder’s Map, Harry?”
Harry nodded. “Yep. Saw plenty on there, too. It really is a wonderful invention, Remus.
Excellent Charms work, so that it can identify people having sex, kissing or even playing chess.”
Lupin nodded, shaking his head at the thoughtlessness of Ron and Hermione.
“One thing I don’t understand, Harry,” Tonks said, “is why you didn’t just go and find someone
else. I mean, you’re famous, half the girls in school would be happy to date you.”
Harry smiled at Tonks. “You know... I seem to recall a very attractive, but very unhappy young
Auror last year. She was very upset about a guy not seeming to understand why she wanted him.”
Tonks glanced at Moony, smiling slightly at him. “Yeah... my wolfie...”
Harry rolled his eyes. “But, why didn’t you just go and find someone else, Tonks? I mean,
you’re not exactly hard on the eyes, you know.”
“I love him.” She replied, looking at Harry curiously, before realisation set it. “Damn, Harry,
you’re too much.” She grinned. “So, you shagged ‘em yet?”
Harry leaned back in his chair. “Miss Tonks! I’m simply shocked at your impertinence!” His
face fell slightly. “No, not yet.”
“What?” Tonks screeched. “Why not?”
Harry started to look embarrassed. “Well... while I’m familiar with the basic mechanics
involved... Oh, hell, Tonks, I don’t have a bloody clue what to do!” He sighed. “It’s time like this I
wish Dad was still around.”
Lupin choked on his tea. “Oh, no... James would have run off screaming way earlier in the
conversation than this, Harry.”
Harry smiled sweetly at Lupin. “Oh, Uncle Moony...”
“Hell no, Harry!” Lupin said, recognising the tone. “I’m not qualified for this conversation
either. The only one who could’ve helped you is Sirius. He’d have been able to give you plenty of
ideas.”
Harry’s hand shot out to cover Tonks’ mouth. He glared at her. “I don’t want to hear one single
‘doggy style’ comment, Tonks.”
She nodded, laughing into his hand.
“There’s one thing I certainly not looking forward to.” Harry said, wiping his hand on his
trousers where Tonks had licked it. “And that’s Molly Weasley. She’s gonna pitch a bloody fit when
she reads the paper.”
“I’m glad I’m not gonna be around for that.” Moony said supportively as he sipped his tea.

After the two had left, Harry put in a Floo call to Dumbledore, who seemed to be waiting by the
fireplace.
“Ah, Harry.” He said, glancing uneasily at the newspaper in his hand. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Harry just rolled his eyes. “How bad was it?”
“Uh...”
“Come on, Albus. Let’s just cut to the chase. What happened? Did all the students turn on
them? Were they harassed? Bullied? Congratulated? What?”
Dumbledore went over to the cupboard, pulling out his Pensieve. He dropped the memory of
breakfast into the bowl, before passing it through the fireplace. He watched as Harry set the bowl on
the floor, sticking his head inside.

Harry landed besides the Headmaster, sitting at the staff table in the Great Hall. Most of the
school was there for breakfast, when the mail arrived.
A number of birds dropped copies of the Daily Prophet off with students, including Ron,
Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Seamus and Malfoy.
Hermione glanced through her copy of the Prophet, ignoring the increased muttering about her.
Ron read the front page, then flicked to the sports section, intent to find out what his beloved
Cannons had done during the last game.
Ginny was the first to react, looking up at Ron with a look of abject horror and disgust. Before
she could say anything, a loud laugh came from the Slytherin table.
Harry looked up, seeing the sneering face of Draco Malfoy, laughing hysterically as he read
the article. Within moments, he was on his feet, heading over to the Gryffindor table.
“So... you two couldn’t even keep Scarhead happy?” Malfoy crowed triumphantly. “I’m not
surprised. A blood traitor and a Mudblood... it’s pathetic, really.”
Hermione looked up, a serenely peaceful look on her face. “Malfoy?” The blonde prince of
Slytherin looked down at her. “Fuck off.” She said sweetly, before turning back to her breakfast.
Malfoy huffed for a moment, but recognised that the two had prepared for the backlash, and
wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining at the moment. He’d wait until they weren’t prepared, and start
on them then.
As he walked away, Ginny stalked up, the paper clenched in her hand so tightly her knuckles
were going white. She slammed it onto the table, her face turning a beautiful puce colour.
“So.” She snapped. “What do you have to say for yourself, Ron?” She demanded.
Ron looked up at her with an infuriatingly calm air. “I think that the article said it pretty well.”
He replied.
“You knew that Harry was supposed to be mine!” She hissed out. “What will Mum say when
she finds out you like Harry like I like Harry?”
Ron shrugged. “Don’t really care what Mum says.” He replied. “We’re all of age, so it’s not
really Mum’s concern.” He looked at her sharply. “And if Harry was supposed to be yours, what
the hell were you doing with Dean, Michael and Neville?”
Ginny blanched slightly. “That’s none of your business!” She snapped, before grabbing the
paper off the table. “You said you don’t care what Mum says?” She asked, much louder now. “Well,
I’m gonna write to her, and see what she says!” Ginny started stalking from the Hall.
“Give her my love!” Ron shouted after her, causing Ginny to mis-step slightly, before marching
away.
Seamus looked over at Ron. “Didn’t know you swung that way, Ron.” He said softly.
Ron and Hermione looked back at Seamus, one of Gryffindor’s only two openly gay students.
“I don’t love Harry because he’s a lad, Seamus.” Ron replied. “I love Harry because he’s Harry.
Male or female, it wouldn’t matter.”
Seamus nodded slowly. He could certainly understand that.
 A few more people came over, but the big broo-ha that Harry had expected didn’t really come
up. He leapt into the air, evicting himself from the memory.

With a soft thump, he landed on the floor back in Grimmauld Place. He grinned as he
remembered Ginny’s promise to write to Molly, and openly chuckled at Malfoy’s utter uselessness.
He passed the bowl back through the flames. “That was kinda disappointing, really.”
Dumbledore smiled. “Would you have preferred a blazing row, Harry?”
Harry just shrugged. “You have to admit, Albus, it would have made breakfast a lot more
entertaining, wouldn’t it? Food and hexes flying all over the place. Just the thing to liven up old
Hogwarts.”
Dumbledore mock-glared. “We have plenty of excitement at Hogwarts, Harry.” He smiled
wanly. “I’m sure breakfast tomorrow will have plenty of entertainment.”
“Yeah, Molly’s response.” Harry grinned. “Do you mind if I pop in for breakfast, tomorrow?
I’d hate to miss it.”
“You have a slightly sadistic streak in you, Harry.” Dumbledore said reprovingly.
“I’m hurt, sir.” Harry grumbled. “Do you really think it’s only ‘slight’? I’ve been working on
that for ages.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “I’ll see you at 7 tomorrow morning, Harry.”

Harry flooed into Dumbledore’s office just after 7. He was carrying his invisibility cloak over
his shoulder, obviously planning to hide during the mealtime.
“Shall we go to breakfast, Harry?” Dumbledore asked him, standing up and grabbing his hat.
Harry noted that the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes was brighter than he’d ever seen it.

On the march down to the Great Hall, Dumbledore gave Harry a few suggestions. When they
got there, Dumbledore sat in the chair just to the left of the golden throne that was traditional for the
Headmaster or Headmistress to sit in. Harry now sat there, tucked under his invisibility cloak, with
a disillusionment charm active as well.
When McGonagall arrived, she noted Dumbledore not in his usual place, and the Head’s chair
empty. She sat in her usual spot, now just next to Dumbledore, and had a brief whispered
conversation with him. She glanced at the Head’s chair, smiling warmly at Harry, before getting on
with her breakfast.
The students gathered, eating breakfast. Several noted the differences at the Head table, but
ignored it in favour of food.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair a few minutes later. “Mail time.” He said softly, alerting
both Harry and Minerva that the true entertainment of the day was to come.
Today’s copy of the Prophet landed on everyone’s table, a free-issue. Dumbledore idly picked
his up, surprised to see another article about the Trio on the front page.

Boy-Who-Lived speaks out!

By: Rita Skeeter
Yesterday, shortly after the issue of the Prophet went out, we received a letter from Harry Potter, the
vaunted ‘Chosen One’, who recently left Hogwarts School.
“Hello, readers of the Daily Prophet, and indeed, the whole of Wizarding Britain. I’m sure many of
you read the article in yesterday’s paper, and knowing you all so well, I’m sure you all had many
things to say about it. I thought I’d give you my opinions, since really, there are only three that
matter, and Hermione and Ron have the other two.
The article that Hermione wrote, which I must say was a very well written article, was entirely
correct. It missed out a couple of small points that you wouldn’t have been able to print, but was
correct.
Now, I’m sure all the old families are going to have plenty to say about a pureblood, a half-blood
and a Muggleborn deciding to start a Trio relationship. I have this to say to them: Bugger off, it’s
none of your business. All three of us are now of age, and our private lives are exactly that: private.
If I want to be with both a man and a woman, and a pureblood and a Muggleborn, I will. It’s none
of your damned concern.
I will admit, we had some minor teething troubles at the beginning of our relationship, as there are
at the start of any relationship, but those have now been worked out to the satisfaction of all three
of us. Anyone who feels the need to denigrate my loves will find themselves on the business end of
my wand.
I’ll take a moment to point out here that there’s only one wizard who’s faced You-Know-Who
(Editor’s Note: Mr. Potter actually wrote the name here, but for public safety, we have changed
this) five times, and won every time. Who would that be... oh, yeah! Me. So, if you mess with any
one of us, you mess with all three of us. And I doubt that any of you will walk away the victor.
Remember this warning, ladies and gentlemen, for I am not in the habit of dispensing them lightly,
nor do I dispense them twice.
Harry Potter”
So, ladies and gentlemen. Now we know why Mr. Potter was unavailable for comment when we
printed the article yesterday.
Because of our dealings with Mr. Potter in the past, the Daily Prophet will heed this warning, and
strongly urge all witches and wizards in Britain to do the same. While it’s true, this decision will not
be popular with many of the old families, we really have to ask: What business is it of theirs what
relationship Mr. Potter is in?

Harry read the article idly, waiting for the true entertainment of the meal to begin. He looked up
at Hermione and Ron, both sitting there with ridiculous smiles on their faces at the pleasure of
reading the article.
Dumbledore leaned slightly closer to the Head’s chair, and whispered under his breath. “What
did you say to Rita Skeeter to get her to right the article?”
Harry smiled, and whispered back. “I merely pointed out that they had harmed me and my
friends quite a lot over the years, and how could she write articles for a newspaper that no longer
existed? After all, I’d have to call them all out, and there wouldn’t be anyone left.”
Dumbledore chuckled, and leaned close to McGonagall to pass on Harry’s answer. McGonagall
started giggling, causing several students to look up at her.
Finally, Harry saw what he’d been waiting for. An ancient, battered tawny owl making it’s way
on unsteady wings to Ron.
Ginny looked up, grinning at the Howler making it’s way to Ron.
Ron looked up, that serene smile on his face. He stood up, tapping the side of his goblet with
his knife. “Ladies and Gentlemen.” He said formally. “I know that you’ve all been waiting to hear
my mother’s response to yesterday’s Prophet article.” He pointed up at Errol. “Well, here it comes.”
Errol crashed onto the table, before struggling back to his feet, and dropping the Howler onto
the table in front of one. With a feeble hoot, he launched himself into the air, eager to escape from
the Wrath of Molly.
The Howler ripped itself open, and the magnified voice of Molly Weasley filled the hall.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley! How could you! How could you shame this family with these antics?
Engaging in these... disgusting practices? I will tell you what you will do now. You will break off
this... relationship, pack your trunk, and you will come straight home. I will not have my son
involved in this kind of disgrace.”
The howler turned to Hermione. “And you, Hermione Granger! You disgusting scarlet woman!
You lead my poor Ronnie on with your disgusting wiles, all the time hoping to end up with the Boy-
Who-Lived! You disgust me! You will never be welcome at the Burrow again, you tart!” With this
the Howler detonated, spraying confetti all over the table.
While everyone was watching, Ron sat back down, picking up his fork and carrying on with
breakfast, picking a couple of tattered shreds of paper out of his scrambled eggs. He turned to
Hermione. “So, what do you wanna do this weekend?”
Hermione thought for a moment. “Well, it’s a Hogsmeade weekend. Maybe we can get Harry to
come up for a date. It’d be nice to have all three of us there in the Three Broomsticks.
Ron nodded. “You never know. Maybe we could persuade him for a quick snog. We both know
that he could probably use it.” He got back to his breakfast, then paused. “Merlin knows I could.”
Ginny watched with mounting anger, as Ron was completely oblivious to the trouble he was in
with their mother. She got up, stomping her way down the table. “Ron!” She shrieked. Ron winced,
solely from the pain of Ginny’s high-pitched rant.
“Yes, Gin?” He asked.
“How can you just sit there with this... this slag? Didn’t you hear what Mum said? You have to
go pack! Maybe, when you get home, they can get you some healing.”

At the Head table, Harry saw red. Still under the disillusionment charm and his invisibility
cloak, he placed his wand against his throat, and muttered ‘Sonorous’.
“Ginevra Molly Weasley!” Harry’s magnified voice echoed round the Great Hall, making it
impossible to locate the source. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are, reporting on your
brother’s relationship? What business is it of yours who your brother dates? How dare you report
this to your mother? Does she know about your bedroom antics? Hopping from one bed to another
in Hogwarts! You really are ‘the Broomstick’, aren’t you? Everyone who wants a ride can have
one!”
Harry grinned at Ginny’s pained wince. “You said that you wanted me for yourself! I will never
want to be with you, Ginny. You disgust me! You repulse me! You will stay away from me or you will
find yourself in more trouble than you could possibly deal with!” With a final raspberry, Harry took
the charm off his throat.
Dumbledore, rubbing his ear, whispered under his breath, “A masterstroke, Harry. She will
think that is a disillusioned Howler.”
“I know.” Harry whispered back.
Ginny dashed out of the hall, tears streaming down her face, leaving other people to laugh.
As expected, Malfoy came trotting up to the table. “So... the scarhead wants you as well. Dunno
what he sees in the pair of you.”
At the Head Table, Harry whipped off his invisibility cloak, leaving him with the charm in
place. He watched with mounting pleasure at Malfoy’s tirade, knowing that he was gonna have his
first duel shortly.
“He must really be desperate if he wants you two. I mean, an ugly, filthy Mudblood, and a poor
ugly Blood Traitor.” He grinned. “I wonder what he’d say.”
Dumbledore stood up, clearing his throat loudly. Malfoy looked up, unaware that Dumbledore
had heard him. “I suggest, Mr. Malfoy, that you ask him that.”
In the Head’s Chair, Harry took off the disillusionment charm, fading into view.
Malfoy turned whiter than paper. “Uh...”
Harry stood up, making his way around the staff table. “You know, Draco, I seemed to recall
writing a note to the newspaper, which you’ve just finished reading, stating that if anyone fucks
with us, they’d be facing my wand. It took you less than five minutes to do that.”
Malfoy stood there, stammering, obviously afraid of Harry.
“Now, here’s what you can do. You can apologise to Ron for calling him ‘a poor, ugly Blood
Traitor’, and for calling Hermione ‘an ugly, filthy Mudblood’. You can do this now, and it’ll save
you an arse kicking. Otherwise, I can call you out, and make you wear your arsehole as a necklace.”
He smiled coldly. “What’ll it be?”
Hermione watched Harry, and felt a rush of heat shoot towards the top of her thighs. She knew
he was powerful, but watching him stand up for her and Ron made her horny as hell. She glanced at
Ron, who, judging by the tent he was pitching in his trousers, felt the same way. She couldn’t help
herself. He just looked so... manly!
Malfoy, on the other hand, looked about ready to piss himself in pure terror. She doubted that
Voldemort himself could have made Malfoy any more scared.
“Your response, Draco?” Harry said, his voice like ice.
“I-I-I accept your duel, Potter.” He said, stammering. “W-when a-a-and where?”
Harry drew his wand. “Right here, right now.” And with that, Harry unleashed a barrage of
curses. A Stupefy, Incarcerous, Levicorpus, a colour-changing spell, and finally a hair-frizzing spell
left Malfoy hanging upside down in the Great Hall, looking like an unconscious clown.
“You lose.” Harry replied, tucking his wand back into his forearm holster, before spinning on
his heel, and heading up to the staff table. Before he sat down, he looked over the Great Hall. “Does
anyone else have a problem that they wish to share with me?” Silence reigned throughout the Hall.
Harry glanced over at Snape, Draco’s godfather, wondering what the reaction would be. To his
immense surprise, Snape just tilted his goblet to Harry is a tiny salute, before turning his attention to
breakfast.
He loaded up a plate, leaning back slightly in the chair. He glanced at Dumbledore. “You know,
Albus, this chair is remarkably comfortable.”
Dumbledore looked panicked. “You will give me notice before you come to kick me out of
office, won’t you, Harry?”
Harry glanced at him, his face scrunched up in thought. “Yes.” He said finally. “Maybe even as
much as ten minutes worth.”
Albus chuckled. “Thank you, Harry.”
 Ron and Hermione were sat at the Gryffindor table, completely speechless. In less than five
seconds, Harry had destroyed Malfoy’s credibility within Slytherin. They wanted to rush up and
kiss him senseless, but propriety won out in the end.
They returned to breakfast, keeping an eye on Harry the whole time.

Harry finished breakfast, watching most of the students trail out, looking miserable at going to
lessons, and felt a moment of glee, knowing that he could go back home, and sit in front of the fire
with his textbooks, a cup of strong coffee in his hand.
McGonagall leaned around Dumbledore. “Will you be returning to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter?”
“Professor, please, call me Harry.” He replied, grinning warmly at her. “I don’t think so. At the
moment, I’m racing ahead in my studies. Without the Dungeon Master sabotaging me, I’m doing
really well at Potions. Plus, I like being able to drink coffee while studying. Especially during
History of Magic.”
“You’re doing the History NEWT?” McGonagall asked.
“Well... since I’m doing it independently, I thought, I might as well.” Harry replied.
McGonagall thought for a moment. “Since you’re no longer a student, Mr... Harry,” She
corrected herself, “then please feel free to call me Minerva.” She smiled warmly at him. “And if
you need any help with your Transfiguration work, please do not hesitate to call on me.”
Harry just smiled, wrapping her in another quick hug. She smiled, hugging him back, before
leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I don’t mind if Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are a few minutes
late to their first lesson.”
When Harry looked down the Hall, she saw it empty, apart from Ron and Hermione. The
teachers vanished, leaving the Trio alone.
Hermione rushed up the hall, followed closely by Ron. When she got onto the stage, she
launched herself at Harry, leaping into his arms, and wrapping her legs around his waist, kissed him
as hard as she could. After a moment, she pulled away, needing to breathe. Harry let go of her legs,
before Ron pulled him into a firm kiss.
Harry pulled away, rubbing his face. “Ron, a quick suggestion?” Ron looked at him. “Have a
shave, mate. Nearly scratched my face off, there.”
Ron and Hermione ran their fingers down Harry’s cheeks. “Smooth as a baby’s bottom lip.”
Hermione said, looking at Harry with lust in her eyes.
Ron quickly drew his wand, running a depilatory charm over his face, before tackling Harry
again. Hermione watched her boys, and pulled them into a three-way hug.
Harry stepped back, clearly needing to adjust himself or face serious blood flow issues.
Glancing down, Hermione noticed Ron having the same issue. She felt a similar discomfort in her
chest, and pulled her robes loose.
“You need to get going.” Harry said, “Before we drop to the floor right here.”
Ron just shrugged. “I really don’t mind that, mate.”
Hermione nodded. “I’m up for it.” She glanced down. “So are the both of you.”
“No.” Harry said firmly, the magic of their bond making them both take a step back. “Not yet.
Remember? The whole dating thing?”
Both nodded sadly.
“Go to class. I’ll see you both on Saturday, yeah?” They nodded, and left the hall.
 “Got to be impressed with Hermione. Damn difficult to wrap your legs around someone while
wearing robes...” Harry muttered as he left the Great Hall.
 – CHAPTER NINE –
Orderly Progression

The Order of the Phoenix. Such an innocuous name for an organisation, especially considering
it was pretty much the only thing standing between Voldemort, the most evil, powerful Dark Lord in
history, and the destruction of the world.
Harry had joined, and been passed a staggering amount of information from Dumbledore.
Status reports, efficiency ratings, after-action reports, suspects lists. Just thinking about it made
Harry’s eyes cross.
The Headquarters of the Order was Grimmauld Place. Harry’s house. Now his home. It had
been a mere two days since the ‘coming out’ of the Trio, and Harry had yet to hear from Molly
Weasley. Not that he was particularly looking forward to it... okay, so he was. Like any 17-year old
male, he was spoiling for a rumble.
The group assembled in the kitchen, most of them marginally surprised to see Harry sitting at
the far end of the table, engrossed in a thick hardback book.
Tonks sat next to him, looking at what he was reading. “Good book?” She asked after a
moment.
Harry looked up. “Mnyha.” He looked back down.
“What is it?” Tonks asked.
“Great Expectations.” Harry replied.
“Is it any good?” Lupin asked, coming and sitting next to Tonks.
“Ah... it’s not everything I’d hoped for.” Harry replied casually, not looking up. His hand
groped forward, grabbing his mug of tea, before taking a loud slurp.
Molly looked up, an odd expression on her face. “Harry, dear?” She asked sweetly.
Harry looked up. “Yes, Mrs. Weasley?”
She looked indulgently at him. “Shouldn’t you be getting upstairs, Harry? We’re about to have
an Order meeting.”
“Oh.” Harry said, looking up and seeing the rest of the Order watching. “No.” He replied,
looking back at his book.
“You can’t stay in here, Harry.” Molly said patronisingly. “This is for the adults. You’re just a
boy.”
You keep saying that. Harry thought idly, not looking up at her. This is why your children rebel.
You can’t bear the thought that they’re letting go of the apron strings.
“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry said in mock-deference. “But, I want to stay in the kitchen.”
Molly’s voice became stricter. “We don’t always get what we want, Harry.” She said firmly.
“Now, upstairs. I’ll come and get you when the meeting’s finished.”
Does she actually expect me to just go upstairs and crack one off while they’re discussing the
war that I need to fight? She truly is delusional... On top of that, she still expects me to date the bike
that is her daughter. If it wasn’t so laughably tragic, I’d cry.
 At that point, Dumbledore strode into the room, his bright purple robes causing most people to
blink from the garishness. “Good afternoon, everyone.” He said brightly. He immediately noticed
the tension on Molly’s face, and the suppressed anger in Harry’s.
“Is there a problem, Molly?” He asked.
Molly looked up, blushing slightly. “Not at all, Albus.” She said. “I was just telling Harry that
he needs to go upstairs during the meeting.”
Albus blinked. “Why?”
“Because it’s not for him to hear Order business.” Molly said firmly. “He’s just a boy, Albus.
Fighting this war is for the grown-ups.”
Dumbledore groaned inwardly. He should have expected this from the Weasley matriarch. She
just couldn’t let go.
“I have asked Harry to join the Order, Molly.” Dumbledore said firmly. “I made a promise that
I would not include students. Mr. Potter has left Hogwarts, he is no longer a student. Since he is 17,
he is an adult according to our laws, and has accepted membership in the Order.”
“Albus, no.” Molly said firmly. “He’s just a boy. He shouldn’t be involved.”
Harry cleared his throat, bringing the attention in the room back to him. “Please don’t talk
about me like I’m not here. It’s rude.”
“Harry, you shouldn’t be here.” Molly said firmly. “Now, upstairs. As I said, I’ll come and get
you after the meeting, and fix you a spot of lunch.”
“Mrs. Weasley.” Harry started with an air of infinite patience. “Shall I tell you why I should be
in this meeting?”
“There’s nothing that you can say to me that could persuade me, Harry. You’re still a child, and
should be free to do childish things.”
Three people began sniggering at that statement. Harry, Dumbledore... and Snape? Snape, of all
people, was laughing at that. Have I crossed into some freaky parallel universe? Harry asked,
before looking at the evil Potions Master. Except... he hadn’t actually been that evil recently. In
fact... not since the useless Occlumency lessons during Harry’s fifth year.
Snape was the one who spoke up. “Molly, Mr. Potter here had never been free to ‘do childish
things’.” Like everyone else, Harry was shocked at Snape’s defence of him. “He is not a student,
and is free to join the Order, if he so wishes. I, personally, believe that he should. It will allow his
some closure from his past, and allow him a measure of control over his life that he has been
severely lacking.”
While everyone was still reeling from Snape’s apparent madness, Harry surged ahead. “The
one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall be born as the seventh month dies, born to
those who have thrice defied him.” Harry stopped there.
Dumbledore looked up sharply, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of Harry revealing the
prophecy, then nodded in deference to Harry.
“That was a prophecy that was made almost eighteen years ago.” Harry said, ignoring the
sympathetic looks he was getting from Tonks and Lupin. “Now, who do we know who was born as
the seventh months dies? Whose parents defied Voldemort three times before they were killed?”
Nobody answered.
“I’ve known of this prophecy for over a year now, Mrs. Weasley, and that information has done
nothing to allow me to enjoy my childhood.” Harry took a vicious pleasure in watching her flinch.
“A spy overheard it, and took that little snippet to Voldemort. Because of that spy, Voldemort went
to Godric’s Hollow, and killed my parents.”
Snape blanched.
“However, the spy didn’t know the rest of the prophecy. I do.” Harry took a deep breath,
looking at Dumbledore, who nodded. “And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will
have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can
live while the other survives...”
Molly looked horrified. “Oh, Harry, dear...”
“‘When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when
I became a man, I put away childish things.’” Molly looked gob-smacked. “It’s Corinthians, chapter
one, verse thirteen.” The entire Order, save for Dumbledore, looked at him as he’d just sprouted a
second head, and that that second head had started to blow spit bubbles. Harry shook his head. “So,
now you know why I’m a member of the Order. At the risk of sounding egotistical-”
“Not really a risk...” Snape muttered softly. Harry ignored him.
“I’m probably the most necessary person to be in the Order. How the hell am I supposed to kill
him if I don’t know anything about him?” Harry looked exasperated.
“But, Harry... you shouldn’t have to-”
Harry let out a growl of frustration. “If you’re not going to listen, Mrs. Weasley, then just clear
off! You’re giving me a headache. And frankly, I’m not in the mood for dealing with a petulant
outburst from a woman who should know better.”
“But, Harry-”
“Molly!” Dumbledore’s voice cut her off. “Mr. Potter is a member of the Order, and you will
accept it, or you will leave. The time has passed for us to debate this.”
“Who was the spy?” Lupin asked darkly. “If we’ve got a traitor, we need to find them out.”
Before Dumbledore could answer, Harry was speaking up. “That man’s dead and gone,
Moony.” He said, not looking at Snape. “It doesn’t matter. The information is secure.
“Now... it’s past time for me to be brought up to speed. Tell me what I need to know.”

The meeting passed in a blur after that. Harry was overloaded with information, more than he
knew what to do with.
As people were trailing away, Harry turned to Snape. “Professor, do you have a moment? I was
going through my textbook, and there was something I wanted to ask you.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, before nodding at Harry, and following him into the library.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked politely.
“I know you were the one who passed the information about the prophecy to Voldemort.” Harry
said bluntly. “I should be pissed at you, but I’m not. I know that information would have gotten to
him eventually.”
Snape just nodded. “And what do you plan to do now?”
“I just needed confirmation that what I said to Moony in the kitchen is true. Is the man who
passed the prophecy to Voldemort truly dead and gone?” Harry stared intently at Snape, who
appeared to be fascinated with his own shoes.
“I know you don’t like me, sir.” Harry said after a moment’s silence. “If I’m frank, I don’t
particularly like you either. But, we have several things in common. We’re both half-bloods, which
means that we don’t fit in with the Death Eater’s ‘New Order’ of things. We’re both intelligent,
reasonable men. And we both hate Voldemort with a fiery passion for the things he taken from us.”
Snape nodded slowly.
“Now, as I said, I don’t like you, but I do respect you. The work you’ve done for the Order has
been invaluable, and I respect you for that.” He sighed softly. “What I want from you is respect as
well. We both know I’ve got a hell of a task before me, and I need allies, not confrontations. With
your support, sir, I’ll feel a hell of a lot better about my chances.”
Snape stared at him for a moment, then sighed, slumping back in his chair. “You’re right, Mr.
Potter.” He said warily. “On everything that you’ve said. I don’t like you. The sad part is, it’s
nothing to do with you. You walked into school, and I instantly disliked you. Because you look like
your bloody father.”
Harry was about to say something, but Snape didn’t allow him. “I am intelligent enough to
know that you are not, and never have been, your father. I... I let my pettiness take revenge against a
dead man by tormenting his son.” He leaned forward slightly. “For that, Mr. Potter... Harry, I am
sorry.”
“I accept your apology, sir.” Harry said instantly.
“I also agree with your point about the Dark Lord. He has taken from us both... you, your
parents and any hope of a childhood, and me... my innocence. My love of the world. All gone when
I took his mark.”
“Then what say you and I work together, Severus,” Harry said, using the hated man’s first name
for the first time, “and see if we can get that back for you?”
Snape looked at him, then nodded. “Why not?” He whispered.

Harry made his way back to the kitchen, feeling oddly satisfied with the encounter with his
worst tormentor.
However, the real battle of the day was still to come. Molly Weasley. He could tell she was
waiting, impatiently, in the kitchen for him. He could almost feel her annoyance emanating from the
kitchen. With a sigh, he pushed open the door, and came face to face with... practically the whole
Weasley family.
“Hmm... Six Weasleys.” Harry said as he stepped into the kitchen. “This can’t be good.” He
made his way to the stove, intent on making himself a fresh cup of tea.
“Harry... there was something we wanted to talk to you about.” Mr. Weasley said amiably.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Arthur!” Molly snapped. “We wanted to talk about that ridiculous
article in the Daily Prophet.”
Harry decided to be irritating for a few moments, simply because... well... it was fun.
“The article?” Harry asked innocently. “That one about the Weird Sisters? I never believed it
myself. I mean, come on, someone would’ve noticed them miming!”
“No!” Molly shrieked. “That ridiculous article about you and Ron!”
“Which one?” Harry asked impishly. “The one Hermione sent, or the one I sent the day after?”
“Both!” Molly shouted, exasperated at Harry’s attitude.
“Oh.” Harry said, pouring the water into his mug. “What about it? I thought they were both
very well written myself. I admit, Hermione’s grammar is better than mine, and her writing flows
better, due to the essays she writes, but I felt that my letter managed to get my point across without
appearing condescending or patronising.”
 Fred and George had caught on to Harry’s game, and winked at him in unison. Harry just raised
a brow and nodded slightly.
“It’s an outrage!” Molly shrieked, causing all the men in the room to wince together. “How
could you?”
Harry smoothed his facial features, and looked at Molly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs.
Weasley. How could I what?”
“Harry, don’t you understand?” She asked.
“It’s pretty bloody obvious I don’t, Mrs. Weasley!” Harry snapped. “You asked me ‘how could
I’, but you’ve not actually said what it is that I’ve done to piss you off!”
“Harry, what about Ginny?” Molly asked, trying a different tack. “Don’t you care about her
feelings?”
At this point, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George coughed and turned away. While Molly may wear
blinders as to her daughter’s promiscuous lifestyle, her children didn’t.
“While Ginny is a topic we can get to in a moment, you still haven’t told me what it is that I’ve
done that’s managed to so thoroughly piss you off? Before we talk about anything else, why don’t
you tell me that?”
Molly smiled patronisingly at Harry, setting his teeth on edge. “Harry, dear, it’s okay. I’m sure
it’s something that we can help you with.”
Patronising bitch! Harry thought viciously. You think I need ‘help’? You’re the one who needs
psychiatric help, not me. “Mrs. Weasley, you’ve still not told me what it is that I’ve done to upset
you. Unless you feel like sharing this with me, there’s not really a lot that I can say.” Hermione
would be proud of me. He thought absently, watching Molly try to form the thoughts she needed.
I’ve managed to stay so calm, and not blown up at her once.
Arthur cleared his throat. “I think what Molly’s trying to ask about is the rumour that you,
Hermione and Ron are in a Trio relationship.”
Harry nodded at him. “What about it?”
“Is it true?” Molly shrieked. “Are you doing unnatural things with my son?”
Harry smiled disarmingly. “That really does depend on what you mean by ‘unnatural’, Mrs.
Weasley.” He winked at Fred and George. “Do you mean, ‘am I sticking my little willy up his botty-
hole?’ because the answer would be, no.” He grinned. “Not yet, at least.”
Bill had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in a desperate attempt not to laugh at Harry’s
words. Charlie had bitten his bottom lip, unable to stop watching. It was like watching a car
accident. Disgusting, morbid, a little horrifying, but you just can’t tear your eyes away. Fred and
George were laughing openly, but had the forethought to cast silencing charms on each other, so
they wouldn’t interrupt the drama playing out in front of them.
“But...” Molly was marshalling her resources for another attack. “What about Ginny, Harry?
Have you thought about what you’re doing to her?”
Harry looked politely confused. “To be frank, Mrs. Weasley, no, I haven’t. What exactly is it
that you think I’m doing to her?”
“Harry, you’re supposed to be dating Ginny!” Molly exclaimed.
Harry leaned back in his chair, taking a fortifying sip of tea. He stared at Molly. “Since when
have I supposed to have been dating Ginny? When have I ever given any indication that I was
interested in pursuing a relationship with your daughter?”
“When you came to the Burrow!” Molly said, again giving Harry the patronising look. “Don’t
you remember? I told you that you should ask Ginny out.”
“Yes, I remember.” Harry retorted. “And I recall telling you quite clearly that I had no intention
of asking her out. I even sent her a letter, telling her that you’d had a talk with me, and that I had no
desire to date her.”
“But, Harry... she’s been waiting for you since she was just a little girl. All her life she’s wanted
to go out with you.” Molly said, smiling at the young man. “Don’t you think she deserves a
chance?”
Harry just stared at her incredulously. “What you’ve just described, Mrs. Weasley, is a fan-girl.
I have no problem with meeting fans, but I have no intention of dating them.”
“But, don’t you think that she deserves a chance, Harry? She’s been saving herself for you.
She’s been planning her wedding since she was four years old!”
In Harry’s mind, the screech of breaks sounded. “Whoa! Hang on a minute! What the hell do
you mean wedding?” Bollocks to it. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. “What exactly do you mean,
‘Ginny was saving herself for me’?”
“Harry, she’s been looking forward to being the wife of the Boy-Who-Lived since she was a
child. I don’t see how you can justify rejecting her like this.”
What the bloody hell is this woman thinking? Harry asked idly, staring at Molly. This isn’t
about love at all. It’s all about Ginny landing the biggest celebrity in the Wizarding world. “Mrs.
Weasley... I justify ‘rejecting’ her, because I simply have no interest in her. It’s nothing personal,
I’m just not attracted to her. Since I’m not attracted to her, I have no intention of going out on a date
with her, let alone marrying her, simply to make you feel better. I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I
will not compromise myself.”
“It’s not compromising, Harry,” Molly replied quickly, “it’s simply allowing yourself the
opportunity of getting to know Ginny.”
Yep, it’s official. She’s lost her marbles. “Mrs. Weasley, I do know Ginny. That’s why I know
I’m not interested in her. Besides...” Should I tell her about Ginny’s squeezes? Yeah, why not. “In
the last three years, Ginny has had a number of boyfriends. I can tell you of three young men that
she had slept with, as far back as fourth year. In no way has she been ‘saving herself’ for me.”
“Nonsense, Harry.” Molly said dismissively. “And those rumours about Ginny sleeping with
other boys are a load of rubbish, too.”
Harry caught Fred’s eye, watching him try desperately not to snigger.
“What’s your real problem, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked. “To be frank, I think Ginny’s just a
cover for what it is that’s really bothering you.”
Molly suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well... it’s... you just can’t be in love with another boy,
Harry... you just can’t.”
“Ah.” Harry saw the light. “The real truth. You can’t stand the thought that one of your sons is
gay. Can’t bear the thought of your boy loving another lad.” He sighed. He’d heard about this kind
of prejudice in the Muggle world, but thought it would be better in the Wizarding world.
“It’s just not right, Harry.” Molly said. “You should find yourself a nice girl, and settle down.”
Harry repressed a laugh. “That’s part of my plan, Mrs. Weasley. But only part. You see, I have
found a nice girl to settle down with. Her name is Hermione. However, both of us want this nice
boy we’ve found to settle down with. His name is Ron.”
“It’s wrong.” Mrs. Weasley said firmly. “It’s wrong, and I won’t let you corrupt my son!”
Might as well bring out the big guns. “Percy’s gay.” Harry said casually, taking another sip of
his tea.
Molly shrieked incoherently for a few moments, before calming herself marginally. “Why are
you making up these lies, Harry?” She asked desperately. “You’ve already slandered two of my
children... must you slander more?”
Arthur cleared his throat slightly, ignored by his wife. Harry caught it, though. He quickly
glanced at the rest of the Weasley boys, seeing the truth on their faces as well. They all knew.
“And, if I’m honest, Mrs. Weasley, I suspect one of your other sons is bisexual.”
Charlie sat up marginally straighter in his chair, eyeing Harry with increased respect.
Harry leaned back in his chair. “I remember Oliver Wood...” He said, throwing everyone off
with this tangent. “Showering after Quidditch practice. Man... that guy had girth... Wasn’t packing a
wand, it was a staff. I don’t think I’ve seen a bigger staff.”
Fred and George glanced at each other, before crossing their legs in unison. Harry just smiled.
“Relax, boys, you’re quite safe. You’re pretty... but not that good-looking.”
He turned to Mrs. Weasley. “The whole, plain truth, Molly.” He used her first name for the first
time, enjoying the equalisation it offered. “Here it is; one of your sons shags men; two of your boys
swing both ways; your daughter’s basically enjoying all the fruits of life at Hogwarts; the twins are
part of a five-way relationship with the Quidditch chasers, and your eldest boy lives with a woman
who could be bottled and used as an aphrodisiac. Not one of them fits your little mould. You’re
going to lose them all if you don’t stop.” He sat back, taking a fortifying drink of tea. “So, there you
have it.”
“No.” Molly said, her denial kicking in stronger than ever. “Take that back, Harry Potter!
You’re just saying this to deflect the attention away from yourself, and I won’t have you slandering
my boys!”
The fireplace chimed, thankfully diverting Molly’s attention for a moment. Harry leapt from his
chair, sticking his face into the flames. A moment later, he stepped back, as two people stepped into
the room.
Ron and Hermione. They sat, one of either side of Harry, taking his hands in their own.
“Harry.” Molly said, desperation now running rampant. “Can’t you see this is wrong?”
Hermione stiffened next to him, about to launch a rant of her own, when a gentle squeeze of her
hand stopped her. She looked at Harry, who shook his head slightly.
“I don’t care anymore, Molly.” Harry said politely. He held up his hands, showing off clearly
that he was holding both Ron and Hermione’s. “This is the truth. Ron is mine. Hermione is mine.
There’s not a bloody thing you can say that will make me stop.”
Hermione and Ron glanced at each other’s head, both pleased that Harry had described them as
‘his’.
“You can have the scarlet woman all you want!” Molly snapped. “But you’re not having my
son!” She turned to Ron. “You have a choice here, Ronald. You can come home with me now, and
we’ll get you some help, or you’ll never be allowed back in the Burrow again!”
“Bye, then.” Ron said instantly, barely glancing at his Mum. He turned to Harry. “You’ve got
plenty of room here, right?”
Harry nodded. “The joys of this house. So many bedrooms. We can have all the rough three-
way sex we want. When we’ve destroyed one room, we can just move on to the next. And I had a
word with Snape. Apparently, he can brew up some lubricant that’s like liquid silk.”
Hermione grinned, and rested her head on Harry’s shoulder. Molly shrieked again, and dashed
out of the room. Arthur grimaced at Harry, and headed after his wife. He stopped at the door. “Are
you happy, Harry?” He asked softly. Harry just nodded. “Ron?” The redhead nodded. “Hermione?”
“Yes, I am.”
Mr. Weasley smiled warmly at Harry, and left the kitchen.
Harry was facing the other four Weasleys, oddly curious as to their reactions.
Bill just shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it, Harry. As long as you’re all happy, I don’t
really care.”
Charlie stared at Harry intently. “Would you care to tell me how the hell you know I swing both
ways? I’ve been very careful to hide that whenever I’m near Mum.” He suddenly found himself on
the end of a Weasley glare, as Ron, Bill, Fred and George stared at him.
Harry just smiled. “Caught you checking out Shack’s arse a couple of months ago.” He said,
now grinning. “Well, either Shack or Moody.”
“No.” Charlie said quickly. “It was Shack.” Harry turned to the twins.
“And, you two? The Quidditch locker rooms are not a place to have a five way, okay?” Fred
and George raised identical eyebrows. “I mean, seriously... walking into the locker room during
third year and seeing your two spotty arses humping away was bloody disturbing. Do you have any
idea how pale your butt cheeks are?” They just grinned at him.
“How do you know about Percy?” Bill asked.
“Ah... well... er...” Harry stammered. He turned to Ron, and whispered in his ear. Ron shrieked
in disgust.
“Oh, please be kidding!” He shuddered. “Flint? You say Percy and Flint? Marcus Flint and...
Urgh!”
As one, all seven people in the kitchen shared an identical disgust.
Fred looked at George. “Brother mine?”
“Yes, Brother mine?”
“Who do you suppose is which?”
“A fascinating question, Fred.”
The stared intently at the Trio. George spoke up. “We’re wondering... who’s the butch?”
Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, then nodded. “Harry.” They said together.
Harry’s eyebrow raised up. “Am I? That’s intriguing... since we’ve never shagged, I’m curious
as to how you’ve come to that conclusion.”
Hermione grinned, and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Because the thought of being on my
knees, doing whatever you tell me to has got me so horny, I’m practically sliding off my chair...”
Ron heard Hermione, and grinned, before he leaned close to whisper. “Me, too. Just thinking
about you giving me commands is giving me wood.” Harry couldn’t help but look down to see
Ron’s newly-formed tent. Hermione glanced over, and sucked a breath through her teeth.
“Harry... are you busy right now?” She asked, her face flushed with desire.
Harry smirked. “Why, Hermione? Is there some activity that you can suggest that would be
more enjoyable than my History of Magic reading?”
The twins snorted together. “Harry, watching paint dry would be more enjoyable than History.”
Fred looked at Hermione. “Based on Hermione’s look, you’ll be doing something far more fun.”
 She nodded at him. “Please, Harry.” She begged.
He shook his head. “No. It’s not yet time. Besides, it’s a school day, and you should really be
heading back to school. Show’s over, for today.”
“Oh, bugger me!” Hermione spat. “Come on, Harry... it’s not fair!”
Harry shook his head, smiling sadly at Hermione. He turned to see Ron giving him puppy-dog
eyes. “Please, Harry.”
“I’ll see you both later.” Harry said, pushing them towards the fireplace. As soon as they had
gone, Charlie whistled.
“Man, Harry! You must have some influence with Hermione. I’ve never heard her swear
before.”
Harry just grinned. “I don’t think she was swearing, Charlie. No, that was definitely a request.”
Fred and George’s popped out. “Whoa, Harry, you stud! How’d you get her to offer that?”
Picking up his tea, Harry shook his head. “You basically agree to a Trio relationship, shag one
member of the Trio, and ignore the other for over a year. Then, when he leaves, you realise that
you’ve lost him, and have to offer something pretty damned special to get him back.”
“Eh?” Bill asked. “How far have you gone with our little brother?”
Harry finished off his tea, then waved his wand, refilling the mug. “Do you remember the
article in November about Cho Chang? Saying that she was having my baby?”
George nodded. “Yeah... I remember the follow-up, too... you said that you were still a virgin.”
“Not ‘was’, George.” Harry corrected softly. “‘Am’. I’ve never had sex. They want it, but I
haven’t yet complied.”
“What?” All four Weasley boys shouted together. “And... and they just offered, right now, and
you turned them down?”
Harry looked down his nose at them. “They denied me for a fucking year! Why should I just
drop trou because they’re horny? They were happily shagging all over Hogwarts, while I was lying
in my dorm, all alone. Trust me, I have my reasons. I’m not gonna deny myself for too long.”
Bill raised his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s not my place to comment, Harry.” He gave a
mock salute. “Good luck, anyway.”
 – CHAPTER TEN –
And Everything Goes Tits Up

Time passed. Ron and Hermione were back of Hogwarts, learning for their NEWTs. Harry
remained at Grimmauld Place, independently studying. In other places, however, things were
changing. People were not happy with the decisions that the Trio had made, and were determined to
make sure that things went to ‘the way they should be.’

Molly sat in the kitchen, waiting patiently for her youngest son to arrive, and let phase two of
her latest plan begin. Behind her, stood next to the fireplace, the slight shimmering of a
disillusioned person moved to the far side of the fireplace, making sure they were out of the way.
The flames rose, filling the kitchen with a sickly green light as three people appeared in the
fireplace. Harry, Hermione and Ron stepped forward, joining hands, with Harry in the middle.
Behind the fireplace, there was the slightest sound of hissing, which abruptly stopped. Fortunately,
the scuff of a shoe on the rough stone floor masked it.
Molly stared imperiously at the Trio, her expression giving nothing away. Harry stood on the
other side of the table, staring intently at Molly. Ron and Hermione, taking their lead from Harry,
followed suit. After a moment, Molly glanced away. “Won’t you please sit down?” She said
formally.
Harry released his lovers’ hands, standing behind one chair, and pulling out the one on either
side, so that Ron and Hermione could sit first. The hesitated for a moment, until a nearly-
imperceptible nod from Harry made them sit. Harry pulled out his own chair and sat down, his
hands folded in his lap. Ron placed a hand on Harry’s thigh, silently showing support, an action
mirrored on the other side by Hermione.
“You asked for this meeting, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry said politely. “How may a representative of
House Potter be of assistance to Clan Weasley today?”
Ron gasped slightly at the formal tone taken. This was not a conversation between a concerned
mother and their offspring’s partner. This was a formal meeting, where the protocols of the old ways
had to be observed. He stole a glance at Hermione, who was looking at him with the same
trepidation. Being the vociferous reader she was, she recognised the ancient pureblood custom as
well as Ron, even though she knew it hadn’t been used in centuries.
Molly was as taken aback of Ron and Hermione. She barely remembered these old forms... she
only knew that she had to be very careful. An incorrectly worded statement could result in House
Potter, a noble and very powerful House, declaring a blood feud on Clan Weasley, a far smaller and
much less prestigious family, which the Clan would not survive. She decided to play the concerned
mother card.
“Now, Harry, dear... there’s no need to be so formal.” She said patronisingly. “I’m simply here
to carry on our discussion.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “With respect, Mrs. Weasley, calling me by my first name is not
appropriate at the present time. This is a time of great upheaval for our families, and we should
follow the customs that are available to us to resolve any disputes.”
Bugger. Molly thought. This was going to make things far more difficult. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
 Harry said nothing, just stared at Molly until the older lady began to squirm. He felt Ron’s hand
tighten slightly on his thigh, aware that there was far more riding on this conversation than any of
them had realised. Harry flexed his thigh muscle, giving some non-verbal reassurance to Ron, who
relaxed slightly. The grip was unnecessary, as Harry could feel a rising panic in Ron that a blind
man couldn’t miss. He also felt something similar in Hermione.
Hermione and Ron could both sense the others in the bond. The panic rising in Ron was
increasing her own, but she felt nothing but supreme confidence in Harry. It was almost as though
he’d planned for this...
After a few more seconds, Molly broke. “I’m sorry... Mr. Potter, for any offence.”
Harry just cleared his throat loudly, looking more imposing as he allowed a segment of his
power to rise to the surface, infusing his entire body.
Oh, shit, not now! Hermione thought quickly, as she felt her Bartholin glands activate with a
vengeance. With a slight reddening of the cheeks, she crossed her legs, praying that Harry would
power down soon, or she’d end up sliding off her chair.
On Harry’s other side, Ron felt something similar. It had happened whenever Harry summoned
his magic. In his case, the Cowper’s gland went into overdrive. I’m gonna have to change when I
get back to Hogwarts. He thought, leaning forward in his chair to disguise the physical reaction.
By the fireplace, the disillusioned person felt a weakened version of Harry’s power, and felt
their own arousal spike. They sighed slightly, before focussing on the mission.
Molly also felt the surge of power from Harry. Instead of arousing her, it sent a cold shiver of
fear down her spine, resting in her stomach which began to churn quickly. “I apologise, Lord Potter,
for any offence given. Please, forgive me.”
Harry’s power ramped down, returning to his magical core. Through the bond, he could feel
Hermione’s arousal, a fraction of an inch away from actually achieving an orgasm. Have to
remember that for later. He noted absently. “I accept your apology, Clan Mother. This time. Pray
that we continue to enjoy good relations.” Christ, I hate all this pureblood bullshit. It’s the only way
that she’ll listen, though. “Now, what may House Potter assist you with?”
“My Lord...” Molly thought frantically. She really couldn’t remember most of these old forms.
She decided to be as formal as she could, while still getting the message across. “As the current
matriarch of Clan Weasley, I have some concerns over the activities between a member of my Clan,
and a representative of House Potter.” There... that wasn’t so bad...
Harry just arched an eyebrow. “Please, continue. What is the nature of these concerns, and how
may I resolve these concerns?”
Secretly impressed, Hermione felt herself fall in love with him a little more. He plays the game
magnificently. I’m just glad it’s only a game to him...
“Well, My Lord, I’m concerned about the reputation of Clan Weasley.” Molly said firmly. “The
scandal of having a Clan member involved in a same-sex relationship will be severe. While this
member is in a polygamous relationship, the fact that one of the other members is male reduces the
possibility of the Clan member producing an heir.”
That’s it? The Trio thought as one. That’s the reason she’s against us being a Trio? Harry
added. He cleared his throat. “I understand your concerns, Clan Mother, however, in the
relationship that you have mentioned, which I am, of course, familiar with, there has not been a
reduced chance of having an heir. Conception has been withheld due to the ages and current
occupations of all members of that relationship. Besides, as the youngest male member of your
Clan, his responsibility of producing an heir is minimal, and certainly not required.”
Molly bristled. “As a healthy pureblood, it is his responsibility to produce as many heirs as
physically possible. The addition of a same-sex partner reduces those odds significantly. As Clan
Matriarch, I cannot support such an action.”
And down goes the gauntlet. Harry thought, letting his power rise a little. He heard both Ron
and Hermione breath in slightly as they felt Harry open up the path to his core.
Damn it, Harry, do you want me to rape you right now? Hermione thought, letting her mind
wander to revolting things to calm her down. Snape kissing Umbridge. Snape naked. Umbridge... n-
naked... ew... Harry banishing them both... Harry naked... sweaty and muscular... no! She started to
recite the History of Magic textbook in as boring a voice as she could, trying to emulate Binns.
“I will not get involved in this issue, Clan Mother. House Potter supports the ‘controversial’
relationship that you mentioned, and will do nothing to impede the representative or Clan members
involved.” In pureblood bollocks-ese, Harry was refusing to listen to her arguments. And the
gauntlet’s kicked back into her face.
Molly reared back as though physically struck. “Then Clan Weasley has no choice but to
formally disown the member of the Clan which has brought such disgrace upon us all. From this
moment forth, Ronald Bilius, formerly Ronald Bilius Weasley, will no longer be able to claim the
name of Weasley as his own. His access to support from Clan Weasley will be revoked, and access
to the family property will be blocked as soon as he leaves.”
Ron blinked in shock. I never thought she’d go that far... His mind stammered. I’ll never be
able to come back to the Burrow once I leave here...
Hermione gasped, her eyes narrowing. How dare she! Just ‘cause she doesn’t like her son’s
relationship, she’s kicking him out of the family? That bitch!
Harry’s face remained neutral, but his power spiked, higher than anything any of them had felt
before. Even Dumbledore didn’t exude this much raw energy. “That is, indeed, your right as the
Clan Matriarch. However, as the Lord of House Potter, I have the ability to offer Ronald Bilius the
status of a protectorate of House Potter. This means that he will be able to wield the Potter family
name in any official dealings that he has. So I speak, so mote it be.” As soon as he finished
speaking, a bolt of raw magic erupted from his chest, smacking into Ron, forcing him deep into the
recesses of his chair.
Holy shit... The power, a tiny fraction of Harry’s available energy, dwarfed his own magic by
several orders of magnitude, and he was no slouch in the power department. Now I know that
Voldemort’s going down...
“Mr. Ronald Weasley is no more. Mr. Ronald Potter stands in his place.” Harry turned to his
male lover, winking slightly at him, a tiny smile on his face. Ron grinned, and nodded.
“I accept, My Lord. Thank you.”
Harry turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger, as the Lord of House Potter, I am able to offer you
the same option. As a protectorate, you would be able to wield the Potter family name. This does
not mean that you will have to give up your given name. It would simply be an addition.”
Hermione gave him a shit-eating grin, nodding emphatically. “Then, Miss Hermione Jane
Granger, also Miss Hermione Jane Potter, so I speak, so mote it be!” Again, the bolt of magic
erupted from his chest, smashing into Hermione.
Unlike Ron, the power raced through Hermione’s body like a drug, leaving her no choice. She
orgasmed, hard, gasping out in pleasure. It took her almost a minute to come down, her senses
slowly reconnecting.
Molly scowled. By trying to push them apart, she’d only succeeded in pushing them closer.
Fortunately, she had her backup plan in place and ready to go. All she needed to do was keep Ron
and Hermione at the Burrow for a short time once Harry left...
 Harry stood up, staring down at Molly with an expressionless gaze. “Our business here is
concluded, Matriarch of Clan Weasley. Due to your actions, Clan Weasley may no longer call on
House Potter for support or protection. You, Clan Mother, are hereby denied access to the lands and
properties of House Potter until further notice.” Harry turned, and headed for the fire, looking back
at Ron and Hermione, who’d remained sat down.
Ron stared at his mother. “I’ll be along in a couple of minutes, Harry. I’d just like a final talk
with Molly here.” Hermione reached over and took his hand, offering her support. Harry, feeling the
deep regret in Ron, but knowing that he’d rather stand with Harry filled him with pleasure and love.
He sighed, hating that it had come to this. With a final shake of his head, Harry threw the Floo
powder into the flames, vanishing to Grimmauld Place. Unknown to him, he was not alone during
the Floo journey.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, heading upstairs immediately. He raced
into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush, wanting to get the taste out pureblood bullshit of his
mouth. Halfway through, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise.
Without stopping his brushing, his hand began to reach back for his wand.
“Petrificus Totalus!” A voice behind him called. Harry’s hands slammed to his side, locked in
place. His legs closed together, resulting in him losing his balance and falling backwards, hitting the
floor hard. For a few brief moments, he was disorientated, and his eyes watered. Something was
prising at his mouth, forcing it open despite the Petrification.
“Don’t resist.” The voice cooed to him. “Just accept it, Harry.” A vial was pressed to his lips,
pouring the liquid into his mouth.
No, no, NO! Harry’s mind screamed. I will not accept this! Unfortunately, due to being
petrified, he had no motor control. His mind flashed back to one of his defence textbooks.
Many of the milder hexes and jinxes can be defeated by a sufficiently determined mind. Master
Occlumens are able to penetrate the spell’s intent by using all their power to defeat the inherent
magic of the spell. With that in mind, Harry tried to focus his magic on breaking the spell.
The intruder was gently stroking his throat, attempting to induce a swallowing motion. Harry’s
control was weakening as the potion was being absorbed by his tongue and the tissues in his mouth.
With a great gasp, he swallowed.
The intruder smiled. “Yes. Accept it.” The vial was pressed back to his lips, filling his mouth
again. With a lot less effort, Harry swallowed the second mouthful. More potion was added, pouring
directly down his throat.
Inside his mind, Harry heard another voice talking to him. It was similar to the Imperius curse,
speaking in a voice not his own, telling him to do things he didn’t want to do.
Yes... accept the potion. It’s good for you.
No... Harry’s mental voice was growing weaker. This is wrong... I don’t want this...
What does it matter what you want? The other voice replied, sneering at him. Now, all that
matters is what I want.
I’ll fight you... Harry replied.
Oh, you just tried. The other voice said. And I forgive you. You don’t stand a chance against
me!
The Petrification holding his limbs in place was lifted, leaving Harry to slump against the floor.
With fading eyesight, he looked up, seeing a redhead stood above him. Why’s Ron attacking me? He
idly wondered.
“Yes, Harry. Accept it. It’s for the best, you know.” The redhead cooed. The voice was
distinctly feminine.
That’s not Ron... Ginny! Son of a bitch...
Harry felt himself retreating inwards, going off to battle a chemically induced foe that would be
harder than anything he’d felt before. His body began shutting down unnecessary functions, leaving
it running with just basic autonomic functions while the battle began.
Ginny, noting Harry slump into unconsciousness, shrugged. He didn’t need to be conscious for
this part of the plan. With a flick of her wand, Harry was floating behind her, and she made her way
to the second floor and the master bedroom.

As the fireplace flared behind him, Ron stared at Molly. “So... because you don’t like my
relationship choice, you banish me from the family?” He asked, his voice cold and hard.
“I told you, Ronald, that if you didn’t come home and let us help you, there would be
consequences.” Molly replied, her voice just as cold. “I was okay with you dating... her.” With a
dirty look at Hermione, she continued. “But, I will not accept the shame of having a son who is
unnatural.”
Ron just glared for a moment. “You know, you don’t have the authority to do this on your
own.” He said, his voice even harder. “You need Arthur’s support to disown a family member, since
you’re a Prewitt by birth, not a Weasley.”
“I have Arthur’s full confidence.” Molly snapped. “And my decision is final. I may consider
allowing you to rejoin the family, but, only after you’ve spent time with a mental healer, so that we
can fix this... this unnatural behaviour.”
Hermione gasped. “You think your son being bisexual is unnatural behaviour?”
Molly gazed at Hermione impassively. “Yes, I do. I don’t believe that this ‘relationship’ is at all
healthy. I believe that it should be stopped immediately. You all need mental therapy. It’s simply not
natural.”
Hermione leaned back slightly, staring at Molly. “And what about me? Am I ‘unnatural’
because I have two male lovers?”
“No.” Molly replied. “That just makes you a scarlet woman. One I do not want involved with
my family.”
“What about Ginny?” Ron and Hermione said together. Ron glanced at Hermione, smiling
slightly, before he gestured towards Molly with his head.
“Your daughter is one of the most promiscuous girls at Hogwarts at the moment. I can name
three male lovers that she’s had during the last couple of years. Ron has been my only lover, and
Harry will soon be joining him. However, we’re in an announced, committed relationship.”
“This is lies!” Molly screeched. “My daughter is a good girl, and I won’t tolerate you
slandering her!”
“No, Molly.” Hermione replied calmly, secretly glad that she’d managed to rile the older
woman up. “Your daughter is a whore.” She was going to continue, when she felt a sharp panic race
through the bond. Her head whipped round to face Ron, who was looking at her with the same
shock.
“It’s not me!” They said together. “Harry!” As one, they leapt up and raced to the fireplace,
only to tumble out.
Molly stood near the family clock, her wand touched against the rune keystone on the wall.
“You can’t leave.” She said firmly. “I’ve blocked the Floo and the wards are sealed down.”
“What have you done?” Ron demanded, aghast.
Molly smiled condescendingly. “You might as well make yourselves comfortable. It’ll be over
soon.”
Hermione’s wand leapt into her hand. “What have you done?” She asked slowly, stalking
forward. “Why is Harry panicking?”
Molly grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t be panicking for long.”
The smartest witch of her age quickly figured it out. “Ginny... you sent Ginny over to
Grimmauld Place, didn’t you?”
“What?” Ron snarled. “Release the Floo, and let us out!” He snapped.
“No.” Molly replied patronisingly. “You should just be patient. Soon, all this unpleasantness
will be over. My daughter will be dating the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, and with healing, you may rejoin
the family. We’ll all be one big, happy Weasley family!”
Hermione had had enough. “Stupefy!” The red bolt impacted Molly, knocking her to the
ground. Ron rushed over, quickly checking the rune stone.
“Damn! I can’t access it. She must’ve blocked me off already.”
“What did she mean when she said the wards are sealed?” Hermione asked, grabbing Ron’s
arm and pulling him to the door.
Ron flung the door open, charging forward. Hermione kept pace at his side. “The Burrow’s
protective wards are very advanced. They can keep people out and people in. Bill’s invention. If
she’s managed to properly seal them, we won’t be able to Apparate out or physically pass through.”
As if on cue, the two impacted a glowing wall of energy, judge at the boundary of the property.
Ron tumbled backwards, quickly picking himself up. He thought quickly.
“Hermione, I know this is an odd question, but just how powerful are you?” He asked, glancing
at her.
She stared at him for a moment. This was a question that was just not asked in polite society. It
was like going up to a perfect stranger and asking them about the size of their genitals. Simply not
done. However, this was an emergency. “I’m at 6.9 on the scale.”
Ron’s jaw flapped for a moment. “Y-You’re a 6.9?” He stammered. “I’m a 5.3, and I’m the fifth
most powerful student at school! Dumbledore’s 7.5. You’ll be more powerful than him in a few
years!”
“Focus, Ron!” Hermione snapped. “What does it matter about my rating?”
He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “Right. Bill’s a 5.6, and he set up the
wards. Together, we should be able to overpower them.”
Hermione nodded. “Right, what do we do?”
With a few terse commands, Hermione found herself stood directly in front of the barrier, her
hands out at ninety degrees from her body, standing in the classic ‘crucifixion’ pose, her wand held
loosely in her right hand. Stood directly behind her, his chest pressed tightly against her back, Ron
copied the pose, his wand in his left hand.
“Now, grab my wand using your left hand, while I grab yours with my right.” Ron instructed.
Hermione complied, ending up with both of them gripping both wands. “Okay, we don’t have time
to disassemble the wards, one by one, so we’re going to bring the whole lot down.”
As one, the two jabbed their wands into the barrier, feedback starting to travel up the wands.
Hermione summoned all of her magical power, sending it down the wands in both hands. Behind
her, Ron did the same. The combined power would have been far too much for a single wand,
which would have exploded in their hands.
Together, the two battled with the wards, the ancient family wards that had stood for centuries,
and been added to by every generation since.
“Come on...” Hermione gasped. “This is taking too long!”
Ron, through gritted teeth, shouted back. “We don’t have a choice!” He called on his reserves,
pulling as much power as he could, irresistible force meeting immovable object. On his own, Ron
wouldn’t have been able to bring down the wards, but the combined strength of both him and
Hermione would work.

Ginny had levitated Harry to the bedroom, dropping him gracelessly onto the bed. Harry was
still resisting the potion’s effects, slipping into and out of unconsciousness. She reached into her
pocket, pulling out another vial, this one containing an extra-strength fertility potion. Once she had
concluded her business here, and was pregnant with the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’s child, there would be no
alternative but for Harry to marry here, thereby breaking up the ‘Golden Trio’.
Of course, Ron would stay with Hermione, giving Molly her ‘One Big Happy Weasley Family’.
Of course, the massive dose of Amortentia would have to be flushed from Harry’s system, but there
were alternatives to make sure Harry remained faithful to her. Memory charms would be used to
purge him of the feelings for Ron and Hermione. It would be perfect.
The access to the vast combined Potter/Black fortunes was a marvellous side-benefit. No more
wearing second-hand clothes, no more scrimping and saving for the basic necessities in life. No, she
was going to be the social figure of the Wizarding world. With Harry hanging off her arm, she’d
have access to social opportunities others could only dream of.
With a happy sigh at the thought, she drank the potion, gagging for a moment at the bitter taste,
then waited. Within seconds, she felt a tingling in her stomach, her body preparing for the baby
Harry would be putting in her belly in the next few minutes.
Waving her wand at the body on the bed, she vanished his shirt, moaning slightly as she saw the
chiselled torso, the sharp muscles and almost flawless six-pack. Sweet Merlin, where did he get that
body from? She thought, running her hand across his chest. She remembered Harry being a small,
skinny runt when she first met him. Now, he looked like an Adonis, walking amongst the mortals.
With another casual flick of her wand, his trousers vanished. Ginny moaned again as she saw
calves and thighs that looked to have been carved from marble, with a light dusting of dark hair.
This is gonna be a very enjoyable evening, Mr. Potter. She thought gleefully. It’s a shame you won’t
be awake for it... but I’m sure we can make up for it later. Another wave of the wand and his socks
and shoes vanished, leaving him in a pair of silk black boxer shorts.
With trembling hands, Ginny reached for the boxers, pulling them down slowly, moaning again
when she saw him. I hope it fits... She reached down, slowly massaging him to full size, watching
the monster appendage grow. She released him, stepping back to remove her own clothes, letting
them drop into a messy pile on the floor. Her top, shoes and skirt were all removed.
She took a deep breath, gathering his wits for the next stage of the plan. She’d never been in
quite this position before. The other young men she’d been with had been active participants, more
than will to help her shed a few pieces of clothing. She was reaching for the fastener at the back of
her bra, when the situation changed.
 Ron’s wand began smoking lightly in his hand, the immense power being summoned by the
two of them and focussed through a single unicorn tail hair was far more than it was designed for.
He glanced at Hermione’s wand in his other hand. That was holding up better, the dragon
heartstring at the core of her wand was able to channel more power.
The wards were crackling around them, mild lightning strikes hitting the ground and sending up
puffs of dirt.
“More!” Hermione screamed over the din. “Give it everything you’ve got!”
Ron, gritting his teeth, complied, dragging up every last erg of his magical power, throwing his
very soul into the breaching of the wards. He could feel Hermione trembling against his chest, her
superior power destroying generations of Weasley wards.
With a sonic boom, breaking every piece of glass and crockery inside the ramshackle Burrow,
the wards collapsed, sending out a warning signal to the Head of the Family. Hermione slumped
backwards, hitting Ron. He wasn’t in any better shape, and the two clung to each other.
“We’ve gotta go!” Hermione panted, grasping onto Ron’s arms, and triggering the apparition.
With a loud ‘crack’, the two vanished.

As the apparition concluded, Ron dropped to his knees, exhaustion running rampant through his
body. With a huff, Hermione struggled to her feet, her greater power allowing her to regain her
strength that bit quicker. Ron groaned as he got to his feet, watching Hermione accelerate up the
stairs, heading straight for the Master bedroom. He set off after her, hoping that whatever was
wrong with Harry would be okay for the few seconds it would take him.

Hermione pelted up the stairs, the panic she felt from Harry through the bond screaming at her,
begging her to move faster. She knew he was in the Master bedroom; she didn’t know how she
knew he there, but she knew he was there. Her wand flicked into her hand, a silent Reducto lighting
the tip. She waved her wand, the Reducto savagely destroying the bedroom door, throwing debris
into the room.
She faltered for a moment as she saw a naked Harry, and a nearly naked Ginny. Using a
strength she didn’t know she possessed, she reared back, throwing her entire weight behind a single
punch to Ginny’s jaw.

Ginny looked up, her hands behind her back reaching for the clasp on her bra, when the door
exploded inwards. She saw a seething Hermione Granger, wand in hand, charging towards her. She
noticed Hermione leaning backwards, before everything went blank.

Ron entered the bedroom, puffing from exertion, and immediately too stock of the situation.
Naked Harry, nearly-naked Ginny, urgh, extremely aroused and sweating Harry. It didn’t take him
long to put the pieces together.
“Hermione, we’re gonna need something to...” He trailed off as he noticed Hermione’s gob-
smacked expression. “What’s wrong?”
Hermione didn’t say anything; she just pointed at Harry. Ron glanced over, shrugging before he
looked back. “What?”
“Dammit, Ron, will you cover him up!” She wailed. “I can’t keep looking at it... him, I mean.
Him.” Hermione’s eyes were glued to Harry’s crotch, the Amortentia that was pulsing through his
veins had stimulated him so much, he was oozing pheromones. Sweet Merlin, Harry Potter... if I’d
known you were packing that, you’d have been in our bedroom antics a long time ago. She shook
herself, disgusted at the thought. It shouldn’t matter about his size... She admonished herself. He
should have been there from the start, irrespective of the... huge... immense... Christ, I want it!
Grabbing the duvet, Ron started to raise it over Harry, pausing for a moment. “I can’t believe
we’ve been missing out on that...” He muttered, as he covered Harry up. That thing’ll never fit. He
mused, draping the duvet over, and tucking it under Harry’s chin. He’ll end up splitting me and
Hermione in two... ah, what a way to go! He turned to Hermione. “Can I leave you here with him,
while I get rid of Ginny?” He asked.
She nodded woodenly.
“And you’ll not touch him until I get Professor Dumbledore back here?” He asked sternly, his
face looking fiercer than she’d ever seen. He could see her weakening. “Damn it, Hermione! You
need to be strong! If he’s been dosed with Amortentia, it’ll have been keyed to Ginny. We could
seriously damage him if we interfere!”
She nodded again, before gathering the tattered shreds of her resolve. “I’ll be good, Ron.” She
said meekly. “You’d better hurry, though. He’s sending out enough pheromones to turn me into a
gibbering wreck.”
Ron conjured a blanket, wrapping Ginny in it so he wouldn’t have to touch her, before he hiked
up her onto his shoulder. “I’m gonna go to the Burrow, drop this little slag off, then Floo
Dumbledore to get him to come here, okay? Should only be a few minutes.” She nodded, biting on
her bottom lip as she stared at Harry. “In the meantime, do not touch him!” He commanded firmly.
She nodded again, as Ron headed out of the door.
Hermione watched him go, before kneeling next to Harry’s head, gently placing hand on his
duvet-covered shoulder. “Fight it, my love.” She whispered.
Harry stirred. “Ginny...” He whispered. “Is that you, Ginny?”
Little bitch! Hermione fumed. I’m gonna scratch her bloody eyes out for this! “No, Harry. It’s
Hermione. I’m here, Harry. I’ll protect you.”
“Don’t want you...” Harry muttered. “Want my Ginny...”
Even knowing that he was under a potion, that little comment cut right through Hermione’s
resolve. Oh, my love... what have we done to you? If only you had some good memories of us to
fight it with... But, you don’t... all because we were stupid, selfish and horny... She sobered up. I
promise you, Harry, when you’re clear of the potion, we’re gonna give you exactly what you want
in bed... and out of it. however, whenever, and as often as you want. Forever.

Arthur Weasley was many things. A calm man. A patient man. An expert dueller who’d rather
sit by the fire and read a book, his family around him. One thing he was not, however, was an
indecisive man. As soon as he felt the tingle in the back of his mind, where the wards of his family
home were tied into his magical core, he rushed through the Ministry, heading straight to the
apparition point, wand in hand. He stopped at the Minister’s Office to grab a protesting Percy,
before disapparating away.

He arrived at the Burrow, and immediately felt the lost wards. Whatever had happened here had
been a hell of a fight. He looked up, expecting to see the Dark Mark hovering over the house, but
the sky was clear. He shook Percy, bringing him back to the present, and the two men rushed
forward, wands in hand, to check out the house.
 They burst into the kitchen, the two men covering each other as they checked it out. Arthur
wailed as he found Molly on the floor near the ward’s keystone. It was obvious, to him anyway, that
she had fought to keep the intruders out of the Burrow. He knelt down, almost reluctant to touch the
body of his wife.
When he felt a pulse, he sobbed quietly. She’s alive! He quickly looked up and down, checking
for any other wounds, before casting an Enervate. She woke up, startled, looking around, clearly
disorientated.
“Molly, what happened?” Arthur demanded. “Who attacked you?”
“Hermione...” Molly slurred.
“What?” Arthur slumped back. “Was she here? Has she been taken?”
“She... she attacked me...” Molly was starting to get her wits back. “What happened?”
Percy came up to behind his father. “You say Hermione Granger attacked you? Why?”
The roar of the Floo cut the conversation, as Ron staggered through, off-balance thanks to
something heavy thrown over his shoulder. As soon as he was clear, Ron threw the body on his
shoulder to the floor casually, not seeming to care about who was inside it.
“Ronald?” Percy stood up, aiming his wand at the fallen body. “What’s going on? What
happened to the wards?”
Ron glared at Percy and Arthur for a moment. “Ask that bitch!” He spat, pointing at Molly.
“She locked me and Hermione in here while Ginny went off to rape Harry.” He turned, and headed
back to the fireplace. He threw in a pinch of powder. “Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office!”
It took a few seconds before Dumbledore’s aged visage appeared in the flames. “Mr. Weasley?
Is something wrong?”
“It’s Mr. Potter, now.” Ron said, ignoring the gasps from his former father and brother. “But,
that’s neither here nor there. We have an emergency situation, Professor. Harry’s been poisoned by a
massive dose of Amortentia, keyed to Ginny. Hermione’s with him now, but he’s dangerous to her
at the moment.”
Dumbledore nodded. “I understand. I’ll head to Grimmauld Place immediately. Where is
Ginevra now?”
“I’m at the Burrow, Headmaster.” Ron said, glaring at the slumped body of his sister. “I’ll
explain the situation to Arthur before I head back to Grimmauld Place.” He straightened up slightly.
“As a representative of House Potter, Headmaster, I will be pressing charges against the Weasleys
for an attack on my Lord.”
No-one ever accused Albus Dumbledore of being slow. The little clues in the conversation,
referring to his father by his first name, ‘pressing charges against the Weasleys’ instead of against
his family, and claiming Harry as his Lord meant that he had been evicted from the family, and been
taken in by Harry. “I understand, Representative Potter. I will arrange for Aurors to make their way
to the Burrow as soon as I have checked on Lord Potter. Will that be acceptable?”
“It will, Headmaster.” Ron said formally, before relaxing slightly. “Please, hurry, Professor.
He’s in a bad way.”
“I’m on my way now, Ronald.” It was the first time Dumbledore had referred to Ron by his
first name, not that either of them noticed.
Ron stood up, turning around to face his former family. “You’ve got five minutes.” He said
brusquely. “Then I’m out of here.”
“Why did you refer to Dad by his first name, Ron?” Percy asked, all pomposity gone.
 “I am no longer a Weasley.” Ron replied, not bothering to look at Molly. “I was evicted from
the family because of my ‘unnatural relationship’. Your mother then sent Ginevra to Grimmauld
Place along with Harry to dose him with Amortentia and rape him, thereby getting herself pregnant,
forcing Harry to marry her and gain access to the Potter fortune. In the meantime, she sealed the
wards, preventing me and Hermione from leaving and going to help Harry. Anything else?”
“What?” Arthur near-shouted, turning around to face his wife, who began to cower back. “Why
would you do this?”
“I won’t have my children being unnatural, Arthur!” Molly snapped. “It’s wrong, and I won’t
have it!”
Percy glanced at Ron, a silent question in his eyes. ‘Do you know?’ Ron nodded. Percy turned
to face his mother. “Then you will need to evict me from the Weasley family, Mother.” He said
formally. “I, like Ronald, do not fit your standards of ‘being natural’.”
“What?” Molly asked, looking annoyed at people questioning her decisions all the time.
Ron snorted. “Molly, Harry told you all about the family’s ‘unnaturalness’ back at
Headquarters, remember? The only one of your children which comes remotely close to your
standards is Bill.”
“I am homosexual, mother.” Percy said, his tone even. “I am not married, because I have no
interest in women.”
“No!” Molly shrieked. “You’re lying! I will not have freaks for children!”
Arthur turned to Ron. “You’d better get back to Harry, Ron. I’ll take care of Molly and Ginny.”
He straightened up. “Representative Potter, as a member of the Ministry of Magic’s Department of
Magical Law Enforcement, I will ensure that Molly Annette Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley
will not leave this location until the Auror escort arrives.”
Percy nodded. “As Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, I will assist the Head of the
Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office with holding the Weasley females until the Aurors get here.”
“We’ll talk about the rest later, son.” Arthur said kindly. “Go and see to Harry. Give him our
best.” Ron nodded, and Disapparated on the spot.
“You know,” Percy commented calmly, after re-stunning his mother, and settling himself down
at the kitchen table, “I’m glad it was Ron and not Hermione here. I expect we’d be dead for messing
with Harry.” Arthur could only nod.

Dumbledore materialised in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, and immediately flew up the
stairs. For a man in his sixteenth decade of life, he moved very quickly, ascending two floors before
passing through the shattered remnants of the bedroom door, and kneeling next to Hermione.
He absently noticed the flushed cheeks, increased breathing and erect nipples, but dismissed
them when a wave of desire overcame him. Using Occlumency, he quickly realised that both Harry
and Hermione were pumping out pheromones, enough to affect even him, a man with cast-iron self-
control. He banished the sensation, using the same techniques he was forced to use when dealing
with Veela.
“How is he, Miss Granger?” He asked quietly.
Hermione looked up, tears in her eyes. “He keeps calling for Ginny, sir.” She reported sadly. “I
tell him that I’m here, and he keeps telling me to either go and get Ginny, or just leave him alone.”
The front door banged, announcing the arrival of somebody else. Dumbledore’s wand was in
hand as he stood and faced the door, only to lower it as Ron entered the room. Ron’s eyes glazed
over as he took a breath. “W-What the hell is that?” He asked, struggling to regain control of
himself.
Dumbledore sighed, casting a bubblehead charm over Ron. “It is pheromones, Ronald. Both
Harry and Miss Granger are highly aroused, and this is affecting us all.”
Ignoring the obvious, ‘what, even you?’ comment in his mind, Ron made his way over to
Hermione, taking her free hand, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Hermione promptly
burst into tears, not able to tear her eyes away from her other lover. “Oh, Ron!”
“I’m here, now.” He said calmly, pulling her closer. He looked up at Dumbledore. “What can
we do, sir?”
“That, Ronald, is a question I am unable to answer without more information. First of all, are
we sure that Harry was dosed with Amortentia?” Dumbledore asked. Ron and Hermione nodded
together. “Next, we need to know how much he was given.”
Hermione slowly pulled her hand away from Harry, holding up a large vial she had recovered
from the bathroom earlier. “From what I can tell, sir, this was full.”
Dumbledore staggered back. “No...” He moaned softly. “That’s a 600ml vial, Miss Granger...”
He said slowly. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the maximum safe dosage for Amortentia is
16ml. Any more than that can cause fatal damage to the body...”
“She gave him over a pint?” Ron asked, looking incredulous. “How the hell is he still alive?”
“Love.” Hermione murmured. She glanced up at Dumbledore. “Don’t you remember the
prophecy, Headmaster? ‘The Power the Dark Lord knows not.’ You said it was love. Because he’s
been dosed with a love potion, his own natural power is able to fight it.”
“Yes.” Dumbledore said. “Yes! That must be it!” He thought for a moment. “Well, that, and the
basilisk venom in his blood.”
The conversation screeched to a halt as Ron and Hermione stared at him with gaping mouths.
“Did he not mention that to you?” Dumbledore asked innocently.
“We’ll be having a long chat with both you and Harry when this is over, Professor.” Hermione
snapped, before turning her attention back to Harry.
“Ginny...” Harry moaned. “I need you, Ginny... where are you?”
“She’s not here, Harry.” Ron said, pain in his voice. “She’s not coming, either. She tricked you,
Harry.”
“No...” Harry replied quietly. “Need my Ginny... bring her here... need... need to feel her...”
“Fight it, Harry!” Dumbledore said loudly. “Don’t let the poison win!”
“Don’t wanna fight...” Harry muttered. “Just wanna love... Ginny... Ginny loves me... won’t
betray me...”
Hermione sobbed. I wish it wasn’t true, Harry, I really do... there must be some way we can
help you! Fight it, Harry! Fight it for us, and we’ll never betray you again. We’ll love you ‘til
eternity.
“This is not good.” Dumbledore said. He was waving his wand over Harry, watching as little
numbers began to flash at the end of it. “His body has absorbed less than a third of the Amortentia.
He is weakening.”
“He’s losing the will to fight, Headmaster.” Hermione said. “There must be something we can
do! Something!”
Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed, chewing his bottom lip in thought. “I can only think of
one thing, Miss Granger. Harry must fight the effects of the Amortentia. This we know. However,
since it is being absorbed slowly, it is eroding his will to fight.”
 “So...” Ron looked up. “What do we do?”
“If we increase the acceleration of the absorption, it will hit him all at once. Instead of being
able to worm its way past his defences, it will have to launch one strike. That is where Harry must
fight.”
“You make it sound like it’s alive, Professor.” Hermione said softly.
“In a way... it is. The magic of the brewer would have been incorporated. The magical intent of
the wielder.” Dumbledore confirmed. “Recall fighting the Imperius curse in your fourth year. It was
another voice in your head, telling you to do something. At the moment, Harry has the most
seductive voice in the world telling him what he wants to hear. The sheer amount in his body will be
weakening him, making him more susceptible to the suggestion.”
“But, Harry can fight the Imperius curse!” Ron exclaimed. “Why’s this any different?”
“Strength.” Hermione muttered, not taking her eyes off Harry.
“Precisely, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore said, his eyes regaining a spark of their twinkling. “A
full dose of Amortentia, and by that I mean the 16ml I mentioned earlier, would be as powerful as
Voldemort’s Imperius curse. Harry is trying to fight off thirty-eight of those. And they’re gradually
getting louder.”
Hermione watched Harry’s face for a moment, her brain rapidly running through every fact she
knew about the young man in front of her. “We’ll be right here with him.” She said firmly, glancing
up at Dumbledore. “Harry can do this. Turn it up, Professor. Turn up the power.”

Harry felt himself growing weaker, a soft, beautiful voice whispering in his ear. He knew it was
wrong, but the voice of his conscience, the one that sounded suspiciously like Hermione, was
growing quieter.
Yes... let me take you... you’ll enjoy it... the freedom. You’ll be free from doubt. Free from
worry. Free from having to make difficult decisions. I’ll do everything for you, Harry. All you
have to do it love me.
This... this isn’t right. I’m already in love... It’s... it’s not you.
Give in, Harry. You can’t fight me. I’m far more powerful than you could possibly hope to
defeat. Even Voldemort cannot match my strength.
No. Harry replied, marshalling his failing resources. I’m not weak. I will fight you until death, if
I have to.
So be it. The voice replied casually. When you fail, you’ll be in love with Ginny. You know
you want her. She’s far more beautiful than that bushy-haired buck toothed Mudblood that you
want. Or that lanky red-haired streak of piss with the eating habits of a retarded spider monkey.
They’re no good for you, Harry. But Ginny, sweet, innocent Ginny, has been waiting for you
since she was four years old. She’s innocent, Harry. Innocent of the betrayal. She can give you
everything you want. All you have to do is love her.
Harry felt the enemy gain a surge of strength, as a face began to form from the darkness.

“It’s done.” Dumbledore said quietly. “The full dosage has been absorbed by Harry’s body. It is
now up to him.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Ron asked. “I hate being helpless.”
“The link!” Hermione shouted suddenly, turning to Dumbledore. “Can you use Legilimency on
our slave link? Enhance it so we can get into his mind?”
 Dumbledore’s mind ran through a mass of Arithmancy. “No...” He said after a moment. “The
best I could do would be to allow us to view what is happening in his mind. We would not be able
to interfere.”
“Do it!” Hermione commanded, holding out her hands.

Harry watched as the darkness formed into an eight-sided room, that he vaguely recognised
from some TV show he saw when he was younger. There was a cold mist over a black stone floor,
while each of the walls contained a series of diagonal bars, that met a centre stone. Inside of each
them was a glowing rune.
Welcome to the Dimension of Despair, Harry. A voice called from behind him. Harry spun
round, to come face-to-face with... himself?
But, not himself. The figure was clad in black, looking far taller and stronger than Harry. The
clothes he was wearing fit snugly, revealing muscles that wouldn’t have looked out of place on
Hercules. Harry glanced down at himself, seeing the rags that he had been forced to wear while at
the Dursleys.
How does it feel to be locked inside your own mind, Harry? Facing an overpowering lust?
Lust examined his fingernails. When I win, you will be gone forever, and all that is left will love
Ginny.
I will not let you win. Harry thought back. I have people I love... I love... I... Harry trailed off.
Oh, yes. The people who love you. Who are they again? Do tell. Lust circled Harry slowly,
smiling sadistically, the trimmed black goatee he wore making him look almost satanic.
Harry felt his mind go blank, the names he knew like the back of his hand slipping away. I... I
don’t remember. He looked up at Lust. This is your doing!
Well, yes. Lust said mockingly. It doesn’t take a genius to work that one out.
At the word ‘genius’, a memory triggered. It was a girl... he knew her... who was she?
Ah... still a little fight left in you. I’m impressed. Really, I am. You can’t win, though, Harry.
All fighting me will do it wear you out even sooner. If you submit, you’ll enjoy it. Ginny will
make sure of that.

In the link, the three observers began to panic. Sir, isn’t there something we can do?
I’m afraid not, Miss Granger. Dumbledore’s voice replied. It is up to Harry. He must fight the
potion’s effects by himself.
There must be something! Ron’s ‘voice’ added.
There is nothing, Ronald. Harry... is on his own.

Come on, Harry! He thought to himself. Get it together...

Yes. Get it together. Fight a battle you know you can’t win. Lust leaned down, smirking. What
a waste of my time.
Harry concentrated, connecting himself to his magic. Without a wand, this would be difficult...
I’m in my own mind. He suddenly realised. I make the rules here! With a burst of power, his fist
glowing red with a stunning charm, he reared back and launched a punch at Lust.
Lust casually leaned back, watching the fist go past slowly. Ooh... are you going to fight me?
Lust chuckled. What a pointless endeavour, Harry. You’re not fighting me. I am just a figment of
your imagination.
Harry threw another punch, Lust again moving with no effort, leaning forward to deliver his
own blow to Harry’s face. It felt to Harry like he’d been hit with a jackhammer, the blow blasting
him off his feet into the wall, sparks of electricity savaging him.
Ooh, that has got to sting! Lust mocked. That was really stupid, Harry. Give in, give in to the
lust, and take what is yours!
Harry hauled himself back to his feet, trying to brush off the feeling of electrocution. No. He
said softly. I’ve never given in to lust. I won’t start now.
And that’s why you’re so uptight, Harry. Lust mocked. All that power that you’ve given up,
simply because you’re ‘good’ and ‘noble’.
Harry smiled. Thanks. I am good and noble. That’s why I’ll win.
Lust erupted into a full belly laugh. Oh, you are priceless. I’m sure Ginny will enjoy having
such an amusing little slave on her arm.
I am not a slave. Harry said defiantly. I am my own man, and I will beat you.
Really? Lust danced forward, landing five quick, painful jabs on Harry’s chest, leaving him
wheezing, before he danced backwards, watching Harry drop to one knee. You’re losing this little
pissing contest, Harry. Lust said casually. How do you expect to win? What are you prepared to
do?
Whatever it takes. Harry replied, swallowing to get his breathing under control, before standing
again, facing down his own personal demon.
You have no power here, Harry. Lust said, suddenly leaning backwards as his foot smashed
into Harry’s crotch. Blinding white fire erupted in Harry’s sense, all breath leaving his body. He
dropped to his knees, the pain doubling in intensity as a burning sensation rose from his testicles.
The pain continued to grow, robbing him of all sensation apart from the agony.
Did that hurt? Lust again, once again inspecting his fingernails. You know, I suspect that may
have scuffed my boot. I’m gonna be mighty pissed if that’s the case.
Another voice spoke up, so feint and quiet, Harry had to strain to hear it. You can do better than
this! How can he hurt you? He’s not real. You’re not real. This is all in your head. That voice... it
was so familiar... it was the voice of his conscience... why did he know that voice?
Another rib-battering blow came from Lust, who span away, laughing at him. Come on, Harry.
This is boring! You might as well just give in now if you’re not gonna make beating you any fun.
Again, Harry struggled to his feet. Why are you doing this? What does it get you?
We are what we are. I’m the Lust generated by the Amortentia that the beautiful, wondrous,
incredibly sexy innocent Ginny gave you. If you surrender to me, all the pain will go away. You’ll
have a girl who loves you completely. You’ll have access to the sex that they denied you. You’ll be
able to have a family, Harry. Children of your own. Surrender to me, and I’ll make it right for
you.

Come on, Harry! Hermione bellowed. He’s tricking you!

Fight, mate! Fight it!
Do not let him win, Harry. You must do what you always do, young Harry. You must stand and
fight. Do not surrender to the darkness.
 Harry’s memory was beginning to fade. Who were ‘they’? Why did they deny him sex? Was he
supposed to have sex with them? Another savage blow knocked him to the floor, his nose gushing
blood.
Pathetic. The Hero of the Wizarding World. They’d be so disappointed in you, you know.
Can’t even stop a little bit of lust.
Who? Who’d be disappointed in me?
Lust chuckled. Yes, that’s a marvellous plan. Why don’t I stop this fight, so I can explain
everything to you in graphic detail, I don’t think. More savage blows to his face and chest.
Lust stood over Harry. You know, you put up a pitiful struggle. But, it’s over now. You’ve lost,
Harry. Ginny will get her prize.
Ginny... A rusty memory staggered forward. I love Ginny... why am I fighting this? That doesn’t
make any sense. Harry absently clambered to his feet, dodging the next rain of punches without
thinking. No, I wouldn’t fight if I loved Ginny.

Yes! Come on, Harry. You can do this! Hermione cheered. She ‘looked’ at Dumbledore. Is there
any way to get a message to him. Just a word, anything.
No. There is nothing we can do, Miss Granger. He appears to be getting his second wind. Let
us hope that is enough.

Lust snarled as Harry dodged another series of blows. Stand and fight me!
Harry waved Lust away. In a minute. He said absently. So... if I don’t love Ginny, and there’s a
huge dollop of Amortentia in my system... Harry ducked under a spinning kick, spinning around to
avoid it, logic suggests that it was Ginny who dosed me up... Why? And... who are ‘they’? Do ‘they’
love me? Is that why I’m fighting?
Lust threw another punch, squealing in pain when Harry caught the fist, squeezing until the
knuckles popped, before he gave a powerful push, sending the Lust into the bars at the edge of the
room. The electricity sparked through him, sending him, smoking, to the floor.
Am I fighting for myself, or fighting for someone else?
You’re fighting for your life! Lust snarled, closing his damaged hand, letting the knuckles pop
back into place. And you’ve just managed to piss me off. So, I’ll be beating your arse down now.
Lust charged forward, a black blade materialising in his hand. He swiped at Harry, laughing as he
fell back, dodging blow after blow. Get back here!
As if. Harry retorted, ducking, dodging, rolling and spinning out of the way. Now... who are
‘they’? Damn it, if only Hermione was here. She’d be able to tell me. And with that thought, the tide
turned.

He remembers me! Hermione sang out. He knows who I am!

Hermione and Ronald. The people I love. Harry stood still, letting Lust get closer. That’s it! I
remember!
Lust chuckled. Well, good for you, Harry Potter. You still can’t win against me. I am more
powerful than anything you have faced before. Lust swung the sword at Harry’s head, only to
recoil in shock when the sword impacted another, a shining white sword, with small pink hearts
running down the shining blade.
 Harry looked down at his newly-formed weapon, chuckling when he saw the hearts. Yeah, I
know it’s a cliché, but I can live with it. Ron and Hermione. They are why I fight. He raised the
sword in the classic honour position, before falling into a ready stance. What are you prepared to
do? Harry asked mockingly.
I will win! Lust shouted, created a small ball of black fire in his hand. He threw it at Harry,
charging in with the blade. Harry swung his own sword, knocking the fireball away, before parrying
a clumsy swing from Lust. Harry gave a couple of minor attacks of his own, big, lazy slices that
approached Lust far too quickly.
Harry took a step back, looking at the room. You know... I don’t like it in here. What say we
level the playing field? He raised his hand, forming bolts of lightning that razed the room, leaving
the two standing on a quiet grassy field, the moon shining overhead.
What is this place? Lust asked, looking around uncertainly.
Harry smiled. I think of it as my ‘Field of Dreams’. This is my ‘happy place’, where all my
Occlumency exercises start. This is where I feel most comfortable.
Lust sneered. It’s pathetic. It’s weak, and serves no purpose. He took a slight step backwards.
It doesn’t matter where I defeat you.
I think it does. In fact, I think you’re losing your powers, Lust, old boy. Harry returned the
sneer, with interest, as he raised his free hand, summoning a ball of white fire. He hurled it forward,
watching with glee as the ball impacted Lust’s chest before exploding, throwing the creation
backwards, his chest smoking. Did that hurt? Ah, what the hell do I care? You’re not real. I can
hurt you all I want. In fact... Harry waved his hand, dispelling the glowing white sword, before he
dropped to his hands and knees, morphing on the way down, until he assumed his Animagus form.
With a deafening roar, the tiger leapt forward, chasing after the now-running Lust. With a huge
leap from powerful back legs, the White Tiger brought Lust down, scratching at the creation. Lust
tried to spin round, bringing the heavy sword back into play, with a single snap of the tiger’s teeth
ended that plan before it could begin, the hand holding the sword swiped away, leaving a stump in
it’s place.
You thought you could be the power of love? The tiger thought to Lust. You really think that I
could be brought down by Ginny Weasley using Amortentia? You’re delusional. I know real love. I
have real love. And it’s not with a fan girl. With a single snap of the jaws, Lust’s head rolled to one
side, while the body rolled to the other.
The Animagus switched forms, becoming Harry again, before he started to spit out the
remnants of Lust from his teeth. Oh, my god! That’s revolting... I am never doing that again! With a
slight crouch, Harry hurled himself upwards, leaving the mindscape, and returning to the real world.
 – EPILOGUE –
Hermione grinned like a monkey when she saw Harry’s eyes start to flicker. She released Ron
and Dumbledore’s hands, and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on Harry’s lips. She wasn’t
prepared for Harry’s eyes to shoot open, while he pushed his head backwards in the pillow, trying to
get away from her.
“Miss Granger.” Dumbledore said sharply. “It might be wise to give Harry a little space at the
moment.”
She tried to hide her pained look, but to anyone who knew her, it was pretty obvious. “I-I’m
sorry, Harry.” She whispered, taking a step backwards, looking at Ron with anguish in her eyes.
Dumbledore stepped closer, thinking that because of his advanced age, he would be the safest
option to approach Harry. “How are you, my boy?”
Harry glanced up at Dumbledore, his eyes still slightly glazed. “Well...” He rasped. “I feel like
I’m in the Divine Comedy.”
“Which level?” Dumbledore chuckled.
“Ninth...” Harry muttered, sighing with pure exhaustion. “What the hell happened?”
Dumbledore glanced at Hermione, who nodded shakily, before taking up the tale. “When you
left the Burrow, Ginny somehow found a way to get into Grimmauld Place. While we stayed at the
Burrow, Molly somehow found a way to seal the wards, making sure we couldn’t return.
“Ginny gave you a massive overdose of Amortentia, something like forty times the maximum.
You fell unconscious. Ginny levitated you to the bed, and stripped you off.”
Harry groaned. “Where is she now?”
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, then looked at Dumbledore. “She’s at the Burrow.”
Ron said slowly. “Arthur and Percy were there. Must have felt it when we destroyed the wards.
They’re watching over her until the Aurors turn up.”
“Professor?” Harry groaned again. “Can you seal Grimmauld Place? Nothing in or out?”
Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I could. Why?”
“‘Cause I still feel the need to go to her. I know it’s false, and I’m resisting it, but the
compulsion’s still there. I ‘know’ she loves me, and the potion’s trying to get me to go to her.” He
looked up at Dumbledore, pleading in his eyes. “Please, make sure I stay locked up.”
“Very well.” Dumbledore turned to Ron. “Will you be able to stay with him while he
recuperates?”
“No.” Harry called out weakly. “That potion’s buggering up my feelings. I can tell. I need to be
on my own.”
“Harry...” Hermione sobbed. “You don’t have to do this alone. Me and Ron can help you. You
need people with you who love you.”
“There is something else to consider, Harry.” Dumbledore said, resting a hand gently on
Harry’s duvet-covered shoulder. The young man flinched, and pulled away, leaving Dumbledore
shocked. “You are resisting physical contact, a not-uncommon side effect of people who have been
involved in a sexual attack. During your battle with the Amortentia, your body has been flooded
with hormones and testosterone. You will need some way of releasing that flood.”
“What are you saying, Albus?” Harry asked, chuckling weakly. “‘Shag it out’?”
 “In a word, yes.” Dumbledore replied. “Your body is poisoned, Harry. Think of this as highly-
unique, but effective treatment.”
Ron made his way to the opposite side of the bed, gently resting a hand on Harry’s chest.
Hermione followed suit on the other side. Harry began trembling uncontrollably at the contact,
trying to bury himself through the mattress to get away from it.
“No... please!” Harry gasped, fear lighting up his face. He tried to avoid hurting their feelings,
but he could see the tear tracks on their faces, and knew he’d failed. At the moment, though, with
the potion still racing through his system, he didn’t care that much. And that little nugget of
knowledge scared him.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, Ronald, please leave the room. Harry, I will seal
the house as soon as we have left. Try to get some rest. Drink plenty of fluids. I would recommend a
flushing draft to clear-”
“No!” Harry near-shouted. “No more potions!”
“Very well, Harry.” Dumbledore said soothingly, gesturing to the other members of the Trio to
leave the room.”
“Take care, mate.” Ron said, taking Hermione’s hand and pulling her towards the door.
“We love you, Harry.” Hermione cried. “If you need anything, let us know!”
“Goodbye...” Harry whispered. He rolled over, trying to get his body’s fierce trembling under
control.

Outside the room, Dumbledore conjured a new door, fixing it in place with a wave of his wand.
He slumped against the wall, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses wearily.
“Will he be all right?” Ron asked quietly.
“I don’t know, Mr. Weasley.” Dumbledore replied, equally softly. “Never has anyone survived
poisoning of this nature before. If anyone can survive it, it will be Mr. Potter.” He said, both to
reassure Ron and Hermione, as well as himself. He pushed off the wall, heading for the stairs. “I
will arrange for a House Elf from Hogwarts to be available to him, should he need it.”
“Not Dobby.” Hermione said, falling into step besides Dumbledore. “Dobby likes to attack
Harry with hugs. At the moment, even that’s probably too uncomfortable for him.”
“Not Winky, either.” Ron added. “She flinches whenever Harry looks at her. Probably not the
best person to add to Harry’s neuroses.”
The three left the stairs, heading for the front door. As soon as they passed through,
Dumbledore raised his wand, resetting the wards so that nothing, except for a House Elf, could pass
through. With an angry glance at the house, upset at the situation, the three disapparated, heading
for another confrontation, this time at the Burrow.

“Should we wake them up?” Percy asked, sipping a hot cup of tea. He and Arthur had been
waiting an hour for the Aurors to turn up, not a bad response time for them, drinking tea and
pondering.
“I’m tempted to make sure they never wake up again.” Arthur growled. “I don’t know what she
was thinking, simply banished Ron from the family.” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make any
sense. He’s still the same boy he always was, even if he doesn’t ‘obey the norm’ for a relationship.”
“Neither do I, Dad.” Percy replied quietly. “She’d evict me too, if she could.”
“I won’t let her, son.” Arthur said, reaching out and grasping his boy on the shoulder. “Whether
you love men or women doesn’t matter to me at all. You’re still my son Percy, and that’s all that
matters.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Of course, if you go and poison someone with a love potion and
then rape them, I will disown you.”
Percy giggled. “I’d hope so, Dad.” He sobered up. “Where the hell are the Aurors? Just sitting
here near Ginny’s making my skin crawl.”
As if on cue, the two men heard the pops of incoming apparition. The door opened, revealing
Dumbledore and the other members of the Trio.
“Albus! Thank Merlin.” Arthur breathed.
“Misters Weasley.” Dumbledore said in an officious voice. “I am here in my capacity as the
Head of the Wizengamot to place Molly and Ginevra Weasley under arrest for attempted poisoning,
attempted rape, attempted line theft, and kidnapping.”
Arthur nodded slowly, still thoroughly pissed with his wife and daughter. “I’ll wake them up.”
He said, raising his wand, throwing an Enervate at the two ladies in his life.
With a startled gasp, Ginny awoke, suddenly aware of an intense pain on her jaw. What the hell
happened? Where am I? She glanced around, seeing that she was in the kitchen at the Burrow. Oh,
shit... now I remember. Hermione’s fist. Looking up, she could see her Dad, older brothers,
Hermione, and Headmaster Dumbledore. This is not gonna be good.
“Miss Weasley.” Dumbledore stood straight, his wand in hand as he stared at her, disgust
marring his face. “You are under arrest. Aurors are on their way. The charges are: attempted
poisoning of the Head of an Ancient and Noble House; attempted rape of the Head of an Ancient
and Noble House; attempted line theft of the Head of an Ancient and Noble House; and kidnapping
the Head of an Ancient and Noble House. You will be taken into custody, and brought before the
full Wizengamot in a criminal trial.”
Molly wailed, knowing that the game was up. She composed herself, before staring imperiously
at Dumbledore. “I won’t allow this, Albus. She’s not done anything wrong. She was simply
demonstrating her attraction to Harry.”
“She tried to rape him!” Hermione shouted. “She poisoned him with enough Amortentia for
forty people! That’s not ‘demonstrating attraction’, that’s attempted bloody murder! And locking us
in here so we couldn’t go to him? He won’t see us now, because your little bitch of a daughter has
traumatised him that much!”
Molly smiled. “The plan worked, then?” She asked happily. “Now that we’ve helped him
overcome his unnatural tendencies, he’ll be able to ask Ginny out, and we can have one big, happy
Weasley family!”
“Doubtful.” Arthur said firmly. “Ginevra Molly Weasley, you are hereby banished from the
Weasley family for crimes against the House of Potter, a house that we owe two life-debts to,
including your own.” He turned to his wife. “Molly Annette Weasley, you are hereby banished from
the Weasley family for crimes against the House of Potter, and your assistance in crimes against the
Weasley family itself. I restore Ronald Bilius to the Weasley family, allowing him to once more use
the surname of ‘Weasley’, if that is his wish.”
As he spoke, the two respective hands on the family clock fell, clattering loudly on the floor of
the kitchen. “So I speak it, so shall it forever be!” Arthur proclaimed, completing the ritual. “Now,
when the Aurors come to take you away, you are forbidden to return.”
Ginny cried out, before racing out of the open door. The instant she was clear of the house, she
vanished with a loud ‘crack’.
“How does she know how to apparate?” Percy asked, stunned at her outburst.
A series of quiet ‘pops’ announced the arrival of the Aurors. With a few words, Molly was
carted away, and the search begun for Ginevra.

Ginny Molly, the only names she could legally use, entered the seediest part of Knockturn
Alley, hoping to find... something to help her. She’d left with nothing but the clothes on her back
and the wand in her pocket. That was enough to transfigure and clean her clothes, and conjure up
enough food to keep herself alive, but did nothing to help her.
“Hello, Weasel.” A smooth voice called from a darkened doorway. Ginny looked up, staring at
a blonde man, with shining silver eyes...

Harry was alone, sitting in a lotus position on the floor of the Master bedroom. He’d been like
this for almost two weeks, only moving to answer calls of nature. He’d eaten sparsely, the House
Elf that Dumbledore had sent from Hogwarts, Tweepy, a young, female elf, had delivered a tray to
him three times a day. Apart from that, he’d not seen her. He’d eaten a few bites at a time, not really
noticing or caring about food.
He was plumbing his mind, searching it for any trace of the noxious chemicals that Ginny had
forced into him. The massive overdose of Amortentia hadn’t worn off in the traditional way, the
feelings simply fading.
Instead, the potion had actually begun the process of rewiring his brain, creating mental
connections to feelings that didn’t exist in the real world. Harry had been purging these, combing
his memories for false images, and deleting them.
He knew Ron and Hermione had been eager to spend time with him, helping him clear the
physical symptoms, but he’d avoided them, not wanting to sully the act by having it turn into
medical treatment.
While Occlumency gave him a certain degree of bio-control, it was primarily a mental art, so
while helping him heal his mind, it did nothing for the testosterone that had been pumping through
his body. Instead of purging it through self-release, he couldn’t bring himself to call it anything
more vulgar, he’d let the chemicals run through his body. The side-effect was that it was adding to
his muscles, building him up.
He sighed heavily, as the last of his memories filtered through an Occlumency screen he’d set
up. Almost a quarter of his memories had been manipulated, showing Ginny in place of Ron or
Hermione, or completely false images, showing Ginny engaged in rather pleasurable acts. These
memories, far from being arousing, disturbed him greatly, and the act of simply erasing them from
his mind was extremely therapeutic.
He stood up, feeling his muscles groan at being in use again, before he headed for the
bathroom. A shower would be very good about now...

Hermione paced the small dorm room of the Head Girl’s suite. Ron had been allowed back into
the room, provided that the two obey general guidelines. They’d agreed; sex wasn’t what they
needed at the moment, but the closeness that being together provided them.
Both her and Ron had been desperate to return to Grimmauld Place to comfort Harry, but
Dumbledore’s firm refusal blocked that.
“I hate this...” Ron muttered, lying on her bed with his hands behind his bed. If it wasn’t for the
tenseness in his face, he would appear to be extremely relaxed.
“I wanna go to him.” Hermione muttered, stopping her pacing in front of the fire. “We should
be with him, helping him get through this.”
 Ron cleared his throat guiltily. “In a way, I’m not surprised. We’ve not helped him get through
anything in the past year and a half. We’ve been shit to him...”
Hermione placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Ron. “Are you trying to make me feel
better?” She asked sarcastically. “‘Cause if so, you’d doing a lousy job of it.”
“No.” Ron replied amiably. “Just thinking out loud.”
“Well, stop it.” Hermione said, beginning her pacing again. “Damn it, Harry... we need you.”

Tweepy materialised in the Headmaster’s Office, wielding a tatty piece of parchment, with a
few lines of chicken-scratch on it.
The little elf passed the note to Dumbledore, curtseyed, and vanished, presumably back to the
kitchens. Dumbledore, ignoring the vanishing little elf, opened the note, smiling broadly when he
read the contents. He lurched to his feet, practically hurling himself at the door.

With the briefest knock, Dumbledore let himself into the Head Girl’s suite. Both occupants
looked up, to see an obviously excited and slightly out of breath Headmaster stumbling into the
room.
“Harry’s just sent a note. He’s ready for you to see him.” He said without preamble. He held the
note out, tapping it with his wand. “Portus.” Ron and Hermione grabbed the note, as the three
vanished in a swirl of colours.

The three landed outside Grimmauld Place, at the edge of the sealing ward Dumbledore had
thrown over the property. With a few flicks of his wand, Dumbledore removed the ward, knocking
on the front door.
It opened moments later, revealing a bleary-eyed Harry, looking thinner and more gaunt than
ever. “Come in.” He said, his voice barely a croak.
The three followed him into the kitchen, where he started reaching for pots and pans, about to
start cooking up a storm.
“How are you feeling, Harry?” Dumbledore asked kindly. He’d noted just how pale Harry
looked.
Harry chuckled rustily. “Well, I’ve been better, Headmaster.” He started scrambling some eggs.
“Then again, I’ve been a hell of a lot worse, and far more recently, too. I’m on the way to mending.
How about you, sir?”
Dumbledore sat down heavily at the table. “I’ve been very concerned for you, my boy.” He said
softly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He looked at the hungry glances Ron and Hermione were
sending his way, and decided that discretion really was the better part of valour. “But, I’m sure you
need to speak to Hermione and Ronald. I’ll be going now.” With a faint ‘pop’, he was gone.
Hermione was staring at him. He was too thin, rather gaunt looking, and his hair was the
perpetual mess that she’d come to expect from him. He looks bloody gorgeous. She thought. She
stood up, tentatively making her way around the table. “Harry?”
He turned from the worktop, staring at her. In his eyes, he could see the same hungry look she
knew both she and Ron were sporting. “Yes?”
“A-are you feeling better?”
Harry nodded, holding his arms open to her. With a muffled sob, she rushed forward, wrapping
her arms tightly around him, burying her head in his chest. With a gentleness that left her breathless,
his hands reached up to the sides of her face, bringing it up to look at him. He leaned forward and
kissed her, pouring half of his soul into the kiss.
Hermione moaned into his mouth, raising her arms from his waist to his neck, as she returned
the kiss as passionately as she could. She felt Ron step behind her, placing his hands on her waist.
Harry gently broke the kiss, letting one of his hands trace over Ron’s cheek.
“Hey, mate.” Ron said huskily, leaning over Hermione’s shoulder to capture Harry in his own
kiss. The two wrestled tongues for a moment, before Ron pulled away.
“Are you hungry?” Hermione asked, looking up at him.
“Yes.” Harry replied.
“For food?” Ron asked, a lusty glint appearing in his eyes.
Harry smiled. “That, too.” Without further talking, he gently took a hand of each of his lovers,
and led them from the kitchen. Food could wait for a while.

For now, however, know this. Ron and Hermione did make it up to me. They were wrong,
yes, they knew it, and they worked bloody hard to fix the situation. At the moment, we’re living
together. We have a special charm in the room that blocks Ron’s snores, so that we can sleep
together.
It’s not been easy, but it has been worthwhile.
Will things stay like this in the future? I honestly don’t know. But, I know that for now, I like
my life. I have my two best friends, now my lovers in every sense of the word, by my side. I know
that together, there’s nothing we can’t face. United we stand, divided... well, we’d probably cry a
lot, and watch lots of chick flicks while eating way too much ice cream.
This is how the trio started. I noticed, while I was telling you this story, that you were
wondering what happened to Voldemort. Well... that’s another story. I’ll be sure to tell it, one day.