~~~

Harry pulled his head back out of the mirror and looked at himself, in
Avalon, thirty-two Earth years old. Once he had returned, the Lady had given
him the chalice of eternal life, and he had quaffed deeply. There in Avalon he
had received balm for his pain, and in the arms of the fairest nymphs, walking
through the orchards, he tried to forget.
But he couldn’t forget.
Avalon was stamped indelibly with Hermione’s presence now. Although
he’d healed in Avalon for three Earth years – nearly nine Avalonian cycles – he
had only lived for the weekend in their time that she’d stayed with him.
He was as happy as was possible under the circumstances in the mirror
before him. He wasn’t happy enough, though. And it was all Hermione’s fault,
as her voice rang in his ears, forever in that sad mirror life, now in his ears as he
turned away from what could have been...

~~~
“What did I ever do to make you despise me so, Harry?” she asked. It was
the first calm string of words she’d uttered in over a half hour.
“Despise you? Don’t be ridiculous. If I despised you, I’d make you do an
about-face and send you back to Sirius. If I despised you, I wouldn’t have pulled
you out of the portal, I would have let you drown. If I despised you, I would not
have ingratiated myself to the Lady to revive you. If I despised you...”
“If that’s your idea of making me feel better, perhaps I ought to return!”
“No one asked you to come here in the first place! Go away, Hermione.”
“I won’t! I am your Covenant-sister, and I am not leaving until you hear me
out! And then, I’m not going anywhere until you explain to me exactly why you
won’t come back! It’s selfish of you, to remain in a place where everything’s
perfect and guaranteed... and sheltered away from life’s harsh realities! It isn’t
like you had no one left in our world, either! How can you even think about
staying here forever when you left people behind who...” here she trailed off,
tears spilling over, “...who love you so.”

~~~
Yes, that choice had been selfish of him. He had been selfish in this life for
more than twelve years. Rather than be honest with Hermione, he had chosen to
hide. To shield himself from the risk of rejection. To withdraw his friendship if
he could not have her love.
He looked back in the mirror one last time at that eternally sad Harry who
had been so stupid. He felt rather sorry for his other self. The past few months
had taught him a few things about Hermione... namely, that she didn’t trust
herself nearly as much as he had always thought.
And that he could convince her to love him beyond reason.
Not that she didn’t already. She’d always cared for him, even when they
were children. But she’d been the giver back then, he the taker. Merlin only
knew how little he knew about how to love.
The past few months had reversed their situations. She had needed his
strength, his reassurance, and his love. He couldn’t have dealt with any of that at
sixteen, nor at twenty... he was still too wounded himself. That might have been
why he had had no girlfriend before Avalon. The girls were needy, and he was
needy, and no one’s needs were getting met when they were going out. So he’d
cut himself off from the possibility of relationships.
Back then, the only girl who mattered was Hermione. Although she was
irritating at times, and fanatic about things that he couldn’t have cared less
about, she was still indispensable. She wasn’t a girly girl to be wary of, at least.
For most of their Hogwarts years, she was just his friend and he couldn’t think
of her as anything else. Anything he’d needed or wanted from a girlfriend save
for physical intimacy, Hermione had provided anyway... so it was a simple
matter not to get involved during the war.
But Hermione had invested well, he thought. Over and over, before they
were even adults, she had given him her trust, her loyalty, her smarts, her
strength, and her love. And now, everything that she had given him during his
years of need he intended to give her back to her. Many times over. Both now
and forevermore.
Harry began to feel their separation keenly. Right now, she was somewhere
here in the Valley, perhaps even right before his eyes... but he could not see her.
He could not even link with her telepathically here. Already he missed her.
He wondered what choice she was making.
Then he saw it in the next mirror.
He knew what it was almost instantly.
He and Hermione each had one of Ron’s sons in tow. They were
approaching the bed where Maureen and new baby Quinn were curled up
together, Ron hovering over them both protectively.
Artie nearly bounced out of his Aunt Hermione’s arms with his excitement.
A new baby meant that he wouldn’t be the baby of the family any longer. Next
to Harry, Maury smiled a little, but pulled his red eyebrows together at the
responsibility of yet another kid brother hit him.
Harry grinned at the mirror. He knew what choice he had to make then.
But just to be sure, he plunged his head in....
 ~~~
“I have always been faithful to Ron! Always! I’ve been with him since we
were sixteen years old, and he’s all I’ve ever had! There has never been anyone
else for me. Ever.”
In that moment, she was a veritable queen. The lady Guinevere in all her
glory, as she’d been on her wedding day nearly six years before. Even Mo
couldn’t hold a candle to Hermione in her outraged splendor. Rage had much the
same effect on her that Hera’s Blessing had had all those years ago. Twin spots
of red stood out on her peaches-and-cream cheekbones. Her eyes flashed with
agate fire. Her brown hair was in the same controlled waves that she’d worn at
the engagement party, but sometime between then and this summit, she’d lost
the pearl clip. And somehow... perhaps it was due to emotion stirring her
magical prowess... somehow her skin seemed to glow.
She was completely inviolate in her fury... and absolutely breathtaking.
And Ron, a tarnished Arthur, was staring across the room. But not at his
wife, despite the visual display that she’d become in that instant. He was staring
past her makeshift throne and at the doorway... at his best friend. He was
wearing the same quizzical expression that I’d noted at the Snitch on New
Year’s Eve.
“You know something, don’t you, Harry?” Ron asked slowly. “She’s told
you something, and she told you she’d kill you if you spilled it. She never told
me about it, but I knew. What is it, then?”
“There isn’t anything to know!” shouted Hermione quickly. “Listen, Ron,
just because you’ve proven yourself a lying, cheating, unprincipled scab, don’t
you dare try and tar Harry with the same brush! He’s nothing like you!
Nothing!”
Ron ignored her. “So, Harry, if everything she says is true... why won’t you
look at me?”
He exhaled his exasperation and frustration. It was almost as if he was
admitting defeat.
And then his gaze met Ron’s.
And in that instant, there was a short-circuit in the powerful three-way
current of the famous Three so profound that all could see it.
Hermione, perhaps for the first time since they were all kids at Hogwarts,
understood neither of her best friends.
And perhaps for the first time since they were at Hogwarts, Ronald
Weasley and Harry Potter understood each other perfectly.
Queen Guinevere.
King Arthur.
Sir Lancelot.
Everyone knew something was badly wrong, but none knew exactly what
had happened at first. So it bewildered almost everyone when Ron whipped out
his wand, pointed it at Harry, and shouted “Demasculate!” Seconds later, we all
had our own wands in hand and had each shouted a countercurse. The spell
ricocheted off the walls as all dodged it – it missed Remus’ ear by a
hairsbreadth. It finally careened into Molly’s favorite cushioned ottoman – and
reduced that Weasley heirloom into dust.
When the smoke cleared, the tableau that emerged was quite tragicomic.
Fred and George were holding their younger brother as if he were dangling on
the edge of a precipice. Maureen was cringing, eyes wild. Remus mirrored my
own horrified expression. Draco was holding Ron’s wand out of his reach,
completely detached from the unfolding events. Ginny’s mouth was gaped open
as she gazed at Harry.
Harry’s wand was nowhere to be seen. But he wasn’t leaning anymore. Not
at all. Now he was standing his ground with folded arms. Looking so angry and
frustrated he could burst at any moment. Meeting Ron’s disgusted stare with an
unrelenting one of his own.
“Would someone mind telling me exactly what the hell is going on here?”
shouted Hermione. Her eyes were wide from shock and confusion... and
Hermione Granger confused was a rare sight indeed.
“I’m with Hermione,” Ginny said quietly. “This is getting too weird for
words.”
Ron’s eyes blazed blue fire at Harry.
“It wasn’t enough that you had absolutely everything else in our world
offered up to you on a silver platter, was it, Harry? You just had to have her too.”
Harry didn’t say a word.
“You know, I knew she’d been with someone else. Somewhere in the back
of my mind, I always knew. But never in a million years would I have dreamed
you would have been that self-serving, backstabbing bastard.”
Hermione’s eyes darted from Ron to Harry and then quickly back again.
Then she began to laugh like a madwoman. The sound was actually quite
frightening.
“Do you realize how absolutely and utterly ridiculous you sound, Ron? In
all these years, neither Harry nor I have even considered what you’re suggesting.
We all know what you’ve done... please don’t make it even worse by inventing
fairy tales. Surely you can find some better diversionary tactic.”
Harry’s stare had turned from Ron to his godfather. “Sirius...”
But now Sirius had come to stand in front of Hermione, walking around the
ruins of the ottoman. He sat down on the arm of the chair. His mouth was
twisted with slight amusement, but his eyes were extremely grave. Somehow, he
didn’t seem like a jester at that moment.
No.
More like a augurer come to knock the queen from her royal throne.
“Fairy tales, Hermione? Allow me tell you a story, then...”
 ~~~
Elsewhere in the valley, Ron and Hermione pulled their heads out of the
mirror at the same time as Harry did.
Unbeknownst to each other, they all stared at that liquid mirror for long
moments. Looked around at all the other possibilities for as far as the eye could
see. A person could spend ages in the valley, ages of endless alternate lives just
for the picking...
Alternate lives where there had been no separation.
No betrayal. No hurt.
No heartache.
No price.
How could they even consider the choice before them?
The thought occurred all at once, in three different places, to three different
people.
Until they realized there had never really been a choice at all.
Without any further hesitation, they plunged into the liquid mirror before
each of them, body, heart and soul...

~~~
They were in the middle of a sitting room.
Ron’s sitting room.
Late afternoon sunlight gave the furniture, the curtains, and the Wizarding
pictures and clock on the mantelpiece a soft glow that was so surreal it was if
they’d stepped from reality into a lemon-sherbet dream. There was a hush within
the home, not eerie silence as they’d become accustomed to, but a blessed
quietness that stroked their souls.
There was no questioning, no acknowledgment of the fact that the three of
them had all chosen the same future – their own. What remains unsaid is often
fundamentally more important than what is said.
Shrill shrieks came to their ears, diffused at first as if they had come
through many waters. These were not the shrieks of disquiet or alarm; they were
sounds of merriment and laughter.
Boyish laughter.
Could anyone have ever been so innocent?
Could anyone have ever been so young?
They stood in a rough semi-circle still. They had not moved since stepping
through the liquid mirror and seeing the result.
They had barely breathed.
All they could do was remember.
 “Are there any more seats? Everywhere else’s full.”
“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one”
“I’m Harry. Harry Potter…”
The slamming of a back door dispelled the curious moment. Quick
footsteps heralded the grand entrance of two carrot-topped streaks, one small,
the other relatively tiny. They trailed in squishy mud and the scent of freshly
trampled grass, their little boyish guffaws shattering the quiet.
“Daddy!” the younger one shouted. “You’re back, you’re back!”
Ron swooped down as Artie bolted to him. As Maury looked on, laughing,
Ron lifted the toddler high over his head and spun him around. Art opened his
eyes...
“Uncle Harry! Catch me!”
Almost before Harry could react, Artie was flying towards him like an
itinerant Bludger. But Harry was quick on the draw. With a flick of his wrist,
followed by his wand, he levitated the little boy around the room as Ron began
to set the other one in motion.
Normally, Hermione would have been horrified by these antics. Instead,
she collapsed on the empire seat, chortling. It was truly the moment of a
lifetime... and in that moment, she was so contented that it is doubtful that an
earthquake would have rattled her.
“What is going on in there?”
It was Maureen, walking slowly and carefully into the sitting room. When
Hermione had last seen her in September, her midriff had been only slightly
rounded. Now her Quaffle-rounded belly showed that she was obviously very
close to being full term.
She’d been wearing her sternest expression, and her voice had been harsh.
For a fleeting moment, one could see vestiges of the old Mo Ludlam, sports
agent extraordinaire. But when she saw her husband, her face softened and
quickened and changed.
“Guess you made it back,” she said breathlessly.
His grin threatened to split his head in half. “Yeah, guess I did.”
They met each other halfway in a kiss so passionate that Maury pulled a
face and Artie fell on the floor giggling, until Harry began to swoosh him back
around again. When they finally came up to breathe properly again, Mo had to
snatch up a self-repairing doily to cover her sneezes.
“I brought company, love,” said Ron, accio’ing a handkerchief to her.
“Yes, I saw that,” she said, nose and mouth buried. Her dark eyes flashed
over in the Potters’ direction. “So you two finally did it.”
Harry and Hermione looked at each other and grinned.
“Yeah, we did,” said Harry.
“How are you feeling, Maureen?” asked Hermione, feeling all of a sudden
the slightest bit awkward. Awkward didn’t suit her well, though... she only
succeeded in looking a bit haughtier.
 “I’m well, thanks. It’s the third time around for me, so it’s easier knowing
what to expect.” She frowned. “Are you... Ron told me that you...”
Hermione’s face fell. “It was a false alarm.” Was Mo rubbing it in?
From the sympathetic look on her face, Hermione supposed not. “Well, if at
first you don’t succeed,” Maureen said lightly. “Would anyone care for a bite?
It’s almost time for tea.”
“I’ll help you get it,” offered Hermione as the boys cheered in agreement
and Harry and Ron nodded. She followed Maureen into the modest eat-in
kitchen. It was as tidy as a functional stomping ground of toddlers and
preschoolers could possibly be.
As Hermione went to the sink to wash her hands, Maureen grabbed the
kettle. But as soon as the door swung shut, she turned to her old rival.
“Strange how everything’s happened,” she remarked.
“Not very strange at all when you think about it,” Hermione said, opening
cupboards and searching. “Things are finally the way they ought to be.”
Maureen reached up into a cabinet that Hermione hadn’t touched and
extracted the tea. Hermione turned around as Maureen handed it to her.
Both women froze.
“I don’t hate you, you know,” said Maureen quietly.
“You certainly did a very good impression of it on my birthday.”
“I was only afraid that you would hurt Harry. We’ve all known he was in
love with you since that day... that terrible day when everything came out in the
open. And Ron suspected it long before that.”
“I know. I should have never married him, Maureen.”
“And I... I should have never taken what was yours.”
Hermione winced a bit. “I’m not so sure Ron was ever really mine. He
always loved me, but I never saw him in love until I saw him with you. I was
jealous of that, I’ll admit. I didn’t think anyone would ever be like that with
me.”
“But Harry is. It’s so patently obvious. And it’s obvious that the feeling is
mutual.” Mo sighed again. “Doesn’t make what Ron and I did right, I do
realize.”
“No, it definitely doesn’t. However, the way I see it, I could either hold the
grudge forever... or have my friend back. And in doing so, gain another.”
Maureen’s deep brown eyes widened.
“You’d consider me a friend?”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll agree that we won’t be instant best mates or anything
like that. But seeing that our husbands aren’t going to give up the all-but-
brothers act any time soon, I suppose we ought to get used to seeing more of
each other.” There was a slight half-smile on Hermione’s face.
“Yeah, not to mention the fact that my husband is your ex and one of your
oldest and dearest friends.” Maureen bit her lip. “I mean, was it ever awkward...
you know, you and Ron and Harry...”
 “There were some moments. Harry developed this odd jealous streak at
times. Then Ron rushed home to you after he heard about our engagement. He
didn’t want to attend our wedding...” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Did you have
anything to do with him coming back?”
“No, that was completely his decision.”
Hermione tilted her head skeptically.
“Well, perhaps I sweetened the deal a little...”
Hermione chortled. “How do you do it? I was never able to talk Ron into
anything!”
“Same way you regularly wrap Harry around your little finger. He is as
much my soulmate as Harry is yours.”
She said this with such certainty that Hermione was unable to say anything
at all.
The two women then worked in tandem, Hermione brewing the tea and
Maureen fixing sandwiches and scones. Since neither were much for feminine
small talk, they spoke about much weightier matters, Hermione filling in
Maureen as much as she could about her ordeal and the epidemic, Maureen
telling Hermione about the slander in the papers.
“What will you do?” Maureen asked. “Are you going to turn yourself in?”
“No, because I’m no criminal. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Good, because neither Ron nor I would let you do it. Brian Riordan is a
madman. The Wizarding world’s getting crazy again.” She frowned. “So you
think you’ve got the cure for the epidemic?”
“I know I have. The epidemic is merely anti-Source, the substance that
transformed us into Witches and Wizards, that must have transformed Tartarus
from its original state, as that is where my ancestor’s father was born... so the
antidote is to re-infuse the infected victim with Source. Which is easier said than
done. We’ve got to get it into every cell of the victim’s body, somehow, and
quickly, before the anti-Source does its work. It’s a bit more complicated than an
injection or even the Danae shower... but I think I’ve almost worked it out,
though... I’ll have to get to the MMRI and see.”
“Hon, you can’t travel around like that. The second the Ministry detects
your Apparating...”
“I still can’t Apparate,” said Hermione glumly.
Maureen was shocked. “What?”
“The Atlanteans said that there was nothing they could do. In this life, I’ll
always be functionally a Muggle.”
“But that’s crazy! What about the Source-infusion? What about...”
“The Atlanteans say that’s not the problem. Apparently I am still a Witch,
so I’ve got Source already. That is why Harry was able to halve his magic and
give it to me to borrow... I wouldn’t be able to conduct it otherwise, wouldn’t be
able to cast. They told me that in order to be what I was before, I would literally
have to be born all over again.”
 Mo shook her head. “What a bunch of weirdos.”
“Indeed. Nice, but weird.” Hermione sighed. “I’m trying not to think on it.”
“Well, even if you never get your magic back, you’re still the wife of one
of the most powerful Wizards who ever lived. And you’ve done wonders for our
world. No one will shun you once this is all over. This anti-Muggleborn thing
will pass. It always has before.”
“It’s not just that, Maureen. I don’t want to have to be totally dependent on
Harry. I’ve done that for the past four months. I don’t have the stomach to do it
forever.”
Maureen snorted. “Hon, you lost your independence the second you said ‘I
do’.”
“Oh, now, I don’t believe marriage is slavery. It should be a partnership
between equals.”
“It is a ‘partnership between equals’. Otherwise, it would be invalid. But do
you really expect to go back to the Time-Turner pace of your career once you
begin to have children? You can’t have it all, Hermione. You can’t work at two
hospitals, the MMRI, and be there for your husband and your children.”
She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I do realize that. Which is why
I was so hesitant to marry again. I wasn’t a very good wife for Ron, I realize that
now.”
“Again, you weren’t in love with Ron. I am. But you are in love with
Harry, and you’ll be great for him, I know you will.”
Hermione didn’t say anything.
“No one is saying you’ve got to stay home and bake cookies, Herm-ione.
You’re too ambitious and driven for that. But children require a lot of time and
care and love. And once you become a mother, your personal goals have got to
work in tandem with their needs.”
“What about fathers?” asked Hermione, not wanting to dwell on the issue
of motherhood much. “Seems they get let off the hook far too often.”
“Of course they don’t. But men can’t get pregnant, can they? One of the
reasons why you might have had such trouble conceiving and carrying to term,
Hermione, just may be because you were trying to do everything at once.
“And once the baby comes, if you have any sort of bond with him or her,
it’s difficult trying to carry on as before. I had to do that with Maury for nearly
two years... and it was sheer hell. I couldn’t nurse him. I wasn’t there when he
cried. I didn’t see his first crawl, and Ron didn’t see his first step. I know that it
was our fault, because of what we did, but he shouldn’t have had to be without
his mum and dad.”
Hermione just looked at her.
“Hey, sorry if you feel I’m out of line...”
“No, not totally out of line,” replied Hermione very quietly. “I’ve been
doing a lot of thinking about what will happen if this ordeal ever ends. For the
first time in my life, I’ve considered a sabbatical.”
 Maureen looked genuinely surprised.
“I’ve been wanting to write a book. About Danae and the Sponge, about
this epidemic, about Source and anti-Source. Since I don’t have my position at
the Centers for Disease Control any longer, Simon’s running the MMRI, and
Neville’s replaced me at the clinic, I’m officially unemployed. My first thought
was to search for another job, but now I just... I mean, honestly... it’s the oddest
feeling. Instead of racking my brain about which part of my old magimedical
career I want to pick up again, I keep dreaming of Harry’s cottage, and thinking
about what I want to put here and there...”
“It’s the evil nesting instinct,” laughed Maureen. “The antithesis of feminist
thought. I had the same thought when I lost the agency... Luke found me another
position that was pretty lucrative, but I loved being able to have Maury with me
at last. I told him I would be a consultant as soon as I learned I was pregnant
with Art.”
“I’m still a good feminist Witch,” insisted Hermione. “I’m proud of what
I’ve accomplished, and I don’t want my life to end once I have children.” If
I can ever have them, she thought but did not say. “I still want to practice
medicine. But I don’t relish the thought of long nights away from Harry, or not
eating breakfast and dinner with him. And since he’s head of DSG now, he has a
long summer holiday, and I want the chance to travel with him. Maybe if we’d
married years ago, I wouldn’t mind the prospect of being away so much...”
“Why feel guilty about that? I think that we all ought to be free to pursue
whatever we love, whatever gives our lives meaning. We’re only here for such a
short time, Hermione. It’s like Dot always says. We are all grass in September, a
candle in the rain, a thundercloud before a storm. If we want our lives to have
any meaning at all, we must find that meaning not within our obligations, but
within ourselves.”
Hermione nodded. “You know, until this very moment, I never quite
understood what Ron saw in you.”
Mo laughed. “You had every right to hate your husband’s mistress,
Hermione. But I hope that someday you will decide that you don’t hate me.”
“I...”
The kitchen door swung open.
“Mummy, Mummy! Aunt Hermione!” said Maury breathlessly, “Daddy
says he’s going to eat Artie, and Uncle Harry’s going to help, if you don’t bring
the food out now!”
“What?” said Hermione, shocked.
Maureen waved her eldest son off. “Oh, is that all? Well, scamp, go tell
your father that he’d best begin with the non-essential parts first, like toes and
fingers. I’ll be out with the trays before he gets to anything vital.”
Hermione’s eyes were wide. “Maureen, do you really think that it’s wise
to...”
“Okay!” said Maury, running out of the door. Soon they heard a shouted,
“Fingers first!” and a boyish squeal.
“Dot gave me some really good advice a long time ago. The first rule of
motherhood, Hermione, and for just living in general,” said Mo, “is not to take
everything so seriously. That’s the easy part. The second rule is much, much
harder.”
“What rule is that?”
“Never to take anything for granted.”
And for the first time ever, Hermione Potter and Maureen Weasley
understood each other perfectly.

~~~
Far from being the awkward event that Hermione had expected, that tea
was quite the cozy affair. It seemed perfectly natural for her to be sitting next to
Harry, sharing food from a single plate, after he fixed her tea precisely the way
she liked it... sitting across from Ron, who was scarfing down scones with cream
and jam at a fantastic rate, and even Mo, who was taking bites in between
random sneezes and mild admonishments (“Artie Weasley, food is made for the
mouth, not for the hair... Maury, not another sweet until you finish at least one
sandwich...”).
They didn’t talk much. It was nice enough just to sit and eat and not have to
worry about much else.
“I’m wondering if I dare go to Ayr before we return to Brazil,” said Harry.
“Sirius is there again... I’d like to fill him in on everything we just learned.”
“If you think you can make it there and back without being seen, mate, I’d
say to go for it. It’s worth the risk.”
“What risk?” asked Maureen.
“There’s a warrant out for their arrest as well,” Hermione informed her.
“They’re supposedly wanted for questioning, but I’m sure they’d be charged by
this corrupt Ministry with something, too.”
“I don’t think they’d have the balls to capture and hold Harry Potter,” Mo
said. “No one in our world would dare.”
“Brian Riordan is Sebastian Borgin’s puppet, love,” said Ron. “And
Sebastian dares anything that the Dark One tells him to.”
“Well, Harry, you’re not going anywhere without me,” said Hermione. “If
you go, I go...”
“It doesn’t work like that, Hermione. You can’t go as you are, and I can
move faster without you.”
“He’s got a point, Hermione,” Ron said, mouth half-full. “If he’s caught,
it’s one thing. Great Harry Potter and all that. If he’s caught with you, it’s quite
another. The Confederation is holding you responsible for the infiltration of
Hogwarts and for the new epidemic. They’ve really done a job on your image...
in order to get you acquitted, our evidence is going to have to be pretty
compelling.”
Hermione closed her eyes. It was too much... in such a short time, she’d
lost everything. Her magic, her reputation, her autonomy, her good name. And
the worst of it all was that everything was so unfair... what had she done to
deserve this?
That’s when she felt Harry’s arms around her, pulling her close.
“Hey,” he whispered. “We’re going to figure out how to get you out of this.
We’re going to get your magic back, no matter what.”
“But the Atlanteans said...”
“The people of Atlantis are ancient and wise. But they are not infallible... if
they were perfect, they would have never allowed such a monster as Ereshkigal
to exist in the first place. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s this... there’s no
problem anyone’s ever invented that my Hermione can’t solve.”
“Someone else said that a long time ago,” Hermione laughed, opening her
eyes. “Without the possessive attached, but they did indeed say it. Was it Lupin?
Or Dumbledore?”
“It was Hagrid,” said Ron. “Only it was something about Charms or
spells... I can’t quite remember.”
“Right! I remember now. He said, after that idiot Malfoy called me
‘Mudblood’, that there wasn’t a spell that I couldn’t do... somehow, that made it
all better.” Laughter. “Imagine he’s turning over in his grave, having to eat his
words and all.”
They all laughed again, Maureen included after Ron filled her in about the
entire slug incident. Then she gasped.
Ron was instantly at her side. “What is it, love?”
“It’s time.”
As the tea clattered to trays and everyone began to move at hyperspeed,
Hermione, helping Maureen to stand so that the stretcher-bearers could transport
her to St. Mungo’s, heard a serene, newly familiar whisper within her inner ear.
Yes, it is time, daughter.
It is time.
 A/N: The following individuals wrote alternate Paradise
flashbacks (in alphabetical order): Gil (Romulus Lupin), lilahp,
MmeFleiss, Rena, Sara, Sarah M, and Silvi. In order of inclusion,
Gil wrote the fifth year Christmas scene, MmeFleiss wrote the
wedding reception scene, Rena wrote the Ron Potter birth scene,
and Sara (who wrote “Playing With Fire” and “A Little Princess” in
this universe) wrote the final alternate TiP9 scene. Unfortunately,
due to the length of PL11, I was not able to include all scenes in
this chapter (and I loved what Lila, Sarah M, and Silvi wrote!), but
I will post the other scenes to the HP_Paradise list very soon. They
are not to be missed.
The last two flashbacks were my own, from the short Paradise
file “Rules of Engagement”, and of course from the infamous
Trouble in Paradise tenth chapter, “A Sleep and a Forgetting.”
I should also mention that the lagoon scene is in tribute to one of
my favorites, Diana Gabaldon. (Elements of this chapter were also
indirectly inspired by the writings of Maggie Shayne and Christine
Feehan.)
Thanks also to my beta-readers for their speed and efficiency
while Pippin was on a well-earned vacation.
Special thanks also to Tess, Sarea Okelani, and my own MP3
collection, which provided me with music to write to. For some
reason, I wrote PL11 completely to showtunes and original cast
recordings. They just all seemed to fit.
I cannot overstate the importance of the Inanna myth here for
those of you who now think Hermione is becoming a Mary Sue.
Before you whine, go read the myths. Here are some links (I
particularly recommend the last one):
http://inanna.virtualave.net/inanna.html
http://www.spiralgoddess.com/Inanna.html
http://members.bellatlantic.net/~vze33gpz/sumer-faq.html
To my fellow history and mythology nuts: Yes, I know that the
Delilah story is filled to the brim with anachronisms. Yes, I know
that there is no way that humans had bronze ten thousand years ago.
Yes, I know that Poseidon was a Greek god, and the Greeks came
long after the Sumerians. Yes, I know that very likely Ur wasn’t
founded until around 4000 BC (and even that is stretching it). Yes,
I know that the goddess Inanna and the god Dumuzi were together,
and that Dumuzi and Tammuz were one and the same. Yes,
I know... I know... I know.
But I’ve taken a lot of things and put them into my blender,
taking artistic license. This is because if we assume that Atlantis
was a real and enlightened place, that the sinking of it account for
the universal flood myths, that after its sinking it took a while for
humankind to return to their former prehistoric state, then this isn’t
any less plausible than anything else in the Paraverse, where JKR’s
Wizarding world is real and for the duration of the fic we’ve been
dealing with time travel to contemporary times from the distant
future.
The Delilah story’s actually only half complete anyway.
I hope that it didn’t drag or distract from the other parts of the plot,
because I quite enjoyed writing it. The other half will be embedded
in PL12.
There are three more chapters and an epilogue left. I will get
them out as soon as possible.
~eet, 8/7/03, 12:43 p.m.
 Chapter Summary: Hermione finally confronts the Dark One... in a
battle from which only one can leave.
Dedicated to all those who waited.
 12. Fourteen Days

“It’s all right, you can stay asleep

You can close your eyes
You can trust the people of Paradise
To call your keeper
And tender your goodbyes...”
– James Taylor, “Only a Dream in Rio”

Day One.
1 February 2013.
Sabaean Watch Station, Negev Desert
Dale came into the station with a whistle upon his lips.
“Back!” he called. “Lunch is in the brig... I’ve always wanted to say that. Wait
until you see what it is.”
He used his wand to lower the McDonalds bags and drink holders onto the steel
table. Amidst all the twenty-fifth century instruments and architecture, the fast food
logo looked as antique as a stone knife in a state-of-the-art hospital ward.
Dale did not notice any of this, of course. He merely wondered where everyone
had gone off to.
“Vick?” he called, looking around. “Logan? Se...”
“We’re up here, Dale,” he heard in his ear. “The control room. Come on up,
please.”
He did, worried about the note in Seal’s voice. Seal’s voice was usually
decisive, as he was second-in-command after Heath. In many ways, although Heath
was the natural leader, the crew tacitly acknowledged Seal as the stronger and wiser.
Heath, for his part, never questioned Seal’s judgment.
Seal’s voice never quavered as it was doing now.
Dale pressed the transport button quickly. It shot him through the station and
straight to the control room. He stepped out of the portal, brushing off his clothing.
“What’s new, Seal?”
He glanced at the three most experienced Sabaean Watchers, who were now
most certainly watching the holo before them. Yet it wasn’t a scene they were
watching, but a short listing of names and numbers.
Dale stepped round. He could read it all backwards... they were all used enough
to holos to have developed that skill... but he hoped that for once he’d made a
mistake.
“Coord run yesterday afternoon,” Vick said quietly, as Dale felt himself grow
 12. Fourteen Days
cold. “Ran it again last night, thought it was an anomaly.”
“She came and got me around 0300,” Seal said. “I’ve run this five times... and
it’s not changing.”
Dale sank down dully. A chair materialized to greet him.
“They’ve changed time,” he said incredulously. “They’ve changed everything.”
“Dale, look at the rest of the run,” Logan said. “It’s not showing you the entire
story.”
Vick traced a finger along the side of the screen and it slid down so that the
second page of the extensive report could be read.
Dale glanced at it.
The smile upon his face was replaced by a look of sheer horror.
“No. That can’t be!”
“It apparently can,” Seal said. “Fourteen days.”
“Someone call Heath! He’s only been with them for a few weeks.
Surely he could...”
Seal placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Dale,” he said. “Heath is not contacting us. He knows. So does she.”
Tears were streaming down his face. He ignored the strange sensation. It was
the first time he’d ever cried in his life.
“There’s got to be another way.”
“There is no other way,” Seal replied gravely.
They were all very quiet. A Sabaean Watcher does not often let emotions
influence them. That is not the way of the Sabaean. That is not the way of the
Watchtower.
Yet they sat there, in tears and in silence, the cooling McDonalds a testament to
their grief.
Because all anyone could feel... was sad.

~~~
The stretcher-bearers returned with Maureen and Neville about five minutes
after they had gone. Ron, Harry and Hermione hadn’t even finished packing her
things and bundling up the boys when they heard the commotion in the front.
“St. Mungo’s is filled to capacity,” Neville said. “It’s also under quarantine. We
can’t admit her.”
Ron rushed to Mo’s side. “What do you mean, you can’t admit her?”
“We’ve got a crisis on our hands, Ron. At the first of this year, our hospital
began seeing strange cases of a new illness... and it’s only intensified. The only thing
that seems to be keeping these people alive is daily Danae-infusion, and there are
very limited medimagical personnel who know how to use it.” He frowned. “Over
the past week, new cases of the illness have spiked... which is why Blaise isn’t here.”
“I’ve been working on the cure in Brazil,” Hermione said. “I think I’ve almost

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Paradise Lost 3
got it... as soon as Maureen’s son is delivered, I’ll be there.”
“You can deliver babies?”
“Neville, over the past five months I’ve had to do everything short of inventing
the wheel. She’ll be in good hands... you go home and get some rest before you head
back.”
Neville shook his head. “They need every hand they can get, Hermione.
I wouldn’t be able to relax properly.”
Hermione nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Simon at the MMRI?”
“Yes, and he’s slept as little as I have. He and his staff are working round the
clock, trying to find out what this is.”
“I have some vague ideas... I’ll dash off an owl to him before I leave. Go.”
Neville nodded and Disapparated.

~~~
2 February 2013.
Black and Potter Headquarters, Ayr Island, Scotland.
Sirius and Heath walked along Ayr’s rocky and frozen North Shore, through
snow and silence.
“So you’re my descendant. Which of my sons survives the war?”
“You have another son, Sirius, a son who is nearly a man now. There is a
Muggle woman you loved for a time when you visited the tropics right after your
release from Azkaban, an Anglo-American woman. She did not know how to contact
you when she learned that she was carrying a child. That child is not magical... he
survives, and he is my ancestor on my mother’s side.”
Sirius did not let his surprise show on his face. “I’ll have to contact her.”
“Contacting her would do little good and much harm. The child has been told
that he is the biological son of her husband, and that is what the woman herself has
convinced herself of. I’ve looked at her holos... she and the son have a good life, one
that we need not disrupt.” Heath looked thoughtful. “Also, if you contact them,
I might not be born.”
“Doesn’t the fact that we’re talking right now mean that you won’t be?”
“No, because the child is already here,” Heath said. “Time travel is rather
complex, but the rule that you must not be seen only applies to seeing your own past
self. Although in our time, because we know that time travel is possible, even that’s
happened a couple of times without us getting unduly alarmed.”
“You would be such an asset to the Foundation,” Sirius said. “After this is all
over, I’d like you to consider joining us.”
“If my people cannot fulfill our mission, then we’ll join your team,” Heath
replied. “But I think it best if we could be based somewhere other than Ayr.”
Sirius quirked his mouth, a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of Heath. “Two
suns find it difficult to revolve around the same sphere, they say.”

- 18 -
 12. Fourteen Days
“I begrudge Harry nothing, Sirius. Not even her.”
“Of course not.” Sirius stopped in his tracks. “Shall we have lunch?”
“After you.”
Meanwhile, in the small woodcutter’s cottage on the edge of the North Forest,
lunch was already in progress.
“I have no idea why I’m telling you all this,” Lenore said. “If anything, you
should hate me on sight.”
“Why should I? I never liked him at all until this very moment. But after
everything you’ve told me... much has happened over the past five months,
I suppose.”
Ted Granger raised his water goblet.
“A toast, then?”
“Certainly.” She raised her own glass. “To Harry and Hermione.”
“And to you, my dear.”

~~~
Quinn Ludlam Weasley was born on the second of February in 2013, just after
three o’ clock in the afternoon. He was not born in any hospital, Wizarding or
Muggle, but at home. According to the official record, Drs. Blaise ZabinI and Neville
Longbottom came to assist with the delivery after two very discreet owls were sent to
their homes. Blaise’s name would be inscribed on the birth certificate when he finally
arrived to check the child’s vital signs and pronounce him healthy.
But Blaise did not assist in the delivery in any way. Neither did Neville. They
and the other top mediWizards had a major crisis on their hands.
As Harry entertained the boys downstairs and Ron held her hand, Maureen
birthed life into Dr. Hermione Granger’s capable hands. She wasn’t successful in
blocking all of her Sharing, but she was able to focus upon the task at hand quite
well.
It was a successful birth, and Quinn was a healthy baby.
Later, much later, as Hermione watched Ron and Maureen hover over their
newborn son, she reflected upon how much she’d missed doctoring. It was nearly
four years since she’d seen to the health of her patients at Granger-Longbottom. As
rewarding as her medical research and investigation with the CDC had been, there
were no heartbeats in books.
Watching Ron and Maureen together, Hermione reflected on just how empty her
life had been.
And just how narrow an escape she’d had.
She closed the door behind the couple so they could have some time alone.
At the end of the hall, there was an open door. Hermione walked up to it and
peeked inside just in time to hear her husband read from a Muggle book he’d
purchased for the boys years before.

- 19 -
Paradise Lost 3

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too

Went for a ride in a flying shoe.
“Hooray!”
“What fun!”
“It’s time we flew!”
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
Ickle was captain, and Pickle was crew
And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew
As higher
And higher
And higher they flew,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Never returned to the world they knew,
And nobody
Knows what’s
Happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Harry closed the book and let it rest on the nightstand.

Maury frowned, tucking his hand between his head and the pillow. “But what
will become of them, Uncle Harry?”
“I don’t know,” he said, tucking the sleeping Artie in more closely, then blowing
out the candle. “It’s a mystery.”
“Perhaps someday you’ll find out and tell us, dear,” said Hermione softly,
coming into the room after seeing Maury’s disappointed little face reflected in the
moonlight. “Go to sleep.”
“Okay. `Night, Aunt `Mione. `Night, Uncle Harry.”
“Good night,” they chorused. Yet they stayed with him for the few moments
until he was asleep before they left the boys’ bedroom and closed the door behind
them.
“How is Maureen?” Harry whispered the moment they were in the hallway.
“How’s the baby?”
“She and Quinn are doing well. Ron’s in with them.” She placed a hand on his
shoulder. “Want a cup of coffee? I’m not quite ready to turn in yet.”
“Coffee sounds great.”
They stole quietly to the kitchen, found the supplies, and soon had two steaming
mugs filled. In stead of staying in the kitchen, they sat in front of the dying fire.
“What an emotional experience,” Hermione sighed. “I don’t think that one is
supposed to cry while delivering a baby, but...”
“Don’t tell me that’s what you did!”
“No, I saved it for after. I was quite professional during. You would have been
proud of me.”
“I’m always proud of you.” He grinned, pulling her close so they could snuggle.

- 20 -
 12. Fourteen Days
“Second baby in four months. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“So much so that I’m beginning to wonder why I didn’t go into obstetrics and
gynecology. You know, my work in Rio with the free clinic proved to me that there’s
something to be said about pediatrics and general practice... the medical school
faculty at Magdalen and Paracelsus always said that was where the less capable went,
though, and encouraged those of us at the top of the class to specialize in the exotic
stuff.”
“Yeah, like you. Diseases, trauma, and aging. Fun way to spend the rest of your
life, really.”
Hermione set her coffee mug down. Her hand went up to his hair.
“Harry, I’m very good at what I do. I’m damned good at it...”
“Right, and I’m damned good at combating the Dark Arts. Doesn’t mean that
it’s my passion. After all, I didn’t become an Auror.”
“No, you’ve just trained the next generation of them. Almost all of those
admitted into the Ministry’s Auror training program these days are trained by your
staff at DSG. Perhaps you didn’t become an Auror, but you’re sure making a lot of
them.”
“Well, this is not about me. It’s about you. Maybe, Hermione, after all these
years of fighting death and despair and sorrow, you might want to consider
something different. Maybe you feel as I do, as if you know too much about pain...
and now you’d rather focus on other things instead.”
She closed her eyes. Images from the past six months crowded her mind. Jack’s
laughing face. The false Hugh Turner winning her trust and confidence. Zach in the
Oxford ice cream parlor. Heath scaring her to death on a London street. Opening her
eyes on the dawn of her birthday and seeing Harry...
Escaping from hell at Eva’s side. Riding into Leblon, Ipanema, and Copacabana
with Rosângela. Bonding with the girls after a long night at Panteras. Tending to the
strangely diseased patients in the favela clinic. Walking out of that clinic and seeing
Zach, Ron, and...
Harry again, during the night they spent at the Carvalho home. The look on
Senhor Carvalho’s face when they captured the car. Waking up to a snake. Lunch
with the people of the snake. Swaying, suffering from dysentery on an Amazonian
gaiola.
Coming to terms with Sirius in Manaus. Waking up and seeing Ginny’s face,
something of the familiar, a confidant, a friend. Ron’s elegant flourish at the
Cabalistica facility party as a woman’s knickers landed on his green-spiked head. The
flash in Lenore’s eyes when she came to the rescue there, twice.
The cheers of the people of Salvador at Joseane’s words on their day of
liberation. The flash in Harry’s eyes as she danced the night away at the plaza. The
dangerous look in them when she showed up at dinner in her red dress... when he’d
kissed her as they were both soaked by the rain.
And then...
Harry’s face as they recited their deathless vows. Lena’s song, and Juliana’s

- 21 -
Paradise Lost 3
anguish. The dance with Ron, after Demetrios Solon had showed up. Storytime after
the clock struck twelve, ringing in 2013.
Ron and Zach, pitching tents every evening on the trail to Atlantis.
Demetrios, telling his age-old tales and corny jokes over bowls of turtle soup,
something none of them would ever eat again. Heath’s brash kiss, and the phantom
otherwise known as Lenore.
The strange, surreal lights of Atlantis that made one ache to just perceive them...
that left an everlasting hunger in the heart just from beholding them. The cobalt blue,
ageless eyes of the One Who Knows.
Flashes of Delilah’s defiant and proud face from visions, from sleep, from
dreams.
And now... and now...
The face of a newborn child.
Maybe you want to focus on other things instead...
“Maybe.”
“Let me tell you about a dream of mine, then. Sirius and I have long talked
about changing the way that we run the Foundation and the school. Right now, we
ask a lot of our employees, both below and at DSG. It’s quite military... Ayr is like a
base of sorts, as it’s been since the war, and everyone is there for a reason. Either
they’re working for Sirius below, or they’re working for me at the school, or they’re
a student.
“And you know, for a long time it worked. But we’d always eventually wanted
to do more on the island... the Linsenmayers are expecting their second child, and
they were torn, because they didn’t want to leave us, but they felt they might have to.
They need more room now than their tiny flat at the school, and housing options are
limited. All we have are the dormitories and the bunkers for the staff below. The only
real homes on the island are Sirius and Carole’s, and mine. But what if...”
“What if we built real homes for the staff? The Linsenmayers could stay on.”
Hermione picked up her mug again and took a sip of cold coffee. “But it couldn’t just
be housing, Harry. People won’t bring their families unless there’s a few shops...
why, you’d have to have a place for them to purchase food, to buy basic Wizarding
things... you’d want a post office... perhaps even a pub...”
“And a healer.”
“And nurseries, and some sort of school for the younger children, because most
Witches on the island are working women, and... a healer.” She looked up at her
husband. “Where do you propose we get a healer from, now?”
“Where do you think?”
Hermione knew immediately where he was going. “Certainly not. I’m on
sabbatical.”
“Well, we can get by without for the time being... it’ll take anywhere between
two to five years to get everything in place, anyway.”
“Harry Potter, I am not some village mediwitch or countryside healer. I am one
of the most brilliant medical minds on the planet.” Her chin went up. “I doubt you

- 22 -
 12. Fourteen Days
could afford me.”
He laughed at his wife’s indignation. “Indeed. You’re priceless. That is why
there’ll be a village association, to which every family would pay a fee according to
their means and their station. Medical care on our island will be free.” He chucked
her chin. “You would get paid out of the fund eventually. Of course, it would take a
good year or two before you’d see anything, but...”
Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “Harry! You’re not suggesting I work for free,
are you? Before I left England for the CDC, I was earning a salary of nearly a quarter
million Galleons a year!”
“Yes, you were, beautiful. And you were half-killing yourself to do it... what do
you need money for, anyway? A few hundred thousand Galleons isn’t worth the
stress you were putting yourself under. It doesn’t go as far as you’d think these days.
I mean, I have a million Galleons in trust for each of Arthur and Molly’s
grandchildren... Quinn is number fifteen, because Malfoy wouldn’t allow me to do it
for Hazel... and I’ve thought of increasing the amount because of inflation.”
“One million Galleons, Harry?”
“Yes. One million Galleons. When they turn twenty-five, they’ll each get that
amount from me. Rather nice to have a rich uncle, isn’t it?”
“Harry, exactly how much money do you have?”
“You know, I haven’t the slightest idea of the exact amount at the moment. Bill
keeps my books, and as soon as we’re able, we’ll give you full access to the vaults...
you can keep your own or consolidate as you like...”
“No prenuptial agreement?”
“It’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think? Everything I have is yours now.” He
shrugged. “Bill insisted upon drafting one up for Diana – I mean, Lenore – but we
didn’t marry at Christmas as planned. I married you instead.”
“Yes, and what a sensible thing that was to do,” she smiled. “So you have
enough so that giving a million Galleons away every time a Weasley is born is
nothing to you?”
“It’s just money, Hermione. It’s not life or health or anything important. When
I began to do it, the year I returned from Avalon, I didn’t think I would ever marry or
have children of my own. In my current will, everything goes to the Foundation and
to the school.
“I’ll have it rewritten, so that everything will go to you...”
Hermione placed a finger against his lips. “Please stop talking about your death.
I’ve had to deal with that thought for almost as long as I’ve known you. I cannot bear
to think of it now. If you die, then we both die. I could not remain in a world where
you are not.”
“Not even for our children?”
“I trust if we have children...”
“When we have children.”
“...when we have children, Harry, and that day comes, they will not be young,
but grandparents in their own right. I trust that those children and grandchildren

- 23 -
Paradise Lost 3
would each find a love like ours, and they would understand.”
She took his hand in hers.
“So Harry, don’t write me into your will at all. It is a waste of time, because
I won’t be here. Keep it as it is until we have children,” she finished. Daring to hope
against hope. Daring to believe.
“They would lack nothing,” Harry said with confidence. “My parents were not
the only ones that I inherited from, Hermione. The Potter family was very rich and
influential before the first war, and they were all killed fighting Grindelwald and
Voldemort. Not just my parents, but also my grandparents and other relatives.
Throughout the centuries, the wealth was always distributed amongst several
families, but when I was a child it all came to me.” He sighed. “And then, there was
the war...”
“People were grateful, Harry. They were right. You shouldn’t ever have had to
work again.”
“But I was wealthy before that. Now, it’s insane. Bill has the Midas touch... the
only two vaults he manages personally are mine and Malfoy’s, and even in this
economy we’ve both done fairly well.”
He pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes. Hermione’s fingers brushed his
forehead, smoothing the slight frown away.
“The problem is that I don’t know how to be rich, Hermione. Malfoy once
accused me of it and I fear he is right. I didn’t think about money as a child and
I don’t think about it now, except to give it away.” He looked down at her hands. “All
I know is that wealth isn’t everything. Look at how Malfoy grew up, and then recall
how little the Weasleys had. Even now, Malfoy doesn’t know what it is like to go
without... not the way that Ron and his brothers and sister do, and not the way that
I do.”
Hermione sighed. “I didn’t know it either. Not until I went to Brazil.”
“And it’s not that I would want our children to suffer any great deprivation,
Hermione. Never that. I just want them to grow up far away from the knowledge of
what we have. We could afford a huge mansion, filled with servants to do the
cooking and cleaning. We could afford nannies and live-in tutors. But I want us to
cook our own meals, do our own cleaning, and raise our own children ourselves... do
you understand?”
“I understand. And I agree, you know I do.” She grinned slyly. “I don’t think
I could abide some pretty French maid skipping about the house right under your
nose anyway. I could never, ever own a House-Elf in good conscience. Frankly,
I don’t see what Witches and Wizards need with servants anyway. We have magic to
aid with household chores.”
“Yes, and there are even some Muggle things I want our children to know. Just
in case they’re ever in a situation where they can’t use magic...”
“Such as the proper use of a fellytone?”
He laughed. “Of course. I want our son and our daughter to know how to cook,
how to clean, how to defend themselves in both worlds. And I want us to teach them

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 12. Fourteen Days
all that, not some hired servant. I don’t want them to grow up as poor little Hazel is
growing up already.”
“I don’t want that for ours either. If we’re ever able to have children...”
“When we have children,” Harry corrected.
“Right, when we have our children, I want them to have a normal life. At the
very least as normal as we can make it. I want them not to feel as if they’re living in
the glass bowl I’ve spent my entire adult life in. And I don’t want to have to check
the bushes for Rita Skeeter types every time we send them out to play...”
She gasped, seeing another reason for his plan.
“Every staffer at the Foundation and every teacher at DSG will stampede to
move their families to Ayr when they hear that the talented Dr. Granger is going to be
delivering their children and tending to their families’ aches and pains. It’s a great
plan... you get to keep doing what you love, and I get to keep you close to me.
“Better yet, these will be people we trust, people who know us and work with us
on a daily basis. They wouldn’t buy into the tabloids and the legends and all that.
They’d know us, and so would their families... and it would be a place where we
could raise our children, Hermione. Perhaps the only place in the world where raising
them to be healthy, unspoiled people would be possible.”
Hermione sighed.
“You were right about one thing. It all sounds like a dream, Harry. A beautiful
dream... and for a moment, I believed it. But in the end, it might not be feasible.”
“Yes, but one dream of mine that I thought would never come true... actually
did.”
“Did it?” she asked, twisting slightly to face him. “And what dream was that?”
“I got to see every inch of Brazil... ouch!”
Hermione withdrew her elbow from his ribs and kissed him soundly. “Too bad
you won’t be sleeping with Brazil tonight. “
“Thank the stars I’m not sleeping in Brazil tonight,” he laughed. “We’re nearly
home, Hermione. Just keep thinking of that, and we’ll make it out of whatever comes
next.”
And for a moment there in front of their best friend’s fireplace, Hermione
allowed herself a moment of stolen normalcy.
Daring to hope.
Daring to dream.

~~~
Day Three.
3 February 2013.
The next morning, Hermione awoke late. She was alone in the guest room, and
Ron was knocking on the door.
“Hermione? Up yet? Breakfast downstairs... I made a huge one.”

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Paradise Lost 3
“Come in,” she said, sitting up in Maureen’s slightly-too-large nightgown as
Ron brought in a fresh stack of linen. “How’s your wife?”
“Doing great. I brought her breakfast in bed.”
She laughed. “Really, you’d think it was the least you could do. I’m not going to
give you a medal for that, not after what she endured for your sake yesterday.”
“Just wait until your turn comes. You’ll see. It’s an ordeal for the father as well.”
“A mental ordeal, Ron?” Hermione giggled.
“Oh, come off it. Women don’t have the monopoly on the entire childbirth
process, I’ll have you know.”
“Then when I finish my longstanding research project to impregnate men, we
shall see what you’re like when the tables are turned.”
“You are a wicked, wicked Witch,” Ron said, much amused. “I don’t envy
Harry at all. In fact, I pity him.”
“Yes, he is to be pitied. I don’t deserve such a Wizard, you know.” Her smile
faded. “Where is he?”
Ron hesitated.
“He went back to Ayr, didn’t he?”
“Only to pick up a few things. Hermione, don’t look like that. He’ll be back this
afternoon. He didn’t take you with him for all the reasons he stated the other day...”
“None of which were any good.”
“`Mione, must you be so stupidly stubborn in any given situation? Harry is
trying his best to ensure your safety.”
She folded her arms. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”
Ron’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling with a groan. “Right, you asked for it. I’ll
sending in the boys.”
Before Hermione could protest, two carrot-topped streaks raced into the room,
pounced on the bed, pounced on her, nearly knocking the wind out of her chest with
childish hugs and tickling and chortling.
Soon Hermione was up and dressed. She spent most of the rest of the day sitting
and talking with Maureen, finding the other Witch to be a surprisingly good
conversationalist, and quite intelligent to boot.
She found that, in spite of herself, she actually admired Maureen’s quick wit and
sarcasm and blunt practicality.
“I don’t blame you for being put out with Harry,” she said as she fed her tiny
newborn son. “You’ll find that difficult getting used to, though. Wizards can
sometimes have this strange tendency to revert to former centuries when it comes to
their Witches. Always remind him that you’re just as powerful as he is, and you will
hex him where he stands if he tries to boss you around.”
Hermione handed Maureen a cloth so she could keep the baby’s face clean.
“I never would have thought it of Harry, though. He never was like that before... Ron
was always more overprotective of not just me, but of Ginny as well. Harry was
always very reasonable when it came to women, so I thought...”
“Yeah, and then you kept slipping away from him. Getting kidnapped twice

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 12. Fourteen Days
didn’t help matters. Very likely, Harry is going to be difficult to live with until he
convinces himself that you will be there whenever he wakes up or returns from being
away. That sort of trust takes time to rebuild, Hermione. Give him time.”
“I’m trying. But it’s dead difficult, Maureen. I have my own mind. I’m powerful
in my own right, even now that I can’t use magic.” She sighed. “I don’t think I could
ever become like you or the other Witches in our set. Witches have come too bloody
far over the centuries to give up all the gains we’ve made.”
Maureen laughed softly, almost to herself.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“You are, Hermione. Do you think any of us have given up?”
“Well...”
“Hermione, what do you think marriage is?”
“It’s a partnership of equals,” she said without hesitation.
“Very right. I’ve never heard it called a partnership of clones, though. What is
wrong with being just as equal as your husband, but doing different things than he
does? What’s wrong with a Witch raising her children and looking after her Wizard’s
needs while he provides for the family?”
“It’s so... antiquated,” Hermione said with exasperation. “Maureen, my mother
kept her dental practice until right before she died. My grandmother was a widow
who had to work to care for herself and her daughter. I could never...” she shuddered,
“I could never just sit on my arse and have a lot of babies and cook three meals a
day.”
“Really. You’ve been around my boys for the past couple of days... how much
arse-sitting do you think I can afford to do? And isn’t it very anti-Witch of you to
look down upon those of us who choose that life?”
“But so many Witches over the last few centuries have struggled so that you
wouldn’t have to stay in the kitchen. Why squander the opportunity to make the most
of yourself?”
Maureen shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Hermione. Those
Witches struggled so that we would have a choice. And Hermione, we all must
choose. Even the Witches with careers... even if the scandal hadn’t happened,
I couldn’t have continued at my former pace and raised three children without some
help. I understand that Penelope cut back her practice when they chose to adopt the
fourth of their seven, and that Liz moved to Argentina with Charlie when she was
going to continue her education to the doctoral level in dragon studies at the
university in Romania.”
“Why must it always be the Witch who makes the sacrifices?” Hermione said
tersely. “Why don’t they ever have to compromise or change?”
“Well, that’s nice and unfair. Men compromise and change just as much as we
do. Before we happen along, most Wizards think only of themselves. Even the best
of them, Hermione. They might be good and generous men, but it’s just not the same
as when he has a Witch and children. At least, if you’ve got a good one, your needs
and safety and health are his top priority.” She stroked Quinn’s cheek as he drifted

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Paradise Lost 3
off to sleep. “And you’ve got a good one, Herm-ione.”
“Yes, he tries to be, I know...”
“Not tries to be, Hermione. He is and you know it. Harry is amazing, Hermione.
He’s very likely already thinking of what you’re going to need once this is all over
with. Perhaps that’s why he went to Ayr this morning.”
Hermione remembered their conversation from the night before, of Harry’s
plans to transform Ayr into a real community. It was something she’d never
considered before he spoke to her of it.
And yet, he’d obviously turned it over and over in his mind for some time
before speaking to her about it. He’d thought of her personality and what she liked to
do best. He’d considered what any miracle children they had would need in order to
grow and thrive.
He’d found a way for her to keep doing what she loved while virtually working
from home, without having to commute hundreds of miles each day.
“You’re a very lucky Witch, Hermione,” said Maureen. “Pity you don’t know
just how lucky you are.”
She considered this as she took Maureen’s dishes to the kitchen. She thought
about it as she did the washing up, fixed the boys and Ron lunch, and washed up
again. She pondered it as Maureen, Quinn, and Artie napped and Ron took Maury
with him on an errand...
In the end, she decided that perhaps Maureen was on to something.
Since the house was now quiet, she sat down at the kitchen table and pored
through the notebooks that she’d brought along with her in the rucksack. Delilah’s
wedding jewelry was there, too, reflecting the afternoon sunlight that flooded the
kitchen.
She didn’t need the notebooks about the Inanna, at least not at the moment.
She wanted to look at the notebooks on the strange disease.
And yet... and yet not so strange, after what she’d learned in Atlantis.
If the Source was the substance that made their world magical, then perhaps it
stood to reason that anyone without it would not survive very long. She’d researched
the madness in untreated Sponge victims, had treated the maimed via the Danae
technique to reproduce Source within their own bodies.
Yet this disease was different. Instead of sucking the Source out, it was almost
as if there was another substance, a magiparticular one, that vacuumed out not only
the Source, but whatever bound it to every cell of a Witch or Wizard’s body at the
mitochondrial level.
It didn’t behave like any regular Muggle virus or bacteria. It certainly didn’t
behave like any magiparticular infection she’d ever seen before... and yet, if the
Cabalistica had come up with it and not the Old Ones, there had to be a logical
explanation.
She thought of the phenomenon of vacuuming itself. There were the vacuums
Muggles used for household cleaning, in hospitals and in laboratories.
There were vacuums in nature, such as cyclones, tornadoes, and further out in

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 12. Fourteen Days
space, black holes...
Black holes.
Antimatter.
Hermione gasped.
Why didn’t I think of it before?
She jumped up blindly, wanting to tell someone, She jumped up blindly,
wanting to tell someone, anyone about her Sudden Thought.
Yet Ron was gone, Maureen was asleep, and Harry was...
Right here.
Hermione turned around and there he was. And she flew into his arms
gratefully, happy at last to have someone to talk to.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting this sort of welcome,” he said, stroking the small of
her back.
“Harry, Harry, I have the most exciting news! I think I know exactly what the
plague is, how the Cabalistica came up with it, and how to stop it from spreading... of
course, I’ll have to talk with Neville and Simon first... and perhaps with Heath and
Lenore, although who knows which mirror they took... but I feel fairly sure that Zach
is here... oh, darling, aren’t you pleased?”
Harry nodded. “I am. Here, we can talk about it in a few minutes... I’ve brought
someone along to see you.”
Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder.
And looked into her father’s brown eyes.
“Dad!” she said, nearly knocking him flat. “Oh, Dad, it’s so good to see you!”
Ted Granger chuckled, clapping his hands on his daughter’s back. “How are
you, Hermione?”
“I’m wonderful... how has your stay on the island been?”
“Quite pleasant indeed, especially since I had word that you were well.” He
shook his head at her. “Well enough to get hitched without your dear old dad’s
knowledge, or so I hear.”
Hermione blushed. “Dad, I’m sorry. I did think of you, really, it was just that...”
“Don’t apologize. Your husband here has already done it for you, and even
asked for your hand all over again.” Ted glanced at Harry, chuckling, shaking his
head as if the younger man were insane. “He’s got this odd notion of marrying you
again in a few months the Wizarding way... silly waste, I think, as you’ve already
done the deed... but as he insists on my presence, then...”
She wrinkled her nose. “I thought you didn’t like Harry.”
“Well, I didn’t,” said Ted Granger firmly, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs
and settling into it comfortably. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you and then did
absolutely nothing about it. Felt like, ‘what, is my daughter not good enough for
you?’ Just let a bloke you liked as a friend waltz right in under his nose... lost quite a
bit of respect for him there, even if it endeared him to your mother. She always
thought he was the kindest and nicest boy,” his voice turned severe as he glared at
Harry, “and she said that someday he’d set it right.

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Paradise Lost 3
“But... I’d say that dropping everything and going after you in Brazil more than
makes up for the errors of his youth,” Ted continued to opine, beaming at Harry as he
reached for Maureen’s cookie jar. “For once when it came to you, he showed some
bloody initiative... and you need a strong-minded man, Hermione Anne, as you’re my
daughter. I thought he was too weak-kneed to handle you, as you’d walk all over
him. Turns out I was wrong!” He reached up to clap Harry on the back, chuckling.
“Perhaps now you’ll give me some grandchildren, eh? I’m not getting any younger...
sixty-eight next month, you know...”
Hermione sighed heavily, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Dad, are you ever satisfied?”
The tea biscuit that Ted was holding dropped out of his hand. “What?”
“I mean, I don’t think that even grandchildren will make you happy.
Not when going to two different medical schools didn’t. Not when working in
three different specialties in both my world and yours didn’t. Not even when I was
the youngest doctor in the history of the Centers for Disease Control to ace the SIS
exams. So no, once you have your grandchildren you’ll only think of something else
that stands between me and perfection.”
Ted frowned. “Hermione, really... you honestly believe I expect you to be
perfect?”
“I don’t think it, Dad. I know it.”
“Never, dear. I... I know I was demanding, especially when we learned that your
mother could have no more children after you. It’s not because I wanted you to be
perfect. It’s because I wanted you to be better than I was. You know I failed my
medical school exams, Hermione, had to beg my way back into the dental course at
Magdalen...”
“I know. And you hated failure so much that you couldn’t bear the thought of
me failing at anything. I thought that if I failed, I... I thought you wouldn’t love me
anymore. That I wouldn’t be a true Granger or your daughter.” She felt Harry’s hands
upon her shoulders, massaging, calming, soothing. “That’s always been my fear,
Dad.”
Ted replaced the lid back on the cookie jar. “Hermione, did you think that
I could ever stop caring about you?”
“Of course.”
“You never thought that about your mother, though.”
“No.”
“I love you just as much as your mother did. How can you say...”
“Never once, Dad, have you ever said that you were proud of me. You’ve never
said ‘well done’, no matter how hard I tried to please you. You give me that stiff nod,
that even stiffer peck on the cheek, or there’s no acknowledgment at all.”
“I’m not comfortable with that sort of thing, Hermione. You don’t understand.
I wasn’t brought up like your mum. My parents were very strict and that sort of thing
was not done in my home...”
“Dad, that’s not an excuse. Children need to be reassured most of all, not

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 12. Fourteen Days
criticized.” She closed the notebook in front of her. “I think that I might have found
the cure for a terrible disease that’s spreading across the magical world, Dad. Will
that finally make you proud enough to say it?”
Ted just stared at her.
“No, I suppose not.”
She stood up, brushing her husband aside, and walked out of the room. Tears
blinding her. She hadn’t managed to make it out of the dining nook when she felt
strong arms around her.
Not her husband’s arms.
“You are my pride and my joy, princess,” Ted said, his voice breaking. “When
I thought you might be dead this autumn... dead along with your dear mother,
I just...”
Hermione held close as great sobs racked her father’s body.
“I didn’t want to have to bury you alongside Caroline. You have her face,
Hermione... but it’s not just her looks. You have her sweetness, and her grace, and her
love for other people. She was the light in the darkness and now she’s gone from me
forever.”
“She’s not gone from us completely, Dad. You’ve just said it. I have her face.
I have her face and her and personality... but I also have your hair and your eyes,
your intellect and your stubborn, bossy streak. I’ve got the best of you both, Dad, and
she lives on in me.
As you will.”

~~~
Delilah now found it difficult to sleep while visiting Babel. With each passing
visit, the atmosphere around the palace seemed more stifling, nothing like the
wondrous visits of her youth.
King Nimrod was beginning to look old and haggard. Often when Delilah found
him, he’d passed out from drink. Queen Semiramis would stare at her, hard, but look
away when Delilah met her steady gaze.
And Prince Dumuzi... the way that Dumuzi touched her when they passed in a
corridor... the things he whispered in her ear when he thought no one else could
hear...
Delilah forced herself to block out all thoughts of Dumuzi when she was around
her husband. Enki would murder the man where he stood if he ever looked into her
mind and saw.
Her sister no longer seemed like the same girl she’d grown up with.
Nidaba would speak in low and confessional tones to Semiramis, and both
women would look at Delilah and cackle.
The last time Delilah left Babel, she took Tammuz with her. Enki seemed to
enjoy the child greatly, hoisting him up to his broad shoulders and showing him

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Paradise Lost 3
every corner of their vast and sprawling lands. Yet seeing her immortal beloved with
the boy made her regret what she had not yet been able to give him...
Even now, ten years into their otherwise happy marriage. False alarm after false
alarm, and two very traumatic miscarriages had caused Delilah to sorrow greatly.
This last time, Enki had tried to convince her not to go to Babel.
“We can send Tammuz back, my own. There is no need for you to return.”
“I wish to see my sister,” Delilah replied simply, pacing back and forth in the
garden at the back of the palace. “Going would please me greatly.”
“Going upsets you. You try to hide it from me, but I know your heart. Your
sister and the mother of her husband are stretching for knowledge that is too high for
them to attain. Such presumption angers the gods.”
“I do not think it fair for the gods to control the lives of mortals simply because
they are not mortal,” Delilah returned sharply.
“Your discontent is caused by your distress over the change in your sister,
Delilah. Please do not blame me for being immortal. It is not something that I can
help, yet it is something that you have always resented me for.”
“I do not resent you for it, husband. I only question why such a gift was placed
in the hands of one such as yourself, who uses his power to indulge his lusts rather
than to aid mankind!”
Enki frowned at her.
“My Delilah, you are angry, but you are not angry at me. Your words are meant
for others.” He took a step towards her. “My heart is filled with naught but love for
you, and you look at me with such fear and dismay. It was not always so, my wife.
What has happened?”
She gasped, closing the distance between the two of them.
“Nothing has happened,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I only
wish to see Nidaba, and Tammuz must return.”
“This I know. Nevertheless, something about this journey distresses me, wife.
I do not feel as if you are safe in Babel.”
“You are a god. Can you not tell me the source of your premonition, so that
I may take care and watch over myself?”
“It is my task to care for and watch over you,” he replied. “And although I am
immortal, my power is limited. I cannot search the hearts and minds of the people of
Babel from this distance.” He let out a breath, which fanned the flowers with a cool
breeze. “Perhaps it is best that I do not. I fear for your sake what I might find.”
“Enki, why do you always think the worst of mortals?”
“The race of man is weak, my own, and since the sinking of these lands has
grown even weaker. This weakness is manifest in Babel. A stench rises from
Sumeria, and the gods have turned their backs upon all the Land Between the
Rivers.”
“Even so, husband, my sister needs me.”
“Yes,” said Enki thoughtfully. “Perhaps she does. But Delilah, this visit to Babel
will be your last. Nidaba and Tammuz may visit you here. I cannot continue to

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 12. Fourteen Days
compromise your safety and health.”
“Enki, you cannot keep me captive here!”
“You are hardly held captive. There are many of the Thousand Worlds and many
corners of the Earth that you have not seen because of your constant travels to Babel.
We shall see them together, and when my duties confine me to Atlantis, you shall
journey all you like on your own.” He held her in his eyes, in his heart. “Do not defy
me in this, Delilah. I will not allow your sister’s Demons in Babel to be your
demise.”
She’d agreed.
Now that she’d been here for a few days, the peace and tranquility of Atlantis
that she’d kept to guard her mind as a shield had begun to dissipate. Delilah now felt
very much a part of Babel. Her very soul sorrowed within her, and she paced the
halls of the palace instead of sleeping.
This night, however, she had company. She saw his shadow before she saw him.
“Prince Dumuzi,” she greeted her brother-in-law formally. “Does your sleep
trouble you?”
His eyes burned with unnatural fire.
“What troubles me is before me.”
Delilah turned around. Of course, he had backed her into a secluded corner of
the hallway, where there was no escape save for a high window.
She turned back. Dumuzi was now only inches away, and Delilah could smell
the rank millet beer on his breath...
And Delilah knew that there would be no happy ending for her on this night.

~~~
Hermione opened her eyes and sat up in bed slowly. She knew she would not
sleep again that night.
An impossible task was set before her. The weight of the world seemed to press
down on her. Everything over the next few days was so very dependent upon her...
her cunning, her will, her intuition and resolve.
She would have to get a message to Simon, try to get him to set
MMRI conditions to manufacture the cure for the wasting disease.
She would have to bind and kill the Dark One, that she-Demon that had been
unleashed from the abyss through Sebastian’s craven greed.
She would have to solve the puzzle of Atlantis, if her magic and her womb were
to be restored to her.
It was all up to her.
She looked down at her sleeping husband.
“Harry,” she whispered. “I never knew. I truly didn’t.”
But Harry slept on. For once, his rest was untroubled.

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Paradise Lost 3
Day Four.
4 February 2013.
In the morning, Hermione, thanks to a quick draught of Polyjuice and one of
Maureen’s hairs, accompanied Bill Weasley to St. Mungo’s in order to speak with
Neville.
She found her old friend on the second of three floors at the hospital now
dedicated to victims of the strange plague. He was hovered over the bed of a Witch
so wasted that her skeleton appeared to be floating in a stretched-out bag of mottled
skin.
Poor Neville seemed absolutely exhausted.
He looked up at Bill, then the woman whom he thought was Maureen, standing
at a distance and wearing protective robes.
“Haven’t seen anything this bad,” he mumbled. “Not since the Sponge.”
“This is worse, Neville,” Hermione-as-Maureen said. “The Sponge was not a
communicable disease. If something is not done, eventually it will mutate, and no
charmed cloth on earth will stop you from getting it.”
At first, Neville glared at her. What did Maureen Weasley know about
epidemiology?
But there was something about her speech and tone...
“Hermione?” he asked, half unwilling to believe that his partner in healing was
there.
“Yes, of course it’s me, silly,” she said with a warm grin.
Neville tried to contain his excitement. “Where’s your wand? We can certainly
use your help... every mediWizard from Britain to Bhutan is up to his broomstick in
cases...”
She shook her head. “I can’t use magic anymore, not unless Harry’s near,” she
said quietly. In a few brief sentences, she gave him the dictionary-entry version of
how much her life had changed over the past half year.
“That’s quite the odd story,” Neville said after she was done. “Can’t say I’m
surprised, though. You and Harry and Ron always seem to end up as the subject of
odd stories. Wizarding world would be a lot more boring without you lot.”
“Well, the Wizarding world won’t be without me again, not as long as I have
any say in the matter,” she said, approaching the patient’s bedside. “Perhaps I can’t
wield a wand any longer, Neville, but perhaps I have some other skills that can be of
use here.”
She turned back to Bill.
“Tell Harry I’ll be a while. I have work to do here before we leave for Brazil.”

Day Six.
6 February 2013.
Hermione left Britain two nights later, reluctantly, but with the sense that she’d
done all she could for the time being about the epidemic. Thanks to an intense
twenty-four hours working side by side, Neville now knew everything she knew

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 12. Fourteen Days
about the disease’s origins, symptoms, course, and what she suspected might be the
obvious yet effective cure. Neville now had Simon working on the problem at the
MMRI, and had sent owls around the world suggesting a new course of temporary
treatment.
Nothing would help, though, unless either Simon fabricated anti-Source or
Hermione figured out where she could get it...
She and Harry were sitting in first class on a direct flight to Rio.
Elsewhere on the same plane sat Lenore Raven and Heath Canyon, who were in
coach. They’d chatted briefly in the airport before boarding and finding their seats.
Thanks to their Foundation contacts, they’d touched bases with Eva for the first
time since the harrowing trip to Atlantis. She was doing well, so was the baby, and
Zach had found her and was with her. They’d found a nondescript motel room in an
obscure quarter of the city and were doing their best to keep a low profile. Eva’s
message stated that she had a surprise for them once they arrived... and promised a
viable plan.
“I don’t like leaving this much to chance,” Harry had told Hermione the night
before. “Eva’s proven her worth, but how much experience does she have planning a
stealth operation?”
“She’s a kid from the streets of the favela,” Hermione had answered, thinking of
her friend. “She might not have saved the world before, but she knows her city as
well as she knows her own fingerprints. If we’re to take out the Dark One, we need
her help and her advice.”
Now, Hermione said “we”. In truth, however, she had no intention of allowing
her beloved husband anywhere near that she-Demon. She could not get the image of
Harry’s limb being sliced off out of her mind... along with the fact that it could have
very well been his head.
Besides, the Atlanteans might not come to their rescue this time... and what
then?
No mere mortal or demigod could resurrect the dead. Not even them.
So, that was that. Harry was not going to face that creature a second time. Not if
she could help it.
She’d play along for now. But when the time came, she’d face the Dark One
alone. And she would defeat it. She was sure of that.
What she wasn’t sure of was whether or not she’d live through the process.
Hermione had to be very careful to guard her thoughts from Harry.
She knew that if he even suspected her plans, he would try to stop her...
And what if she pulled it off? What then?
Even if I can’t spend the rest of my life with Harry, at least I’ve had these few
months. And what wonderful months they’ve been...
She turned away from the shuttered window to look at her husband, who was
reading a Muggle newspaper he’d picked up from Heathrow. As it was night, most of
the plane was dark and quiet. Harry’s was one of the few lights illuminating the
place.

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Paradise Lost 3
“Anything lurid?” she asked, resting her head gently on his chest.
Harry folded his paper and put it away. His arms encircled her completely as he
kissed the top of her head. “Typical Muggle problems, most of which could be solved
if they had leadership with half a brain. No wonder you ran to their world.”
“It didn’t work, you know.”
“No. It’s their world. Not ours. We didn’t fit even as children.”
Hermione grinned. “I plan to fit in during Carnival. I’ve always wanted to go,
you know... I’ve been to MardI Gras, and you could walk down Bourbon Street in
full Hogwarts uniform and not attract so much as a second glance.”
“Wouldn’t work at Carnival. Too many clothes.”
“Yes, you’re right. And unfortunately, there’s no easy way to abbreviate
European Wizarding dress.” She ran her hand slowly over his t-shirt covered chest.
“I wonder what it’s like?”
“You’ll see,” he said, capturing her hand in his to bring it to his lips. “They say
that the women look like these exotic colorful birds in their feathered costumes.
There’s nothing quite like the parades, either... all the samba schools competing, and
the elegant balls... there are millions and millions of people dancing in the streets for
days on end...”
“What an ideal place for the Dark One to wreak havoc,” sighed Hermione.
Harry looked at her for the first time since the conversation had started. He
folded the paper and put it aside.
“You’re not worried, are you?”
“Worry? Who, me? Worry is for amateurs... you made sure I was a professional
long ago.”
“You give me far too much credit, love...”
They shared a series of deepening, lengthening kisses then, each one more
searing than the one before. Their hands began to roam beneath the thin airline
blankets.
“How much longer until we get there?” he asked her finally.
“About six hours.”
“And then...”
“And then we go straight to Eva and Zach. After that, who knows.”
Harry pressed his lips against her ear, and said something that was between a
whisper and a growl, something that made her laugh.
“You’d have to sedate everyone in the cabin, including the flight attendants,
before I would agree to that... and even then, the pilot might start walking around.”
“As if that’s a problem. He wouldn’t see anything, not if I...”
“Harry.”
Their eyes locked. His were questioning. Hers, twinkling as if she knew a great
secret.
They said it at the same time.
“Toilet.”
Hermione went first. Harry followed a few minutes later.

- 36 -
 12. Fourteen Days
And within the hour, the Potters had both obtained membership in the very
prestigious Mile High Club.

Day Seven.
7 February 2013.
Zach and Eva were set up in a motel room that wasn’t nearly as shabby or dirty
as Hermione had expected from its general surroundings. It was, however, very
small, and became positively cramped once Harry, Hermione, Heath, and Lenore
arrived.
“We’re still waiting for the Knight twins,” Zach told them, getting bottled water
for everyone. “They should be arriving at any moment to give their report before
they return to the station... how about Starling?”
“We thought he’d be here by now,” Harry said. “At least, that was the
impression I got from our last conference back home.”
Hermione frowned. “I do hope he’s all right.”
The Knight twins did arrive shortly thereafter. After introductions were made,
the small group stalled as long as they could, chattering animatedly about their
separate journeys. Something that Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on had
changed between Zach and Eva, and now they were determined to marry as soon as
possible.
“No double wedding, Hermione,” Zach said, holding sleeping baby Daniel
close. “I’m not waiting until you two have your huge affair half a world away.”
“For all that I’m not sure that our reception will be very huge,” protested
Hermione. “We’re already married, and we don’t have very many close friends...”
“Hermione, it can’t help but be huge,” Lenore said, laughing.
“All the more reason to hold it on Ayr.”
“Sirius and Harry’s staff aren’t above doubling as amateur paparazzi.
Remember, I worked with these people for a few years. They’re good people, but
they’re still a bit in awe of Harry’s celebrity status.”
Harry waved it off. “A small ceremony is what we have in mind, with a few of
our good friends... nothing spectacular. And only really for the sake of Hermione’s
dad. As she says, we’re already married.”
The small talk continued, but with each passing hour, grew more hesitant. While
Lenore knew generalities about the Cabalistica’s plans, she had left her covert
position well before things at the Dark Arts über-organization were finalized. Gareth
Starling was supposed to give them the exact positioning of Ereshkigal when the next
phase of terror was unleashed. They needed him to make best use of the Knight
twins’ information about the movement of Dark Wizards and creatures, needed him
before they even heard Eva’s plan...
A syncopated knock sounded on the door. Eva sprang to the door, Harry and
Heath giving her cover.
It was Gareth Starling. He walked into the motel room, taking in his
surroundings.

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Paradise Lost 3
“Close the door,” he snapped at Eva. He seemed to be impatient for some odd
reason.
Eva shrugged, and shut the door. It was then that everyone noticed the stench.
Five wands were drawn and trained on the Texan, whose leather cloak swirled
around him despite the lack of draft.
“You are wasting your magic,” he grated out in that same strange voice. “He is
already dead.”
Hermione sprang up and stood before the circle of drawn wands.
“So are you, Ereshkigal. You died the moment you killed your sister. You would
do well to stay far away from those under our protection.”
Gareth’s sightless eyes began to glow blood red.
“Quite the contrary, sister dear... or should I say, Inanna Haurvatat.” Hermione
dropped to the floor like a stone, and the lifeless Gareth began to laugh and laugh.
“Yes, I do believe our next meeting will be much more interesting... come quickly,
my sister, and embrace me... embrace death.”
There were five different shouted curses as both Eva and Harry rushed to
Hermione’s side. But it was too late. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left
of Gareth or his unearthly possessor save for a mangled, battered corpse.
Hermione came to and sat up quickly, shaking off her friend and her husband.
“How terrible for Gareth,” she moaned, regaining her bearings, rushing to check
for a pulse she knew would be nonexistent. “As soon as this is over, I want to go to
Monica.”
“Our side has lost one of our best people,” Harry said grimly. “Not to mention
the fact that Sirius and I have lost a great friend. If the Dark One has gained this
much power already...”
“That’s because she knows my name, Harry. She used Gareth’s eyes to look into
mine. She just snatched it out of me...”
“I thought you did not know it,” said Eva.
“It came back to me in Atlantis,” Hermione said. “She spoke to me... and as she
was speaking, I knew. My grandmother named me for our ancestress, and for one of
her later incarnations that was worshipped, the Healer. That is my secret name, my
hidden name. It makes it far easier for the Dark One to murder me now.”
“It makes your murder an inevitability,” Heath corrected. “This is exactly what
I meant...”
“What do you mean, it’s inevitable?” Harry snapped, still visibly upset over
Gareth’s demise.
“There is no way that Hermione can face the Demon. The second that she faces
Ereshkigal, the Dark One will use her name to bind her, and then slice her into
bloody ribbons with a single thought. Or use the Squib who hates her so much to kill
her. There is nothing that can be done.”
“Not to mention the fact that the Cabalistica plans to unleash the plague in
earnest here, at MardI Gras, and at other `fat Tuesday’ celebrations around the
world,” said Guy Knight. “They realize that many Wizards enjoy this type of

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 12. Fourteen Days
celebration, and will attend, letting their guard down. If they are not stopped, then
everything... our mission, Hermione’s sacrifice, and all of our lives... are in vain.”
Hermione stood up and pulled the sheet from the motel room bed. She walked
over to Gareth’s lifeless corpse and draped it.
“Perhaps I’m being an overconfident fool, but I’m not quite ready to sign my
death warrant. Perhaps Ereshkigal does know my name, but there is something not
right about her... something that is a weakness.”
“What?” Lenore asked. “If she’s just jumping into our operatives’ skin at will,
then what...”
“I’m not sure what it is. However, I know exactly who knows.”
They all stared at her.
“Isn’t it obvious? Delilah, of course.”

~~~
One thing was certain, thought Delilah desperately, as she washed the stink of
her brother-in-law from her trembling and bruised body during the final watch of the
night.
Her marriage to Enki was over.
She’d fought, to be sure, and was almost certain she’d done extensive damage to
Dumuzi’s right eye and his left ear.
That did not change the situation, however.
She could never return to Atlantis again.
If she returned home, Enki would know what happened. There was nothing she
could hide from him for long. And the violence of what Prince Dumuzi had done to
her... she couldn’t block it from her mind.
A small voice also castigated her, chided her for so foolishly walking the palace
chambers at night instead of remaining behind her bolted bedroom door. Would
Enki believe that she had fought for her honour and his? Would he want her, now that
Dumuzi had defiled their marriage bed?
Exhausted, sick at heart, she at last collapsed into a terrible sleep filled with
nightmares, still half-submerged in the shallow bronze basin located in her
bedchamber.
She did not hear the door that she had not bothered to bolt in her grief open with
a creak. She did not hear the footsteps scurry over towards her bath.
She did awake as the garrotte cut into her slender neck.
“You will die tonight, Delilah,” hissed Nidaba into her ear, as she gasped for
breath. “You had to have them both. They burned with lust for you. You stole the one
that I had chosen for myself. You seduced my lord and my prince in my own home.
You deserve to be cast into the underworld... now!”
Delilah began to give in. The violation of the night had made her want to die.
Surely Nidaba could give her sweet release after all.

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Paradise Lost 3
After all, they were sisters... Nidaba would at long last have her revenge, and
Delilah would get to rest with her foremothers...
Then something within Delilah changed.
With a final reserve of strength, her hand flew out of the water and began to
twist Nidaba’s slender and delicate wrist. She twisted, ignoring her own impending
death, twisted until the hemp fiber garrotte fell from Nidaba’s hand.
Nidaba began to scream, but Delilah’s hand covered her mouth. With this,
Nidaba lost her balance and fell face first into the large washbasin.
Delilah made sure she stayed there.
Her anger knew no bounds. She had not asked for her lot in life.
She had not asked to be seduced by a god. She had not asked to be born a
priestess nor wedded to a prince. She had not asked to be barren and childless. She
had not asked for a brother-in-law filled with lust, and she had certainly not asked for
a sister craven with jealousy.
So Delilah of Ur committed sorocide, without the least twinge of conscience or
mercy. It was a vicious murder, a crime of passion.
She held Nidaba in the basin long after the last desperate air bubble broke the
surface.
Until the realization of what she had just done hit her.
And she screamed, screamed her grief and horror and remorse, screamed until
the whole of the palace, of the realms of Babel, of the Thousand Worlds awakened.
“Nidaba! Nidaba, my sister! What have I done?”

~~~
Hermione held her face in her hands.
No wonder Ereshkigal wants me dead. It must infuriate her that any trace of the
older sister who took everything she cared for, then murdered her, still walks the face
of the earth.
Her face twisted into a frown.
I should have known that the act that created her was absolutely vile...
She had the vision at dusk, just as they were giving Gareth a quick funeral on
the same spot where they’d interred Eva’s mother three months before. As Gareth’s
ashes fell onto the soil, she’d seen exactly what her ancestress had done.
Her bloodline was founded by a murderess. And not just murder in self-defense,
either. Hermione had seen it all, seen the pleasure Delilah had taken in the demise of
the jealous younger sister who hated her so...
Do you judge me as well, my daughter?
Hermione tried to block the now-familiar voice from her mind. Leave me alone.
You need me to defeat her.
I don’t need a bloody murderer helping me. No, thanks.
Daughter, need I remind you of the fact that you only very recently learned how

- 40 -
 12. Fourteen Days
to maim and kill. The name that my child Helen chose for you was most apt. My own
name, that of the very Queen of Heaven, along with the name of the goddess of
healing.
Don’t change the subject. I never had a sister. You killed yours.
And yet you must learn to embrace all of me, Hermione. If you are to defeat her,
you must embrace all of me.
Hermione held up a hand to her head and turned back to the others.
All were still staring sadly at the funeral pyre, all save for Harry, who was
making his way towards her...
Merlin, she loved the way he looked at her. And yet, would he look at her the
same way if she’d committed the despicable deed that Delilah had done?
He pulled her into his arms. Their foreheads touched.
“I’ll be glad when this is over,” he said.
She sighed. “I realize he was a friend of yours, darling.”
“Yes, he was. But there’s so much going on right now. We’ll notify Monica and
have a proper memorial for him later.”
“Won’t Monica hate us for not telling her immediately?”
He shook his head slowly. “Monica is the wife of one of the best intelliWizards
in the history of the Confederation. She is as prepared for this as you would have
been had I died fighting Voldemort.”
“In that case, she isn’t prepared at all... oh, Harry, aren’t you ever afraid?”
The look on her face cut him to the heart. “I don’t know how not to be, love,” he
said quietly. “I’ve learned to master my fears, but I’ve not yet learned how to
Disapparate them away.”
“I’m frightened, too,” Hermione whispered. “Harry, I’m so afraid that we’re not
going to have the future you’re planning for us... I just can’t see myself...”
“Hermione, don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“I’m just being realistic...”
He pulled her closer, so close that every inch of them possible was pressed
together. The gesture was almost desperate, as if Harry felt that easing up would
cause her to disappear.
“Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. Because if you don’t believe, love, then we
will fail.”
She blinked.
“Just giving you back some of the words you gave me, long ago in Tartarus.”
“I don’t think I called you `love’ back then, though,” she said, forcing a smile,
forcing her fears back into the deepest recesses of her mind. “And you wouldn’t have
used that term with me, either.”
“But you were, though. You were... even when I didn’t realize it.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tight.

~~~
- 41 -
Paradise Lost 3
Day Eight.
8 February 2013.
Simon Branford rubbed his eyes. A half-eaten tomato sandwich rested next to
his plate, along with a Fizzing Whizzbee. Two broken quill nibs swam in a rather
large ink spot on the table before him, along with several dozen parchments.
His owl fluttered in through the open window. Rubbing red eyes, he retrieved
the package from Gertrude’s leg and opened it. It was from his wife Cassandra –
twenty-four hours’ worth of provisions. Thanking Gertrude with an owl treat that was
dusty with pencil lead, he turned back to the problem ahead.
Figuring out the formula for anti-Source was lonely work. In all the Wizarding
world, there were only three minds brilliant enough to assist Simon in this
monumental task. But Neville Longbottom was keeping the worldwide public health
situation from an upgrade to pandemic by sheer force of will, Draco Malfoy was
doing the same with the economy, and Hermione Granger...
No, not Granger. She was Potter now. Harry himself had visited the MMRI three
days ago with the daily ration of Cassandra’s sandwiches, a long and detailed letter
from Hermione, and a task for him.
“Can you do it?”
Simon knew the answer immediately after scanning Hermione’s letter.
He wanted to tell Harry that it could not be done, that what Hermione was
asking Simon to do defied all laws of magic and physics and common sense.
Anti-magic in powder form?
No, it couldn’t be done. It was like asking him to bottle up the fountain of
youth...
He looked at the man he’d admired from afar since he was a young kid, looked
at the stubble on his chin and the circles beneath his eyes.
“Yes.”
And he meant it. Either he would conjure up a cure for the virus that was
spreading all over the Wizarding world, or he would die right there in his lab. He
would not go home until the task was completed.
His wife understood this. Cassandra Claire Branford, once the editor of the
Daily Prophet, ran the communications department of the Confederation. She knew
all about the dire nature of the worldwide situation, and her prudence in handling the
deluge of crisis owls had stopped widespread panic. From Tir Na N’Og, she sent
briefs to the magical governments of the world, watered-down releases to the
Wizarding press, and tomato sandwiches to the Emerald City.
Simon knew that he was not alone. Everyone in their crowd was working
overtime in their various spheres of influence in a desperate attempt to hold the world
together. Those who were in healing and medicine slept two hours for every twenty-
four on cots at the various hospitals. Those who owned businesses were extending
credit to the families of diseased victims, sending provisions to the hospitals, and
even clearing space in their shops for makeshift hospices.
And those at the top knew no rest, either.

- 42 -
 12. Fourteen Days
For within the past week, some of their number had become infected
themselves.
The first one of the war heroes to come down with the disease amongst their
friends was Parvati Patil, living with her new husband in a country where precautions
against the epidemic had not been taken.
The news of Parvati’s death had only come three days before, just after Harry
had left. While the young lab assistants gossiped about a woman they only knew
from their history books and the press, Simon went to the storeroom on the pretext of
needing to check for dung beetle shells... and cried.
Yesterday, he’d been informed that several more of their friends had become ill.
Apparently, Blaise ZabinI had been unknowingly infected.
This would not have been a problem, but his wife had insisted he leave the
hospital for a moment to attend a benefit that Ginny Malfoy was hosting at the
Tolkien Hotel to raise money for the victims.
Mrs. ZabinI thought a change of scenery was just what her overworked husband
needed...
Blaise had been rushed back to St. Mungo’s before dessert. This time, as a
patient.
Before the morning, Seamus and Lavender Finnegan, Dean and Eleanor
Thomas, and Arthur Weasley had all been admitted as well. That was in this
morning’s headlines. The disease had attacked even the highest in their world, and
just within a few short days. Despite Neville’s valiant efforts, the epidemic was
spreading beyond his control.
Simon did not sleep. Even now, at ten o’ clock, long after he’d sent the
assistants home to their families, he kept reading and experimenting and thinking. He
knew that Neville was counting on him, knew too that Hermione Granger... no,
Potter, Potter... was somewhere with Harry Potter and perhaps Ron Weasley, doing
something, anything, to stop the cause of this terrible plague.
All that Harry had asked of him was to manufacture the cure.
And he would. He definitely would.
The door to the lab slid open. Simon didn’t look up.
“Evelyn, put those scrolls over there...”
When there was no response, he turned around. Ginny Malfoy and Angelina
Weasley walked into the lab. Angelina was carrying a package.
“How goes it, Simon?” Ginny asked. Her usual smile was absent from her
uncharacteristically ashen face.
“Good, thanks,” he lied.
“You look like you haven’t seen the business end of a Soaping Charm for a
year,” Angelina joked. She did not grin, either.
“So how close are you?” Ginny wanted to know.
“Any moment now.”
“Any moment now is a vague time frame, wouldn’t you say? Could be within
the hour, could be next Christmas... which one?” Angelina pressed, ever the reporter.

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Paradise Lost 3
Simon could no longer look at them.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Silence.
“I couldn’t figure it out. Even after Danae. I don’t know what else to tell you...
perhaps if Hermione were here... I’m sorry.”
“Simon,” Angelina said, “look at us.”
Although he did not want to, he did. He look at them... and instead of despair,
he saw hope.
“I have a small bit of the antidote in this package,” Angelina said. “I had no idea
what it was when my sister gave it to me years ago. It’s been in a Gringotts vault all
this time. Just before she died, she came to my husband and told me that there was
something I needed to give to Hermione right away. Simon, this is the antidote, and
perhaps the last of it in the world.”
Simon took the package, opened it... and his eyes widened. He would have to
run tests, but...
“How did your sister get this, Angelina? When not even Hermione had the
actual...”
“My sister was Diane Johnson Riordan. Wife to the Minister of Magic, and head
of the Cabalistica before she was killed.”
“They told you she was dead?”
“They didn’t have to. They sent a bone knife, covered in her blood, to my
mother in a little box. Diane told Mother long ago what that meant... listen, Simon,
we don’t have time for my sad stories. You have to find out what this is, and make as
much of it as you can.”
Simon stared at the contents of the package. Ginny came to sit next to him, and
her perfume stole up to his nose, filling his senses, evoking a memory from a few
years back when they had dated for a brief moment when she was apart from Draco.
It seemed like a million years ago.
“Simon,” she said softly, “it’s my dad.”
He swallowed.
“They’re finally giving this some press because it’s him, Order emeritus and all
that. But Dad is everything to us... has always been. When we didn’t have anything
but each other, Dad was to us what we’ve been to our world. My family’s done so
much to save this world time and again... now, we need you to save us.”
“Gin, I can’t make promises like that. If I should fail...”
“Fail? Simon, you were the first student in Hogwarts history to make
Outstanding on all your NEWTs,” Angelina pointed out. “Even Hermione didn’t do
that well.”
“Yes, I know. I hear she was indisposed during her seventh year,” Simon said,
trying to lighten the mood.
Ginny planted a kiss on his cheek.
“You won’t fail.”

- 44 -
 12. Fourteen Days

~~~
Eva’s contact agreed to meet with them at the crack of dawn on Thursday
morning. Her office was on busy Avenida Presidente Vargas, a bus ride and a brisk
walk from the cramped motel.
They did not bother with disguises. The Cabalistica knew they were there, knew
what they had come to find. And other than the Dark One’s score with Hermione,
they weren’t obviously wasting energy with ambushes or traps.
Why would the Dark Side bother, when if all went according to plan, all that
was good in magic would be dead by next Wednesday?
It was the start of rush hour, but the crowd was not quite as heavy as usual due
to the summer holidays and the start of Carnival. Eva served as their navigator and
was quiet most of the way... but when they approached a rather large church in the
distance, she stopped for a moment, crossed herself and murmured something to
herself.
“What is it?” asked Hermione, who was walking alongside Harry immediately
behind Eva. “What’s wrong?”
“Igregia Candelaria,” she said quietly. “Very famous church.”
“You never told her the story?” Zach asked Eva, lacing his fingers through hers.
To Hermione, he said, “Candelaria was the site of a brutal massacre of street urchins
by the soldiers the day before Eva was born. Her mother witnessed the aftermath of it
as she was making her way home from work, just before she went into labor...”
“Zach, no,” Eva whispered.
“It’s all right, Eva,” Hermione said. “I read about the Candelaria debacle in
Mum’s Oxfam mailings. Disgusting, really... that people would murder starving and
desperate orphans because they are an inconvenience.”
Eva turned around and regarded Hermione.
“To you, it is a sad story from somewhere far away. To me, it is life. When this
is all over, you and Harry will go back to your home, where such things do not
happen. But this is my home. And there is such a need here...”
“You don’t have to stay here any longer,” Harry said. “Of course we want you
and Zach to join us in Scotland... in fact, Zach’s technically on leave from DSG, and
after his apprenticeship is over...”
“Harry, we can’t,” Zach said. “Our place is here.”
“There is such need here,” Eva repeated as they began to walk again. “Now that
Minister Jobim is in power, those of us not of pure blood can use magic to do
something for these children.”
As Zach and Eva began to chat about their idea for a South American version of
DSG and the Foundation, Hermione kept her own counsel.
Eva’s words stung her almost as much as Juliana’s vicious attack had the month
before. How could Eva imply that Hermione was not compassionate towards her
situation? She wasn’t a pureblood snot who cared nothing about the less fortunate

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Paradise Lost 3
Wizarding world. Why, her entire life she’d been a role model for...
Hermione was stopped when she nearly tripped over a smallish child who was
attempting to pick her pocket. Of course, there was nothing in it (Hermione had lived
in Rio long enough to know better), but the child caught her eye before running
away.
She began to look around her a bit more. Instead of thinking about her own dire
situation, she looked at the number of street children they passed without even
registering them.
She began to count them.
Seven in one block.
Fifteen in two blocks.
Thirty-three in four blocks.
By the fifth block, she was tugging on Harry’s arm.
“Harry, I was wondering... couldn’t we help Zach and Eva pay for their school?
I mean, a few Galleons goes a long way here... we’ve more than enough to...”
They all laughed.
“Hermione, you’re so five minutes ago,” said Lenore, breaking off an intense
conversation with Heath. “They’ve already got the place designed, for crying out
loud... and your husband’s ticked off all the property in Brazil that Foundation
contacts own.”
But Eva looked contrite. “I did not mean to make you feel badly, Hermione. It
was not right for me to say something like that. It is not your fault that such things
happen.”
“In a way, it is,” she said. “When good people do nothing, evil reigns
unchecked.”
“We’ve got a different sort of evil to check first,” Harry reminded them. “Our
appointment is in five minutes, so Eva, I hope these offices are close.”
As the other four hurried forward, Heath and Lenore kept their footsteps
deliberately slow.
“They’ve left,” Heath said. “I knew they would as soon as we left Atlantis and
they saw. The Knights have gone with them.”
Lenore shut her eyes for a moment. “We could not hide it after they performed
that last coordinate run. Everything is going according to plan.”
“Let’s hope that real life holds to the simulations. I am not sure I can take any
more surprises.”
She looked up at him meaningfully. “I thought you liked surprises.”
Heath grinned at her. “Well... you’ve got a point there.”
“Then let’s not talk about it. Let’s talk about other things.”
“Such as, Raven?”
“Such as what we’d call our children. Where we’d live in this past world, what
we’d do as we grew old together, and what we would talk about. Dream with me for
a while, Heath.”
Heath laughed. “You sound like one of these twenty-first century primitives. It

- 46 -
 12. Fourteen Days
is not the Sabaean way to dream.”
“It isn’t the Sabaean way to do plenty of other things, either... half of which
you’ve done over the past week,” Lenore teased.
“As if I’m the only guilty party. I seem to remember having a very willing
accomplice... tall, willowy, silver blonde hair... have you seen her?”
“No, but if I do, I’ll be certain to tell her that a very rough-looking Wizard from
the future is looking for her.”
“Yes, do that.”
They looked at the four up ahead, then at each other.
“They don’t know, do they?” Lenore asked.
“Of course not. Not even my brother. Everything must be perfect, Raven, and
just as we discussed back home in our time. No indecision. No mistakes. We can’t
afford any.”
She nodded.
Quickly, they stepped up their pace.
They arrived at the door of the designated office with a few seconds to spare.
Before Eva could knock, the door flung open to reveal a familiar face.
“Lena! How are you?” Hermione exclaimed, as Lena kissed both her cheeks.
“Asi, asi. Married life suits you well.”
“It would suit me much better if we could actually remain in one place for a
week on end,” she laughed.
After introductions were made for Lenore and Heath, Lena turned to the inner
office door, through which Eva had disappeared momentarily.
“Eva?”
“She does not want to come out,” Eva called. “She is ashamed.”
Hermione laughed. “Tell that shameless tart there is nothing to be embarrassed
about, and that all will be forgiven if she gets out here straightaway.”
The door opened. Juliana Carvalho emerged, dressed in an expensive linen
business suit that was only bearable because of the glacial air conditioning.
“Hermione, I know you can never forgive me...”
“Juli, if we actually get out of this alive, I am going to throttle you. How could
you ever doubt my friendship, after everything we’ve been through? If you didn’t
want to go to Atlantis, or if Harry and I were setting your teeth on edge, all you had
to do was tell me.”
“I know that now. I was boba, Hermione. And I want to make up for it... if
you’ll let me.”
“Certainly. If you manage to hex the Dark One back to Tartarus, we shall say
nothing else of the matter.”
Juliana swept her up in an impulsive hug.
“Ready whenever you are, doc,” Heath said briskly, breaking into the general
goodwill and greetings.
They followed Lena through the inner office door into a conference room. At
the head of it sat a young man with milk chocolate skin, hair like waves of midnight,

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Paradise Lost 3
and golden eyes. At his side was a voluptuous, pretty girl who could have been his
sister.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Pedro and Solange Pereira,” Juliana said
proudly. “Mestre-sala and porto bandeira for Mangueira.”
As the others shook hands, Hermione turned to Lena and Juliana. “However did
you get the flag bearers from one of the major samba schools to speak with us this
close to Carnaval?”
Lena winked at Juliana, who seemed flustered.
“Well, I do have a bit of pull...”
“With your dad? Oh, wonderful! You’ve reconciled.”
Juliana looked again at Lena. “You could say that. You see, I was inconsolable
in Salvador until Lena finished her religious duties and returned. We talked for a long
time... and then...”
“We came back to Rio together, marched into Senhor Carvalho’s office, and
demanded that he accept his daughter just as she was,” Lena said. “The old man was
so flustered that he had a heart attack.”
“He isn’t dead, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Juliana spoke up, seeing her
friend about to offer condolences. “He is at home, recovering under Mum’s watchful
eye. He has appointed me to see to his affairs while he recovers.”
“Enough talk,” Heath said impatiently. “We haven’t got much time. Let’s get to
work.”

~~~
Day Ten.
10 February 2013.
Ginny Malfoy walked into her husband’s office without preamble, unclasping
her cloak as she did so. After hanging it up in the closet and smoothing down her
understated navy-blue robes, she sat in a chair at the conference table. Draco was
finishing up his meeting with Brian Riordan, Minister of Magic, and she did not wish
to interrupt.
“You do understand, Malfoy, that if anyone distributes a supposed antidote for
the small virus problem that we currently face without Ministry approval, that person
will be subject to criminal charges.”
Brian’s voice dripped venom. In spite of this, Draco’s face did not change. He
picked up his quill and continued with whatever he was writing for a few moments.
Finally he said, “Is there anything else, Brian?”
Ginny almost thought she saw steam coming out of Brian Riordan’s ears. “Even
you are not above the law, Malfoy. Perhaps you have lost all sense of the pride and
dignity that your father had, with your connections to Black and Potter, and your
little Weasley wife, but I know what you are. It is in your blood, and you know that
our cause is just.”

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 12. Fourteen Days
Draco kept writing. Ginny started to say something, but caught the quickest
flash of his grey eyes and relented.
Finally, he laid the quill down and reached for his seal.
“I assume that is for me,” said Brian.
“It is not,” Draco replied, rolling the parchment around a golden instrument
designated for this very purpose. “This is a letter to Sebastian Borgin. I assume you
know where to find him, as I won’t waste an owl.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Your choice.” He handed the sealed document to Brian. “A word of warning:
there is a powerful jinx on the seal. If anyone opens it other than the addressee...” He
let his words hang on the air.
Brian almost snatched the parchment and stood up from his chair huffily.
“If you wish to speak of choices, Malfoy, you certainly have made unwise
ones.” His eyes darted over to Ginny. “Mrs. Malfoy.”
With that, the Minister of Magic walked out of the room and nearly slammed
the door. Ginny glared after him, then walked over to the chair Brian had just
vacated...
“I won’t have you sit there, vixen,” Draco said. “That chair will be disposed of
by morning. Come sit with me.”
She did so, letting her midnight blue skirts fall over his lap, resting her red head
on his shoulder as his lips touched her eyelids. This side of him had come out more
since Hazel had been born, but she’d caught glimpses of it even before then. Ginny
had no idea where it came from, where he’d got the capacity, but she didn’t question
it. It was much appreciated.
Especially now.
“How’s your father?” he asked.
“Stable, thanks to whatever was in Angelina’s package. Where are Harry and
Hermione?”
“Back in Brazil. I spoke with Potter yesterday. Gareth Starling is dead.”
Ginny frowned sadly. “He was like a chameleon. Does that mean the
Confederation has no eyes inside of the Cabalistica?”
He said nothing.
“How about Harry and Sirius? Don’t they have anyone there?”
“Only moles who are buried so deep that they contact Black, and not the other
way around. They’ve been silent for quite some time.”
“So they’re going in blind.”
“Potter says they’ve got a plan. Branford claims he can manufacture that cure en
masse if we give him the weekend. I’ve authorized him to go public on Monday
morning; I expect our stock rating will rise, and with it, the economy.”
He tilted up her chin and studied her face. For a moment, he appeared as if he
was going to say something... but only for a moment.
Before Ginny knew it, he was kissing her with enough urgency to steal her very
breath away.

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Paradise Lost 3
Ginny lifted her head up. Looked into her husband’s guarded eyes.
Shook her head.
“Draco, no.”
It came out as a moan. Her fingers slid up his arm and felt the burning of a very
old mark even through the layers of cloth.
She clenched her teeth. Hard. She was not going to go hysterical; Ginny knew
very well how her husband reacted to hysterics.
“They will kill you.” She stated it as fact.
“They have to succeed first.”
“Draco, please don’t do this. They’ve branded you as a traitor. The Dark One
resurrected... she’ll take one look at you and do exactly what she did to Gareth
Starling.”
“I’ve faced her before. Gareth had not.”
“You’ve faced her Demonic spirit influencing Voldemort and your father.
You’ve never faced her incarnate...”
He touched his fingers to her lips, stealing the last of her words.
“After all these years we’ve spent together, you still don’t understand. The Dark
Arts are my birthright. Money and influence aside, no one will question a Malfoy
come back to the fold. No one. Not even most of our so-called friends.”
“But that’s all in the past, Draco...”
She trailed off when he did not look at her.
“Draco. What have you done?”
“I have been doing it all along. The Cabalistica has received information they
thought was valuable from me over the years, ever since the end of the war. Even my
role in the liberation of the Brazilian Wizarding capital was covert. Which is the very
reason why I can be of some assistance to Potter, and especially Granger, in Brazil.”
“But they will kill you,” she reiterated, feeling as if the air had disappeared from
her lungs. She couldn’t take this right now. She’d had enough to worry about, with
her father being so very ill. Now that Dad was finally recovering, she didn’t have the
strength to sit in Britain while her husband –
“By the time they think to kill me, it will be too late,” he promised.
So that explained the sudden tenderness. He was going to leave, leave without
even saying goodbye to his daughter... he would have left without saying goodbye to
her, just leaving a note with Burke or Simon Branford.
Ginny sighed. As much as she loved Draco, there were things about him that she
knew would never change. She knew much about him, more than she would have
ever dreamed possible when they first began dating a decade before... and yet, there
were many parts of him that were locked away from her and forever would be. She
told herself that this did not matter, but she knew deep down that it did...
“After lunch, we will spend some time with Hazel, and depart after dinner. Will
that suit you?”
Before Ginny could bravely assent, she reviewed his statement and blinked.
“Wait a minute. You said...”

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 12. Fourteen Days
“You’re coming with me to Brazil. I have arranged a meeting with Sebastian
Borgin. Meanwhile, you are going to be with Granger until I come for you. She
apparently has need of you.”
Ginny’s mouth dropped open.
“Of course, you can stay at home with Hazel,” he said, a small glint of
amusement in the grey eyes she loved so much. “However, I believe this will make a
most interesting bedtime story for her.”
She smiled at him.
“It will indeed.”

~~~
Same day, Brazil.
Sebastian Borgin read the letter from Draco Malfoy in the bath. He hadn’t taken
one in months, and it was well overdue. Being the consort of the Dark One didn’t
exactly leave a lot of time for personal hygiene.
So he sloshed around in the murky water, as he read the message from his old
friend.
He had to wonder: what exactly did Draco want to meet up about?
Certainly they’d had nothing in common with each other since boyhood. Draco
had chosen his life, and Sebastian had chosen his.
There was no sentimentality between them. The children of Death Eaters and
Dark Wizards didn’t make friends with each other; there was too much backstabbing,
too great a risk of betrayal for any but loosely formed acquaintances of opportunity.
After one final read, he incinerated the letter with a bit of wandless magic. And
not a moment too soon, either... as the Dark One soon entered the room. Even when
she was completely nude, she looked as if she had a garment on, thanks to the black
runes that were tattooed all over her body.
“Tomorrow night is the night, faithful servant,” she said. “All will be avenged,
and the world will be set to rights once more.”
“Yes, my lady. All is in place at the samba school’s quarters. Even now, our
Witches and Wizards have infiltrated the costumes of every rank of the parade. And
your own costume has arrived. All Wizardkind will fall under the poison’s spell.”
“You have done well,” she said. “Engli, has he not done well?”
Ereshkigal’s pet Demon was so large that he filled the entire anteroom. One eye
dutifully appeared in the doorway, utterly filling it. A single fang was visible as well.
“He has not been mindful of your enemies, lady,” Engli accused. “Even now,
they walk the streets of this city, planning your demise.”
The Dark One threw back her head and cackled. “Let them plot and plan! The
moment that my sister’s child walks into the place, I will know. I will kill her with a
single thought. And without her, the Accursed One will be easy prey.”
“What of the traitor, my lady? Even now, he and his filthy wife have entered the

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gates of this city.”
Sebastian blinked. Amazed at Engli’s knowledge.
“The traitor could actually be of some use to us. There is still much darkness in
his soul... his bloodlines are vile. Sebastian, tell him all about our... plans. As for his
dirty, mongrel-loving wife, she means far less to him than he thinks. Greed is the
traitor’s first and only love.”
“May I have permission to kill the wife of the traitor?”
“Engli, really, I have so much to...”
“Please, my lady? Please? It’s been so long since I’ve killed.”
The Dark One glared at his eagerness. “All in good time, my pet. Tonight Rio
will see such a bloodbath... indeed, all the world will witness it. And you shall
murder until your soul is well satisfied, and in the red dawn, I shall rule all!”
Engli guffawed. Sebastian, however, as she came to him in the bath and began
to do the most unspeakable things to him, savaging him until the murky water was
tinged blood-red... he was not certain anymore. Something about Draco’s letter...
Of course, this seed of doubt was buried so far down that the Dark One could
have only detected it if she had been looking. But she was not looking. She was only
interested in her own pleasure and gratification.
It was just as well.
Sebastian could not afford to be on the losing side... and this one looked like a
sure winner to him.

~~~
Across town, Mangueira’s makeshift quadras – headquarters – were chaotic yet
merry. Three thousand parade participants geared up for the festivities the next
evening. Little did the participants know that their samba school had been infiltrated
by the Cabalistica, and that their act was the scheduled opener for the demise of the
Wizarding world.
In a small warehouse down the street, Heath and Lenore were examining the
heavy replicas of the Pereiras’ mestre-sala and porto-bandeira costumes, while Lena
was being fitted for her destaque one.
“The original destaque has come down sick,” she said to them, with a
meaningful glance at Hermione. “This is why Solange, an old school friend of Juli’s
and mine, contacted me in the first place.”
Just as the mestre-sala and porto-bandeira were the lead couple of the samba
performance and the first bit of the performance the judges saw, the destaques as
living “float toppers” were essential as well.
Being a destaque required wearing an elaborate feathered costume that could
stand as much as three stories high... and balancing oneself atop a float that was the
size of a building with just the aid of a pole.
As they assumed that Ereshkigal would be planted as a destaque in the parade,

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 12. Fourteen Days
the original idea was to somehow put Hermione atop a float.
However, Hermione wanted to be able to move.
“That’ll be an initial advantage, at least,” she muttered to herself, fingering the
shimmery thin material of her costume and thinking of their careful yet snowball’s-
chance-in-Tartarus plan.
Mangueira this year was going for a classical theme, inspired by the Greek gods
and goddesses of old. But the material of Hermione’s costume was enchanted so that
she would be able to blend in well with the various wings of the parade.
Until she came face-to-face with Ereshkigal, that is.
Just then, Harry came into their makeshift headquarters.
“I’ve got the tickets to the Sambodrome,” he announced. “That will give us
access to the entire area.”
Hermione frowned. “Harry, I’m still very concerned about Muggles getting
hurt.”
“I know, but it can’t be helped. Unless Malfoy comes up with an eleventh hour
idea, the Dark One and her minions are not going to show themselves until the
parade.”
“I wish we knew more.”
“You will soon.”
Ginny Malfoy had walked into the warehouse behind Harry. Hermione had only
just noticed her.
Normally, Hermione would have greeted her closest female friend with a smile
and perhaps even a hug. Now the sight of Ginny only depressed her. If Draco was
letting Ginny run about, the situation must be very dire.
And it was.
When Ginny told Hermione of Parvati’s death, Hermione sat down on the
warehouse floor in shock. She and Parvati had never been best mates, but she had
been one of the world-famous Hogwarts 98s and they had shared a dormitory for
seven years. Hermione had admired how much Parvati had grown from a giggly
pretty girl to a well-respected stateswitch and diplomat. Of course, she’d been a tiny
bit green on a couple of occasions long ago, thinking Parvati had captured Harry’s
interest...
None of that mattered now.
Hermione saw Parvati’s glowing face at the tea Ginny had hosted on
Hermione’s birthday back in September, full of happiness over her new Wizard and
baby.
I failed her.
For the first time, doubt began to enter Hermione’s mind.
“Hermione,” said Ginny, stricken afresh at her dearest friend’s reaction to the
news. “There was nothing you could have done...”
“Give her some time, Gin,” Harry said quietly.
His voice was very flat as he walked to stand next to his wife.
Hermione leaned her head against Harry’s leg for a moment and he stroked the

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Paradise Lost 3
top of her head. Hermione remembered that he had been friends with Parvati, too.
Suddenly, he knelt down and pulled her close. Allowing their minds to meld
again, she felt his own grief along with his need to comfort her always.
But Harry also was very much in the moment. That she could tell from touching
his thoughts. Uppermost in his mind was the impending confrontation with the Dark
One. All of his thoughts were preoccupied with how to defeat the creature that
threatened his happiness, his world... and above all, his Witch.
After a moment, he stood up again with purpose.
“Here, Gin, let me fill you in,” he said.
Hermione didn’t feel abandoned when he walked Ginny over to the large map of
the city that hung in one corner.
She could only think of one depressing thing:
I can’t do this.
Yes, you can... in fact, you have done it already.
Delilah, leave me alone. I certainly don’t need cheering up from a woman who
murdered her own sister in cold blood.
Daughter, I was not perfect. After Semiramis captured Nidaba’s last breath of
life and brought her back from the brink, she became an unholy thing, the undead,
something that was wronged and thirsted only for misery and vengeance...
I fail to see why people worshipped you as a goddess.
I mourned perpetually for Nidaba, my daughter. After the violation, I never
went back to Atlantis again. Instead, I fled to Ur and the temple, where I was given
sanctuary. There I bore Dumuzi’s child – a girl and your ancestress – but I was never
to have the child of my heart’s desire...
So what, Delilah? Join the bloody club! It isn’t as if I can...
But Enki ever remained my husband, daughter. He struck Dumuzi dead that
very night, and poor old Nimrod died within the week from grief. And although
I never returned to him, and he did not force my return, something of his immortal
power remained with me. Ur prospered greatly, and the people loved me for my good
works. I was called lady, then Great Lady, then Lady of Heaven... and finally, the
Queen of Heaven.
Oh. What about the descent?
Well, by that time, Nidaba had become Ereshkigal. I knew I did not deserve the
people’s worship. I knew what I really was. I was obsessed with clearing my
conscience... I wanted my sister to forgive me. Forgive my folly, daughter. I left your
ancestress, Norah, with the priestesses, and sought the whereabouts of Semiramis.
She then told me that my sister had secluded herself in my father’s homeworld of
Wildemere, a lovely world of trees and mountains and perpetual autumn...
I’ve never heard of it.
You’ve been there.
Delilah, you can’t mean...
Yes, daughter. Wildemere was the original name for what you know as Tartarus.
So your descent... I mean, everything that I went through with Harry and Ron

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 12. Fourteen Days
when we went... it was just like...
No, the Missing Week was not your descent. Descent, my daughter, is far more
difficult even than the treachery and perils of Tartarus.
Descent means being stripped bare to the soul... stripped of all of the masks and
cloaks that we wear. It is only then that we can see ourselves as we truly are... it is
only then that we can truly be set free.
Hermione opened her eyes. She now knew everything.
She knew what she had to do.

~~~
Day Eleven.
11 February 2013..
Early in the morning before the scheduled demise of the Wizarding world,
Hermione awoke abruptly... and was startled temporarily by Draco Malfoy, who was
hovering overhead.
He held a finger to his lips.
“Quietly, Granger,” he mouthed. “Don’t wake up that husband of yours.”
Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Harry. He was sleeping a bit more
deeply than was natural for him on a pull-out sofa bed. Zach and Eva were snoring in
one of the two beds, and Ginny was shifting every so often in the other. Another
glance revealed that Heath and Lenore were on watch, sitting by the door, talking in
low tones and seemingly oblivious to everything save for each other.
Her first angry remark to Draco when they stepped into the hallway was, “Did
you sleep-charm my husband?”
“Of course. I’m rather surprised that a normal one would work on Potter.”
Her frown turned into a half smile. “Thanks for bringing Ginny along. She’s
been indispensable in getting the costumes together.”
Draco didn’t acknowledge her gratitude, which was his way of indicating that
she was welcome. “I had my meeting with Borgin last night after a visit to
Mangueira. Most informative...”
“Are you sure you weren’t followed?”
“Granger, my seat at the Stone Table is Stealth. I am never followed when I do
not wish to be.” He looked her over. “The Dark One is overconfident. From my
estimates, of the thousands in Mangueira, she only has a few dozen goons amongst
them. Strange.”
“That’s enough,” Hermione snorted. “It only takes one.”
“From what I gathered, the Dark One herself is very likely going to be atop a
float. The floats themselves are going to be the instruments of dispersion for the
plague...”
“Thanks for the confirmation. We figured that was the case, so it’s Harry and
Zach’s job to stop the stuff from coming out. Heath and Lenore are serving as

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Paradise Lost 3
Obliviators – the spell they will cast at the beginning of the parade will make the
Muggles believe anything they see is merely part of the performance.
“Juliana and Lena will protect as many of the Muggles in the samba school as
they can – Lena as a destaque float-topper, and Juliana amongst the abre-ala, the
opening wing that follows the flag-bearers. Eva and Ginny will circulate through the
stands together, keeping an eye out for anything unusual, as we believe that
previously inoculated Dark Wizards have come along to witness the spectacle.”
“While you take out the Dark One.” Draco’s voice was flat.
“It’s a difficult task, but someone has to do it.”
“Granger, how are you going to kill her? Can she be killed?”
Hermione stared at him incredulously. “Malfoy, it’s not as if I have a choice in
the matter. Whether she can or not, it’s either her or me. I don’t fancy dying today, so
it’s going to be her.”
“Can Harry lend you enough magic to do the task?”
Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a brand-new handgun.
“I’m not using magic.”
Draco looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “That is the plan? You’re going to
shoot her like a common Muggle? Ready, aim, bang? You cannot be serious.”
“Malfoy, we all have our tasks. If you can cause enough confusion amongst the
Cabalistica, perhaps she won’t notice me until I’m right upon her.”
“Granger, for once in your life, be realistic. The second you are in the
Sambodrome, she will know. What’s to stop her from cutting you to bloody ribbons
there?”
“Because she wants this showdown. She’s wanted to face me for ten thousand
years. Last time, Harry and Lenore saved me from her. This time, the odds will be
even... for I know something about her that she does not.”
“You know, Granger, arrogance doesn’t become you nearly as well as it does
me.”
“Malfoy, stop lecturing me and get a few hours’ sleep. Your wife’s been tossing
and turning all night, worried about you, and it’s only three in the morning. Or at
least make yourself useful and help me relieve Heath and Lenore from their watch.”
They walked back towards the motel room door.
“And Malfoy?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“No more Granger, Malfoy. My surname’s Potter now...”
“Never. To me, to everyone in our world, you’ll always be Granger,” he replied.
“You’re the only Witch who can’t get lost in Potter’s name.”
“That, and you need to be able to distinguish between us in conversation,
ferret.”
Draco smirked. “You aren’t as smart as you think, chipmunk.”

~~~
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 12. Fourteen Days
There never was a day that went faster than that Carnival Monday.
By six in the morning, attempts to sleep were given up, and the plans were
meticulously reviewed over cafezinho. Before they knew it, it was somehow ten-
thirty... Draco left to meet again with Borgin... and it was time to get to the
warehouse and meet with Juliana, Lena, and the Pereiras.
This was easier said than done. The streets were crowded with tourists, cariocas,
and people from all over Brazil who were in town for the famed festivities. Hermione
was reminded of the liberation of Salvador back in December to the nth degree, sans
magic.
The scene was indescribable. In spite of the heavy task ahead, the atmosphere
was...
“Chaotic,” Harry said. “Could be good, could be bad.”
Heath seemed to agree. “It’s very much an anything-can-happen environment.
We’ll see how it all goes.”
At the warehouse, Juliana had a light lunch spread out for them, specially
prepared by her mother.
“Mother’s been mixing and muttering over her cauldron all week. I don’t know
what she’s put into the food, but I know it won’t harm you.”
One couldn’t taste what Helena Medeiros had placed into the food at all. Meat,
bread, vegetables, and dessert were tasty as always. But somehow after they ate, they
felt a bit stronger. The feeling was almost like eating chocolate after the presence of a
Dementor... or so Harry told Hermione as they finished the last bits of food, sitting a
bit apart from the others.
“The Last Supper,” she replied, opening her mouth wide to receive Harry’s fork.
“Don’t be morbid, Hermione.”
“Ron said the same thing! Remember, right before we went into Tartarus...”
“I remember.”
“I miss him, Harry. I wish he were here now.”
“Yeah, me too. But he couldn’t have come, especially after what Heath and
Lenore told us happens.”
“Yes, I know. He needs to be back home, especially with Arthur being ill. I’m so
glad to hear he’s stable now.” She watched as he set the plate back on the table.
“Simon’s wonderful. I just knew he’d come through for us... and who would have
thought Diane Johnson Riordan would have done such a thing?”
“Wasn’t all that shocking. Angelina was her sister, and the Weasleys were her
sister’s family.”
“I’m a bit curious about what’s actually in that antidote. What a relief that
Simon was able to replicate the stuff. He says that the cure self-adjusts with every
mutation of the magivirus... isn’t that the most fascinating thing?”
Harry ran a finger over the tip of her nose affectionately. “Didn’t you have that
in your notes anyway?”
“Yes, my theoretical model was based upon what we know about the Source –
I called it `the living cure’ in my notes, but I had no idea if such an intelligent

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Paradise Lost 3
antidote could be actually conjured up.
Simon’s obviously taken his cue from my letter and named the substance
Zotanos, from the Greek. I must know whether it’s really anti-Source or something
else, though. The moment I arrive home, I’ll go straight to the MMRI and...”
Her tirade was cut off by a kiss.
“You’ll do no such thing, Mrs. Potter. The moment you get home, you’re going
straight to bed.”
Hermione caught his meaning right away. “Without any dinner? Oh, dear. I must
have been a very naughty Witch to warrant such treatment.”
“Didn’t you know? You are dinner.”
“And breakfast and lunch too, I’d wager. Greedy beast.”
“Right you are, sexy. Because I can’t seem to get enough...”
After a moment, Hermione broke their kiss and sat up slightly. Harry followed
her slightly embarrassed gaze. Ginny, who was extremely unused to seeing them
snog, was laughing at them from across the room. The others were joining her one by
one.
“Don’t you have something else to do?” Harry asked them impatiently.
“Not really,” Eva giggled.
“Not at the moment,” Zach agreed.
Their remarks set off another round of laughter. Hermione rolled her eyes in
mock-exasperation... then grabbed her husband’s wand to cast a handy Obscuring
Charm so that they could carry on with what they’d been doing before they were so
rudely interrupted.

~~~
At that moment, Arthur Weasley opened his eyes and found himself reclining on
the living room sofa. The place was filled with children, grandchildren, in-laws, and
of course, his beloved Molly... who was helping him to sit up.
“Dad, take it easy,” George warned. “Let Mum and Bill help you.”
Arthur did so without protest, glancing around, feeling as if his disease-
weakened heart would burst from the sight of all the faces surrounding him.
The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places, Yes, I have a good inheritance.
He noted their joy. For the world, he would not take it from them by telling
them the complete truth. Arthur knew, and Neville Longbottom knew, what his wife
and children didn’t... that the disease had gone too far... that his heart would never be
the same again... that a miracle had snatched him back from death to life... that he
was now living on borrowed time...
Arthur said none of this. Instead, he looked his fill of wife and children,
grandchildren and in-laws, drinking the sight of them in with his eyes.
“It’s so good to see all of you. But where’s Ginny?” he asked. “For that matter,
where are Harry and Hermione? Is everything all right?”

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 12. Fourteen Days
“They’ve gone to Brazil, Dad,” Ron said, coming to kneel next to his father. He
explained the past few months in a nutshell. “They’re trying to stop the Cabalistica.”
Arthur placed a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. “So once again, our hopes
are pinned on the three of you.”
“It’s strange not being there with them at a time like this,” Ron admitted.
“Tonight I’m going to Ayr to do what I can. But we’re trying to change fate, see... we
knew one of us couldn’t be there. It had to be me, because now they’re...”
Ron stopped speaking and looked as his father. His relationship with his parents
had been slightly strained ever since his divorce from Hermione and marriage to
Maureen. He believed that his father had been disappointed in him, although Arthur
never said anything untoward about the unpleasantness and tried very hard to remain
neutral.
But in his father’s eyes, he saw only...
“I’m proud of you, Ron.”
Ron blinked. When the stinging sensation in his eyes did not go away, he
blinked again.
“Son, you’ve come through the past few years like a trouper and a man. You’ve
wrestled with your ghosts and your Demons, and you’ve overcome them. You’ve
given me a beautiful daughter-in-law and three wonderful grandsons. You’ve also
given me another son and daughter through your selfless devotion to your friends.
I’ve never been more proud of you than I am now.”
“Dad,” Percy interjected, “Harry and Hermione are married now. They eloped in
Brazil just before the New Year.”
“Percy, that’s not your news, is it?” Molly chided.
“Mother, I don’t understand why it’s such a huge secret. Everyone knows, don’t
they? And after everything that happened four years ago, I would have thought...”
Everyone glared at him, except for Arthur, who smiled.
“Wonder when they’d be getting around to it. Tell them to call `round once they
finish saving the world this time.”
Charlie walked up to the back of the sofa.
“Actually, Dad, we’ve come up with a better idea. When Harry first came to
Argentina this past autumn, he and I talked about...”

~~~
In the early evening hours of Carnival Monday, back in Brazil, Ginny stitched
the last bits of Hermione’s costume to the tune of Mangueira’s Carnaval 2004 Spider
album. Many Carnaval costumes had to be sewn or glued together. Hermione’s was
no exception in spite of the magical cloth.
Her thick brown hair was completely obscured beneath an enormous feathered
headdress made of real feathers. Ginny had already made Hermione’s face up.
Beneath all the glitter and bronzer and paint, she barely recognized herself.

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Paradise Lost 3
“I don’t fancy the idea of dying in a glorified body stocking,” she said suddenly.
“Especially not one covered by a gauzy-feathery thing.”
Ginny frowned, taking another pin from between her lips. “Hermione, if you
really must move after I’ve asked you not to, please talk sense.”
Hermione knew Ginny’s nerves were on edge. Just then, Draco was with the
Cabalistica, doing goodness knew what. So she didn’t take offense at her friend’s
outburst.
Most of the others had left for the Sambodrome already. Harry had stayed
behind to accompany Hermione, Ginny, and Eva. Eva had left baby Daniel with
Helena Medeiros, and was quietly securing the ties on the packs that Ginny would
shrink to be carried in their pockets, as bags and packages were not allowed in the
Sambodrome. Harry was studying the diagram of the Sambodrome one final time.
Ginny stepped back then and patted Hermione’s shoulder.
“We’re all set!”
Harry grinned at his wife, who just then resembled a golden peacock.
“Right. Let’s go.”

~~~
At that very moment, an unnaturally pale figure stepped off a plane into Buenos
Aires airport, carrying a portfolio filled with newspaper clippings.
His first stop before travelling to the interior: a gun dealer.

~~~
It took Harry, Hermione, Eva, and Ginny the better part of three hours to get
from the warehouse to the Sambodrome. Other Muggle transportation options were
not available, and Harry didn’t want to use magic to herald their arrival. Despite
Hermione’s elaborate costume, they did not attract undue attention in that crowd at
all... there were many people dressed even more outrageously, not all of them
women.
So they walked in the broiling sunset heat, made even more intense by the
crunch of people. Ginny and Eva were noticeably tense and walked ahead within
sight. Ginny’s wand hand rested on the waistband of her denim skirt – her wand was
holstered just underneath. Eva concentrated on the crowd, watching out for anything
unusual in a veritable showcase of unusualness.
Harry and Hermione walked behind them, hand in hand. Gathering strength for
the task ahead... which for them meant talking about everything else.
“How were things at home?” Hermione asked. It was the first she’d asked about
his Ayr visit.
“The usual for February. Jocelyn’s been managing the school brilliantly in my
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 12. Fourteen Days
absence. Winter charming’s still on... great drifts of snow. Some parts of the North
Forest are impassable, and Falcon’s Point is capped with white. And home is home.
Your father’s been taking good care of everything...”
“Harry... I’m glad I didn’t go with you. It would have made everything that
much more difficult for me.”
“Really? I was thinking just now that I should have taken you, even if just for a
few short hours.”
“There wasn’t time. Merlin, I can’t even remember the last time I was on Ayr.”
“It’s been nearly four years,” Harry said. “The last time, you brought along
Angelina and Malinda... and you made me an offer I nearly didn’t refuse.”
Hermione smiled at the memory. “I thought those were our very first kisses.
I should have known better after that afternoon. If Ron and everyone hadn’t come
when they did...”
He laughed. “Yeah. Imagine having to explain that away.”
“The worst thing is, I can actually imagine it,” Hermione chortled.
Then she lowered her voice and murmured, “You know, I’m going to be a bit
miffed if our last go in this lifetime is in an airplane lav.”
“Considerable step down from Avalon, yeah.” His face changed, and for a
moment, Hermione was reminded of the boy she’d known. “I can’t wait to get you
home, Hermione. You’re going to love it, living with me. We’ll paint and get all new
furniture and build bookshelves for you. By autumn, we’ll be all settled in, and if you
like, we can have friends over for the New Year. We’ll start on your cooking lessons
immediately...”
“Excuse me, Harry Potter, but my cooking isn’t that terrible!”
“..and maybe by the winter, you’ll be a passable sous chef. Just nothing with
farofa or turtles, please. At least not the first year.”
“Definitely not.”
They bantered on like that for a time, until the Sambodrome’s concentracão –
the official gathering place and staging ground for parade participants – became
visible. Words came fewer and farther between, then stopped altogether. Ginny and
Eva kept walking towards it, oblivious to the fact that they’d stopped for a brief
moment.
They stared at each other. Despite the fact that Hermione was covered in fabric
and feathers and paint, and Harry’s eyes were obscured by sunglasses, they just stood
there, transfixed.
“Hey, you two, come on!” Ginny said urgently. In the distance, the tail end of
Mangueira, all silver and golden and bronze in the sunset was visible.
Slowly, their intertwined fingers slipped from each other.
Without another word, Harry turned around, shoved his hands into his pockets,
and walked in the opposite direction. Hermione fought the urge to run after him, but
bravely turned away and increased her pace to catch up with Ginny and Eva.

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Paradise Lost 3

~~~
Mangueira school began their initial procession at ten o’ clock Monday night.
The entire walk through the Sambodrome was perhaps twenty-five to thirty minutes
long, but the performance itself was about one hundred minutes.
Hermione stayed well away from the concentracão until the music sounded. The
applause and cheers began as the first of Mangueira’s Carnaval 2004 theme songs
sounded over the speakers... Hermione knew that porta-bandeira Solange Pereira had
just hoisted the flag and entered the Sambodrome with Pedro as her mestre-sala
presenting her.
The great mass at the concentracão began to move.
Hermione began to move with it.

~~~
The Dark One’s head jerked up. She turned to Sebastian.
“She is here!”

~~~
Ginny and Eva were making their rounds when suddenly, the parade below
came to a halt. This did not bother Ginny, but Eva’s eyes went round.
“Why did the music just stop?”

~~~
Draco Malfoy, dressed in the pristine white panama suit of the Guarda Velha –
the Old Guard of samba school financiers, suddenly Apparated right next to Harry.
Harry was inside of the first float, searching for traces of plague-releasing devices
after ensuring that the destaque above him wasn’t Ereshkigal.
Draco’s voice was calm yet urgent.
“Potter, slight change of plans. The Dark One isn’t a destaque in the front of the
parade. She is back with the Old Guard... in the last wing of the parade, marching
alongside Borgin.”
Harry’s eyes widened.

~~~
- 62 -
 12. Fourteen Days
Before Hermione could speak, she felt the pain explode within her head, making
her knees buckle. In the elaborate costume, she plunged down to the sidewalk... first
to her knees... then nearly prostrate... yes, she indicated to passers-by, she was quite
all right, bit too much of the caipirinha... they nodded and walked on... after all, it
was Carnival, they’d seen stranger sights...
Sister mine... come out, come out, wherever you are...
Hermione willed herself to stand up, despite the excruciating pain that was fast
spiraling from the crown of her head downward. Pain was the center of her world, it
was her master like nothing else had ever been...
Harry suddenly Apparated to her side. Without even bothering to shout the
Concealing Charm, he waved his wand over their heads and took his wife into his
arms just before the world around them exploded.

~~~
“Something’s happening in the concentracão,” Lena said to Zach, whose head
had just appeared at her feet. “I can see it from up here.”
“What’s going on?”
Lena spoke to him through her brilliant crowd smile. “There was a huge
explosion of some sort. I’m certain the Trouxas will either think it’s a terror attack or
simply part of the show. Nevertheless, I’m concerned. If none of the other destaques
are the Dark One...”
“Got your wand?”
Lena patted a bunch of feathers at her hip. “Can’t move, but I’m armed. Let
JulI know what’s happening. Keep me posted.”
“Good enough.”

~~~
“It’s starting,” Heath said to Lenore. They were sitting near the front of the first
float, a bit ahead of where Draco had found Harry a few moments before.
“Yes. Should we...”
“Not yet. We wait. One mistake now could be fatal.”
Lenore’s hand found his. Heath squeezed it tightly.

~~~
Hermione tried to sit up with a dizzy moan.
“Take the charm off, Harry. I have to face her.”
Harry shook his head, panting. “No.”

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Paradise Lost 3
“Harry, you can’t do this. This isn’t your battle.”
“I’m not going to let you die, Hermione!”
“Harry Potter. This is not the time to get all melodramatic on me. Damn it, this
is not a B-movie, and this is not the first time we’ve done this! We’ve talked this
over, and I know what I’m doing...”
His kiss, when it happened, took her breath away. His eyes revealed that he was
nearly at the breaking point... she’d only seen him look like that once before...
Once, long ago and far away.
Once upon a time in Tartarus.
“Hermione,” he continued, mouth moist against the skin of her neck, “you’ve
got to understand, okay? I’m not trying to rule over you. I know you’re powerful, and
smart, and more than capable. It’s just that... Hermione... we’ve been through so
much until I can’t... I’ve sacrificed everything to have just one chance to... you’re all
of me now... there’s got to be another way.”
She grabbed him, clutching, feeling his warmth through his sweat-soaked shirt.
Inhaling the scent of his hair, tasting the damp saltiness of his hairline. Perhaps if she
could pull all of him into her... she had a sudden vision of her ancestress, embracing
her immortal husband just before she departed Atlantis, pretending not to know that it
would be for the last time... perhaps if she succeeded, Ereshkigal would not find her
here...
All around them, the Dark One’s foul pets began to gather. Harry’s Obscuring
Charm was strong, but the Demons were likely trained to recognize her presence.
Soon the Dark One, in her fury, would take out her rage on the arena filled with
innocent Muggles...
Hermione did not say any of this to Harry. She knew that at the moment, this
wasn’t enough to sway Harry to allow her to become a sacrificial lamb. Her husband
had sacrificed her time and again to save the Wizarding world, to the arms of their
best friend, to her own sense of independence and towering ambition. He’d made a
very noble effort to be accommodating.
There was no way he’d voluntarily let her face Ereshkigal one on one. Arenaful
of Muggles be damned.
So Hermione Granger Potter did the only thing that she could.
She placed one hand on the gun that was holstered on her hip beneath all her
feathers.
She kissed her husband one last time, hard and long.
“Harry, I’m sorry. I love you.”
Before he could react, she grabbed his wand with reflexes that would have made
him proud.
“Revelare.”
And as soon as she said it, she was face to face with the Dark One incarnate.

~~~
- 64 -
 12. Fourteen Days
Ginny cocked her head to one side.
“Oh, good. The music’s started back up and the parade’s begun again.”
Eva frowned.
“Let’s get down further and see if we can’t find Zach. I don’t like this...”

~~~
Every muscle in Lenore’s body was tense. She squeezed Heath’s hand tighter
and tighter.
“Wait, my Raven... wait... wait...”

~~~
The sphere of darkness had spread, and great was the darkness thereof.
But suddenly, Hermione appeared. Her elaborate Carnival costume had
somehow disappeared, all of Ginny’s careful stitching as if it never was.
Yet one thing that was hers remained, although she had not put it on, had not
brought it to Brazil, indeed, had left it on Ron’s kitchen table.
Delilah’s wedding jewelry, crafted for her by Enki himself.
She was wearing the ageless white raiment of ancient Atlantis.
And she no longer felt any pain.

~~~
The parade continued on, and Juliana continued with it. The earlier pause in the
music and the explosion served only to stir up the audience even more.
Juliana danced her heart out, executing the steps with precision and grace. She
was a carioca born, her father was a part of Mangueira’s prestigious Guarda Velha,
and if she hadn’t fallen from grace she would have surely been a destaque long
before now.
Zach suddenly appeared next to her, brandishing a holographic object that
looked very much like a Muggle television camera.
“Disease disabled?” Juliana asked through her teeth, smiling and shaking her
assets into the lens.
“We can’t find any traces of biomagical attack agents. We’re still looking, but
Lena just told me that...”
The ground beneath their feet shook with a sonic boom. Juliana and Zach
paused for a moment, blinded by the new light that revolved around an inky black
sphere. Obviously the other Muggles in the abra-ala felt and saw nothing, for they
kept marching and dancing on, and cursed the both of them for good measure.
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Paradise Lost 3
“What was that?” asked Juliana, now at the back of the front wing of dancers.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Juliana swore. “Zachary, you were supposed to have seen this!”
“Well, I only saw it once, and that was years ago... I mean years from now... oh,
whatever. You know what I mean.”
“But you knew you were coming to our time! You should have studied!”
“Look, I didn’t specialize in Harry or Hermione for my degree! I studied
educational systems, and I’ve done what I came here to do.” He frowned. “We all
had our specific tasks to complete once we were here. Heath and Lenore, on the other
hand, never told us what they...”
He dropped the fake camera on the ground. It exploded in a showy display of
diamond and platinum sparks, wowing the Muggle crowd.
“Heath!”

~~~
Tears slipped down Lenore’s cheeks.
Heath wiped each one away with his fingers.
He began to count down.

- 66 -
 12. Fourteen Days
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

- 67 -
 12. Fourteen Days (cont.)

“S o you have returned to face me, my sister,” the Dark One hissed. “After ten
thousand years, I behold you at last.”
Hermione replied in a voice not her own. Soft and calm. Timeless.
“Yes, Ereshkigal. I have come to offer you rest.”
The Dark One laughed. “You, give me peace?”
“I can only give what you are willing to receive.”
“So at last, you admit that I am the stronger, the more powerful.” Ereshkigal
began to transform into her true form again, and it filled the entirety of the
concentracão. “You admit that you are the usurper and the thief. You admit that I am
the only one fit to rule. Admit it, sister, and embrace your death.”
Hermione’s form remained her regular size. But the light around her rose and
lifted her, raised her so that she was at eye level with the creature.
“I have not come to confess and die, Ereshkigal. I have come to indict you. The
charges against you are legion, and the blood of a billion souls is on your hands.
Your jealousy and your envy poisoned everything that it touched.
You were once beautiful, but that was not enough. You coveted what was not
yours. You grew discontented with your lot in life. You chose freely to become what
you are... a walking plague, a menace to all of magic, all of the Faerie worlds of that
magical realm, a foul curse upon the entire human race.
“You turned our father’s homeworld of Wildemere into the living netherworld
of Tartarus. You enslaved all of its creatures for your own dark purposes. You tainted
all of the Thousand Worlds so that the Old could not seek rest, could never seek rest,
but had to linger to protect and strengthen what remained of magic...”
Ereshkigal reared and hissed.
“I tire of this prattle, sister. Draw your spear and fight me in the way of the
eldest of the Old, the way of ten thousand years before this age of the small-minded
and insignificant. Fight me, Inanna Haurvatat, and die.”

~~~
Harry was trying in vain to get inside of the colliding spheres.
Oblivious to the Muggles staring slack-jawed at the spectacle, the entire Cabal
shouting “Secaro!” at his head, and the Demons that protected the perimeter of the
battle at first, he tried everything to get to Hermione.
He only succeeded in staying alive. This was no small feat. Most who were
confronted with creatures whose fangs and claws were poison, with the most
powerful Dark Wizards in the world and with a shield that boomeranged spells right
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
back at you would not have done quite so well. Harry could have commended
himself on how well he was standing up against the firestorm that only commanded
the smallest bit of his attention.
None of that mattered to Harry. Even as he deflected bites and slashes and
curses and hexes, he kept his wife in his field of vision, trying to fight his way to her
side.
For nearly two decades, since the death of Dumbledore, Harry had been
regarded as the most powerful Wizard in the world. Funny... he’d come to believe
that nonsense.
If he were really everything people said, Harry thought just then, there was no
way his Hermione would be stuck inside of some impenetrable bubble with the
incarnation of evil... without any magic at her disposal... without him...
And whose brilliant idea was it to leave Ron behind? Harry felt his absence
keenly. He could certainly use someone to cover his back... to be a second wand arm
and a second mind... perhaps then he could make some progress instead of going in
circles...
“Potter!”
He turned around. Draco, cane and Panama suit jacket tossed aside, sleeves
rolled up, was walking towards him coolly. His wand was pointed straight at Harry.
Both Demons and Cabal halted. Grunting at each other: was the young Mr.
Malfoy the turncoat opportunist they knew him to be... or an enemy?
They came face to face.
“Here to cover your lovesick arse,” Draco said tersely, noting the flicker of
defeat on Harry’s face. “Step up!”
Harry did. Side by side he and Draco began to confuse, then kill the Demons.
Draco proved to be an adept at Slicing Spells, decapitating without emotion. His aim
was precise and deadly. Harry, who’d been feeling Ron’s absence keenly, found
Draco to be more than adequate at his right hand.
Ereshkigal’s pets retreated, but not for long. Within a few seconds, another
legion were added to their number. Before Harry and Draco could dispatch these
completely, yet more were coming, the ground trembling beneath their feet... the air
splitting with the whirring of webbed wings...
Soon, Harry and Draco were in the middle of a bubble of their own.
“They said you fought one hundred thousand Demons in Tartarus single-
handedly, Potter,” Draco shouted with a dry laugh. “Or was it one million?”
Harry ignored him, searching for a glimpse of the sphere of light.

~~~
Juliana, Zach, Ginny, and Eva arrived at the edge of the concentracão and
stopped just behind the gaping, growing Muggle crowd of onlookers.
They weren’t sure where to look first. On one edge of the place, a huge spiraling

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Paradise Lost 3
mass of sooty smoke seemed to clash with a smaller sphere that was so bright that it
was nearly blinding.
On the other, a ring of land-bound Demons and an arc of air-bound ones were
circling someone or something.
“Looks like the fun’s begun,” whistled Zach.
Eva glared at him. “Which one’s which?”
“That one...” Ginny pointed at the clouds, “...is definitely Hermione and the
Dark One. So the other’s probably Harry.”
“Then we get Harry out,” Zach said practically, “and then grab Hermione and
haul ass out of here. We haven’t seen any disease-releasing agents, and we need to
find out where they are.”
“Simon’s all done with the cure,” Ginny pointed out. “So can we work on Plan
B after we get those two out of there?”
Three wands were withdrawn. When Ginny expanded her pack, Eva pulled out
two laser handguns, loaded them, and released the hammers.
“What are you doing?” Zach asked her.
“Going Demon hunting, meu querido.” She winked at him. “Let’s go!”

~~~
“Fifty... forty-nine... forty-eight...”
Heath was still counting down. Lenore was still crying.
Suddenly, she slid over to him and kissed him until the rivulets of her tears were
matched on his face.
“Raven, it is our duty... we can’t go back now...”
He kissed her back, still counting in his head. For his mind would not relent
from the duty he’d sworn before all of Sabera and the Alliance in their own time...
but oh, how the man rebelled.
“Heath Canyon, I am yours,” Lenore murmured against his lips, then leaned
back to memorize all the details of a face she’d known from infancy. “Know that
I will fulfill my duty to Sabera, and to you.”
But the raven, still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling...
There was balm in Gilead, then.
“Raven.”
A shiver traveled down his spine.
She counted aloud for him.
“Five... four... three... two...”
Lenore Raven never got to one.
For he was gone.

~~~
- 70 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
Sebastian Borgin was desperately trying to save the situation amongst the
Cabalistica ranks.
One moment, everything was under control. The next, all hell had broken
loose... in his case, the other side’s cavalry.
He’d told Ereshkigal and Engli confidently that the Accursed One and his lady’s
archnemesis would bring no more than ten Wizards along with them. But the moment
the battles had begun in the concentracão, the entire parade plan had begun to
unravel.
The Cabal knew better than to place the disease-causing agents on the floats.
Too obvious. The Accursed One and his friends would look for that. They didn’t also
waste a lot of effort with ground forces. Unlike their regular Wizarding counterparts,
most of the Cabalistica hated Muggles with an unholy passion and abhorred events
such as Carnival. There were also security considerations. So most of the Dark Arts
was waiting for the word to gather in El-Kharga to celebrate the certain death of
Hermione Granger and the successful spread of the magiparticular virus.
He’d lied to Draco Malfoy on purpose, partly because he didn’t trust him, partly
because he wanted to boast of a spectacular show of force. Only the Council, the
Dark One, and her “pets” were actually at the event.
That was because the disease-causing agent – the anti-Source – had been
brushed on every single feather of Mangueira’s more than three thousand costumes.
It was a brilliant plan, one that their enemies would not have anticipated.
That is, if their enemies hadn’t shown up in the middle of the parade - just
Apparated in all of a sudden – each pumping a huge red bellows.
Red-gold powder and mist was everywhere.
Sebastian, from his vantage point in the highest box of the Sambodrome could
see everything.
The Order itself had shown up in the middle of the parade.
He could see them – the Chalybian Drakkar Abidijan, his wife Nephthys of the
Old Kingdom, Chen of the Han Dynasty, Baba Olga from Kievan Rus. All of the Old
who had not sought their rest were here, in this last battle for control of the
Wizarding world.
The red-haired weasel Ronald Weasley was in the midst of things, standing at
eye level with the tops of the dancer’s costumes, working his bellows, glancing over
his shoulder at the absolute chaos on the concentracão. Near him were the werewolf
Remus Lupin and the animagus Sirius Black, working in tandem back to back,
casting some sort of wind-generating spell with their free hands to spread the stuff
around.
Even some of the Old who had not left their realms for two thousand years...
was that the Lady of Avalon?... had come to strive with their ancient foe.
Sebastian screamed, not caring if he startled the dirty and stupid Muggle
members of the Old Guard (who were actually quite clean and were the moneyed
class of Rio, but this was the opinion of a Borgin). This latest development could
very well turn the tide, and well he knew it. Their enemies did not believe in fighting

- 71 -
Paradise Lost 3
fair.
Everything he’d worked for all these years would be lost.
Suddenly there was a tremendous din on the concentracão as winged Demons
streaked overhead through the Sambodrome, walking right into the trap of the Order,
who dispatched them and the land-dwelling ones that followed them posthaste.
He snatched up a pair of binoculars from the filthy Muggle nearest him and
stared at the concentracão.
What he saw made him smile.
Sebastian knew exactly what would make his enemies lose heart.

~~~
With supernatural speed, Heath streaked back through the parade so fast that
observers only detected a ripple.
Time was of the essence. He couldn’t even be one second off...

~~~
While Ginny, Juliana, Eva and Zach fought their way to the middle of the circle
the Demons had formed, Draco and Harry were hacking their way out. When it was
all over, they were both covered with blood, scratches and bruises, and Demon bile.
“Let me clean you up,” Ginny said, but Draco grabbed her shoulders and turned
her around.
For Harry was making his way to the circling and flashing spheres with all
deliberate speed.

~~~
They’d done this before.
From the second the golden spear appeared in Hermione’s hand, she knew what
to do with it. She knew – or whatever was working within her knew – that Delilah
and Nidaba had done this very thing many times before during the dawn of the
world.
Two generations before the birth of the sisters, women of the world’s first cities
hunted game and fought to preserve the honour of the temple. They used the spear,
the club, the blow-dart and the slingshot.
The spear, however, was a warrior-woman’s weapon. And there was an art to
spearfighting.
Ereshkigal seemed to want the fight, as she’d shapeshifted back into her human
form. Her diamond spear glanced off the golden one that Hermione wielded.
- 72 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
They circled each other, fighting at first with the rods of their spears. It was
graceful. It looked very much like a dance.
“Your last dance,” hissed Ereshkigal. “You cannot best me.”

~~~
Sebastian walked towards the concentracão, menace in his step. With a flick of
his wrist, the walking cane in his hand transformed into the staff of the Grand
Inquisitor.
Then he Disapparated, his quarry in sight.
He grew weary of these games.
And his enemy would never know what hit him.

~~~
Heath streaked towards the spot. Only a few seconds more...

~~~
Harry only had eyes for the sphere of light. It seemed to wane more and more as
he rushed towards it.
“Hermione? I’m right here...”

~~~
She was not really Inanna, after all.
She was only Hermione Granger. A bookworm who’d never been much of a
physical fighter. Who’d never had much physical stamina.
The fight was over. She’d fought long and hard. She’d fought with the strength
of a thousand women.
In the end, it was not enough.
She had stumbled and fallen.
She was not wounded... yet.
Now she glanced up into Ereshkigal’s soulless eyes, up from where she’d fallen
from her own awkwardness. The point of the diamond spear pricked her neck.
I’ve failed you. I’ve failed you all...

~~~
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Paradise Lost 3
She was to wait.
He’d told her to wait.
It was their duty to wait.
The mantra drummed itself over and over in Lenore’s head, even as she bit her
beautiful fingernails down to the quick and gnawed her petal pink lips bloody.
Lenore knew, when she got down to the last thumb, that she could wait no
longer.
Seconds later, the second chair in their hiding place was empty.

~~~
Sebastian Apparated out of nowhere so suddenly that the others walking behind
Harry had no time to react.
The staff of the Grand Inquisitor was raised... he murmured an evil incantation
that made the head of the staff glow green and lightning flash from the sky...
Draco raised his wand first. But it happened so fast... even Draco couldn’t get
the words out before...
With one vicious stroke, Sebastian thrust the staff forward to impale the center
of Harry’s back...

~~~
Ereshkigal drew back her spear for the final blow. She began to say something
else...
But whatever it was lost in Hermione’s scream. For Hermione was now staring
for the first time outside of her bubble... transfixed with horror.
“Harry!”

~~~
Lenore was spiraling back through the parade, moving so quickly in all her
glittery splendor that all the crowd of onlookers saw were seven diamond flashes.
“No, I can’t do it... I can’t bear it...”

~~~
Harry turned around.
But it was too late.
He was staring at Heath Canyon’s broad back. The glowing head of Sebastian’s
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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
staff was hanging out from the middle of it... liberally covered with blood.
Sebastian himself froze. This was certainly not the result he’d expected. He was
so shocked that when Heath dropped to the ground, gripping the shaft of the staff,
Sebastian let it go.
Lenore did not hesitate. With a single flick of her wand and the Slicing Charm
her former tormentor had so loved, the Grand Inquisitor’s head and neck dropped off
his shoulders to thud on the ground.
So died Sebastian Borgin, the Grand Inquisitor of the Cabalistica.
No one paid any further attention to him. Everyone had gathered around Heath
frantically. Lenore had gathered her head on his lap, Ginny was desperately
rummaging around in the packs for something, anything...
“There is nothing that can be done,” Heath gasped. His skin was fast turning
gray. Blood was pouring out of the wound in his back.
Lenore was crying now. Her tears fell upon his chest as she ripped away the
shirt.
“Raven, take it out. Let me die.”
“No! There’s got to be another way. Once Hermione comes down, she can...”
“If you don’t get this thing out of me, she’ll never get out of that alive and you
know it!” He was speaking with great effort now. But Heath Canyon was a strong
man, and he was determined to get his way. “Harry Potter, take this thing out of me
and let me die. And take care of the Doc for me.”
Harry took the end of the staff in his hands. “Always.”
Lenore glared at Harry through her tears.
For a couple of seconds, Heath seemed to have more to say. He glanced over at
his brother... was there a ghost of a smile on his features as he beheld Zach and Eva
together?
Whatever it was, they would never find out. Soon Heath’s eyes glazed over
from the pain, and although he was still alive, he was too overcome by the blood loss
and the poison from Sebastian’s spell to speak.
Ginny was trying her best to ease Heath’s pain with a field spell she’d used
during the war. Draco and Juliana were providing cover for them. Zach, who was
holding a sobbing Eva to his chest, was in total and complete shock. He gaped at his
older brother, trying to speak, unable to say anything.
Harry glanced down at Heath, also unable to say anything. He glanced up at
Hermione, who had fallen at the Dark One’s feet and was peering down at them... at
Heath... at him.
Then very quickly, he pulled the staff out of the body of the great fallen man...
and along with it, Heath Canyon’s last breath.

~~~
The Dark One had not flinched at the scattering of her pets. Engli was still safe

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Paradise Lost 3
for now, at least, and the rest were as cattle to her.
She did pause for a moment at the death of her lieutenant. She wanted to
interfere, but even her powers were not infinite. She was using almost all of them to
bind Delilah’s host child. Which was strange.
It was almost as if the girl had some new strength which made her somewhat
immune to Ereshkigal.
Well, the death of Sebastian made the ancient Demoness want to test how
immune she was.
“Prepare to die, Hermione Granger... or should I say, Inanna Haurvatat.”

~~~
Harry lifted the staff of the Grand Inquisitor above his head and was about to
pierce the bubble when he heard a shout.
“Let’s trade,” Sirius called out, tossing him the staff of the Order. Ron and
Remus were jogging after him. The parade was still going on, but without any further
magical interference.
Harry caught the staff of the Stone Table with his free hand. He looked from one
to the other, one in his right hand, the other in his left. Darkness and light. Bitter and
sweet. Fair and foul. All of magic was there, all of its contradiction and wonder
gripped in his hands...
Demetrios Solon approached him, accompanied by Lady Morgan le Fay of
Avalon.
“Give us the staff of the Cabalistica, twice-blessed,” he said, “and free our
pigeon so she can level the fight.”
“I’ve wielded the staff of darkness before,” Harry said.
“Darkness cannot pierce darkness,” remarked the Lady, ever-enigmatic and
shifting eyes glowing beneath her hood. “You have sealed that door in your soul
forever, Harry. You know exactly where it leads. It is a place you do not wish to visit
again.”
There was a time when Harry would have questioned this further. But he knew
that neither staff was his... that he wanted to wield neither permanently. He wanted
only peace.
Besides, he had a bit of personal business to attend to at the moment.
So he handed over the staff of evil, entrusting it to the Old, who were now
combining their power to destroy it... could such a thing be destroyed? Harry didn’t
have time to ponder the matter.
Instead, he raised the staff of the Order high above his head, raised it as the Old
raised their staves and the young raised their wands and all shouted a spell of
freedom.
“Eleutheria.”

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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)

~~~
Hermione felt the sensation of falling through both time and space... falling out
of the strange presence that had been trapped in Ereshkigal’s bindings...
She was now herself again. Normal incandescence. On the ground.
Without feathered costume or ancient battle dress. Clothed quite plainly in a
modest camisole and low-rise denim trousers. She wondered if Harry, who was
racing to her side but couldn’t quite get there, had something to do with that.
They seemed to be surrounded by a lot of familiar faces. Wands were drawn...
but why was no one coming to her aid?
Why did the binding shield still seem to be up?
Ereshkigal was still in the human form she’d assumed the night of her rising.
She was a full head taller than Hermione. Her robes billowed out around her, as if the
cloud of darkness had not quite yet dissipated.
“You fools,” she laughed. “Do you think you can save her?”
Hermione folded her arms.
“They do not need to save me. I will save myself.”
Ereshkigal found this even more amusing. “Really? And how do you presume to
do this, you infant?”
She sighed, loud and long.
“Delilah,” she said firmly. “Delilah of Ur, high priestess of your people, consort
to Enki of Atlantis, come out of her now.”
Ereshkigal screamed, and the unholy sound of it caused little trickles of blood to
come out of Hermione’s ears. She lunged at Hermione, and fifty Wizards and
ancients moved towards the magic barrier...
But Ereshkigal’s form blurred, and warped...
Hermione, who was not aware of blinking for the better part of an hour and
more, blinked just then.
When she opened her eyes, instead of one Demon standing before her, there
were now two young women.
Both of them resembled Hermione very slightly.
The shield was no more. Harry rushed to her side, but she only grabbed his hand
briefly in reassurance before moving forward to confront the women.
“We only have a bit of time, dear, before we seek eternal rest,” said the elder
and seemingly more vivacious of the two. “We just wanted to thank you for what you
have done.”
“Yes,” said the younger one. There were deep frown lines around her mouth and
eyes. “You have solved the riddle. You have done what in ten thousand years, no one
else has.”
Hermione looked from one to the other. She did not seem very happy with this
development at all.
“It was really that simple? Delilah, you would use your husband’s gift of

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Paradise Lost 3
immortality and supernatural power in such a foul way?
Nidaba, you would take your hatred of your father, brother-in-law, husband, and
sister out on all Wizardkind?”
Both women looked thoroughly ashamed.
“You were the first of our kind. You taught the craft to Ur and Babylon, and
your pupils in turn taught the worlds. And this is what you have done?”
“Daughter...” Delilah began.
“Yes, I am indeed your daughter. Yes, you are my foremother. I am proud of the
works that you did as the Inanna, the prototype for the human face of all earth
goddesses. And yes, you tried to live through me, to live through all of my line. But
you were wrong to assuage your guilt over your sister’s death in such a heedless
fashion. You were wrong to subordinate yourself to her, to lose your will to her,
Delilah, because countless generations suffered because of your self-inflicted
punishment.”
“And you,” Hermione turned to Nidaba, “she might have provided the power
and the immortality out of her guilt for your acts, but you... you provided the
motivation and will. When your sister found you in Tartarus, you repaid her in kind.
You had her flayed alive, just as the legends say. But you would not give her rest.
You held her soul captive and bound it to your own. You used her. You used what had
been given to our people to heal, to protect, and to create... you used the Source to
kill, steal and destroy.”
“It is true,” said Nidaba. “When Semiramis preserved my corpse, I walked
amongst the undead until Delilah left her body behind and merged with me, soul and
spirit. That is when I became a true immortal... and that is when I took over our
collective will. She deserved it... she was a sorocide!”
Delilah’s eyes flashed. “You more than repaid that favor, sister dear.”
“We are both your foremothers,” Nidaba said triumphantly. “Delilah through
Norah, and I through Tammuz. But thanks to Delilah’s meddling interference, she
could separate from me through the lives and minds of her daughters, where I could
not. I held her captive, and yet through your line a part of her remained free. She
influenced the line to become a secret sisterhood, mother to daughter, unbroken until
you.”
“You must understand,” Delilah pleaded. “I showed you so that you would
understand.”
“I understand,” Hermione said slowly. “But it doesn’t make me have any more
respect for either of you.”
Hermione raised her hands high. Her wedding band glowed.
“Go rest in peace, my foremothers. Rest, for magic no longer has need of
goddesses, whether good or evil. We have enough of the darkness and the light
within our own souls to contend with.”
Before her eyes, Delilah and Nidaba seemed to age extremely quickly.
Hermione turned away as they shriveled and crumbled into dust, going to a
long-awaited rest that she wasn’t certain either of them deserved.

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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
She knew that the last of them had blown away on the wind when the shield fell
down... and she was in Harry’s arms again... who was crushing her so tightly that she
could barely... and here was Ron, Ron holding them both, laughing... cheers fell
around them like rain...
“The parades are over, and the judging is done!” Lena called out from her float
as rolled past them. “Mangueira has won!”
Somehow, they all found that extremely ironic.

Day Twelve.

12 February 2004.
It was late evening before Harry and Hermione ventured out on Carnival
Tuesday. After leaving the Sambodrome, they went with the others to bury Heath
(Sebastian Borgin and the rest of the Cabal’s dead were incinerated on the spot).
Then they sat on the steps of Igregia Candelaria as the all-night party waged around
them and talked everything over with Ron until the morning sun was high in the sky.
Almost as if the square was the lake at Hogwarts, and they were thirteen again.
Then Ron left, saying he’d see them in a couple of days. Harry and Hermione
headed back to the motel room well before everyone else and fell asleep
immediately. They were exhausted.
When they awoke, there was no sign of their friends. They took full advantage
of that fact.
But for all that, they did not linger. An overcrowded hotel room only made them
feel more claustrophobic. They dressed quickly and headed out into the humid night.
It was time to say farewell to Brazil.

Oh, what a night

Wonderful
One in a million
Frozen fire Brazilian stars
Holy Southern Cross...

Harry and Hermione walked the streets of Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon.
Moving along with the merry crowd. Saying very little, but conversing nonetheless.
They were still alive.
Draco and Ginny, Zach and Eva, Lenore and Juliana were awaiting them at the
site that had been Panteras a few months before – now a fabulous gafiera, or dance
club. Although the atmosphere in the place was beyond festive (it could have given
the Golden Snitch in London a run for its money), the mood at their table was
subdued.
“We’re going to Charlie’s for a day or two before we head home,” Ginny said.
“Will you be joining us?”
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Neither really wanted to go.
Both felt the same dread sense of foreboding.

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Paradise Lost 3
Yet why?
The Dark One was gone.
Sebastian was dead.
The puzzle of the disease had been solved.
What more remained?
Underneath the table, their hands gripped together, tightly. Their heads said it
was an inevitable reaction to everything they’d endured since October, that this too
would pass.
Their hearts said otherwise.
“Are you two going?” Hermione asked Eva, keeping her tone light.
Zach shook his head. “We’re going to find a place here in Rio, then get married
right away. Perhaps we’ll make it to Ayr after the Order disperses... it’s still overrun
with them at the moment, I hear.”
Harry groaned. “I forgot. Sirius told me before he left that they would be
meeting this week. They can’t make the Stone Table gold without me, Hermione, and
Draco, but I suppose they need to discuss the recent change in affairs.”
“No, it was merely a convenient excuse for a reunion,” Draco pointed out.
“Some of those Old Ones have not been to Earth in a thousand years. They’re likely
feasting and draining old Black’s cellars dry.”
“Oh no, they aren’t,” Ginny said. “I authorized Nod to release several hundred
of our best bottles to Sirius, and plenty of food besides. Sirius and Carole don’t have
enough to sustain that lot...”
“Virginia, enlighten me. Do I only make money so that you can spend it? What
on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”
She leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The corner of Draco’s
mouth quirked upward.
“Very well, then.” To the others, he said, “We’ve secured lodgings elsewhere.
Good night.”
They stood up and left, Draco’s arm draped possessively over his wife’s
shoulder, Ginny calling out merrily, “See you in Argentina!”
Hermione shook her head at them, then turned to Lenore.
“What will you do?”
Lenore’s face was completely emotionless. In her grief, she’d retreated back
into the impassive mask of the born Sabaean.
“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll be the third wheel wherever I end up.”
“Come to Bariloche with us,” Harry said to her quickly. For he now
remembered what he’d told Charlie many months before. “That is one of the most
beautiful parts of South America. And then, if you come back to Ayr with us, I’ll
introduce you to the Lady. You belong in Avalon. She would love having you there.”
She hesitated.
“You should go,” Zach said. “If you ever return to Brazil, there’ll be a place for
you. Or I’m sure you can return to the Foundation if you want to do that.”
Lenore looked at them all, looked at them with burning eyes. Then she turned

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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
back to Zach.
“My place was with your brother. Where shall I go now?”
She rose to her feet. And as she stood, a handsome Muggle asked her to dance.
Lenore assented, and soon she was whirling around the floor madly.

~~~
Day Thirteen.

13 February 2004.
Cameron Sinistra entered the room at the inn in the Wizarding quarter of San
Carlos de Bariloche, where two Wizards awaited his arrival.
“Tell me,” said Brian Riordan without preamble. “Why should we entrust this
task to you?”
Because everything you have tried has failed, you incompetent nincompoop.
“They will not suspect me. They pride themselves in being so different, so superior
to Wizards like you, while they discount the fact that Muggles have killed Wizards
before.”
Brian’s nose twitched. “But you aren’t exactly a Muggle, are you?”
“I am a Wizard whose birthright has been stolen,” snapped Cameron. “My
Wizarding blood is as blue as the Danube... and yet, Mudblood filth like Hermione
Granger gets all the glory in a degenerate age like this one. In better times, she would
have never gone to a school like Hogwarts. She would have been no more than a
village healer, dispensing herbs from her hovel... with any luck, the stupid Muggles
would have burned her at the stake.”
“Do not underestimate her,” another Wizard, the mayor of Bariloche, said. “She
seems to have nine lives. Is it true that she defeated the Dark One in one-to-one
combat?”
“I have not heard from Sebastian yet. But I have it on good authority that our
enemies have prevailed in Brazil.”
“Not to mention stopped the disease. That was a decade in the making.
Sebastian should be flayed alive.”
“Oh, he will be,” assured Brian. “Make no mistake of that.”
Cameron was growing impatient. “So will you give me the access that I need?”
Brian and the mayor looked at one another.
“Everything you need,” Brian said. “All that, and more.”

~~~
For the first time in her life, Hermione woke up on Ash Wednesday and went to
church.

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Paradise Lost 3
Eva had invited her the night before as they were leaving the club.
It was a half-hearted invitation, one that Hermione knew her friend didn’t
expect her to accept...
She did. Together, they walked from the motel to Candelaria. Eva chatted
animatedly about the plans she and Zach had for a school and mercy center for the
children of the streets... and their plans to expand their family further.
Hermione said nothing. She did not even smile.
The mood of the city was the diametric opposite of what it had been for the past
four days. The mood inside the church was the diametric opposite of what it had been
in the church in Manaus several months before.
How could people believe that their God would dwell in a place like this? So
cold and uninviting. Hermione did not understand it at all.
Being inside Candelaria made her feel more empty than ever.
Eva genuflected as she entered the sanctuary. Hermione was going to wait in the
back, as per usual. But Eva grabbed her hand, and soon Hermione found herself
moving to the altar with the great mass of people... many of whom still had faint
traces of Carnival grease paint around their eyes.
The time has now come in the Church year for the solemn observance of the
great central act of history, the redemption of the human race by our Lord and
Savior Jesus Christ. In the Roman Rite, the beginning of the forty days of penance is
marked with the austere symbol of ashes which are used in today’s liturgy. The use of
ashes is a survival from an ancient rite according to which converted sinners
submitted themselves to canonical penance.
Hermione read from the printed slip, converting easily from the Portuguese. Of
course, she’d read all about Ash Wednesday, knew that the ashes were burned foliage
from the previous year’s Palm Sunday.
In the church calendar, the Carnival season was followed by Ash Wednesday,
which was followed by Lent, which was followed by Easter...
What I am telling you is that if it is impossible to be reborn, then it is impossible
to receive your magic back.
Reborn? Surely you don’t mean it in the Christian sense?
Little one, Jesus of Nazareth and his followers spoke Aramaic and Greek. There
were words already invented for the concept of rebirth long before they were alive.
Such is the way of the earth. What was once, will be again.
She was standing before the priest now, who murmured something in Latin – a blessing,
Hermione assumed – and swiped the ashes upon Hermione’s forehead.
As she turned to walk away, she heard the priest’s intone more clearly.
In sudore vultus tuI vesceris pane donec revertaris in terram. De qua sumptus es
quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.
The words turned her blood to ice.
Eva, who’d received her ashes with rejoicing, chattered again all the way back
to the motel. This suited Hermione, who had been shaken unduly by her experience.
When they arrived back to the room, Zach and Harry had packed up the room

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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
and were watching a football match on television. Eva scooped up Daniel from
Zach’s arms, but Harry stood up with alarm to face his wife.
For Hermione had gone completely white.
“Harry,” she said. “I’m in terrible danger.”

~~~
Harry and Hermione left for Argentina immediately. Originally, they were going
to use a Portkey, but after Hermione’s morning scare, they flew, leaving the
transporter for Lenore should she choose to use it later.
Since Hermione’s announcement, Harry had not let Hermione out of his sight.
Even as they sat on the plane, he held her close. She was still so tense, and nothing
seemed to be able to calm her down.
As they left Brazil, the tension in her shoulders seemed to abate somewhat. By
the time they touched ground at Buenos Aires, she at least appeared normal...
although Harry knew better.
For a moment, Harry regretted not taking her home immediately.
Although they’d likely have no more initial privacy than at Charlie’s, Nephthys
was likely still on Ayr and could examine Hermione. Perhaps the battle had been too
much for her psychologically. Harry knew all about post-traumatic stress syndrome;
it had taken a decade of Avalon years to make even a dent in his. Perhaps they could
go back there... anything so that this newborn fear would disappear from Hermione’s
eyes...
They were the last ones off the plane.
“All right?” Harry asked her.
“Right as rain. Sorry for scaring you like that.”
He grinned. “I think we’ve had enough of Brazil for now, don’t you?”
“Indeed. I love Eva, but she’s going to have to visit me for at least the next
decade or so. It’ll take that long before I’m ready to go back there.” Her hand went
up to caress the side of his face lovingly. “Let’s just go to Charlie’s. I’m tired, and
I long to sleep in a real bed.”
“Only one night, beautiful,” Harry promised, kissing her palm. “One more
night, and then we go home.”
Hermione led the way out. Closing her eyes briefly... and wishing the truth of
her husband’s words could drown out her sense of fear.

~~~
Charlie was walking the perimeter of his ranch with Ron when Draco arrived.
“How strong are your safeguards here?” he asked without preamble.
The older Weasley frowned. “Safe as any, I’d expect. Why?”
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Paradise Lost 3
“Retaliation,” Ron answered before Draco could. “Most of the Cabalistica
wasn’t in Brazil, but awaiting their queen’s triumphant return, you know. News is
bound to spread.”
“Well, no one knows you lot are coming here, do they? There’s bound to be
some confusion in their camp at first...”
“All the same, Charles, for once in his pitiful life Weasley is right,” Draco said.
“Strengthen the perimeter. Also, one of us needs to cast a Projectile Shield before
Harry and Hermione get here.”
“What on earth?” Charlie chuckled. “Malfoy, you’re cracked. We’re Wizards.
Projectile shields are for protecting...”
“Muggles,” Ron finished for him. He and Draco eyed each other, completely
unused to being on one accord. Neither liked it much.
“Well, there aren’t going to be any Muggles here, so...”
“Charlie, Hermione for all intents and purposes is a Squib right now,” Ron said.
“She can’t use magic unless she’s around Harry, she can’t really defend herself... and
just before I came to Rio with the Order, there was a random report someone at the
Foundation gave to Sirius about Hermione. Apparently, some Squib she sacked years
ago has been meeting with Brian Riordan.”
“I don’t get it,” Charlie said. “Why hire a Squib as an assassin?”
“Never mind why,” Draco said impatiently. “You stick to raising my patron
creature, and we’ll handle security.”
“With your permission, Charlie,” Ron said, glaring at Draco.
Charlie pressed his fingers to his temples.
“Okay, sure. Just the perimeter of the grounds around the house. Not the
mountains... no, Malfoy, I insist. You’ll just interfere with my dragons. They’re
security enough, I should think.”
With that, Charlie left to see to his beloved grill, leaving Ron and Draco to face
each other.
Ron muttered something that sounded a lot like “Thanks.”
Draco, who never shrugged, shrugged just then.
They turned in their separate directions, Ron to meet his best friends at the
airport, Draco to finish securing the house and grounds.

~~~
A drive with Harry and Ron was just what the mediWizard ordered for
Hermione. They arrived at Charlie’s home just as the sun was setting, laughing and
extremely windblown.
“You still drive like a bat out of hell, Ron,” said Hermione contentedly.
Ron shrugged. “Got us there in one piece, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and most of my stomach is still at Buenos Aires airport... Harry, stop
laughing at me, it’s not funny,” she said, elbowing him playfully.

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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
The front door of Charlie’s home flung open. A familiar small face appeared.
“They’re here!” Maury called.
Hermione turned from Harry, who looked just as confused as she was, to Ron,
who was grinning from ear to ear.
“Ron, what on earth...”
Before they could get out of the car, it was surrounded.
Not only had the entire Weasley family come to Argentina to meet them, so had
many of their closest friends and their families. From Molly and Arthur (the latter
resting in a floating chair) to the Weasley twins and their wives and children, from
Alicia and Lee to Cassandra (who was explaining that Simon wanted to come, but
was overseeing Zotanos powder distribution) and Blaise’s wife (who said her
husband was making a full recovery), to Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Eleanor (who
had just been released from the hospital the evening before), to...
There were so many that had come just to be with them. All familiar faces, all
eager to congratulate them before they went into complete seclusion and rest.
But now Ginny was pushing through the crowd.
“Come on, you guys, at least let them get out of the car,” she said, winking at
Ron and reaching to unlock the doors. To Harry and Hermione, she merely said,
“Gotcha.”

~~~
Day Fourteen.

14 February 2004.
It wasn’t until midnight that Harry was able to fulfill the promise that Charlie
had made him many months before.
For the Weasleys and their friends gave them sheer hell at first.
“You could have knocked me over with a hippogriff feather when I first heard
about it,” Seamus said. “Harry, old friend, I can’t believe you’re married.” He turned
to Dean, incredulous. “They finally got him. Can you believe it?”
“No, can’t,” Dean replied, shaking his head with mock pity. “And I can’t believe
who got him.”
“Oh, it’s not so hard to believe. Didn’t these two disappear for an hour at
Hermione’s birthday party back in September?” Fred asked his wife and twin brother
loudly as the Potters reddened.
“Oh, come off it, Fred. You can’t prove anything,” Hermione said innocently,
nudging Harry with her knee as he fought a grin.
“Yeah, they were always disappearing together,” George confirmed. “I suppose
this last time they decided to get married wherever they got off to. Might as well let
the secret out, I suppose.”
“And look at them, pretending as if they’re not newlyweds,” Angelina chided.

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Paradise Lost 3
“Sitting side by side, nice and proper holding hands... they’re so insufferably good.
Not sickening in public like most newlyweds. Now, some of you long-marrieds could
have taken a hint from these two... make that most of you...”
Ron’s mouth dropped open.
“Those two? Good? Where’s Zach when you need him?”
“Oh, no, it takes Hermione’s friend Eva to talk about them properly,” Ginny
giggled. “One time, when they were in Salvador, Eva says they...”
“Hey! I though Brazil was the South American answer to Las Vegas... whatever
happens there, stays there,” Harry protested. Everyone erupted with laughter.
As they laughed, Hermione leaned up and whispered slyly, “Pity the chocolate
sauce had to remain in Brazil. Because if I recall correctly, it’s your turn to...”
With a swift motion, Harry pulled Hermione onto his lap the second she
finished her statement and pressed a kiss on her neck. Before he lost all track of
where he was, he was interrupted by one of the twins clearing his throat.
“Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Potter, but there are children here!” George said.
Knowing full well that everyone under the age of eighteen was out with Charlie and
his staff... the kids in question tended to care a bit more about dragons than surprise
nuptials.
“What the hell, all our sprogs are corrupted beyond repair anyway,” Fred
conceded happily, then raised his shot glass of firewhiskey high. “To Harry and
Hermione.”
“To Harry and Hermione,” everyone else chorused.
Hours later, a bit after midnight, after a fabulous parrillada and more jests that
flowed as freely as the whiskey and the wine, the general retreat into the large and
comfortable tents set up on the ground had not quite begun. Barbecue smells still
floated up from the grill below. The wide lower deck was filled with the Weasleys
and their friends and spouses and significant others, enjoying their drinks and chatter.
Raven, Gryff and Malinda led the smaller children in catching fireflies.
In the distance, there were occasional flashes of dragonfire and dragonsmoke
high on the mountains.
Earlier, Mo and Bill had entertained everyone... her voice and his guitar swirling
around standards from the century before. After they were done, someone had found
an old stack of Muggle albums, and put on Cole Porter. A few, like Fred and
Angelina, got up to dance.
Arthur’s hand found his wife’s.
Harry and Hermione had extracted themselves from the gathering below. Now
they had the upper balcony deck to themselves. They leaned against the railing,
stargazing. Harry’s arm curved around her waist. Hermione leaned into him
comfortably.
“Do you know, today’s Valentine’s Day?” she whispered.
“Already? I forgot,” he said, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
Hermione shook her head. “I hope this is not a precedent for the rest of our
marriage, Harry,” she said with mock severity. “Really, you ought to remember major

- 86 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
holidays for the first year!”
“Did you get me a present, then?”
Hermione looked contrite. “Well... not yet. But it’s the thought, Harry.”
“Yeah, that’s what they say,” Harry said, reaching into his pocket. “Which is
why there’s something I want to give you.”
He placed a small jewelry box in front of her, letting it hover in mid-air.
“Open it. After you apologize and admit that I’m the best husband since Prince
Albert.”
“I do apologize... but the Prince Albert thing is a bit much. How many kids did
he sire on Queen Victoria? Ten? Twelve?”
“Nine.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
“Harry Potter, don’t make me hurt you.”
He laughed. “Just open the box already, difficult woman, will you?”
She opened the box. Inside was...
“Oh, my...”
Hermione was at a loss for words. The sight that greeted her inside the box was
almost too dazzling to look at. She did not move as Harry extracted her engagement
ring from her left hand and shifted it to her right, barely breathed as he slid the
exquisite new ring down her finger to meet her wedding band.
“I’ve never seen a sapphire quite like this,” Hermione finally managed. “It’s
perfectly clear and I’ve never seen so much fire...”
“That’s because it isn’t a sapphire. It’s one of my great-grandmother’s blue
diamonds.”
“A blue diamond, Harry?”
“Yeah, apparently the women in my family had loads of jewelry, all stuff they’d
accumulated over the centuries,” he explained as Hermione kept staring at the ring.
“There’s a huge chest in one of the vaults, and Sirius and Lupin say there’s a story
behind each piece. I know the Confederation gave you a lot of jewelry after the war,
but... my dad gave this particular stone to my mum when I was born. The diamond
had belonged to his grandmother. Mum was buried with her engagement ring... they
told me she never took it off from the time Dad gave it to her... but everyone said she
really cherished this ring... and I know blue’s your favorite color...”
“It fits as if it was sized for me,” Hermione said incredulously.
“That’s because it was. Look, Hermione... when we came back from Avalon,
I had all these wild notions... I decided I was going to tell you everything. I knew
you’d be furious, but I also knew you were mad about me. I figured that maybe if
I just told you what happened, it would blow over and everything would be okay. So
I started looking at rings... I went to every jeweler in London and Edinburgh and
found nothing good enough for you.”
He took a deep breath.
“Then I remembered my vault. When I saw this, I wanted the stone, but not
necessarily the setting... the ring was too clunky for you. Your hands are a bit smaller
than Mum’s were, I’m thinking. So I got the stone and had them make a new

- 87 -
Paradise Lost 3
setting... but before I could pick it up, Ron proposed to you the night of Fred and
Angelina’s wedding.”
Hermione tore her eyes away from the exquisite ring to look at him tenderly.
“Harry, you can’t mean to tell me that you had this ring designed for me twelve
years ago.” She brought her right hand up to cup his cheek. “And you didn’t offer
this to Diana... I mean, Lenore?”
“Hermione. You know better.” He took her left hand in his to examine it. “It
looks great on you. When we were in England last week, I had to get into Gringotts
and get it. I couldn’t wait... and besides, I had to put your name on stuff anyway.”
“But there are warrants out for your arrest,” Hermione protested.
She cared nothing about money and a great deal about the risk her husband had
put himself through for her sake.
“No one gave me a hard time.” He paused. “Although the Goblins had a special
guard along when we came back up... one of them said I could buy and sell Diagon
Alley with that one stone alone...”
“Harry, don’t tell me that, because then I’ll be far too nervous to wear it. I’ll be
too afraid of losing it somewhere.”
“Well, don’t be. There was a necklace and a pair of earrings to match, so the
stone can be replaced if need be.”
“An entire necklace made from blue diamonds? And earrings?” Hermione tried
very hard not to gasp, but failed.
Harry nodded. “Mum wore that too, once, without the ring. Before they had me.
I saw a picture. Very understated... a single blue diamond pendant with blue
diamonds all along the chain, and small earrings to match. If you ever want them...”
“I want you,” she said suddenly. “More than any blue diamond. More than all
the Galleons at Gringotts.”
“Yeah, I know you do,” he said huskily, backing her up to the balcony railing.
“But do you like your ring?”
Hermione traced his mouth with her fingertips, wetting her own lips.
“No, it’s absolutely hideous, Harry. How could you even think I’d wear such a
thing? That’s why I plan never to take it off...”
Instead of going for his mouth, Hermione found her favorite spot on his neck
first, trailing soft and gentle kisses from it, up to his chin, then finally brushed his
lips with her own. Her hips fully rested on the cast-iron railing now, and it was a
rather uncomfortable perch, but she didn’t care. Harry’s arms were around her to
keep her from falling and nothing else in the world mattered save for him...
Not even her irrational fears.
“Every time I see this ring... and that will be every day for the rest of my life...
I’m going to remember how much I want you right now.”
“If that’s the sort of response I get, then bloody hell, I’ll give you expensive
jewelry every day,” he teased, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her light
blouse.
“I know exactly what I plan to give you on a daily basis,” Hermione murmured

- 88 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
silkily, trailing her hand over the small of his back in lazy circles, “and it isn’t pretty
colored stones.”
His breath was hot in her ear. “Shall we call it a night, then?”
“Yes, please... let’s.”
Before Harry could Disapparate them away, a popping noise sounded behind
them...
And Lenore emerged, having just Portkeyed in. She assessed the situation with
one sweep of her starry eyes. Her face was unreadable.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“Don’t worry,” Hermione said, as Harry lifted her by the waist to set her back
on her feet. “We’re very glad you came.”
Lenore’s eyes looked everywhere but at them. “Yeah. Well.”
But she neither left them, nor made a move to go. This made both Harry and
Hermione feel very awkward, as it seemed rude to just leave for bed at this point.
Lenore had just only arrived, she didn’t know anyone else at the gathering, and...
they knew what she’d given up for their sake.
Hermione broke away from Harry with a smile she hoped didn’t look too
forced.
“Lenore, shall we have a bit of a chat before I introduce you to everyone?”
As the words fell from her lips, Hermione’s heart began to pound within her
chest. She couldn’t think why.
Harry’s face seemed to mirror what she felt. “I’m sure Ginny wouldn’t mind
showing her around, as we were just going to retire,” he said, feeling like a complete
prat the moment he heard himself.
Hermione grinned at her husband, then stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.
“I’ll be up in a half hour. Run me a bath... I want rose petals and more of that
heavenly champagne from earlier.”
He clucked his tongue. “Demanding Witch,” he said aloud.
“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” she said, coming back to kiss him. “Be
right back.”
“Hurry up,” he growled, smacking her bottom.
She swatted back at him. “Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Hermione laughed as he Disapparated away, watching the spot for a few
seconds before she turned back to Lenore. The other woman looked so very sad that
Hermione’s heart broke for her.
“Lenore, I’m...”
“Don’t even bother consoling me. It’s not your fault that I’m miserable. You’ve
done nothing wrong. Go to your husband. I’ll find my own way.”
Hermione shook her head slowly. “Don’t you know that I understand what
you’ve given up for my sake?”
“Yes, Hermione. I know perfectly well that you understand something of what
I’m going through. Remember, I know your man better than almost anyone, and

- 89 -
Paradise Lost 3
through studying his life, I know you. But that doesn’t make it any easier, and it
doesn’t make me miss Heath any less.”
To this, Hermione said nothing. What could she say?
“Excuse me, I think I need some air.”
“Let me come with you.”
Lenore studied her with a frown. “I was planning to go to the Wizarding quarter
of Bariloche, just over the far mountains. Get nice and drunk... did you know that
alcohol is forbidden to us in Sabera? Sabaeans don’t drink.”
“They sound very sensible. Let’s be as nonsensical as we can, then.
We’ll have a few drinks and chat like old girlfriends.” She glanced down at the
gathering. “Perhaps some of the other Witches would like to come too?”
Lenore shook his head. “No, Hermione. There are things I need to say to you...
and only you.”

~~~
He couldn’t penetrate the safeguards that had been placed around the Weasley
estate. That much was clear. Never mind... there would be a press conference
sometime... some public event... he would never stop in his quest until the Granger
bitch was dead.
But from his high perch, Cameron could easily see the two women, walking up
the road that led from Dragonworld to the Andean town of San Carlos de Bariloche.
This was his moment.
It was time.

~~~
Forty-five minutes after Harry left Hermione and Lenore together, there was no
sign of his wife.
He knew he was being paranoid.
But he Apparated down to the waning gathering anyway. Draco Malfoy was
chatting with Ron about something, frowning.
“I was right, Weasley. Granger’s obviously not with Potter.” Draco looked at his
old rival for confirmation.
Harry shook his head. “I thought she was down here. Lenore came in with the
Portkey not an hour ago, and she and Hermione set off... you mean no one’s seen
them?”
The thought went through the heads of all three men at once.
Traitor.

- 90 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)

~~~
Lenore and Hermione walked the moonlit mountain path, surrounded on both
sides by the woods. It was a gorgeous late summer night in the Andes, and both
women kept their own counsel at first.
It was Lenore who broke the silence.
“In Sabera, I dreamed of walking in a place like this,” she said.
There was quiet for a few moments as Hermione thought of something
appropriate to say. “Heath and Zach gave us the impression that your homeland is
mostly desert.”
She glanced at Hermione, then nodded. “Yes, much has been devastated by the
wars. The oceans are quite noxious, and the great forests were exhausted long before
our time. One can’t just walk about outside on our Earth as you can do in these times.
We have to wear protective gear to block the ultraviolet rays.”
“We’re nearly at that point now. Malfoy’s shifting the MMRI’s Muggleside
operations more towards ecology and preservation these days. He says that’s because
he can make money in it, but I know he’s just as concerned as I am... Lenore, what’s
wrong?”
For Lenore had stopped in her tracks.
“He’s here,” she snapped. “Come out, you coward, and fight like a Wizard! You
are not going to torment her for the rest of her life!
Tonight, you will die, and she will be free!”
Her answer was a long volley of gunfire, answered by a fantastic blast of sparks
from Lenore’s wand.
Hermione sat up slightly from the hollow that Lenore had pushed her into.
“What the hell are you doing?” the Witch from the future snapped. “Get down!”

~~~
Meanwhile, Harry, Draco, Ron, and a dozen other Weasleys and friends of
Weasleys were tearing up the narrow path to Bariloche. There was no time for
Apparating; they needed to follow the women’s tracks into the deep woods.
Wands out, calling out...
“Hermione! Get away from her!”

~~~
From the shadows, the gaunt figure of Cameron Sinistra emerged. He was
dressed in brand-new Muggle hiking gear, and appeared as if he could have been the
poster child in an Outward Bound advertisement... save for his crazed eyes.
- 91 -
Paradise Lost 3
Lenore raised her wand again. “Sec...”
With the powerful gun, Cameron shot her hand nearly clean off. Her bloodied
wand fell to the ground.
The Witch screamed.
“Move aside, bitch. I have an old score to settle.”
“If you want to get to her, you’ve got to come through me!”
Cameron shrugged.
“Very well, have it your way.”
He raised his gun at the same time as Hermione emerged from the hollow, wand
raised.
“Expelliarmus!”

~~~
In the forest darkness, as they ran, Harry’s wedding band glowed.
He froze for a moment. Unable to speak. So Ron said it for him.
“Shit! Hermione!”

~~~
It was an awkward angle. Hermione’s spell misfired.
So did the gun.
Unfortunately, her wand did not have a target lock.
Cameron’s gun did.
Twenty-nine bullets were fired before the automatic state-of-the-art rifle fell to
the ground.
Fourteen of them riddled Lenore’s body before she had the chance to duck fully
down into the hollow beside the path...

~~~
A couple of seconds before Harry, Ron, and Draco arrived on the scene.
Harry threw the curse without even bothering with his wand. A single thought
ignited Cameron’s body instantly, turning it to ash, scattering it on the night wind.
The others were fast arriving, lifting Lenore’s corpse from the small hollow. She
was covered with blood, and had obviously died in a great deal of pain. Ginny
tamped down her horror to Transfigure a winding sheet for her, using the vines that
grew nearby as raw material.
Then they saw Hermione.
Her white blouse and indigo jeans were smeared with blood. Harry took her
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 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
halfway into his arms as Ginny and Anya checked her vital signs. It took Ginny only
the briefest of moments to state the obvious.
“She wasn’t hit.”
Harry slumped over his wife’s limp form with relief. So she was just
unconscious... perhaps when the force of Lenore’s body fell on her, she’d knocked
her head on something... easily taken care of...
“But there’s no heartbeat,” choked out Ginny, standing up to slump against
Draco, “and she’s not breathing. She’s not breathing at all...” Her last words came out
in a plaintive wail, one which Draco quickly buried against his chest as Ginny began
to cry.
Anya had not said anything. She merely began a very Muggle procedure that
even Wizarding medical personnel knew... CPR.
Harry’s hand shook as it encircled her wrist. There was no pulse.
Anya sat up. Tears fell from her eyes as she faced Harry. Not wanting to tell
him, but knowing that it had to be said.
“Hermione must have Shared Lenore’s death, Harry... she didn’t have enough
magic at her disposal to shield her soul away from it... Harry, she’s...”
Harry glared at her. Glared at them all.
“Don’t you dare say that to me! She isn’t, she isn’t!”
But his fervent denials could not stopper the piercing scream that had begun in
his brain the moment he stepped into the clearing. The alarm was so loud, so
piercing, that he could not hear, could not think, could not breathe...
Ron dropped to his knees. Turned to face him, unable to stop the tears from
falling liberally from his own eyes.
“Harry,” he said, voice shaking, gripping his best friend by the upper arms.
“She’s dead... do you hear me? Hermione is dead.”

- 93 -
 A/N: I’m going into hiding.
Lots of influences for this chapter that took a year to write... well,
at least for me to get around to writing. First, the poem Harry reads to
Ron’s boys is from Shel Silverstein’s awesome Where the Sidewalk
Ends. The quote in the Arthur homecoming scene is from Psalm 16.
Music that greatly influenced the writing were standards and
timeless ballads, including Cassandra Wilson’s version of James Taylor’s
“Only a Dream in Rio” and the Isley Brothers version of Taylor’s “Don’t
Let Me Be Lonely Tonight”, JonI Mitchell’s “A Case of You” and “Big
Yellow Taxi”, Van Morrison’s “Someone Like You”, R.
Kelly’s “Forever”, and the Temptations’ version of Cole Porter’s
“Night and Day” (from the movie What Women Want) and their
heavenly “For Your Love/You Send Me” medley that has to be heard to
be believed.
Here’s some great websites to look at to get the feel for Rio’s
Carnival, known as the world’s greatest party:
Ipanema.com – Beginner’s Guide to Carnival (lots of pics):
http://ipanema.com/carnival/home.htm
Mangueira Samba School Webpage (in Portuguese):
http://www.mangueira.com.br
Hermione’s Ash Wednesday experience was gleaned from the
CatholicCulture.org website – although I’d planned to attend an Ash
Wednesday service in New Orleans during MardI Gras this year, I did
not get the chance. As my particular branch of the faith observes Ash
Wednesday and the Lenten season quite differently than our Catholic
brethren, I freely admit that the mass is not authentic.
Please forgive any inaccuracies. I do not mean to be disrespectful;
indeed, quite the opposite.
BTW, I used Virginia instead of Ginevra knowingly in this chapter.
Since I’m pre-OotP AU with this ficverse anyway, I decided to
remain consistent within Paradise, especially since Ginny’s full name
has not yet been used in canon.
Remember, reviews never necessary. Just keep reading...
Stay cool,
Eb
aaa
 13. The Only One

“I’m not sure God wants us to be

happy. I think he wants us to love, and
be loved. But we are like children,
thinking our toys will make us happy
and the whole world is our nursery.
Something must drive us out of that
nursery and into the lives of others, and
that something is suffering.”
– C.S. Lewis

T he coroner from San Carlos de Bariloche pronounced Hermione Granger

Potter dead at a quarter to four on the fourteenth of February, 2013.
On his way out of the bedroom, Draco Malfoy pressed a sack of Galleons
into the elderly Wizard’s palm. He spoke not a word, but his grey eyes said it all
clearly.
For your silence.
Harry had refused to let Hermione out of his sight. He’d washed the blood
from her body, plucked the leaves and rinsed the dirt from her hair. Then he had
changed her into the new nightgown she’d purchased the day before from a shop
in Bariloche. It had been still in its paper sack when they’d arrived back.
Now she lay on their bed as if sleeping, rose petals still scattered randomly
on the eggshell sheets around her. The bath he’d run hours before was ice cold.
Harry sat beside her.
Hermione’s skin was still warm.
It’s deceptive with those of us who are magic, the coroner had explained.
With Muggles, it’s almost instantaneous. With us, it can take as many as twenty-
five full hours for rigor mortis to set in because of... we know not why.
She could have told him why, he thought, if she really wanted to.
Didn’t his Hermione know everything?
Harry fully expected Hermione to sit up and begin lecturing the man about
the Source and everything she’d learned over the past six months. Maddeningly,
she did not.
“Come on, Hermione,” Harry said confidently. “Wake up. You’re not dead,
you’re just sleeping. Show them you’re not.”
And Harry ran a finger down his wife’s still-warm cheek.
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)

~~~
Ron watched his two best friends from the doorway. He couldn’t remember
the last time he’d cried... and yet now, he couldn’t stop crying.
“Any change?”
He turned around to face his sister, whose eyes were bloodshot red.
“No.”
Ginny nodded slowly. “Draco’s contacted Sirius and Remus. They’ll be
here with her father by evening.”
Ron said nothing. Just went back to staring at Harry and Hermione.
Seemingly torn between going to them... no, going to Harry, as there was
no Hermione to go to any longer... and staying put. Torn between the madness of
staying in yesterday and the harsh reality of facing tomorrow.
“Ron... we’ve got to do it by morning, you know we do. If we let her get
cold...”
He broke off his sorrowful stare to regard his sister.
“I know.”
“Merlin, Ron, you know we’re all like zombies... Mum’s with the children
now, keeping them calm... but if anyone deserves a proper funeral, it’s
Hermione, so I think you ought to...”
“Shut up,” Ron growled. “Just shut up, Ginny, and go away.”
With those words, Ron stepped fully into the bedroom and slammed the
door in her face.

~~~
Darkness.
Once the soul that had clung so desperately to hers slipped away, all was
dark.
And chill.
Malevolent darkness. Whirring wings. Gnashing teeth.
Piercing pain.
Until she heard a familiar voice calling her, as if from a million miles away.
Wake up. You’re not dead. You’re only sleeping.
That voice. Whose voice was that? It filled her with such hope, and made
her less afraid. It warmed her, filled her up in the infinite cold. Who was it?
Why couldn’t she remember anything in this place?
Another voice.
Come here, poppet, walk to Nana...
And in the midst of darkness, there was light... and the darkness could not
comprehend it. The edges and the teeth of it receded somewhat.

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Paradise Lost 3
Her legs... she had no legs. She wanted to walk towards that voice, that
pinprick of light. Because of it, she was no longer afraid.
How could one walk with no legs?

~~~
Draco sat down at Charlie’s kitchen table. Arthur was still recovering from
his recent brush with the epidemic, and the shock of Hermione’s death had put
him back into bed. Molly was with the children. The other Weasleys and their
friends were in varying states of being in a state. And Ron and Harry...
Well. Someone had to do what needed to be done. Granger had been one of
his few friends. Before anyone else trusted him or believed that he could change,
even before his own wife believed it, Granger had believed it.
Granger had been a Witch who’d valued order and precision. He would
send her off in the manner she deserved.
Nearly twenty pairs of expectant eyes waited for him to speak.
“We’ve notified Zachary Canyon, and upon his consent, interred the
woman Lenore Raven. As we had no idea of the customs of her time, she was
incinerated, and her ashes were sent to Zachary, who is for all intents and
purposes her next of kin.”
He fell silent.
“As for Granger, she needs to be prepared for last rites by tomorrow
morning. We’ll send her off at dawn.”
He barely finished his sentence before a dozen different voices chimed in.
Some were angry, some were hysterical. Nothing could be heard in the resultant
din. So he waited.
In four years of being husband to a Weasley, he’d learned how to wait.
Once it was quiet again, he continued.
“Granger’s father will be here by the evening. Zachary and Eva are coming
down for the funeral as well. Charles, you and the twins and I will work on the
barge if we can’t get Weasley out of the room. My wife will begin weaving
Hermione’s shroud and can use all the help she can get, as it will take her all day
and most of the night.”
“Who’s going to prep Hermione?” asked Liz quietly.
“What I want to know is who’s got the stones to try and get her away from
Harry,” George said. “He hasn’t let anyone into that room save for the coroner.”
“Ron’s in there,” Angelina pointed out.
“Angel, Ron doesn’t count. He’s half in shock himself,” Fred said.
He turned to Maureen. “Perhaps if you talk to your husband...”
“You know I’ve been trying all night,” said Mo, blinking dry and hot eyes
furiously. “He isn’t going to let them out of his sight. He’s afraid for Harry.”
Bill blinked. “Like what? Mo, has Harry ever been suicidal?”

- 98 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
“No, but...”
“Harry’s got where he can’t do without Hermione,” Ginny said flatly. “I’m
not sure how he’ll go on.”
“Everyone says that about their husband or wife, and they eventually
remarry,” Bill replied, not impressed. “Harry’s been through worse. He’ll be all
right, just like the rest of us... eventually.”
Ginny looked at her adored eldest brother incredulously.
“Bill, you don’t understand about them. You don’t know them as I do, and
of course no one knows them like Ron. Don’t you get it? They’ve been
soulmates from the beginning. The only reason Hermione was ever with our
brother was because the threat of Voldemort caused Harry to push her away. And
when the war was over, Hermione was with Ron, and neither of them could bear
to hurt him. So none of us ever knew about how it was with them, not even Ron
until that terrible day four years ago...
“Yes, they were only married for a few short months. But in a way, they’ve
been fused together since Avalon. You lot didn’t get to spend any time with them
over the past few months, not like Draco and I did, and not like their new friends
did. Hermione is very likely the main and only reason Harry even came back to
us after the war at all. He has dropped everything whenever she’s needed him
since he’s come back. Each time she’s disappeared, he’s gone half mad. And
now she’s dead, and he’s going to...”
A choked sob broke Ginny’s words. She wiped her eyes furiously.
“Doesn’t anyone else understand? The first opportunity Harry gets, he’s
going to follow her.”

~~~
Harry looked up at his best friend as he entered the room.
“Oh, good. You’re here.” He looked down at Hermione. “She’s not waking
up, Ron. Think you could help me out here?”
Ron staggered down into the chair closest to the door.
This was bloody unreal.
“Fine. Have it your way, then.” Harry shrugged nonchalantly, then went
back to shaking Hermione...

~~~
First there was an odd shaking, and then...
And then Hermione found herself running, tumbling down a long tunnel...
Into the light.
The light blinded her at first. It hurt her eyes. She thought she would be
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Paradise Lost 3
absolutely consumed by it, her skin burned to a crisp.
But she didn’t seem to have any skin.
Of course, she perceived the light, anyhow. She just could not feel it.
Ah, well, at least she had eyes to see.
For she’d just landed in the most beautiful place she’d ever been in. So
beautiful that she could not describe it to herself in mere words. Hermione knew
an awful lot of words, but none were suitable for this place.
She saw colors there were no words invented for yet.
Hermione laughed, feeling more alive than she’d ever felt in her life. Ayr
had nothing on this place. Neither did Atlantis, or Avalon, or any of those other
places that began with “A” she’d been with... with...
Why couldn’t she remember who?

~~~
There was a knock on the door.
Mo’s head peered around it. Harry, totally preoccupied with getting
Hermione to awaken, did not appear to notice her at all.
Ron stood up and stepped into the hallway. Drew his wife into his arms.
Buried his face in her hair.
He loved Mo with all his heart. He knew that if she died, he’d grieve, he
would very likely never remarry, but...
In all these years, he’d only glimpsed what he was seeing now. He had not
known the full extent of what existed between his two best friends in the world.
He had only known that on some existential level it excluded him, and because
of that he resented whatever it was a great deal.
No longer.
He knew that Harry was only a hair’s breadth away from insanity. As such,
he knew he was standing in the gap, there to catch his best friend, to save him
from himself. Regardless of the cost.
And if he failed...
If he failed, then he’d still have his wife and children and family.
They wouldn’t have him, though. Not in any real sense. For he was
connected, for good or for ill, to the two people on that bed... one recently
deceased, one living for now...
Harry and Hermione, you’d better not leave me behind!
Maureen was shaking her head, against his chest.
“Ronald. We’ve got to talk to Harry. He’s got to let go of Hermione.”
Ron shook his head. “He won’t do that. Not voluntarily.”
“Babe, you’ve got to be the rational one here. This is tearing everyone up,
but we just can’t continue to indulge Harry’s whims.
They want to prep her, and it’s going to take long enough as it is...”

- 100 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
“What about the kids?”
“Your mother’s with them. The older ones know. The younger ones don’t,
although I think even Maury knows something is amiss. They will survive this.
We all will. Even you. And yes, even Harry.”
Ron glanced back over his shoulder and into the room.
Somehow, he seriously doubted that.

~~~
Hermione sat on the grassy knoll as the lightly perfumed wind blew around
her face. Her arms were full of a purring, orange furry mass.
“Crookshanks,” she murmured happily. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again!
I’ve never had another pet quite like you... I’ve missed you so...”
Overhead, a snowy white owl circled them in the bright light.
Yet Hermione never looked up.

~~~
When Ron left, Harry stretched himself out on the bed beside Hermione,
gathering her limp and lifeless form into his arms.
Why did everyone think she was dead? How ridiculous. There was still
color in her cheeks. She was still warm. So was her wedding band, still vibrating
ever so slightly from the magic she’d used to protect herself that night.
Her skin was unmarred. None of the bullets had hit her. She didn’t have a
single scratch.
Why wouldn’t she wake up?
Perhaps it was because he hadn’t called her loudly enough? Yes, that was it.
She obviously could not hear him.
So he placed his lips very close to her ear...
And said her name. Loudly, so that she could hear him.

~~~
They heard it then, that anguished cry, all around Charlie’s vast property.
The Wizards froze their wands above the single fallen log they’d just begun
to hollow out. The shuttle of the magical loom Ginny was working with stopped
clacking as the wand fell from her hand, trailing threads of golden silk...
Hermione!

- 101 -
Paradise Lost 3

~~~
Someone was calling her name. She lifted her head from Crookshanks’ fur
and opened her eyes...
And looked up into a pair of kindly blue ones.
Odd. Why did she think they should be green?
Slowly the person’s entire face came into focus. She was a very young
woman, one whom Hermione had never seen... but she knew her, nonetheless...
Then she gasped.
“Grandmother Helen?”

~~~
The muscles in Ron’s throat tightened as he walked over to Harry.
His best friend had waited for his wife’s response to his call. When none
came, he eventually crumpled up, resting his dark head on the chest that refused
to rise and fall.
Ron hesitated, then touched his shoulder.
“Harry?”
Harry didn’t say anything. Just looked up at him with blank eyes for a
while. Then:
“Ron. She’s not here anymore, is she?”
Ron’s lips trembled. His eyes filled with tears.
“Reckon not, mate.”
Harry sat up and nodded calmly.
“Then where did she go?”
“Where do they all go? No one seems to know. All we know is that we
never see them again. They never come back, do they?”
“But they’ve got to go somewhere,” Harry said practically. Eyes still blank.
“They don’t just stop existing.”
“Harry...”
“Ron, if Hermione didn’t exist anymore, I’d know. I’d feel it. But this
makes no sense...”
“Harry. Hermione’s gone, she can’t come back to you...”
“What a load of dragonshit,” he snapped, pushing Ron’s hand off his
shoulder. “Not only can she, she will. How can you sit there and say...”
“Because no one can raise the dead! Not even you, Harry! It can’t be done!
She’s dead, mate, and she isn’t coming back!”
“How Do You Know That?” Harry yelled. “Tell me, Ron. Someone tell
me something... if my wife is dead, then What The Fuck Is The Cause Of It?”
“Harry, she was a hyperempath, you know she Shared Lenore’s death...”

- 102 -
 12. Fourteen Days(cont.)
“There isn’t a single mark on her body. The coroner says she’s the picture
of health! She’s still got Source, the magic is obviously keeping her blood warm,
nothing has begun to decay... so what is she dead from?”
Harry was shaking with anger. Ron stood there, facing him, at a complete
loss.
“If you’re not going to help me find her...” Harry began.
Ron sighed. That way lay madness.
But he’d already lost one best friend... his first love.
He couldn’t bear to lose the other, who was more than a brother.
So he blinked, and nodded.
“I’ll help you find her, Harry. Tell me what you want me to do.”

~~~
Helen Blavatsky Means held her beloved granddaughter in her eyes. To
Hermione, it had been nearly thirty years... but to Helen, it had been but a
moment.
“Hermione. What a woman you have become.” She smiled, her gorgeous
face lighting up, the all-encompassing light reflecting from her golden blonde
hair. “I have been watching. And I am so proud.”
Hermione grinned back, feeling a bit embarrassed. “You told me so many
stories when I was a child. Not Cinderella stories, either. You told me...”
“That you were going to have to save yourself. And one day, you were
destined to save the prince.”
At those words, Hermione felt an enormous sense of loss. And the feeling
struck her as distinctly wrong, as there was supposed to be no lack in this
place... wherever she was. But for some reason, she could not remember exactly
what she’d lost.
Only that some integral part of her hadn’t made the transition to... well,
wherever she was.
Then where was this missing piece?
“Come,” said Grandmother Helen in her soft voice that never failed to
remind Hermione of water. “We have much to talk about.”

- 103 -