FicWad

Giddily, Harry traipsed through the snowdrifts back to the castle, hand in hand with Hermione. Not only had he accidentally uncovered the secret of the screeching Golden Egg, Hermione had agreed to marry him. Still lost in the euphoric haze of the moment, Harry flung open the castle door and began to cross the entrance hall, oblivious to the snow trailing behind him and Hermione.

A surly looking figure appeared and Harry was brought back to reality with a sudden jolt. Filch!

Harry froze and groaned, heart pounding in his ears. Hermione let out an embarrassed little squeak and hid behind him, her face reddening. Harry mentally kicked himself for not paying more attention. He’d done so well until now, avoiding Filch and trying not to leave a mess for him since the Chamber of Secrets business.

Harry wondered how much trouble he’d got himself and Hermione into. What sort of horrible detention did Filch have in store for them? As Filch drew closer, lurching ominously towards them, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the storm to break.

To Harry’s utter horror, Filch’s knobby calloused fingers grasped him... and pulled him into a tight embrace as the cranky old caretaker burst into tears.

“Thank ye so much Mr Potter!” Filch sobbed, “Dumbledore tol’ me ye were the one ta thank for my Christmas Present... In all my years here, nobody, not once, ‘as ever stopped ta think about what it’s like cleanin’ up without magic in this castle. Not. A. Single. One. I... I can’t thank ye enough!

“Thanks ta you, the ‘eadmaster not only enchanted all o’ my cleanin’ supplies, he also gave me a Self-Spellin’ wand that obeys my voice commands - I can do magic as long as I’m on Hogwarts grounds... It’s the nicest Christmas Present I’ve ever had!”

Harry was completely flummoxed. He vaguely remembered briefly mentioning something to Dumbledore about how badly he felt for Filch after Mrs Norris had been petrified. But he had no idea that Dumbledore had given his words a second thought, and he wondered why they were only seeing results now.

Harry cleared his throat, trying to think of something to say. He glanced at Hermione for help, but she was too stunned herself to do more than shrug uncertainly.

“Erm... You’re very welcome Mr Filch!” Harry finally responded “I...I’m really sorry if I’ve ever caused you trouble.”

“No need ta apologise Mr Potter... No need at all. Ye’ve always been the politest of the lot really - just like yer mum. Though... I must say, Mrs Norris has always seemed ta ‘ave taken a bit of a shine to Miss Granger.”

Mr Filch dabbed at his happy tears with a dirty looking hanky, and a mop began to clean up their snowy footprints by itself when he waved his new wand.

Harry’s perplex followed him all the way to his - correction, his and Hermione’s - private chambers. Hermione beamed at Harry and pulled him into a big wet kiss the moment they were out of sight behind closed doors.

“I love you so much Harry! That was so kind and sweet of you...”

“That’s the thing Hermione... I don’t really remember saying much to Dumbledore about it. I think I only mentioned that I was sorry about Filch’s cat, and I think... er... I think I said that I felt bad about the Kwikspell Correspondence business, and that of course I didn’t hold it against Filch that he couldn’t do magic...”

“But you were thinking about it at the time Harry. I remember you telling me and Ron about it just after - you told us that you had been thinking about how unfair it was for him to have to clean without magic too. Dumbledore must have picked up on what you were thinking - he is a legilimens after all...”

Harry marveled once again at Hermione’s incredible memory.

“But why only now?” he interjected, frowning in puzzlement. “...After all this time?”

“It must have taken Dumbledore ages to invent a Self-Spelling wand Harry! Nobody’s ever done that before...”

“Oh, yeah... I suppose that does make sense,” Harry nodded, eyebrows raised. He hadn’t quite considered that some things might be difficult, even for a wizard as experienced as Dumbledore.

“And it’s probably something which might not be entirely legal, in case something like that fell into muggle hands,” Hermione added. “Though I expect it will only work for Filch, and only on Hogwarts Grounds.”

His curiosity satisfied by Hermione’s sensible reasoning, Harry hung up his winter coat on the rack and lifted the Golden Egg out of the pocket. It glinted in the flickering light of the fire in the hearth as he hefted it, feeling the weight in his hand.

“Right then,” he said. “I think I’ll take a bath and give this a listen, Hermione.”

~o0o~

Harry turned several of the numerous gold spigots while the enormous marble tub continued to fill with hot steamy water. Normally Harry took showers, and he had been puzzled by the number of different taps. But he had discovered that they contained a variety of different scented bath oils and bubbles when he had last taken the time for a nice hot soak. Soon the bath was full of his favourite bubbles and aromas.
He let out a little sigh as he settled himself into the sudsy foam and the heat penetrated his muscles. Harry reached for the Golden Egg on the side of the marble tub and gasped when he saw someone with tawny-brown hair standing next to the bathtub.

“Blimey Hermione! ... I - You - ” Harry sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“Joining you of course,” she responded breezily as she dropped the fluffy white towel wrapped around her. Hermione couldn’t maintain her air of nonchalance for long at the sight of Harry’s flustered reddening features and began to giggle.

“Relax silly, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me without clothes on...”

“Yeah... only the second or third,” Harry groaned, “depending on if you count last night and this morning as part of the same event.”

A lopsided grin quickly replaced Harry’s look of embarrassment as his naked girlfriend - his fiancée - slid into the tub beside him and picked up the Golden Egg. He was beginning to think that he could definitely get used to this.

“Shall we then?” asked Hermione.

Harry nodded and the pair of them dunked their heads under the sudsy surface of the bathwater as Hermione opened the Egg. As at the edge of the Black Lake, instead of the sound of a thousand screeching banshees, an ethereal seraphic choir could be heard. With their heads under water, it was much easier to make out the words.

There was something oddly compelling about the unearthly chorus of feminine voices, despite the somewhat dismal nature of the song itself. If he didn’t have Hermione, Harry could imagine that he might have to follow those enchanting voices no matter where they led. But whatever magic the voices held were no match for Hermione; Harry loved her more than anything any entrancing maidens might throw at him.

Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this,
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

Harry’s head furiously broke the surface with a splash, sloshing foamy water and bubbles over the side of the marble tub, sputtering as he gasped for air. He grabbed a towel and wiped his glasses. Once he could see properly again, Harry spoke through gritted teeth, a vein throbbing in his temple.

“Hermione, I don’t care what the stupid task is! I’m not letting a bunch of bloody mermaids take you!”

“Harry, we really don’t have a choice. It’s obvious that Dumbledore can’t put a stop to this. The magical ‘contract’ won’t permit anyone to withdraw. You’ll die if you don’t at least attempt the task.”

“But they’re going to kidnap you Hermione. And who knows what’ll happen to you down there?” Harry responded crossly.

“You’ll have an hour Harry. I know it’s not a long time, but I'm sure I'll be safe. I expect the merpeople will be bound by a magical contract of their own to honour within that time frame...” Hermione paused as something struck her.

“Harry, how did you work the riddle out so quickly?”

“Greek mythology,” Harry replied, his face still contorted with dismay, “The Dursleys made me take storybooks back to the school library if they caught me reading ones they didn't like, but they couldn’t stop me from reading my primary school workbooks, even if they wanted to. As soon as I heard them - the enticing voices - I knew they were Sea Nymphs - Nereids, Mermaids - whatever!

“Not being able to sing above the ground - but apparently underwater - made it bloody obvious. And there’s nothing more I’d miss in the world than you!

“But bugger them - nobody’s stealing you from me if I can help it, Hermione! And... and if they think they can lure me with their pretty voices, they’ve got another think coming!” Harry concluded vehemently, scowling.

Hermione almost grinned at Harry, her saturated tawny hair plastered to the side of her head. But the joy of knowing how much she meant to Harry was overtaken by a nearly overwhelming swell of emotion, seeing his distress. She suddenly realised that Harry was on the verge of panicking at the idea of losing her. With a swift motion, Hermione wrapped herself around her soggy boyfriend and kissed him heatedly.

Some of Harry’s tension drained, and he began to feel a bit calmer. Sensing that Harry was regaining his composure, Hermione released his lips from her own and smiled at him, caressing his wet cheek with one hand.

“That was brilliant Harry! You got it quicker than me. Try not to be too upset Harry, please... We’ll get through this one too. I know we will... We’ll just have to work something out. And since you’ve managed to get the riddle so quickly, we’ve got nearly two months to train for it. Now let’s just try and enjoy the rest of the Christmas Holidays, and we can start working on it after New Year...”

Hermione snapped the golden egg shut and chucked it all the way across the bathroom into the waste-bin by the door. Harry gaped at her, thinking that she might have made a good Chaser... if he could only get her on a broom.

“In the meantime, I think we need to get you good and relaxed,” Hermione concluded as she slinked closer for another kiss.

Harry’s fingers caught up in her dripping coils of hair as the kiss deepened, and his heart palpitations began to even out. It was impossible for Harry to maintain his anxiety and anger over the nature of the second task with Hermione pressing her slippery wetness right up against him in the steam and foam as the hot water swirled around them both...

~o0o~

Hermione sighed as she lay next to Harry, stroking the unkempt black moptop that somehow always refused to lie flat - so much like her own untameable tangle of hair. Harry looked so peaceful as he slept beside her.
It was nice to see the corners of his lips turned up, no signs of pain or anxiety on his features. She wished it could always be so. As trepidation and numerous second thoughts about the upcoming New Year’s Day Hogsmeade visit churned in her mind and stomach, that was what ultimately decided her. There were so many good reasons not to get married at their age.

But who could say how long Harry had? For that matter, given the lengths that many pureblood supremacists appeared willing to go, who could say how long Hermione had? Logic told her that with both Voldemort plotting, and mysterious adversaries in the Ministry conspiring against them, Harry and she would be lucky to make it through all seven years at Hogwarts alive.

And it broke Hermione’s heart every time she thought about how much Harry had already suffered in his life. If she could make him happy - ease his pain - she would do anything for him. Hermione’s heart and her brain both led her to the same inexorable conclusion. Decision confirmed, she kissed Harry’s forehead and snuggled closer to him, finally drifting off to sleep as the knot in her middle unwound.

~o0o~

Harry grew increasingly anxious as New Year’s Day grew nearer. He picked at his breakfast, gnawing pensively on a piece of bacon, paying little attention to the morning hubbub in the Great Hall. When Harry stood up as Hermione departed to use the loo, Cho nudged Cedric and he took his opportunity to approach.
“Hey... Potter...”

“Hunh? ...” Harry was snapped out of his reverie as Cedric caught up to him just outside the entrance to the Hall. “Oh... Diggory, what’s up?”

“I... er... have you worked out that egg yet?”

“Yeah, actually I did... just yesterday,” Harry replied, feeling a bit puzzled, wondering if Cedric Diggory was angling for another tip.

“Oh!” Cedric looked oddly disappointed. “I... erm... I just thought... I was wondering if you needed a hint. I finally got it just last week, and I was hoping to pay you back...”

“Thanks Diggory...” Harry smiled stiffly and nodded. “It’s alright though - we’re square...”

“Look...” Cedric interjected, “I know we chatted a bit at the Yule Ball... but I didn’t really get a chance to apologise to you properly - one on one - for being such a prat. I... I really am sorry for misjudging you. I’d like to think - maybe we could be friends?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that... Cedric!”

“Er... right then. Thanks Harry!”

Harry took Cedric’s hand and shook it, pleased to be on good terms again and to forget about being rivals. Cedric returned to the Great Hall to finish breakfast with Cho. When Harry turned around, he was surprised to see Hermione chatting with Fleur, both returning from the girls’ bathroom. Hermione said goodbye, and Fleur gave Harry a little smile as she re-entered the Hall.

“What was that all about?” asked Harry, his curiosity piqued when Hermione turned slightly pink.

“Fleur wanted to tell me the clue in the Golden Egg to give to you, Harry...” When Hermione paused, Harry knew there was a bit more to it. Hermione’s blush deepened as she continued. “She... she told me that she thinks you’re really sweet. Fleur said I was very lucky to have you as a boyfriend...”

Harry’s eyebrows popped up, lost under his fringe, but he sensed there was still something else coming. Hermione took a deep breath.

“And... and - I’m not entirely certain, but Fleur gave me the distinct impression that she likes girls too...” Hermione was nearly the colour of the Hogwarts Express.

“Wait - you mean...?” Harry’s look of surprise slowly turned into a silly grin, guessing that Fleur might have also mentioned how lucky he was to have Hermione as his girlfriend.

“Yes, Harry...!” Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “That’s exactly what I mean! Anyway... let’s just leave it there then!”

Harry smirked, but Hermione dropped the subject entirely, suggesting that a walk through the snowy grounds would be nice. That sounded fine to Harry, as it would give him the opportunity to collect himself and broach the topic which was bothering him the most at the moment.

Hermione could feel Harry’s tension growing again as they shuffled through the light powdery white drifts near the lake. She stayed silent as they walked arm in arm, knowing that Harry would say something when he was ready.

“Hermione...” he began tentatively, guilt clouding his features, “I... Am I being selfish?”

“What do you mean Harry?” Hermione’s brows furrowed with concern.

“To... to rush you - maybe we should wait - until we're older - after Hogwarts. I feel like such a prat! I don’t want to make you feel like you have to marry me right now!”

Hermione halted dead in her tracks, seeing Harry’s glum expression, his eyes cast down as he rubbed at his scar. Her breath began to quicken, clouding in the frigid air as she blinked back tears.

“Harry Potter, I said I would marry you, and I meant it!...”

“But I don’t want you to feel like we have do it right now, just for me...”

“Harry, I love you!” Hermione asserted adamantly. “I want this as much as you do!”

“But what about your mum? She’ll...”

“She’ll understand Harry! I promise!”

Hermione knew that once she explained her reasoning to her mother, she could make her understand. But she didn’t want to upset Harry any more than he already was by giving voice to the facts which they both knew. Hermione knew he was scared that he might die before experiencing the best bits of adulthood, and that he was scared of getting her killed too, and that the two impulses were at war within him, tearing him apart.

“Look at me Harry... please!” Hermione cupped his chin with her gloved hand, and lifted it so that she could look directly into his glistening green eyes. “I can write a letter to Mum! I swear... she’ll understand. You have to believe me!

“And more importantly, I want you to know that no matter what happens - or what you say - I’m never leaving your side. You can’t save me by pushing me away Harry! Whatever happens, we’ll face it together!”

Harry peered at Hermione’s earnest features, the tears freezing on her pink cheeks, the golden flash in her eyes and her rapidly heaving chest. In that moment, he knew it would break Hermione’s heart to back out now. Harry pushed back at the little voice telling him that he was being selfish. If Hermione wanted this too, he couldn’t possibly say no.

“Th...thanks Hermione!” Harry croaked, his own tears threatening to leak. “I... I really needed to hear that.”

Harry pulled Hermione into a tight embrace and kissed her deeply, his apprehension melting away.

~o0o~

The next few days leading up to New Year’s Day went quickly. They passed the time with their friends: building a snowman with Luna and Ginny, playing games with Dean and Neville, getting in snowball fights with the Twins, having tea with Parvati and Lavender. The hardy Viktor Krum even challenged Harry to chase a Snitch with him on New Year’s Eve, during a snow flurry which was nearly a blizzard.

Harry and Hermione woke up to a bright and clear New Year’s Day, the world outside sparkling and white. Crookshanks yawned at them sleepily from the top of the dresser where he lay, his bushy tail curled around Hedwig.

They decided to leave for Hogsmeade early. Trudging down the lane to the village, under trees laden with snow, less students than they had imagined were taking advantage of the chance to visit Hogsmeade, perhaps sleeping in after rowdy New Year’s Eve parties in their Common Rooms and intending to go down in the afternoon.

As they entered the town, a sudden anxious thought struck Harry when he realised that perhaps he should have planned ahead a bit better.

“So... er... I don’t know much about religion Hermione. D’you think they have wizard priests?”

Hermione giggled.

“It’s alright Harry! You don’t need a priest to get married. Besides, I’m agnostic, so I don’t really care about having a Church wedding. Anyway, there’s a Wedding Parlour in the village... I looked it up. They’ll have someone licenced by the Ministry to perform weddings.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, but a few other things rushed through his mind that he knew he should have thought about sooner. He didn’t care if they got married bundled up in their winter clothes. As far as Harry was concerned, Hermione was beautiful in anything. But he wondered if she’d like to dress up a bit for the occasion.

“Hermione, I know we’re just sort of winging it, but would you like a proper wedding dress? I can easily afford it. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but...”

Hermione shut Harry up with a big kiss, then she giggled again.

“It would take them hours to fit me Harry. Thank you so much for offering though. Maybe I’ll take you up on it on our anniversary.”

Harry grinned at that.

“Er... Right!” he said, “Well then, there’s only one stop we have to make before we get on with this.”

“Oh Harry... No! You don’t have to... really!” Hermione protested when she saw where Harry was leading her. But Harry was having none of it, and half an hour later the pair emerged from the jewellery shop, a purple velvet ring box clutched in Harry’s hand.

It was a short walk from the jewellery shop to Wendy Widdershin’s Wedding Parlour. Glistening icicles hung from the parlour’s eaves and the windowsill, webs of frost crisscrossing the windowpanes.

A tinkling sound rang out when Harry and Hermione opened the door. The parlour glittered and sparkled with hanging crystals and delicate ornaments. A friendly-looking, round witch in flowing white robes sat behind an ornate white desk with silver and gold embellishments.

Wendy Widdershin looked up from her desk to see a pair of anxious looking young teenagers with pink glowing cheeks peeking around her parlour. If she had to guess, she would have thought they were both about thirteen or fourteen. She beamed cheerfully at them as if she saw young wizards their age trying to get married every other day. And truth be told, at least once or twice a year, students from Hogwarts would sneak down to the village to give it a go.

Wendy felt a little tug on her heart strings; there was nothing sweeter than seeing a young couple so in love that they were already willing to make a lifelong commitment, and it always pained her to have to turn them away.

“Hello dears, can I help you?”

“Erm...” Harry swallowed nervously, he glanced at Hermione, then back at the witch he presumed to be Wendy Widdershin. “We... er... we’d like to be married please!”

“I’m so sorry dears,” said Wendy sympathetically, “But without the express permission of your parents, I cannot help you. You must be at least sixteen or older to elope.”

“But we’re both legally adults now,” squeaked Hermione. “We’re emancipated!”

Wendy’s eyes grew bigger as she peered at them skeptically.

“Really? You both look a bit young for emancipation...”

“It’s true - we really are emancipated - and I’m fifteen...” Hermione insisted. Harry shuffled awkwardly and gulped again, not keen to admit that he was only fourteen.

“Well dears, let’s have a look at your wands then,” said Wendy, smiling indulgently. She took their wands and put each in turn on her gold scales.

Wendy Widdershin gasped. She glanced at Harry Potter, her eyes briefly searching for the scar, before remarking.

“My goodness gracious! You two really are emancipated. Well, there’s nothing standing in the way then. You’ll just need to sign a Ministry form, then I’ll perform a quick ceremony if that is your preference.”

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione replied, beaming radiantly.

“Yes please!” said Harry, grinning and nodding, his breath quickening.

A few minutes later, after signing the form and hanging up their coats and hats, Harry and Hermione were ready to begin.

Delightfully, Wendy Widdershin gave them some silky white robes to slip on over their clothes. She lit a pair of long tapered candles as a self-playing harp played a lilting melody and a hundred luminescent fairies fluttered around the altar. She poured some red wine in a golden chalice set in the centre of the altar, then placed a silver dagger in the chalice, resting its hilt against the rim.

Wendy inwardly let out a happy sigh to see the love so clearly shining in their eyes as she led the young couple through their wedding vows. She instinctively knew that they were meant to be together. Wendy’s singular talent for reading people and knowing a lasting coupling when she saw one, made her especially suited for her chosen path.

Harry and Hermione each took a sip of red wine from a single crystal goblet. Finally it was time; Harry retrieved the ring from the purple velvet jewellery box: an elegant gold band inset with seven sparkling diamonds.

“I love you Hermione,” said Harry quietly as he slipped the ring on her finger.

Hermione fluttered her eyelashes shyly. Harry thought Hermione couldn’t look any more beautiful, her gleaming golden ringlets tumbling over her shoulders.

“I love you too Harry,” she whispered before leaning in to kiss him. The world fell away as Harry and Hermione kissed, a warm swell of luminous joy filling them both. For a moment, they felt buoyed by wings of gossamer, floating on a sea of eternal bliss.