Paradise Lost3a

Paradise Lost
by AngieJ
book 3
Paradise Lost 3
From the World Wide Web

Gathered and bound by
Lily Ossendrijver; 2005
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Paradise Lost
book 3
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Paradise Lost 3
Harry
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Contents
9. Someday at Christmas................................................7
10. Rest Stop at the End of Time...................................71
11. Atlantis...................................................................131
12. Fourteen Days........................................................217
12. Fourteen Days (cont.).............................................269
13. The Only One.........................................................297
14. Forever...................................................................345
Christmas In Paradise...................................................373
Monster Under My Bed...............................................389
Autumn Wild................................................................403
Sixteen, Going On Seventeen......................................453
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Paradise Lost 3
9. Someday at Christmas
Once upon a December, a long-lost dream comes true for
Harry and Hermione... and just before their voyage to Atlantis,
they manage to rest in the calm before the storm.
Dedicated to Carl, one of our ship’s knights in shining
armor, and Sabs, who is in the running for sweetest person in the
entire fandom. Thanks for the many evenings of laughter and
fun, despite Yahoomort... you’re both special people.
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Sometimes the very thing you’re looking

for
Is the one thing you can’t see.
- Vanessa Williams
21 December 2012. Friday.
T
Greater London.
hese days, he was going about as John Lennon. On first thought, this
might not have been the best of ideas. John Lennon, being who he was,
attracted an inordinate number of stares even dressed as he was in early
twenty-first century attire. Yet being John Lennon also meant that there was no
discussion about the odd movements and purchases. It meant that people –
especially Muggles, stupid as they were, focused on the surface smoke and
mirrors rather than what lay just beneath the façade.
He was out and about London one day when he found it.
The weapon with which he would murder Hermione Granger.
There had never been another assault rifle like it, at least not in reality. The
weapon itself did all the work... once the target was locked in the infrared
sensor, even the most bumbling lead-fingered idiot could potentially become an
expert marksman. It was lightweight, most of its casing made up of high tech
plastics originally invented for usage in space.
He lingered in the gun shop in Charing Cross Road for a while, asking a
thousand questions about the weapon. The shopkeeper, apropos of nothing,
answered the queries with the cheerful ease of the enthusiast, assuming that the
man who looked oddly like John Lennon was planning to use the weapon for
hunting.
The shopkeeper didn’t think to ask about the size and cunning of a deer that
would require such a fancy piece to fell it.
Afterwards, the man went home. On his Spider-console, he booked passage
to Brazil. Not on an airline, but on a freighter that would disembark from the
shores of Tripoli the following Tuesday.
He had all the time in the world. Hermione Granger wasn’t going
anywhere. Not with the Confederation and every righteous Wizarding
government in the world prepared to arrest her if she ever set foot outside of
Paradise Lost 3
Bahia do Brasil again.
Opening his shrine, he ran his fingers along the newest clipping with the
freshest blood.
Granger Hiding In Brazil; New Minister Refuses Extradiction
He grinned, stroking the sMuggled-Wizarding photograph. Underneath the
edge of his jagged nail, Hermione’s neck tWitched.
At least, Lennon’s lookalike thought, his quarry had picked a veritable
paradise to die in.
~~~
Same Day.
Itacaré da Bahia, Brazil.
Hermione’s nightmare had been so terrible that she awoke with a start.
Feeling absolutely nauseated. Taking the bedsheet with her, she stumbled to the
bathroom and hurled until she was hacking up bile and tears were streaming
down her cheeks.
Contain yourself, Hermione. You’ll wake up Harry if you keep this up, and
goodness knows he needs his sleep...
She clutched the sides of the cold toilet, grasping, trying to bring herself
out of the realm of dreams and into reality. It was hard, though. Irrationally, she
felt dizzy and weak.
And afraid. For she could remember only scattered fragments of her
nightmare. Sounds, mostly. A fleshy tearing sound. A scream that abruptly ended
in a gurgle. High-pitched, inhuman laughter...
Diabolical darkness.
Infinite cold.
Getting up and returning to bed wasn’t an option. After flushing and
closing the toilet seat, Hermione placed her head against it, pulling the bedsheet
closer around her. Trying without success to dispel the sense of horror that had
paralyzed her.
And tears dripped onto the cold plastic seat cover like morning dew.
Mustn’t wake Harry... by no means must I... quietly, now...
As if her very desperation not to disturb had called him, Hermione opened
up her squeezed-shut eyes and saw the robe-swathed, sleep tousled profile of her
love. From her odd vantage point, he seemed tilted sideways.
An indefinable moment then passed, in which the laughter that had been on
Harry’s lips (Hermione guessed that he had been planning to say something
about her theft of the bedsheet) died and his squinted eyes grew suddenly very
grave.
“Are you ill?”
-8-
“No, I’m fine.”
He didn’t even have to contradict her out loud. Both knew that she was
lying perfectly well, and were perfectly well aware of the other’s knowledge.
Both also knew that she needed him to hold her.
So he did, sitting on the toilet seat and picking her up to perch in his lap.
There was a usual position they were beginning to assume whenever they did
this, and it was an extremely comfortable one. Hermione snuggled closer to him,
for once not worrying about the fact that she’d just been hideously sick to her
stomach and therefore not at her most cuddle-able. She knew he wasn’t thinking
about that, knew he was only thinking about her state of mind... wanted her to
feel safe again.
And safety seeped back into her pores, slowly. Knowing that she was in
Harry’s arms wasn’t enough this time. She had to use all of her Sharing skills as
a hyperempath to absorb his determination to protect, to console, to care for her.
It took quite some time.
Finally, Hermione managed to murmur something, barely opening her
mouth.
“What’s that, love?” Harry asked, not able to hide his yawn.
“You know, it’s rather frightening when you learn that everything that you
believed about the world is little more than pretty fairy tales. Take death, for
instance. We always tell people that they’re going to a better place, that they’re
finally at peace. I’ve done it myself before... told them all the comforting things
I learned while working as a resident with Muggle hospice patients.
“But Harry... what if death isn’t at all like that? What if death is merely the
beginning of an eternal horror, with no hope of respite? What if the world of the
dead is hidden to the living for a reason... because the truth would cause us all to
go mad?
“If death is so wonderful, why do so many of the dead wander here on
Earth? And why do the dying cling to life so desperately? Have you ever thought
of that?”
She felt his warm breath in her hair. “You’re not being intentionally
morbid, are you?”
“No... it’s just that... I think I had a glimpse into... into something. And that
something was utterly horrifying.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who hates Divination? Who scoffs at
fate? Who believes that we choose our own destinies?”
Hermione looked up at him and her heart lifted up, the last of the bad
dream dissolving away in his presence. She smiled up at him, then pressed her
cheek and ear against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“I am. Yet I’ve also been wrong before. Take you, for instance...”
“Dumping me already? I knew it was too good to last.”
“Nice try, Potter. I have no intention of ever unhooking you, so you’d best
get used to waking up to me. Hurling, stolen covers, and all.”
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Paradise Lost 3
By the time they went down to breakfast, Hermione had completely
forgotten that she’d had the nightmare at all.
~~~
Demetrios Solon stood them up. Again.
“This is fucking unbelievable,” said Ron angrily, kicking a bit of the neatly
patterned sand just to one side of the stone step. “He keeps doing this!”
“What has he done?” asked Mrs. Solon in heavily accented yet perfect
English. “I believe I just told you he’s gone up to the Palácio in Salvador for his
meeting with you...”
“You said he’d be here!”
“Not at all, young man. I assured my husband that you were most anxious
to meet with him, and that you would presently be returning to Salvador to enjoy
the Minister’s hospitality.”
Ron’s ears were totally red now. “Well, then, owl him a message that we’ll
meet him for dinner in Salvador...”
“I’m afraid that is impossible.”
“Pardon,” interjected Harry, seeing that Ron was too angry to speak, “but
exactly why are our requests so impossible for Solon?”
“Since you obviously did not show for your meeting today in Salvador,
I am certain he went straight away to that Portal Land of his for a bit of
housekeeping. Thanks to the likes of Diego Fox and his pureblood-loving
friends, it hasn’t been very safe for my husband to move about since his escape
from the Cabalistica.” She looked pointedly at Hermione, as if her husband’s
capture had been all the other Witch’s fault.
“I’d like to question him about this frightful epidemic that’s plaguing your
Muggle-born populations in the favelas,” Hermione said. “According to our
sources, he has an idea of the person or group who might be behind starting it.
When do you expect him back?”
“In a few days’ time. He’s promised to be home for Christmas, and as
I always hold him to his word...” She trailed off impatiently. “Is there an address
that I can give him? I’ll be sure to let him know you called.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned away from the closing door and headed
back to the hotel, totally disgusted by the woman’s rude behavior.
“I know Gatekeepers aren’t the most personable Wizards the world has to
offer,” said Hermione, “but you’d think that this Solon man would have selected
a more congenial spouse to counterbalance his social ineptitude.”
“Like Sirius and Carole, yeah,” said Ron. “I guess in this case, opposites
didn’t attract. So what do you propose we do next?”
“I think we ought to reassess how badly we need to get to this Atlantis
place after all,” said Harry wearily. “Right now I’d like nothing better than to
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head back to Ayr and regroup with all the resources of the Foundation on our
side. Between reincarnated Demons of the ancient world and Hermione’s
epidemic...”
“Don’t name it after me!” she insisted.
“...and her magic still being missing, we’ve got quite a bit to work with.
And we can’t do it alone.” Harry looked at Ron. “And Christmas is coming.”
“Never mind that,” Ron said. “I’ll make it home to my family, but I’ll be
back if you need me.”
“I’d like to go home for Christmas myself,” Harry said slowly, looking at
Hermione.
“If we leave Bahia, I’m not safe,” Hermione replied. “Not until we get my
magic back or have at least some proof that I wasn’t the one who let all those
Muggles into the Wizarding world back in 2011. The Jobim administration is the
only Wizarding government in the world who supports my innocence and has
granted me political amnesty, you know that...”
“I know,” said Harry. “Which means...”
“That when we finally do find this Solon bloke, we hex his ears off.”
“Ron,” said Hermione, amused, “hexing off ears isn’t the best way to
extract information out of a person.”
“Works for the Cabalistica, doesn’t it?”
“We aren’t exactly the Cabalistica, are we?”
Harry held up a hand before they could start in on each other in earnest.
“What we do for the time being is return to Salvador and stay there. That’s the
address we left with Solon’s wife, and it’s likely he’ll stop there on his way back
anyway before returning home. Besides, we can do more there than we can
here.”
This was said with a tinge of regret. Hermione took his hand in both of hers
and squeezed it.
“We’ll come back,” she said to him softly. “Someday when we can enjoy
it... and enjoy each other.”
Harry smiled then, the smile she so loved, and inclined his head so that
they could share a long kiss that was only interrupted by Ron clearing his throat.
“Doesn’t it bother you two in the slightest,” he said, “that her ex-husband,
who is best friend to both of you, is standing here in the hot sun watching you
snog?”
“Not at all,” said Hermione.
“Over it,” said Harry.
Ron snorted out a laugh, then he shrugged and grinned.
“Right. Shall we go have a late breakfast? We need to catch up with the
others.”
~~~
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Paradise Lost 3
It turned out that no one was at breakfast except for Riki.
“Something’s wrong with Juliana,” he said. “Zach and Eva are upstairs
with her.”
“What’s happened?” asked Hermione.
“They wouldn’t tell me,” Riki said, looking at her suspiciously. “No one
tells me anything, as I’m a kid.”
They found Juliana up in Eva’s room, being held by Zach as Eva knelt and
placed her hands on her old friend’s kneecaps. Baby Daniel was in his basket on
the seat nearest the window, through which morning sunlight streamed in.
Lena was nowhere to be found.
“She has left me,” said Juliana flatly, breaking off a flood of mostly
incoherent Portuguese to explain.
“She’s... what?” Ron stammered. “But she was here last night!”
“Apparently Magdalena left this morning without a trace,” Zach said. “She
must have slipped out of bed and Disapparated before Juliana woke up.”
“I should not have pushed her,” Juliana cried stormily. “I was too...
demanding...”
“Don’t be silly!” said Hermione. “You didn’t rape the woman, did you?
From what I saw, she was in a positively chipper mood yesterday!”
Juliana looked up and glared at Hermione.
“And just what would you know about it? I see he hasn’t left you...” and
her anguished glare fell upon Harry.
“Nor would I ever,” he said. “That isn’t the point, Juliana. We aren’t the
point.”
“The question is,” Ron wondered aloud, “where has she gone? And why
would she wander off, leaving Riki?”
“She’s gone to prepare for the feast of Iemanjá,” Riki said, from the
doorway.
Juliana was aghast. “How dare she tell you and not me?”
“She never tells anyone about it,” said the boy. “She just goes. It’s what
she’s got to do as a priestess, that’s all. I expect she thought you knew.”
“But... just like that? Without any good-bye?”
Her question was left hanging in the air. No one had any definite answers
for her.
Later, as they were packing their room to return to Salvador, Hermione said
suddenly to Harry:
“I’m sorry.”
“And what did you do this time, love?”
“I had no idea,” she said softly. “No idea what I must have done to you
three and a half years ago when I left you after the Malfoys’ wedding... no idea
how that must have affected you... how badly it must have hurt you...”
Harry put the last t-shirt into his bag and walked over to where she was
sitting on the side of the bed, stashing her toothbrush away.
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“And when I saw her face... her eyes... we have so much power over those
we love, Harry. The power to hurt and the power to heal. I won’t ever hurt you
like that again.” He sat down next to her, but she couldn’t bear to look at him,
placing a caressing hand on his thigh instead. “I wish I could make it all up to
you, somehow...”
“I’ve got an idea,” he said, tilting up her chin. “Maybe there’s something
you can do for me after all.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you when we get back to Salvador, after dinner.”
“Why not now?”
“Because it’s... you’ll see.”
All day long that hung over Hermione’s head... as she stole glances at him
and wondered.
~~~
Same day, in the Palácio da Mágica.
Salvador da Bahia, Brazil.
It was mid-afternoon by the time they got back to Salvador, and the palace
was its usual relaxed, post-luncheon and just-about-time-for-siesta mode.
Everyone went to their rooms to nap or otherwise decompress before dinner, and
Harry and Hermione went to his chamber. Harry suggested a nice, leisurely
afternoon of shagging and dozing, but Hermione had other ideas.
“I really should spend some time in the library,” Hermione said. “I’ve lost
two good days of research thanks to that delicious mini-break in Itacaré.”
Harry groaned, but conceded. “I’ll go with you.”
The palace library was deserted, with absolutely no chance of visitors
during this odd hour. All the Ilê do Afoxé students and teachers were at home for
the summer. Hermione reflected to herself on how odd it seemed that here in
Brazil school holidays began in the middle of December, and that Christmas fell
in the middle of them.
They found the stack of books she’d been reading largely intact on a rolling
cart. Harry levitated them all to a table near the back of the room, near the
shelves closest to the tables and chairs.
Hermione then commenced her research, adding to her notes in the fourth
book she’d began since first stumbling upon the odd disease. Harry thumbed
through the other two journals she’d been writing in... one with all her notes on
Atlantis, the other with all her research on the Inanna and Ereshkigal legends.
“There are at least fourteen different maps of Atlantis in these,” Harry
remarked, after a quick perusal of Hermione’s original sources. “You’d think
that they’d corroborate in some aspects, but they don’t.”
“Then I’d think they’re deliberately misleading. Surely the law of averages
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would mean that there would be some features that were similar... canals
bisecting an island, for example. Or fountains. After all, if they’re only based on
legends...”
“Yeah, there seem to be either fountains or canals or little lakes. Some are
mountainous, some are very clearly plains. There isn’t any clear relationship
between any two of these, let alone groups. So I think you must be right.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“And so very gracious and humble as well.”
“Gracious and humble Witches don’t turn you on,” she winked. “Anyway,
this is perhaps the most difficult research I’ve ever conducted. There doesn’t
seem to have ever been a disease like this... I’d have to go to the undersea
mediWizarding archives at Alexandria in order to verify that, but I’m finding
nothing here.” She was obviously frustrated. “I have a feeling we’re going to
have to wait until we get to Atlantis to learn anything more.”
Harry had put down the Atlantis notebook and was now scanning the
journal that contained the legends of Inanna.
“I really should have told you about your grandmother long ago,” said
Harry, finishing the story of Dumuzi in Hermione’s crisp handwriting that was
much too neat and precise for a doctor.
“Yes, you should have. But you know, my own blubbering this morning
aside, I’ve been thinking. We can’t keep doing this to ourselves.”
“Doing what?”
“Beating ourselves up for being complete idiots since we were near-infants.
We both have done amazingly stupid things, Harry, but perhaps the most
amazing feat of all is that it’s starting to seem as if our individual acts of
stupidity balance out. So we can either keep getting angry at each other, or we
can move on and...”
“And what?” he said, looking at her pointedly.
Suddenly, Hermione felt as if the Cooling Charms on the Palácio had
failed... for it was rather warm in the library. She was perspiring everywhere.
The tips of her breasts tightened and ached. And if present trends continued,
soon there would be a small yet telltale damp spot on her chair.
This all happened within five seconds. Hermione was astounded. Never
had she been so swiftly aroused in her life. It was absolutely ridiculous...
Perhaps this afternoon research hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“And?” he repeated huskily.
“And... I need... I need...”
“What do you need?”
“I need that dictionary, darling. Could you hand it to me, please?”
He didn’t even touch her at first. He didn’t have to. Just his stare and his
voice were enough as he Accio’d the dictionary to her. She flipped the pages
underneath sweaty fingers. All of a sudden, she had no idea what “ontological”
meant, or “peripatetic”, or...
- 14 -
Before she knew it, before he knew it, those sweaty fingers were tugging at
his shirt and jerking it above his head. Harry barely had time to lock the door
and cast a Silencing Charm before Hermione had unfastened his jeans, jerked
them down along with his boxers and...
Well.
It was certainly a first. Hermione had never shagged anyone in a library
before. Of course, she’d had her fleeting thoughts about it from time to time...
the Hogwarts Restricted Section, the Bodleian’s more obscure collections, the
lonely stacks at almost every library she’d visited. The combined smell of old
books and layers upon layers of woodgrain polish was one of her favorite scents
in the world... perhaps her very favorite...
After him, of course.
It didn’t take long. After scandalously few minutes, both of them were
somewhere in the middle of the stacks, her bottom resting on a low and
protruding shelf, him panting heavily against her neck, totally spent.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Harry confessed, nipping at her bare
shoulder.
She was still a bit breathless. “Always wanted to do... what?”
“Shag you in a library during the middle of the day. I suppose I can tick
that one off the list now.”
Hermione laughed. “What, you’ve got some sort of mental checklist for
sex?”
“Oh, don’t be coy. Witches have them too. Don’t tell me you haven’t
compiled one yourself.”
Another giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever catalogued my sexual fantasies in
such fastidious detail, darling.”
“Really? As organized as you are? I’m surprised. That is something we’ll
have to correct immediately...”
And so Harry Disapparated them both back to his room so that they could
spend the remainder of the afternoon as he’d intended in the first place... check
off some more boxes on that list of his... and draw up a very detailed one for her
while they were at it.
Still important research... but of a very different sort.
~~~
“Be nice if all waits were as pleasant as this one,” Ron said over dinner.
The palace staff had managed to stuff them all again. Harry wondered to
himself if food at home would taste strange after all the spices, rice, and exotic
tropical staples that they’d been consuming in liberal amounts.
The private dining room was stunning. Joseane and Renato had had the
staff decorate for the holiday. There was an imported Christmas tree in the
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Paradise Lost 3
window, lit up with many tiny lights that seemed to emanate from the very
needles. Tiny fairies danced along the branches, their wings buzzing with
ethereal music.
Zach and Eva were sitting next to each other, Zach watching her as she held
the baby and tempted him with small amounts of rice pudding. Juliana had
doubted the wisdom of feeding a baby who was only three and a half months old
anything other than milk, but Hermione assured her that it was fine.
“Little chap’s been through quite a lot,” she said. “A bit of soft rice in his
milk won’t hurt him. Might help him sleep through the night.”
Hermione was sitting directly across the table from him this evening.
Although he missed having her seated next to him, this wasn’t half bad either, as
he could watch her. She looked lovely in her dark green robes, and her hair was
pinned up. Her lightly tanned skin held a healthy glow instead of looking sallow
and ashen like before. There was a sparkle in her eye, too, that he knew he had
placed there... and despite the uncertainty of their situation, her laughter as she
talked with Renato and Sirius was light.
Harry could see that the two men were appreciating the sight of her as well.
Joseane Jobim was certainly prettier in a strictly aesthetic sense, and Eva de
Souza was certainly much more exotic and alluring, but at her best Hermione
tended to draw all attention to herself without even realizing what she was
doing. At her best she stood out even in jaded Brazil, where superlative beauty
was de rigeur.
Tonight, she was at her best.
“Harry? Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
He snapped out of it. “Yeah... I mean, no.”
Ron laughed. “You’re pitiful,” he said. “What is with you lately, mate?
I thought all this sighing and mooning would be over once you settled things
with her. I’ve never seen you like this... what’s going on?”
“She’s just... just...”
“Yes?” Ron said, trying to conceal a dry laugh.
“She’s... mine,” finished Harry, almost incredulously. Almost as if he
couldn’t believe it.
Then he followed Ron’s eyes.
Across the table, Hermione had turned away from her conversation with
Renato and Sirius. She was looking straight at Harry now, with unblinking
brown eyes and slightly parted lips. The expression was slightly questioning, as
if she were registering what he said and remembering the unknown request she
was going to hear about later that evening.
Without saying a word, she returned to the discussion at hand without
missing a single beat.
Ron shook his head at her before returning back to Harry. “Mental, you
two. Absolutely mental. I can’t wait until you’ve got two kids, a dog, and a
mortgage. We’ll see if you keep acting like lovesick sixteen year olds then.”
- 16 -
That’s when he felt a small bare foot slide up his calf, pushing up his
trousers leg slightly as it trailed upwards.
Harry glanced sideways across the table. Hermione was still engaged in her
conversation with Renato and Sirius. Renato was recounting a rather ribald joke,
and as he reached the punch line, Hermione’s laughter rang out in a quite
unladylike fashion...
...as that unseen foot slid over his trousers to his thigh.
Nothing else about her revealed the game she was playing.
“There wouldn’t be any mortgage,” Harry said, trying to ignore the fact that
this foot seemed to know all of his below-the-belt spots. “We both own houses
that are fully paid for.”
“Well, unless you’re planning to live in a snug holiday cottage or in
suburban Atlanta, you’ll need to plan for the future, mate. Just consider... if you
take her back to Ayr, after a while you’ll want more room, and there isn’t any to
be had there, is there? And you’ll need to be within a stone’s throw of the island
anyway for work... perhaps consider moving to Hogsmeade? It’s within
commuting distance, and you can use the Emerald City portals to get to London
within a few minutes. The gypsy and I have spoken about it and are saving up
our Galleons. There’s some really naff homes in the cul-de-sac where George
and Percy live, and I’m dead tired of Liverpool.”
“I don’t know,” said Harry, reaching under the table to hold that dratted
foot still. “We’ve got all this to resolve first... who knows? What Ayr lacks in
space it makes up for in privacy...”
There was a slight disturbance at table then. A large cruet of vinegar was
tumbling towards Harry, having been elbowed by someone across the table.
Without thinking, he reflexively caught it with both hands and saved the
tablecloth...
And that damned foot, now freed of his grip, went straight to his lap...
wiggling its toes... doing all sorts of shocking and unspeakable things.
Directly across from him, Hermione was cutting up her steak as if nothing
was amiss.
She speared a piece and glanced up at him without a trace of mischief. With
a raise of her eyebrows, the steak disappeared into her mouth and she turned
back towards Renato and Sirius to catch what they were saying.
But Harry noticed the way she licked her fork clean before setting it down.
He put his hand back under the table. He didn’t even have to bother
pushing the foot off, or lifting the cloth to ascertain the identity of its owner.
All he had to do was to find a certain sensitive line on the bottom of its
instep... to start tickling.
All of a sudden, Hermione started giggling. Both Renato and Sirius looked
at her, as she had been the one speaking, and about the state of the international
Wizarding economy. As the anti-Muggleborn boycotts had caused a major
worldwide recession, there was nothing amusing about the topic at all.
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Paradise Lost 3
“Are you all right?” asked Sirius, with some concern.
“Yes...” said Hermione, trying her best to calm down. But she failed
miserably, and suddenly broke out into peals of laughter.
Renato and Sirius couldn’t help it. They began laughing too, until Joseane
stopped chatting with Zach long enough to ask about what was so amusing... and
no one could tell her. Only the arrival of dessert, all tortes and marzipan candies
and caramelized, glazed tropical fruits with creams and syrups and powered
cane sugars, tempered their mirth a bit.
Ron looked at Hermione, then back at Harry, obviously confused. “What’s
with her?”
Harry shrugged. He was quite nonchalant on the surface, but inside he was
glowing. This time he’d won... that foot had been withdrawn, and although this
didn’t help the present engorged condition of his spare broomstick much, he
promised himself that the wench would pay later.
And pay, and pay again.
Perhaps it was time for her to have a bit of a preview...
“Hermione,” said Ron loudly, shoving at something underneath the table,
“what is your foot doing to my zipper?”
Everyone stopped eating at once and stared at Ron. Then Hermione. Then
Harry.
Harry smirked.
Hermione turned a rather interesting shade of red.
Ron looked from one to the other. His eyes rolled ceilingward.
“That is it. You, and you,” he pointed at Harry and Hermione, “go to your
room. Get it all out of your system and let the rest of us eat in peace. Now.”
“What a splendid idea,” Harry said, tossing his napkin onto his empty
bread plate. “What do you say, love? Shall we excuse ourselves from the table?”
“Oh, indeed,” said Hermione, standing up with both sandals mysteriously
on. “I thought you’d never ask!”
Eva was bouncing baby Daniel up and down on her knee. “But what about
your dessert?”
“That would be... her,” Harry said, with a wicked wink at Hermione,
picking up one of the crystal cups that contained powdered sugar.
Without further ado, Hermione reached over to the serving tray. After a few
seconds’ consideration, she took one gold-plated bowl of whipped cream and
another with the finest bittersweet dark chocolate syrup. “Excuse me, but could
I borrow these? Thanks.”
You could have heard a pin drop as Hermione walked over to Harry, who
linked his arm in hers after levitating all three containers to follow them.
“Good night!” they both chorused, before walking out of the dining room
as if they were going to meet the Queen.
Ron sputtered, “Now, I’ve heard of being peckish, but that is damned
ridiculous!”
- 18 -
~~~
“Now, this is what I call a bathtub,” said Hermione much later that night,
dipping a natural sponge into water that was opaque with thick bubbles. “I wish
I could steal it and bring it home with us.”
“I’m sure there’s more where this one came from,” Harry replied, shutting
his eyes the moment he felt the sponge touch his back. “But you’re certainly
getting me hooked on these soaks. I don’t think I’ve had a proper bath since
Hogwarts...”
“That’s not the sort of thing one admits in polite conversation.”
“This is true... except there’s nothing polite about much that I want to say
or do as far as you’re concerned.”
“I’ve noticed,” she said. “For example, I haven’t any idea how I’m going to
work out this cramp, even with the warm water. My legs were simply not meant
to assume that position, I’m afraid.”
“Stretching is what I recommend, beautiful. Always stretch before vigorous
exercise.”
Hermione put her arms around his neck in a mock-stranglehold and
laughed. “As if you would wait around while I did that. I’m lucky if you give me
enough time to undress!”
“Which is why you ought to reconsider wearing clothes at all...”
She smacked him playfully. “Listen, half-wit, I may have accustomed
myself to certain aspects of life here, but I have not gone native by any means.
I am still very much a civilized Englishwoman.”
“Civilized English ladies don’t make the sort of noises you were uttering a
few minutes ago. At least, not the ones I am intimately acquainted with...”
“And you’re intimately acquainted with these tarts how?”
He laughed and dodged as she tossed a handful of water at him. “Jealousy’s
unbecoming to you, love. Especially seeing that I’m the one with the green
eyes.”
“And what lovely green eyes they are.” Kiss. “And I’ll claw out the eyes of
any Witch or Muggle woman who thinks to get them to turn her way.”
“That’s quite impossible. For after all is said and done, I’ve never seen any
woman or Witch who can hold a candle to you...”
They kissed deeply then, in the flickering candlelight. The only other sound
was of the slight slosh of the water.
When they came up for air again, Hermione’s brown eyes were honey
glazed. A soft, contented sigh slipped from between her lips.
“What do you want from me this Christmas, Harry?” she asked softly.
“And what were you going to ask earlier today, when we were in Itacaré?”
“I want you to do something for me,” he murmured.
“Anything.”
- 19 -
Paradise Lost 3
His eyes opened wide. “Anything? Do you mean it?”
“Yes, of course I mean it. I would do absolutely anything for you, Harry
Potter. I’ve always been willing to do anything for you, even follow you into the
depths of hell itself. You should know that.”
“Yes, I know,” he said tenderly. “So... anything means anything, right?”
“Harry. What is it?”
He looked into her eyes. Reaching underneath the warm water, he took her
hands in his, lacing their fingers together.
“Harry?”
“In this moment, I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”
Hermione looked worried. “But why? Surely what you fear has nothing to
do with me, does it?”
“It has everything to do with you.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“I want a wife for Christmas, Hermione. Will you marry me?”
Hermione’s mouth gaped open. This was the third time she’d been
proposed to. The first time she’d been at a loss. The second time she’d felt
empty.
This time she felt... she felt...
“Merciful heavens.”
Harry’s face was desperate, pleading. “Do you mean to tell me you hadn’t
any clue? After all the talking around it that I’ve done over the past few days...
the past few weeks? Surely you knew this was coming.”
“I thought you were only joking. Confirmed bachelor that you are and all
that.” She looked away from him, down at the still-buoyant suds. “Dear Merlin,
you were serious about this all along.”
“Is that a bad thing?” he said. What he didn’t say, but what she knew he
meant nonetheless was: so you don’t want to marry me after all.
“No!” she said quickly. “No, no... quite the opposite! I mean... it’s just...
shocking. I didn’t expect... you... so soon, at least...”
“It doesn’t make sense to wait any longer, Hermione. We’re young yet, but
certainly not getting any younger. I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever... Diana
was... it was different with her because she said she was pregnant, and for me it
was an obligation, not something I wanted more than anything.” He snorted in
self-derision. “This is the first time I’ve ever proposed to anyone of my own
volition. And I just knew I’d fuck it up royally.”
“You have not,” Hermione said, grabbing his shoulder gently but firmly.
“Do you have any idea what I’m feeling right now?”
And he could. She sent him her joy and her exhilaration, her fear and
uncertainty. All those competing emotions were now coursing through her veins.
There was no mockery, or amusement, or impatience, or condescension
anywhere in her.
“You’re... happy,” he said wonderingly.
- 20 -
“Harry, you’re such a git,” she said, kissing him soundly. “Of course I’m
happy! Any woman who wouldn’t be happy about you proposing to her is too
much of a simpleton to live and ought to be disposed of immediately.”
“So can I have an answer, or do I have to wait until next Christmas?”
Hermione’s smile faded. She looked very serious now.
“You said anything, Hermione...”
“I know what I said. It’s just that... marriage is so... Harry, I promised
myself when I got my divorce that I would never marry again. I absolutely hated
being married.”
“Happens when you marry the wrong Wizard.”
“No, the very institution of marriage itself is such a confining thing for
Witches. It causes couples to feel pressure to conform to these traditional roles.
I mean, if we were to marry, you’d have certain expectations and I would hate to
disappoint you.”
“What expectations do you think I have?”
“You’d want me to take your last name.”
Harry started to contradict her, but relented. “At least in private life. What’s
wrong with that?”
“But why, Harry? Why is it so important to you that I become a Potter?
Why can’t I keep Granger?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “You’d
want to have children, even when I’ve told you that I don’t want kids. The very
thought of motherhood is a horrifying one.”
“Children is something that could be discussed later, along with whether
you’re Potter or Granger or some combination of both. We can discuss both
issues and any others that arise after we get your magic back and make sure that
neither of us gets killed in the process. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean
that we’ve got to think about children right away, if ever.”
“Oh, but Harry, I know you. I know you’ll want babies sooner or later. And
I just think it’s totally unfair to bring children into a world like this, with us
being who and what we are... what kind of parents would you and I make?”
“We’d make wonderful ones,” said Harry firmly. “You know what? I think
you’re just afraid.”
“Of?”
“Of losing your heart to something other than your books, or your career, or
your precious medical discoveries. I think, Hermione, that you are so in love
with me that you’re half-afraid that it will consume you... and that soon you’ll
be just like all of our female friends, just another conformist Witch with a
husband and kids and a stalled career.
“But there’s more to being a wife and a husband than sharing a last name or
sprogs or bills. So much more. Hermione, I’m not only asking you to be Mrs.
Potter, to consider maybe someday having children with me and sharing my
home and my life. I’m asking you for something far deeper than that.
“I am asking you for everything. I’m asking you to pledge everything you
- 21 -
Paradise Lost 3
were, are, and will be to me and only to me for an eternity. Your strengths and
your weaknesses. Your triumphs and your failures. Your beauty and your light
and your deepest, darkest secrets. I want you to be my peace in a world full of
strife, my constant when everything else in my life is uncertain, and my
assurance when nothing around me makes sense.
“Once upon a time, Hermione Granger, your love was my salvation. I’m
asking that you allow my love to do the same for you... that you let me love you
forever, and even longer than that... because it’s what in your heart too. We
belong together, beautiful... please say yes.”
Hermione’s eyes were overflowing with tears. She stared at him, not
blinking, until her tears fell one by one into the bathtub... until he began to dry
them with his fingertips.
“Please say yes.”
She stared at his lips as he said it.
“Harry, I just...”
Without waiting for her to say anything else, he lifted her from the tub,
wrapped large terry towels around them both, and carried her to their bed, still
damp.
“You have to say yes, Hermione,” he said, settling her on the edge.
“But Harry, I...”
He cut off her itinerant thoughts with a deep, drugging kiss.
“Say yes to me, love,” he insisted.
And he continued to insist. Hermione never forgot that particular loving for
as long as she lived. The memory always remained fresh, and whenever she
recalled it, a blush stained her cheeks. It was as if every inch of her skin had
suddenly been transfigured into a fragrant rose garden. And his fingers were like
the wind, blowing gently, and his kisses had become the rain, beating softly,
warmly, and wetly upon the petals of her.
And between the rain and the wind, his lips whispered a relentless mantra
against her skin.
Say yes, Hermione. Please say yes.
Never before had she felt so loved, so cherished. Never before had she felt
as if her body was a shrine, a holy temple worthy of worship. Never before had
she felt as if she had somehow shed the constraints of her flesh and become
immortal.
Please say yes...
He was more right than he knew. She wasn’t merely half afraid, she was
wholly terrified of being his wife. What if he tried to change her? What if they
made each other miserable? What if they ended up hating each other?
What if he broke her heart?
She had been the dominant partner in her first marriage, keeping her name,
her meteoric career rise, and her private business to herself by simply letting her
ex-husband know that this is the way things are going to be if you want to be
- 22 -
with me, understand? If she were to wed Harry... lightning didn’t strike the same
place twice, did it?
No.
She could never dominate Harry. He wouldn’t stand for it. It would
definitely be a match of equals at first... but what if the balance tipped? What if
they succumbed to temptation and became the Wizarding world’s next smug
married thirtysomething couple? What if she did get consumed with husband
and family and neglected her dreams? What if Harry did suddenly morph into a
Damned Traditional Man?
Well.
At least he’d still be her man.
Just now this man of hers was being really very distracting, as it was rather
hard to carefully consider his request with his fingers there... and his mouth
there, doing that... and that... and dear Merlin, that...
Say yes...
“It really...” she began, then was cut off by a shudder that began
somewhere in the region of her ankles and raced up and down her body until it
culminated somewhere below her collarbone, “it really...”
“Really what?” he murmured against her ribcage.
“...isn’t fair... you’re extorting my answer...”
“The end justifies the means,” he said harshly.
“You... what a... Slytherin remark...” She arched up from the bed, trying to
move away from him.
Harry held her fast by her hips and planted a kiss upon her stomach.
“Didn’t I ever tell you? The Sorting Hat thought to put me in Slytherin... I had to
convince it otherwise...” He moved slowly south, blowing upon her mons as he
went. “I can be very convincing when I set my mind to it.”
And then he spoke no more. He did not need to.
Dear Merlin.
Say yes...
“Yes.”
He froze. Hermione felt him do so and smiled... she knew that it was in the
way that she’d said it, and the fact that he hadn’t even got there yet, that made
him stop in his tracks.
“What did you just say?” he asked. The seducer had disappeared for the
moment, and in his place, the boy she’d fallen for so long ago stretched out on
the bed beside her.
“Yes, Harry. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Are you serious, Hermione? Are you certain?”
“No, I’m neither serious nor certain. For of course today would be
opposites day, and yes really means ‘no thanks, I’d rather be stung by a
manticore’... oh, by the Lady, Harry, I mean it! My answer really is yes...”
She was now so blinded by her tears that she couldn’t see him staring at
- 23 -
Paradise Lost 3
her, just staring, as if he feared that he would blink and that the dream would
dispel, or the spell would be broken. Then her body was racked by gigantic sobs,
and he gathered her close to him so that she could cry her heart out.
Tears were streaming liberally from his eyes too.
When they came together at long last, they were still crying. And their
lovemaking was ecstasy and pain, satiety and sadness all at once. They clung to
each other as if it was the last night of the world, sealing their pledge and their
promise as no human-crafted engagement ring could have done...
“When?” asked Hermione, a long time afterward.
“Let’s see.” Harry pondered the question. “Christmas is in three days... day
after tomorrow?”
“That long?” There was a hint of exasperation or perhaps impatience in her
voice.
“Hey. Do you need more time?”
Laughter. “More time? Are you kidding me, Harry Potter? You finally get
around to asking, and then you’re going to make me wait that long?”
Harry kissed her forehead and pulled her close.
“Great Wizards, I adore you.”
~~~
22 December 2012. Saturday.
Ron was in a most foul mood the next morning at breakfast. It didn’t help
matters when Harry and Hermione were the first to walk into the private dining
room together, hand in hand and so damned aglow that one needed sunglasses to
get a proper look at them.
“Bom dia, Ron!” Hermione said sunnily, breaking away long enough to
peck her ex-husband’s cheek. “And how did you sleep?”
“Well, thanks,” he replied grumpily, wiping at the spot where her lips had
fallen. “Morning, Harry.”
“Morning, Ron,” said Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. “Willing to go
out later for a bite? There’s something I need to talk to you about...”
Ron studied his face. “What is it?”
“Oh, we can talk about it after breakfast...”
Hermione shook her head. “I think we ought to tell him now, Harry, before
the others arrive. Together. He deserves to be the first to know.”
Ron looked from one to the other, much as he had the night before.
“Don’t tell me... you’re not pregnant, are you?”
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione began to laugh. Harry
didn’t.
“No, that’s not it at all, Ron,” said Harry, “but you might want to sit down
for a bit so we can explain.”
- 24 -
To their credit, they tried to explain it as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Harry only spoke twice and Hermione only once before Ron nodded impatiently
and began his interrogation.
“I knew this was coming. First of all, why does it have to be bloody
Christmas Eve?”
“Ron, only think about it,” said Hermione soothingly. “It’s perfect. We’re
going to marry eventually anyway, so we’re both thinking that we might as well
do it sooner rather than later.”
“If we marry now, we get to avoid the inevitable media circus,” added
Harry. “We also might as well do something productive while we’re here, as
Solon’s got us in limbo until he gets back sometime later this week.”
“It doesn’t have to be big,” Hermione continued. “I’ve already been a bride
once. This time around I’d love to make it as simple as possible. Maybe a nice
dress and a few flowers, but that’s it.”
Ron was still not smiling.
“I don’t think you two have given this any thought at all,” Ron said.
“Marriage isn’t something that ought to be done on the spur of the moment. It
requires a lot of thought, a lot of planning, a lot of compromise, and a lot of...”
“Love,” said Harry. “Ron, we’re in love. Doesn’t that count for
something?”
“Should count for everything, I’d think,” snorted Hermione.
“Yeah, it counts for a lot. But remember, I was in love with one woman
while I was still married to another. Love doesn’t always lead to marriage, and
vice versa.”
And Ron looked sharply, accusingly almost at Hermione.
Both Harry and Hermione were quiet for a while.
“Ron,” Harry said finally, “we’d really like your support. After all that the
three of us have gone through together for the past twenty years and more, we
felt that you ought to be the first to know about all this. But make no mistake,
while we’d very much like your support, your consent is not a requirement for
our marriage.”
Ron glared at Harry.
“You should have bloody well married her years ago, then,” he snapped.
“I bloody well should have. Just correcting my grievous mistake,” he said,
turning to Hermione and lifting her up by the waist. “I’ll spend the rest of our
lives making it up to her. You have my word on that. I’ll always treat her well...”
“You’d better,” Hermione whispered against his lips.
As they kissed, Ron glowered.
“Ron,” said Hermione, shrugging Harry away after a moment, “please say
you’re okay with this? As Harry’s said, we don’t necessarily need your consent,
but we would very much like our best friend to be there with us when we say
our vows...”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” snapped Ron. “What about my family? What about
- 25 -
Paradise Lost 3
my wife and children? Have you even thought about that? What am I supposed
to tell them? Or did you even think about any of that at all?”
Ron stood to face them.
“Oh, right. You two never think of anyone other than yourselves.”
“That’s totally unfair, Ron!” said Hermione, sparks flying from her brown
eyes as she saw Harry deflate a bit. “Harry and I have been miserable for years
and years and it was partially your fault and now we’re finally going to be
together and you’re having fits about it? You must be absolutely mad if you
think you’re going to get away with that tantrum. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself!”
“Hermione, let it go,” said Harry.
“I will not. I will not let him of all people ruin this! Not after what he did...
because of him, I almost missed out on the best thing that’s ever happened to
me!” She turned to face Ron again. “Because of you, Ronald Weasley, I almost
told him ‘no’!”
“Because of me? Well. We’ll just see what kind of wife you make this time
around. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Harry... like I said, not questioning your
choices or your taste, mate, but really...”
Smack!
“So the truth comes out,” said Hermione coldly, shaking out her stinging
hand. “I was wondering when the real Ron would surface. So I’m good enough
for Harry to shag, but not good enough for him to marry? You can deal with us
in a superficial relationship, but the fact that we’re to wed just bites in your eyes,
doesn’t it? You don’t mind badmouthing me to Harry, or playing the guilt card
yet again because you know he was always one of the only people in the world
who ever gave a shit about your opinion?”
“That is not it... not it at all... you don’t know what you’re talking about...”
“Go home,” Hermione said. “I want you gone. Go back home to your
precious little tart of a wife who can do no wrong, and leave us alone. I wasn’t
invited when you married her, and after this conversation, I don’t think I want
you there when I marry Harry!”
“Fine!” shouted Ron. “Fine!”
~~~
“Explain something to me again, babe.”
Eva looked up from where she was breastfeeding baby Daniel, a light towel
discreetly covering her chest. “Yes?”
“Why are we getting in the middle of this... again?”
“Zachary, it is important that Ron be at this wedding.”
“Ron is going back to England tonight. He made that very clear. He doesn’t
want to have anything to do with it. This very well may be the end of their
- 26 -
friendship. In fact, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?” asked Eva, shocked.
“Just think about. How would you feel if something happened between me
and you... and we broke up... and then I went and started dating Juliana?”
“But Juliana does not like men.”
“Let’s pretend that she does. Work with me, Eva, please.”
“Okay. So... what?”
“Wouldn’t you be angry with me and Juliana?”
Eva looked puzzled. “Why would I be? If we are not together anymore,
then it is not cheating. No cause for saudade.”
Zach groaned. “Well, maybe it’s different for men. But let me just tell you,
Eva, that Ron is having a very hard time with this, and I can’t say I blame him.
Every time he sees Harry and Hermione together, he can’t help but nearly burst
a blood vessel... he’s been a champ lately, but really, there are limits.”
“But he was not true to Hermione when they were married. He is married
to that other woman now. Why would he care?”
“Because. It’s his best friend and his ex-wife.”
Eva stared at her boyfriend without blinking.
“Eva! He’s probably wondering if they were screwing each other’s brains
out while he was still married to her. It was one thing for them to flirt, and for
Harry to be protective of her, or even for them to have sex. I am sure Ron was
thinking they’re in the middle of a meaningless fling, even if it lasted for some
time. But marriage? The fact that she actually wants to be Mrs. again this soon?
The idea that she’s in love with Harry, and according to her has been for many
years? No man in his right mind can deal with all that at once. It’s a blow to the
ego.”
“What does that mean? Ego?”
“The male ego. Our sense of pride... our manhood.”
“Oh, machismo.”
“So you know about it, then.”
“I am Latina, am I not? This ‘male ego’ thing is thrown into our faces all
the time. I think that Hermione has suffered much for ‘male ego’. She has told
me what it is like to be asperta – smart – and to have men not care to hear what
she has to say.”
“She is a pretty enough woman,” Zach said. “Not in the conventional
sense... and nowhere near as beautiful as you... but she isn’t a hideous hag like
some of the very intelligent women I’ve known. But what does that have to do
with anything?”
“Harry loves all of her, Zachary. He loves her just as she is. Ron wanted her
to be someone she was not when she was his wife. Ron should understand that,
and accept his mistake, and realize that he does not need to ruin their day by
staying away.”
Zach rolled his eyes.
- 27 -
Paradise Lost 3
“Women.”
~~~
Juliana shook her head with a dry laugh.
“You do realize you haven’t even given us forty-eight hours’ notice to plan
an entire wedding, Hermione Granger?”
“I know, I know. But that’s all the time we have. Jules, this is just so right.
I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as if anything was so right in my life.” She
grinned. “I cannot believe this. Me, of all people... eloping? With Harry? It’s
absolutely unbelievable.”
“You’ll be radiant, querida. So what time on Monday do you want this
ceremony to take place?” She took Hermione’s hands in hers, her own angst
about the missing Lena dissolved in the excitement of planning the upcoming
holiday event. “Please say evening... or better yet, night... we need as much time
as possible to plan this...”
“No, no. Harry and I are agreed... we want to marry at dawn. Sunsets are all
right here, but the sun faces the wrong way... it’s like being in Aberdeen almost.
But the dawn is spectacular. The sun seems just to rise out of the water... I first
fell in love with the early morning view here when I was riding into the Barra
with Eva’s poor mother. So I want it to be at first light, with perhaps a light
breakfast or brunch afterwards.”
Juliana looked at Hermione’s hastily compiled list. “Dress... flowers...
guests... celebrant... caterers... you’re making my head spin. Hermione, this is
absolutely irresponsible!”
“No, it will be absolutely fun! We’ve got the palace staff to cater breakfast
here... Renato and Joseane said they’ll find us a Muggle celebrant, as we’re
going to wait with the Wizarding ceremony... Sirius is going to see what he can
do about getting together a few witnesses... Harry’s off to find rings and
something for himself and Zach and Riki to wear... and that just leaves the
flowers for us.”
“What about your dress? Surely you’re not going to marry Harry in that
sexy red thing you wore in Itacaré!”
“Oh, the thought crossed my mind.”
Both women laughed.
“I think I’ll have mercy on him this time though. While you and Lena
were... busy... in the dressing room, I tried on this lovely pink champagne frock.
I think I’ll wear that. I’ve got enough of a tan now where it’ll flatter rather than
wash me out. I’ll see if she’s got something pretty and complimentary for you
and Eva as well.”
“We’ll just send an owl-order to Anneliese. It’s perfect.” Juliana smiled a
little, starting to warm up to the idea. “Where will you marry, here in the
- 28 -
palace?”
“That’s just the thing. I don’t want to marry indoors. The last time
I married, it was in Scotland, beside the most beautiful lake... you have got to
visit us sometime after this is all through. So I want to marry Harry on the beach
where we danced the other night. It’s the perfect spot... just the loveliest little
private beach... and someday after all this is over, we can come back and spend
some time together.”
“What if it’s booked?”
“We aren’t Wizards and Witches for nothing, are we? We just unbook it,
and book the other party elsewhere. Besides, who’s really going to book a beach
venue for seven o’clock in the morning?”
Juliana groaned loudly when she heard the unearthly hour. “In Brazil?
Absolutely no one unless they’re loucos.”
“Exactly. See how nicely it’s all coming together?” Hermione smiled.
“Remind me never to doubt you again, garota.”
~~~
“You do realize this is the worst possible time to get married, Harry.”
That was Sirius, of course. Sirius, the fucking voice of reason. Sirius, who
of course couldn’t bear to see him happy with Hermione. Sirius, who still
thought to make up for all the years of Harry’s nonexistent fathering with his
unsolicited bad advice.
They were walking along the streets of Wizarding Salvador, supposedly in
search of rings. However, nothing was satisfactory to Harry. Nothing he saw was
good enough for his Hermione. He knew Sirius was getting frustrated with his
indecision.
“You could put this wedding off for a while, Harry, until things calm down
and we’re back in Scotland.”
“Sure I could,” said Harry, in no mood to argue or defend his motives after
Ron’s display earlier that morning. He was still a bit sore about his oldest and
best friend being a total jackass about the marriage. “So what can you do about
getting to my vault?”
“I’m not sure. I know you want to get her the engagement set you picked
out for her, and it’s a beautiful idea to use James and Lils’ rings, but really,
Harry...”
“I’ve been saving that sapphire for twelve years,” said Harry absently. “The
Lady Morgan herself had it handcrafted for Hermione when we were in Avalon
together, and it’s got all sorts of special enchantments on it, so I know it’ll fit her
perfectly. And those wedding rings were given to me by Dumbledore himself...
he would have had them buried along with my parents, but their will said
specifically that I was to have them, just as my great-grandparents wore them
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Paradise Lost 3
before Mum and Dad. He said that love can never be buried...” Harry trailed off.
“I know he must have known about me. How I really felt about her.”
“Perhaps.”
“So what can you do?”
“Not much, Harry. You’ve really got that vault protected, you know. All
sorts of bindings and hexes that you and your parents had on it, in addition to
what the Gringotts security goblins have done. For good reason, but it really
would be hard for any Foundation staffer or even me to get at whatever’s in
there without facing Ministry questioning or worse.”
Sigh. “Yeah, I thought about all that. I’ll just have to wait until we can get
home. This isn’t the way I planned for this to happen at all, Sirius. I know you
think I’m being irresponsible, but I really did want Hermione to have an
elaborate proposal, a leisurely engagement, and a posh wedding.”
“Then why the rush?”
Harry frowned. All of a sudden, he felt inexplicably cold.
“I don’t know... I just feel as if... I feel as if this is our time, and I’ve got to
seize it somehow. That I will regret it if I don’t do this. I have no idea why now,
really, but I know I can’t wait any longer. Before we head off to Atlantis, I need
to marry her.”
Sirius was alarmed at Harry’s obvious discomfort.
“Did something happen? Is Hermione all right? Are you?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “We’re both great. There’s nothing to worry about.
We’ll get to Atlantis, find a cure for that disease, get Hermione’s magic back,
kick Ereshkigal’s arse, and pop back home. Not necessarily in that order, of
course.”
“Home... will it still be Ayr?”
Pause.
“Do you still want me there? With Hermione, I mean?”
Sirius laughed so suddenly that he nearly startled Harry off the sidewalk.
“You must be more daft than I thought, son. What makes you think
I wouldn’t want you to bring your wife home with you?”
Harry was not amused.
“Sirius, for the past twelve years you have given me every reason to think
that you hated Hermione...”
“No, for the past twelve years, I’ve given you every reason to think that
being with her might trigger the next apocalypse.” Sirius shrugged. “You
weren’t with her. Muggles got into the Wizarding world anyway. All hell is
breaking loose anyway. Way I see it, you might as well.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “That can’t explain away
everything, Sirius. What else is it?
For Sirius had stopped walking.
And his intense dark eyes had filled with tears.
Harry was now very alarmed. This was so unlike Sirius that he pulled his
- 30 -
godfather into a botequim posthaste and ordered bottles of cold guaraná. Maybe
the heat of the day had got to him... after all, Sirius wasn’t as young as he once
was.
Sirius took a gulp of the cold drink. “Thanks, Harry. Much appreciated.”
“So what’s going on? What is with you and Hermione? Why was there
always such a problem with her and me being together?”
“You’re going to think your old godfather is stark raving mad...”
“I can assure you that I won’t think you’re any more mad than I did before
the conversation began.”
“Harry, your mother...” He trailed off, seeing something that was not there
in the distance, almost as if his eyes were now a Pensieve. “I’ve always said that
you were very much like your father, not a carbon copy, but I see so much of
James in you that all these years it’s hurt like hell to see you grow into the man
you’ve become, even when I’m most proud of you. And then... you went and
picked a girl who’s just like Lily...”
Harry’s eyebrow quirked.
“Come on, Sirius. Hermione is nothing like my mum. They don’t look
anything alike, they have dissimilar backgrounds...”
“You didn’t know your mother, Harry. I did. The first time I saw the girl,
the way she questioned Lupin and Pettigrew... that was something that Lils
would have done. Her mind works the same logical and practical way that your
mother’s does, too... your mother wasn’t quite as clever as Hermione, but she
had plenty of brains and knew just when to use them. Only recall the story of
how she discovered that we were Animagi.
“But the most uncanny of all are Hermione’s mannerisms. For Merlin’s
sake, Harry, do you know the way Hermione bites her lip if she’s nervous or
thinking? Your mother did that. Her laugh sounds a lot like Lily’s... I noticed
that again last night at dinner. She’s one of those few Witches who is completely
comfortable around Wizards without getting flirty or shy or trying to act like just
another bloke... and men are drawn to her because of it. Lils was like that, too...
and Remus and Peter and I... well, we all had our fleeting moments of envy
towards your father. There are just so many little things, Harry... so many other
little things I see in Hermione... little things that I remember... and it hurts.”
“So you didn’t want us to be together because it was too painful to
remember Mum and Dad? I find that hard to believe.”
“More than that, Harry. I didn’t want you to be together because I was
afraid that history would repeat itself. Even more than it already has.”
Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. Then he hugged his godfather, tightly,
hugged him in a way that he hadn’t done in years.
When he let Sirius go, there was a fire in his eyes.
“It won’t repeat itself, Sirius. Voldemort killed my father, but he did not kill
me. And unlike Mum, Hermione didn’t begin this journey as my girl. She began
it as my best friend and companion. She was an equal mate, same as me, just as
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Paradise Lost 3
you and Dad and Uncle Remus were equal to each other. And Hermione is one
formidable Witch, Sirius. That’s why the Cabalistica stripped her of her powers.
They didn’t want to have to tangle with the Inanna reincarnate. Now that
Hermione knows who she is...”
“Will she choose to wield the power of a mighty ancient sorceress? Will
she be willing to pay that sort of price? I wonder. At the present, she seems to
care about nothing other than marrying you and going back home.”
“She’s very tired, Sirius,” Harry pointed out. “She misses having her
magic. She’s also much more afraid than she’s willing to let on. She’s having
nightmares that could give some of mine a run for their money.”
“Have you seen any of them?”
“No, my telepathic skills aren’t as strong as yours. I can speak to her
telepathically while we’re both awake, but I can’t see her dreams any more than
she can see mine.” Harry sighed. “But she cries a lot in her sleep, and screams
for her mother or me. And yesterday morning, she had a nightmare that was so
terrible that it made her ill. She tried to hide it from me, but I knew.”
“Do you think Ereshkigal is attempting to contact her?”
“Could very well be. After all, as you’ve said, she’s linked to the Demon
more closely than anyone else alive today.”
“But Ereshkigal can’t kill her unless she knows her true name.”
“Exactly. And the only one who knows it, her grandmother, is dead.” Harry
shrugged. “The only way they could find that out would be to go back in time.”
Sirius stopped sipping on his guaraná.
“Shit! Harry... the Cabalistica... they could go back in time and extract the
information they need from Helena Blavatsky Means, couldn’t they...”
“What exactly can we do at this point to stop them?” asked Harry, not
unduly fazed. “If anything, we’re too late. And if they’ve got long range space-
time magic that is safe enough for human use, then that’s news to even the
deepest throats at the Foundation. The only sure method of time travel is a Time-
Turner... and that’s only accurate for a fortnight or so. Not to mention
dangerous.”
“You’re right,” said Sirius. “We’d better concern ourselves with getting into
Atlantis and finding a cure for the epidemic.” He still looked concerned, though.
“Listen, Sirius... say they go back in time to 1945, when Hermione’s
Grandmother Helen is still a young woman... or even 1960, when she’s raising
Mrs. Granger as a widowed single mum. At that point, wasn’t Helen the heir of
Inanna? And I’ll bet anything her mother didn’t tell her what her true name was,
either. The line’s protected itself for ten thousand years since Inanna, with the
help of the Old... surely that protection won’t fail Hermione now.”
Harry’s eyes darkened with determination.
“And in two days’ time, Hermione will have added protection as well. Once
she’s my wife, I’ll keep doing everything in my power to make sure that no
harm comes to her. Whoever or whatever wants her will have to come through
- 32 -
me first.”
The frown on Sirius’ face deepened.
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Harry.
~~~
Zach alighted from the palace chaise as it stopped at the door that led to
Ron’s rooms. It was open, and Ron was visible, tossing clothing into an open
suitcase.
“Hey. Can I come in?”
Ron didn’t even look up. “Sure, no one’s stopping you.”
Zach obliged, and found a comfortable chair to sit in. He watched the other
man fling clothing procured during the ten days that they’d spent here into his
open bag. “You know, those will come in really handy when you go back home.
Those fabrics are perfect for Liverpool in December.”
“What do you want, Zach?”
“I want you to reconsider walking out on your best friends.”
“Hermione told me to go home.”
“She didn’t mean it.”
“She doesn’t need me here. She’s made it perfectly clear that she’s already
got her hero. Blimey, how cliché is that? The hero gets the girl yet again.”
“No more cliché than the sidekick getting the girl first. And I think
Hermione would slug us both if she could hear us referring to her as ‘the girl’.”
Zach laughed. Ron didn’t. “Anyway, I want you to reconsider this. You’ll regret
it if you leave.”
“I can’t see why, Zach. To date, everyone in our party except for Riki has
been shagged on a regular basis for the past two months. I haven’t. If that isn’t a
compelling enough reason to hightail it back home, I don’t know what else is.”
Zach went from laughter to howling. “You can’t be serious, Ron. Juliana
and Lena had one night together. Harry and Hermione have only been together
in that way for the past few days, from what I’ve gathered from Eva. And
speaking of Eva, since it’s bothering you so badly, we haven’t shagged yet. Until
very recently she was recovering from the baby, she is still dealing with her
mother’s death, and she’s got issues when it comes to sex because of the way
she’s been treated in the past. And so you think we’ve all been going at it like
rabbits while you’ve been deprived? Aww, the poor ickle baby...”
“Are you quite done insulting me?”
“Not unless you’re going to start unpacking.”
“I am going home for Christmas.”
“Fine. Go home for Christmas. Harry and Hermione are marrying first
thing in the morning on Christmas Eve. We’re now three hours behind England
time. After the brunch, head home and you’ll be there in time to trim the tree and
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Paradise Lost 3
hide the presents. You’ll be home by noon at the latest. What would that take
away from your kids and your wife that you haven’t already have denied them
by being here?”
“I could leave now, and be there for the entire day. I have given twenty
fucking years of my life to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. They stabbed
me in the back...”
“By being happy? I don’t understand,” he said, channeling Eva.
“By being together. Don’t you see why? They could have been with anyone
else in the world besides each other. Anyone. Harry could have had any Witch
he wanted... Witches have been throwing their knickers at him since we were
still at school. And all Hermione had to do was lift one dainty little eyebrow, and
quite a few Wizards would follow her with their mouths hanging open. Instead,
what do they do? What do they do? They’re only doing this to pay me back for
something they claim to have forgiven me for!”
“Ron,” said Zach sharply. “Why can’t you see that the only way for your
two best friends to be happy is to be together? I thought you were over this... we
talked about this that night in Rio, after you walked in on them... we talked for
most of that night about it, got good and drunk, too... and I thought you were
good!”
“I thought I was too, Zach. And I was really okay with it for all these
weeks. I even helped them see sense in Itacaré the other night. But... this
morning...”
“What happened?”
“You ought to have seen them, mate. You’d think that the fucking streets
were paved with gold and the bloody trees were growing diamonds. I’ve known
them both for two decades, and I have never seen them like that! Almost as if...
as if...”
“They were in love?”
“Damn it, Hermione did not act like that when I asked her to marry me!
She acted like she wasn’t even fucking sure in the first few seconds... and made
me ask her again. I’ll bet she said yes to Harry before the question was even out
of his bloody mouth!”
“Ron, that was so many years ago until it shouldn’t even matter! How old
were you when you proposed, twenty? Twenty-one? You were barely out of
childhood and had no clue... trust me on this one,” Zach grinned, acknowledging
his own young age. “Now you’re in your thirties, you’ve got a wife who adores
you, two healthy and handsome sons, another on the way... and you mean to tell
me that you don’t want that for Harry and Hermione?”
Ron sighed, long and loud.
“It’s just... maddening, I tell you. Sometimes I wonder what the point of me
marrying Hermione was. Back then, it was the Wedding of the Century, like
something out of a storybook, and she was the perfect bride... and now, in
retrospect, it seems as if it was all a waste of fucking time. Six years of our
- 34 -
lives... she could have married Harry instead of me back then, and none of us
would have ever had to deal with this.”
“She married whom she should have back then,” Zach said. “You and she
were meant to be together at that time... and she and Harry weren’t. Who knows
what might have happened between her and Harry if they’d married that
young?”
“Oh, you know them. They would have been together still, had it been
them,” said Ron miserably. “I know it. They’ve been in love since Tartarus,
maybe even before that. I knew it way back then, but she was my girl. I thought
when he went away to Avalon, I’d have a chance to get back on track with her...
but she even went to him there.”
“And you told me she only went to him because you broke her heart,” said
Zach. “Ron, don’t you see how circular this all is? Trying to figure out what
happened in the past is only going to make you crazy. Isn’t that what you told
Harry when he and Hermione weren’t speaking last week?”
Ron looked at Zach strangely.
“That was a private conversation. How did you know about that?”
Zach shrugged. “Because you told me a bit of it. Remember during one of
the nights of the festa, when we were drinking together?”
Ron thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah, must have forgot. So...”
“So your reasons for not witnessing your two best friends in the world
getting married are...?”
Ron closed the suitcase.
“Ron, you’ve got to be the closest thing Harry’s got to a brother on this
planet. And while Hermione might not be in love with you, she loves you and
wants you to be happy for her no matter what she says. They want you to be
happy for them, just as they don’t begrudge you your happiness with Maureen
any longer.”
Ron began to zip his bag up.
“Just consider what I’ve said, okay? Consider it.”
“See you at dinner, Zach,” said Ron flatly. “You can close that door on your
way out.”
~~~
“So where are we, with less than thirty-two hours to go?” asked Hermione.
She and Harry were camped out on their bed in their underwear, their assorted
purchases surrounding them and all over the room.
“Well, I think I’ve worked out what I’m going to wear. I suppose it’ll be all
right, but you know how much I hate shopping for clothes. We bought similar
shirts for Sirius and Riki and Zach... and a couple of others, just in case.” He did
not say just in case Ron changes his mind and you tone it down a bit, but she
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Paradise Lost 3
knew he meant it all the same.
“What about the rings?”
“Still no luck.”
“Harry, they’re just rings. If you want, we can use washers or slugs or tied-
together strings. They’re merely symbolic.”
“They’re important. I’ll do what I can tomorrow. Whatever I end up buying
here, I’ll do my best to make it up to you once we’re back home. You deserve
the best.”
Hermione leaned over a box to kiss him. “Darling, I’ve already got the
best. I don’t need you to buy the best... because day after tomorrow, I’ll be
marrying the best thing that ever happened to me.” She smiled at him.
“Would that be me?”
“That would be you.”
He held her face in his hands. “I want this to be special for you, beautiful,
even as hasty as it all is.”
“Hey, I’ve gone through this song-and-dance before. It’s you whom I want
to make this special for. It is your first marriage after all!”
“And my last,” Harry said, releasing her to pick up a package. “Now, what
is this?”
“Flowers for the girls. Jules enchanted them so that they’d stay fresh.
Honestly, I have no idea how Muggles manage weddings without magic... and
here, these are favors for the few people we’ll have... just a small token of
appreciation...”
“Galleons? Hermione, love, I know I’m not exactly a pauper, but while
we’re stuck here our resources are definitely limited...”
“Bite it.”
“What?”
“Here,” she said, pressing the Galleon into his hand, “take this and bite it.”
He did so, trusting her, but carefully so that he wouldn’t chip a tooth... and
his teeth sank right in.
“It’s chocolate!”
“Of course it is.”
“But the coin seems so real until you put it in your mouth. Nothing like
Muggle candy coins... these could fool the unsuspecting just as well as
leprechaun gold.”
“Yes, aren’t they clever? I want to use these little treasure chests for the few
guests we’ll have... chocolate Galleons, precious gemstones that are really hard
candies, some lovely seashells, a bit of sand... fits a castaway theme, I think.
Joseane and Jules and Evinha have been marvelous. The ceremony itself will be
quiet and simple, but the brunch will be just lovely. Joseane’s arranged for the
food, the decorations, even the music...”
“Music? I didn’t know that dancing was required.”
“Obligatory first dance only, my love. You won’t have to do any fancy
- 36 -
footwork, at least not tomorrow. I’ve got an idea that I’ll tell you about after the
wedding, but for now it’ll have to wait.”
“Might want to tell me now. After the wedding, I don’t think I’ll be much
for talking.”
“I’m sure,” Hermione said, with a naughty twinkle at him. “We’re making
up for lost time... but as soon as Solon arrives, of course the honeymoon is
over.”
“What if he arrives tomorrow? Do you still want to go through with this?”
“Of course. He’ll just have to wait until Christmas Eve dawn... and then if
we have to, we’ll go straight from the wedding to Atlantis.”
Harry took her hands and turned them over in his. “This is not the way
I originally wanted this to happen, Hermione...”
“Harry, I wouldn’t change a thing. First of all, it’s fun. It’s testing my event
planning skills to the limit... and here I thought I was nothing like Ginny! Then,
too, you’ve got to consider the romance factor. How many girls dream of some
gorgeous bloke whisking them away to some faraway and exotic land to marry
them barefoot on the beach? It’s most flattering, honestly. Not to mention that
it’s good to get reacquainted with my inner girl.”
“Inner girl? So what’s all this on the outside? Let’s see... this doesn’t look
very ‘inner’ to me...”
Hermione giggled and swatted his hand away. “And of course, as we’ve
discussed, whenever we do get back home, we can have some sort of
engagement period, even though we’ll be already married, and then renew our
vows by marrying in our Wizarding tradition with all of our friends and family
around. But this will be my first Muggle ceremony. It’ll be most interesting to
see what is different and what is the same.”
“How did Joseane get around the loophole of having the banns posted a
week in advance?”
“She got friends in the Muggle government to predate them. We can sign
the license tomorrow, just after midnight. I’ve arranged it with Joseane to have
champagne and cheese for that. Then we really can’t spend the night together...”
“Why?” asked Harry.
“Because I’ve got to get ready, silly.”
“And it’ll take you seven hours?”
“We won’t leave off with the cheese and wine until around one, darling.
And we’ll have to be ready by five if we want to get to Itacaré in time.”
“That’s still four hours, Hermione...”
Hermione laughed. “Harry, you are such a bloke. Most brides need far
more than four hours to transform into goddesses for a day. I think you’re
getting off easy... after all, Ginny refused to sleep with Malfoy for an entire three
weeks before her wedding.”
“I’m not Malfoy. What, do you really think the man went without all that
time?”
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Paradise Lost 3
“I have it on good authority he did.” She quirked her eyebrow. “Anyway,
I promise you won’t have to go ‘without’ for very long... for tomorrow
afternoon, I’ll be with you during siesta, and afterwards, I’ve ordered a special
dinner with oysters, artichokes, coconut milk, and lots of different kinds of
chocolate.”
“Oysters? Whatever are you trying to imply?”
“Only that while these frequent dress rehearsals have been all well and
good, I plan to ensure that the family jewels,” and Hermione indicated what she
meant by a well-placed hand, “are in good working order for opening night. Or
afternoon, as it were.”
He pinned her down to the bed, sending tissue paper and boxes
everywhere. She giggled.
“After all, Harry, you must admit that you just aren’t as young as you used
to be...”
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that remark, Hermione.”
And she did. Paid, in fact, and paid...
And then paid some more.
~~~
23 December 2012. Late Morning.
Sabaean Watch Station, Negev Desert

“It’s time to intervene,” Heath said.
Dale, Vick, and Seal just stared at him. After all these months of waiting
and watching, doing nothing but sending that single team into the Amazon to set
up a watch station there, long after they’d all thought that the operation had gone
past the point of no return... and now he decided to intervene?
“Okay,” said Dale slowly, in measured Common Speech. “I’ll ask it, since
Seal won’t and Vick doesn’t dare to... why are we doing this now and not two
months ago, when it could have had some effect?”
“The operation’s already been half effective. Even if that traitor whose
name I do not want to hear sabotaged her end of things, Zach has been doing a
marvelous job infiltrating their inner circle. One would think that Sirius Black or
Harry Potter would have detected the mild Obscurity spell we cast over him
back in Sabera before the jump... yet none of them think to ask any questions
about his past. They just believe that he’s someone who can be trusted, as he
passed Black’s Foe screenings for Ayr, and they leave it at that.”
“Well, he can be trusted,” said Dale. “Especially as we’re here to save
lives, not to take them. The problem is that your brother has fallen completely in
love with that little Brazilian girl. Are you sure that he’ll agree to come back?”
“With or without her,” said Heath coldly. “Anyway, we are the only ones
- 38 -
who can see the big picture. The Doc cannot go into Atlantis... for when she
comes out, she will know her true name, and that would be bad.”
“That’s all the cue this Ereshkigal creature is waiting for,” Seal agreed.
“She’s telepathically linking into Dr. Granger’s mind as she sleeps... it’s a
wonder that she doesn’t go insane.”
“The Doc is strong. Even without her magic, she’s been able to withstand
much of the mental poisoning.” Heath snorted. “One would think that the great
Harry Potter, sleeping beside her, could detect that something is very wrong.
I know the traitor was always fascinated with studying his life, but I was never
impressed with him.”
“Is that completely fair, Heath?” asked Vick. “Some people see a Demon
behind every bush, like Black. Others tend to know that the Demons are
probably there, but they wait until they surface before panicking. That’s Potter’s
style. Can you imagine what the man would be like if he were a natural
paranoiac?”
“That’s no excuse!” Heath almost shouted. “Gods, Vick, the woman he
loves is in mortal danger! You yourself have been running the coordinates every
day for four months... the reading for the date of her murder has not changed. If
he were any kind of a man, he’d...”
Seal put a hand on his old friend’s arm.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the wedding tomorrow, would it?”
Heath glared at him. “It does not. The wedding can only be a good thing.
After all, it wasn’t on the old reports... and it certainly didn’t happen in our past.
They were only engaged when she died, not married. Something did change in
the timestream, and at this point, almost any change is good.”
“Potter senses something,” Dale said. “We just watched the conversation he
had with Black. In the timestream of our own past, he proposed to her and they
planned it for when they got back home. Of course, neither of them ever got
there...”
“I fail to see how this wedding will change very much,” said Vick. “She
will still likely die the same way, by the same hand, and Potter won’t be any less
likely to die saving her than he was before. So why are we...”
“Great Alliance! Will you just look at this?”
Guy and Lance Knight were in the control room, running an updated
report. They’d returned to the Negev control station after helping Logan
Lovelady and her daughters to set up the Amazon station.
Guy was reading one section of it as it came out while his twin Lance ran
the controls. It was Guy who’d made the exclamation.
“What is it?” demanded Heath.
“Something has changed. Something wonderful. And it’s all Lenore’s
fault.”
“What’s changed?” asked Seal, seeing that Heath was too angry at the
mention of Lenore’s name even to consider speaking.
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Paradise Lost 3
“This,” said Guy dramatically.
He thrust the report into Heath’s face. Heath, with a deprecating look at the
youth, took it and scanned it.
Then his mouth opened wide.
“‘Great Alliance’ is right!”
The others were confused, so Guy began to explain.
“Do you remember why the Hermione Granger of our past couldn’t wield
the power of her ancestress in full measure? Why she was defeated even after
she got her magic back ten times over?”
Seal and Vick were properly astounded. Dale was still confused.
“Forgive me, I suppose that I earned the lowest marks out of everyone
present in general Wizarding history. I realize that no matter how Heath tries to
convince us all otherwise, I was chosen for the team because of my brawn, not
my brains... so please enlighten?”
“Dale,” said Seal slowly, “you have only to look at this goddess figurine we
unearthed as we set up our station here. We’ve dated it to 9000 BCE...”
He placed the figurine into the younger man’s hand. The second his fingers
closed around its curves, he knew.
“Gods! Do you mean to say... that is very different from the past as we’ve
studied it! Does it happen now?” he asked.
“Not in the future we’re standing in at this moment, no,” said Heath, still
scanning the report. “That is why we have to make it happen. That is why we
must now intervene.”
Dale frowned. “But she’s said repeatedly that she doesn’t want...”
“Never mind what the Doc wants. She doesn’t want to be killed or watch
the Wizarding world go to hell in a parsec, either.”
“You know, you’ve got a point there.”
~~~
Many hours later.
12:12 a.m., Monday, 24 December 2012.
Salvador da Bahia, Brazil.
Several bottles of champagne and glasses entered the private dining room
of the ministerial palace and school, followed by Renato Braga, who floated
them carefully over to the already prepared cheese tray.
“Joseane will be here very soon with the celebrant and the license,” said
Renato cheerfully. “So what do you two have to say for yourselves?”
“That we’re making a terrible mistake and will live to rue this day,”
Hermione laughed.
Harry, who was sitting next to her, shushed her with a cube of Argentinean
cheese and a kiss. “Hey!”
- 40 -
“All right,” Hermione said, swallowing the cheese and pulling away from
her fiancé. “The truth is that I’m so happy right now that if you stuck a pin in
me, I’d burst instead of bleed. I honestly cannot believe it... if you’d told me a
week ago that this would be happening, even three days ago, I would have died
laughing.”
“Come to think of it, you have been laughing a lot lately,” observed Harry.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”
“Neither. You really ought to be concerned that your soon-to-be wife is
given to fits of hysteria. If I were you, I would be.”
“My soon-to-be wife,” Harry repeated softly, incredulously, running a
finger along the line that began just beneath her ear to follow her jawline to chin
and around to her other ear.
“And I can’t believe you’re to be my husband in a few short hours,” she
said, kissing the inside of his palm. “I rather think I’m getting the better end of
the deal, though... which is actually why I approve of the haste. Don’t want this
one going and changing his mind. After all, what’s that old saying?”
“Marry in haste, repent at leisure?” teased Sirius.
“‘Not that one, actually. There’s another I was thinking of...’”
“‘It is a woman’s business to get married as soon as possible, and a man’s
to keep unmarried as long as he can.’” He grinned at her. “That’s George
Bernard Shaw, I think... something I told you years ago when you berated me for
not wanting to get hitched.”
“Yes, that’s the quote I was thinking of. But don’t you remember what
I replied back? ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in
possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’ Good old Jane Austen.”
“Yes, good old Jane. Diabolical author of the Englishwoman’s Bible. Don’t
tell me you’ve still got Pride and Prejudice half memorized...”
“Of course I have, Mr. Darcy. I seem to recall that I also told you that
whomever the woman was that caught you would be a lucky one.” Hermione
grinned, raising her flute so that he could drink from it. “Go me.”
Harry tilted his champagne glass up to her lips in turn. “Go us indeed.”
Juliana raised her glass as they kissed. “Shall we have a toast, then?”
But the toast would have to wait. For Sirius glanced at his watch, and
Disapparated, and Joseane Jobim reappeared with an aide and a fairly elderly
stranger.
Stranger to everyone except for Harry, whose mouth dropped open.
“I know you! You were the vicar of the archdiocese in Surrey when I was a
child!” He turned to Hermione. “Remember when I told you about him? Back in
Oxford, on your birthday... and then again in Manaus? He was the Dursleys’
pastor.”
“That would be me indeed, Harry Potter.” He shook the younger man’s
hand. “Joseane’s father happened to have been a great friend of mine. So was
Albus Dumbledore.”
- 41 -
Paradise Lost 3
“Then you... you’re a Wizard?”
“Not exactly,” said the elderly vicar. “My wife and I are Muggles, but
somehow, both of our children turned out to be magic. Our daughter is a Witch
and my son is a Wizard. Our son unfortunately died during the Dark Lord’s first
rise. The daughter, who is a good fifteen years your elder, married a Portuguese
bloke straight out of Hogwarts... they moved to São Paulo and had a child, and
after my wife died, I retired and came to live with them here.” He grinned.
“Dumbledore told me to look after you a bit while you yet were a child in the
Muggle world. Wasn’t difficult, really... although Vernon Dursley was one I had
to pray about quite often at night.”
“You were always so kind to everyone, even to the bastard whom I had to
call uncle,” Harry said. “At school, and the few times the Dursleys dragged me
to evensong and Christmas concerts and the like. I never forgot that.”
“And I always remembered you,” the old vicar replied. “Wondered often
after you mysteriously disappeared from Surrey how you were doing... until my
daughter explained exactly who you were and why old Dumbledore had made
that request of me, a Muggle.” He grinned. “And so this is your wife? I’ve heard
all about you, Dr. Granger...” he bent down to kiss her cheek, and Hermione
blushed.
“I thought you wouldn’t mind him officiating,” said Joseane, obviously
pleased with herself. “And now, Pati’s got something that both of you need to
sign...”
The marriage license was already prepared, with their names and the date
and time of the ceremony already typed in. Patricia, Joseane’s secretary, had
loaded a quetzal-feather quill with black ink (‘after all, to the Muggles, ink is
ink, isn’t it?’) and handed it to the old vicar to read. He would be the last to sign,
after the ceremony was over.
Then Harry took it.
“As they say, the quill is mightier than the wand, isn’t it? With this pen,
I thee wed.”
And he signed it, then handed the quill to Hermione. Her hand was
trembling. All of a sudden, she couldn’t see the line.
“Hermione,” said Eva, “you cannot cry on that paper, the ink will run.”
“Yes, I think you must be rather hysterical after all,” teased Harry. “Given
to sudden bursts of laughter... crying for no reason... irrational behavior...
honestly, love, you’ve not been like this since we were in puberty.”
He reached out with a napkin to dry her tears.
When she could see the line, she signed her full name.
“You know,” said Harry, amidst the applause of their friends and after they
had kissed, “with that signature, you’ll become Mrs. Potter by default the second
you say ‘I do’.”
“I know very well how to change my name back in both worlds. I’ve done
it before and I’ll do it again. You’d better stay on my good side.”
- 42 -
“Witnesses,” said Joseane. “Juliana, if you will... and where on earth is
Sirius?”
“I don’t know,” Juliana said. “It can wait until he gets back, or perhaps
Zach could...”
There was an assortment of pops just outside in the corridor, and laughter,
and footsteps...
“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, you both ought to be Graphorn
whipped,” declared Ginny Malfoy firmly as she walked into the room. She
sounded perhaps more like Molly Weasley than she might have liked. “How
dare you two get married without consulting us first? Not to mention planned it
all without any help? It’s so unforgivably rude that we shall never speak to either
of you again.”
“Wouldn’t that be a welcome side benefit to this amusing little
development,” Draco said, coming up to put his hands on his wife’s shoulders.
“I rather think Potter has lost his mind. No sane Wizard would actually marry
you, Granger, of their own free will... have you resorted to using Love Potions
again?”
Sirius beamed.
“Found the odd couple in Costa Rica yesterday, as Malfoy had business
there and Ginny happened to be with him. How’s that for your witnesses?”
“These will do just fine,” said Hermione happily, hugging Ginny as Draco
and Harry shook hands cordially. “I can’t believe you two are here!”
“Is there room for one more?”
Ron stepped into the room, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. He
wasn’t smiling, and there were circles beneath his eyes, but in those selfsame
eyes there was something that was totally Ron... the boy who was ever loyal and
steadfast and true to his friends, no matter what the personal sacrifice.
Whatever had happened to him between Salvador and Liverpool, and back
again, would only be known to himself. But something in Ronald Weasley had
changed. He would never doubt them... or doubt what he meant to them again.
“I got all the way to England, and as soon as I kissed my wife and kids
hello, I remembered that there was this wedding I had to attend. Fancy me
forgetting that. I must be losing my memory in my old age. Anyway, I’m here.”
Hermione uttered a choked cry and ran straight into his arms.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione. I acted like an idiot...”
“No, I’m sorry, Ron. I should have never said those things...”
Harry’s face was working as he walked over to them both.
“Both of you are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. And you’re both crazy,
and irrational... and so insufferable that you’d try the patience of a House-Elf...
and there are no two people in any of the Thousand Worlds who I love more
than you.”
When Ron and Hermione broke apart, she stepped away so that the two
men could face each other.
- 43 -
Paradise Lost 3
“Harry, mate, I...”
“Shut up, Ron.”
And as two of the most famous Wizards of their generation hugged, hands
fisting at their backs, the other most famous Wizard of the age looked on. Draco
Malfoy looked from Sirius (whose Adam’s apple was moving rapidly as his
mouth trembled) to his wife (whose eyes and nose were red) to Hermione (who
was weeping so hard that Harry’s handkerchief was fully soaked) and grimaced.
“This is what I get for marrying a Gryffindor,” he said to no one in

particular.
~~~
- 44 -
6:35 a.m., Monday, 24 December 2012.
Itacaré da Bahia, Brazil.
In every woman’s life, there is a moment where she is at her loveliest. Very
rarely does this miracle occur on a Monday morning.
It happened that way for one woman.
On the twenty-fourth of December, in the year 2012, just before dawn, the
woman known as Hermione Granger took Draco Malfoy’s hand as he helped her
climb out of Renato Braga’s car, the last one of the fleet to arrive at the beach.
Many of the stars were still out, and the moon had just begun to retreat and fade.
It was still dark enough to necessitate the use of some magic for light. So a
procession of white-flamed torches lit the way to the beach. These torches
emitted no smoke and no odor, as they were magical.
The vicar led the procession down the drifts to the clearing. Harry followed
him, and then Sirius, Ron, Zach, and Riki. Draco brought up the rear. All of the
men were dressed in guayaberas – traditional Latin American dress shirts, used
in tropical weather along with and instead of suits and tuxes – along with
trousers. They wore no socks or shoes... between the sand and the seashells
scattered everywhere, socks and shoes would only have been a nuisance.
All of the women save for Hermione wore simple slip dresses, perfect for
the balmy twenty-nine degrees Celsius pre-dawn morning. The dresses were all
styled slightly differently. The bias-cut dresses were also all pristine and pure
white, made of Anneliese Figueroa’s best Bahian satins. They wore no shoes,
either, although a couple had opted for anklets or rings. Their hair was pinned up
and pulled into floral wreaths. Ginny had done everyone’s hair, from Juliana and
Eva to Joseane and... Lena, who’d breezed in at the last minute. Juliana had
taken one look at her and almost fainted.
Last but not least was Hermione. She was wearing the Aphrodite dress
from Anneliese’s collection, and indeed she did appear to be some foam-born
goddess... or at least, a character from one of Jane Austen’s novels. The dress
was in that marvelous blush champagne shade, with cap sleeves, and was very
slightly translucent. Her slightly-longer-than-shoulder-length hair was pinned
up, its naturally bushy texture encouraged and coaxed into lots of curls
beforehand.
She wore a veil, too... and that veil was perhaps the loveliest bit of all. It
was a very Iberian-looking thing, the same shade as her dress, as elegant and
exotic as a mantilla, yet fine-spun as a spider’s web. She’d seen it in a shop the
day before and fallen in love straightaway. It did not cover her face, but covered
her hair like a snood. It made her look like a Renaissance painting of the
Madonna... or perhaps an angel.
Her face wasn’t overly painted, considering the early hour. It also bore
noting that she was so glowing with happiness, she really didn’t need much
makeup. Ginny had only used a few touches here and there from her facial
Potions kit, after admonishing her yet again not to use Muggle cosmetics.
- 45 -
Paradise Lost 3
She had no jewelry to wear at first. Then Joseane Jobim came into the room
just before they were to leave, with delicate pearl drop earrings and a box.
“Something that’s both old and borrowed for you... I wore these when
I married Renato,” Joseane had said, fastening them on. “And I hope you are
just as happy with Harry... speaking of which, Harry said to give this to you
before you leave.”
Hermione had thanked Joseane for the earrings before taking the box and
opening it.
Inside there were two jewel boxes. The first contained a pearl-and-diamond
pendant on a finespun white gold chain... and a pearl-and-diamond circlet ring
of white gold that made Hermione’s jaw drop.
There was also a hastily scribbled note.
“Hermione – In all the excitement, I forgot to give you your wedding
present. Actually, neither of these is it. It’s frustrating that I can’t get to what
I bought for you a long time ago. So consider these as two ‘hold this spot’
placeholders... one for the present I’ve yet to give you, the other for your
engagement ring. Both will have to wait until we’re home, but I didn’t want to
let this moment pass without giving you something. Love you – Harry.”
So Hermione wore borrowed earrings, an understated necklace, and a
temporary engagement ring on the day of her second wedding. It was quite
different from the expensive finery and the elaborate trappings of her first.
Never in her life had she been more radiant.
And no one had remembered to cast Hera’s Blessing, either.
No one in the party looked back. The fairy ring had already been cleared
for them by the beach’s owner. Its boundaries were marked with seashells and
antique golden coins. Framing the view would be an arched trellis of assorted
tropical flowers... suspended by magic in midair. These were the only
decorations.
There were no chairs. The ceremony wouldn’t take long enough to warrant
sitting. When the procession arrived, the vicar stuck his torch in the sand on one
side of the arch, and Harry stuck his on the other. He then stood underneath the
arch with the Book of Common Prayer as Harry stepped inside the circle... while
Sirius led the rest to stand outside the ring to witness it, holding their white-
flamed torches all around.
The only music was the early morning hush and the primal pounding of the
Atlantic surf.
Harry hadn’t seen Hermione until he turned around to stand beside the old
vicar underneath the arch. Then his view of her was slowly revealed as each
witness went to assume their place outside of the circle.
When the last of the women – Ginny – had stepped aside, he could see her
fully.
The very sight of her took his breath completely away.
Was he dreaming? If so, then could he stay asleep forever? She met his
- 46 -
eyes with a quiet smile. Her face was aglow with pure happiness.
Harry didn’t hesitate. As soon as Hermione was within arm’s reach, he held
out both of his hand... she took them... and he drew her into the circle where
only they stood.
The old vicar, seeing that all elements of the old Anglican service might not
have been the most appropriate for the occasion, started the ceremony with one
of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Harry vaguely recognized the Muggle verse. Hermione knew it well, and as
she looked into Harry’s eyes, mouthed the words to him along with the old vicar.
O, no! it is an ever-fixéd mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Something clicked in Harry, and he remembered the rest. All three said the
last together:
If this be error, and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
“In marriage, a husband and a wife belong to one another,” began the old
vicar. “They begin a new life together... one flesh, one soul, one mind. It is a
way of life that all should honor. It is not be to be undertaken carelessly, lightly,
or selfishly, but reverently, responsibly, and after much serious thought.
“This is the way of life, mandated by the Creator and affirmed throughout
creation, considered sacrosanct to all generations since time immemorial, a new
life that Harry James Potter and Hermione Anne Granger are now to begin. They
will each give their consent to one another, they will join hands and exchange
solemn vows, and in token of this troth they will both give and receive their
rings.”
With this understanding, do you, Harry, choose Hermione to be your
beloved wife and to love her forevermore?”
“I do.”
“And with this understanding, do you, Hermione, choose Harry to be your
- 47 -
Paradise Lost 3
beloved husband and to love him forevermore?”
“I do.”
And so Harry and Hermione recited their deathless vows as the stars were
extinguished in the heavens, one by one. It was the same sky they’d stood under
in another world as they’d said goodbye to each other for what they thought
would be the last time... the same sky under which they’d said hello to each
other at the Terrace years ago... the same sky that had witnessed that stolen,
frenzied moment at the Malfoy mansion on her birthday months ago... the same
sky they’d danced underneath on this selfsame spot...
That same sky was their witness as they pledged their love to one another.
“Before the presence of heaven and all these witnesses, I, Harry, choose to
be your husband, Hermione. Day by day, I promise to love you and to honor
you... to treasure you and respect you... to walk with you, side by side, in joy
and in sorrow. “
“Day by day, Harry, I, Hermione, promise to be your wife, to hold you in
my arms forever, to grow with you in goodness and in truth, to laugh with you,
to cry with you, to be with you... and to love you with all that I am and all that
I shall become. “
“This I promise you – from the depths of my heart, my mind, and my soul
– for all our life together – and if it is the will of heaven, beyond this life and
beyond the veils of time.”
Then they exchanged their rings. Harry had managed two plain but flawless
platinum bands, unmarked and not inscribed. As dawn stained the new morning
sky with its pastels, the others extinguished their torches, one by one.
“With this ring, Hermione, I thee wed, and say to the world that this is my
wife, the one whom I cherish above all others.”
“With this ring, Harry, I thee wed, and say to the world that this is my
husband, the one whom above all others I adore.”
The vicar nodded.
“As you, Harry and Hermione, have promised in the presence of heaven
and all these witnesses to give wholly and freely to each another, and to love
each other according to your sacred vows and the exchanging of these rings, it is
with great pleasure that I pronounce you – truly – husband and wife.
“Those whom heaven have joined, may heaven smile upon forever. You
may now...”
He was far too late. For the second the vicar had said “husband and wife”,
Harry and Hermione began to kiss.
The other guests were fine for the first minute and a half of this.
Two minutes later, they were getting antsy. After all, there were no seats.
No one had slept much the night before. And as the champagne and cheese had
seemingly been an Ice Age before, they were all ready to eat.
Sirius slung an arm around Ron. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast or we
could be here all day.”
- 48 -
Ron agreed. “Great idea.”
A short while later, Hermione managed to open her eyes... and looked
around. She broke away from Harry for a moment.
“Harry, darling...”
“Yes, Mrs. Potter?”
Hermione nudged him. “Didn’t we have guests here at some stage?”
They broke apart – Harry still holding the hand that now wore both of his
rings – and looked around.
“Well, bloody hell,” he said. “Talk about impatient.”
“I suppose we’ve tried their patience long enough. We were amusing when
we were having our mad passionate affair. Now we’re simply another boring
married couple... who wants to sit on the sidelines?”
“Maybe. Anyway, the thought just hit... isn’t this a private beach? And
haven’t we booked it for most of the morning?”
“Harry, don’t even say it...”
“We could always skip the reception, you know. They’d all understand... at
least, all the blokes would...”
“Harry!”
“What? Don’t tell me the thought didn’t just cross your mind.”
“Yes, well but... but then they’d know exactly what kept us... and we’d
never hear the end of it...”
“Ask me if I care.”
“Oh! You are absolutely impossible!” she giggled.
He kissed her again. “I guess that old pub toast is true. ‘A man ends his life
when he finds himself a wife’... let’s go crash our own party, then.”
And holding his bride close, he Disapparated.
~~~
With Ginny Malfoy at the helm, the mid-morning reception couldn’t have
failed to please the bride, the groom, and all of their guests. By the time Harry
and Hermione made their way back to Salvador, the ministerial palace, and the
private dining room, everyone was seated and the first course of breakfast... a
dish that looked very much like light flan... was being served.
Garlands of white orchids hung from the chandeliers... strung together with
fresh mint sprigs and holly. The table centerpieces were made up of more
orchids, and the vases were covered with more mint leaves. The tropical and
holiday themes side by side might have clashed, but they didn’t in this setting.
At the sight of Harry and Hermione at the doorway, Ron stood up and
began clapping. Everyone else followed suit.
Breakfast – or rather, brunch, as no self-respecting Brazilian would have
called that Potter reception a proper morning meal – was a merry affair. It was a
- 49 -
Paradise Lost 3
modified version of the traditional Bahian Christmas meal, or ceia de Natal.
To begin with, there was smoked Brazilian turkey, rotisseried to perfection
and garnished nicely with fruit. The birds were liberally stuffed with a dressing
made with giblets and farinha de mandioca, manioc flour that was first ground
from cassava root and then toasted. For variety, there was fresh seafood...
empadinhas, or fabulous shrimp pasties, bolinhos de bacalhau, or codfish
fritters, and spiny lobster with sliced avocado.
Along with the entrees, there were platters of steamed rice, some white,
some brown, some saffron... and vegetarian moqueca, which was a stewlike
concoction that was reminiscent of gumbo.
The reason why the food didn’t seem totally out of place at nine-thirty in
the morning was because as with all brunches, the non-morning foods were
served in small portions. As Joseane said, they would likely have much the same
meal later that evening.
There were also the traditional breakfast rolls, mingau, fresh fruit, sliced
meats and plenty of cafezinho to go around for those who preferred something
lighter. Hermione opted for this, as she was far too excited to eat and was
nervous about ruining her dress. Besides, her new husband kept giving her
various food items to taste between kisses... and the constant tinkling of the
glasses even at this very non-traditional affair didn’t help matters much.
No Brazilian wedding is complete without caipirinha, but it was far too
early in the morning for even those with iron livers to drink. So instead there
were plenty of fresh-squeezed juices... in addition to the usual suspects like
orange and papaya, sugarcane and cashew juices were passed around.
And when it came time for the toasts, they opted for guaraná punch...
which had only a tinge of the previous night’s champagne, mixed skillfully into
the fizzy drink from Amazonas, with white grape juice and pineapple chunks as
finishing touches.
The wedding toasts weren’t full of pretty words, or well-rehearsed
speeches. Years afterward, none of those present could recall exactly what was
said... only that there were a few tears shed, and quite a bit of laughter spread
around. The toasts did take some time, however, as each guest present raised
their glasses and offered good cheer to the couple. After that, Harry toasted his
new bride, and Hermione returned the favor.
Since this was not a traditional wedding, instead of throwing her bouquet
Hermione presented it to Eva with a kiss on her cheek. There was also no garter
toss, as Harry stated to all present that it was likely for the common good that he
would not go lifting any hems on Hermione until they were alone. There were
no wedding presents exchanged, save for the goodwill of smiles and handshakes
and time spent with friends.
There was music, though. The palace had its own musicians, and they had
provided light bossa background music for the brunch.
Once the toasts were over, the long-absent Lena, who had been the only
- 50 -
one seated who had not offered a toast, stood before the band, indicated what
beat and melody she needed, and turned to face the bride and groom.
“When I heard of your wedding, I had to leave my own festivities to
witness it. Harry and Hermione, I have only known you for a very short time,
but that has been long enough to form a great admiration. I admire you each as
individuals, not just for the things that you have done, but for who you are as
people.
“All have heard of your greatness, señor y señora... but few know that you
are simply buenos. Never once as I traveled with you did you make me feel your
celebridad or leyenda. You are two of the nicest, most unselfish, and
openhearted people I have ever met. It was quite shocking, no?
“What you are apart, you are even more so together. It has been a long,
hard road for you both... has it not?... but still, somehow, you made it here.
Everything that has happened in your lives has brought you to this moment.
“I tell my parishioners that una mujer o un hombre comes into su vida for a
reason, a season, or a lifetime. You two are each other’s reason... this is your
season... and everyone who knows you knows that your love will last a
lifetime.” She nodded at them both. “My mother used to sing this song for mi
padre, long ago... I would like you to hear it now.”
She sang the ballad in her native Spanish. Hermione leaned against Harry
slightly as he placed his arms around her, listening to the strains of the lone
guitar, the melody of the violins, and the light beat of the percussion, translating
the words for herself.
There are loves that vanish with the years
There are loves whose flame burns on
The uncertain loves that are like a rose and its thorns
Then there are the true loves, like you...
There are loves whose seeds are sown and they flower
There are loves that end in a drought
Those loves that bring disappointments to your life
Then there are the true loves, like you...
My love, my true love, you make me delirious!
Don’t pretend that I can forget you so easily!
Your love was the ocean that quenched my thirst
When I laid my weary head to rest at your port
Your love, my love, was the one
In whose arms I found happiness.
Harry pulled Hermione up to stand, then led his bride to the middle of the
dining room floor so that they could dance. And this dance was so very different
from the one that had taken place on that Itacaré beach... that dance had been
about passion and pent-up emotion and longing until your soul would burst...
that dance had been about sweeping all veils and pretense aside... this dance
wasn’t like that.
This dance wasn’t a dance of the night. It was a dance of the new day.
This dance was all about coming home.
- 51 -
Paradise Lost 3
There are loves that lead us into an abyss
There are loves that we never can forget
Those loves that give us only tenderness and fantasy
Those are the true loves, like you...
Both had their eyes closed, clinging close. And it was the way that they
held each other that caused their guests to get a bit teary-eyed... for in a world
where so much was superficial and cynical, during an age that valued the surface
more than the layers underneath, amongst a generation that prided itself on its
breadth and not its depth, in a time when the worth of a man or a woman was
rarely measured properly... what was before their eyes was genuine.
Your love was the pure light of day
When everything else was darkness...
Hermione leaned up to press her lips against her husband’s jaw, feeling the
pulse there flutter beneath her lips. No, he wasn’t adept at fancy footwork, but at
least he didn’t step on her foot this time. And she loved holding and being held
by him.
Besides, Harry could learn anything he set his mind to. It would be fun to
teach him... and provide plenty of wifely incentives to ensure that he learned.
For hadn’t she always been his coach and encourager, his first and best tutor,
forever standing on the sidelines of his life, cheering him on?
Harry made her feel as if she could do anything, be anything, and
accomplish anything she set her mind to. She could do what she thought was
impossible with him, for him, and because of him. He had long been her greatest
inspiration, her reason like none other... for hadn’t she become so passionate
about studying medicine when she was yet little more than a child, trying to help
him stay out of danger? And of all the many people she’d helped get well over
the course of her career, wasn’t that healing in Tartarus the most memorable
she’d ever performed?
This was the happiest day of her life.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Hermione finally felt safe.
Cherished. And for the first time ever, Hermione knew that if she died in the
very next moment, she could die happy, knowing that if all else perished yet he
remained, she would continue to be.
Standing up on tiptoe, she pulled his head down... and gently kissed his old
lightning-bolt scar.
As for Harry, his soul was floating. He was reveling in his new wife... first,
the scent of her hair, next the cool feel of her breath against his neck, then the
sweet crush of her lips against the scar that had been the mark of his lifelong
difference, his set-apart status. Their world regarded that scar with reverence...
some with fear, others with adulation, all with awe... but to Hermione, it was
simply part and parcel of the man she loved.
When everyone else around him made him feel like a legend or even
worse, a historical event, even his very nearest and dearest, Hermione made him
feel like an actual person. This was the happiest day of his life, bar none.
- 52 -
The wedding had been rather nice, but he couldn’t wait to be alone with her
again. When he made love to her for the first time as his wife, he planned to
savor her on the tip of his tongue as if she were fine wine... and perhaps check
off a few more items on that mental list in his head.
I guess it’s true what I’ve always heard. When you finally meet the girl
who you wouldn’t mind shagging forever, and you’re ready to commit murder at
the thought of some other bloke having the pleasure, you have little other choice
but to marry her.
But, he reflected, it was different with Hermione. Not only wouldn’t he
mind shagging her for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t mind much else about her
either. He wouldn’t mind her constant fussing over him, or her tendency to
worry, or her frustrating stubbornness, or her insistence upon knowing best. He
wouldn’t mind her drive or determination or even her occasional single-
mindedness... because all of the above made her his Hermione.
He wouldn’t have her any other way.
The song ended. Harry and Hermione looked over at Lena.
“Muchas gracias,” said Hermione softly.
“De nada. And now, I must go back to my flock...”
“No!” cried Juliana.
Lena’s eyes were calm. “Juli. Let us speak together in the corridor. We will
not ruin their day.” She turned back to Harry and Hermione. “It was an honor to
share this with you. Hasta luego.”
She walked out of the dining room then. After a few furtive glances around,
Juliana followed her.
Some of the other couples joined Harry and Hermione on the dance floor
then, as bright morning sunshine flooded into the room. It was a while before the
door opened again.
They all expected to see Juliana. Instead, there was a stranger.
He appeared to be in his forties, of vaguely Mediterranean origin with
specific nationality indiscernible, and balding. He was wearing a loud Hawaiian
shirt, Bermuda shorts, and sunglasses... in short, he looked like an American
tourist who’d been told “when in Rome” and had failed miserably.
“I’ve heard someone just got married this morning,” said the man, in a
surprisingly loud and booming voice. “Would that be the two of you?”
“And exactly who are you?” asked Ron, not amused.
“The name is Demetrios Solon, Gatekeeper of Atlantis. Let’s see... I think
I can place all of you... this must be the Minister here, along with her husband...
the Gatekeeper of Ayr Island... a wayfaring stranger far from home, and a young
woman who is wise beyond her years and circumstances... how are you, young
Riki, your parents will be most pleased to see you again... an Order member who
once drank from the chalice of darkness and death, along with his lovely wife...
another Order member, the steadfast and faithful one... yes, everyone is here
who ought to be, and then some...”
- 53 -
Paradise Lost 3
He walked over to where Harry and Hermione stood.
“Well. The twice-blessed one and the carrier pigeon! You know, I didn’t
think to bring a proper wedding present... but let’s see here... I can give you
time. How’s that sound?”
“Time?” Harry asked. “How does that help us?”
“Ha! Young man, you and my Gatekeeper brother aren’t the only telepaths
in this room. I can hear your thoughts. As anxious as you are to get to my neck
of the woods, you’re a bit exasperated with me. Here I am, about to lead you
through the jungle again, when all you want at the moment is to spend some
quality time with your new wife...”
Everyone laughed. Harry had to smile. When he saw Hermione’s blush,
Harry touched his lips to her hairline.
“So I think I can help you out. As it were, if we left today, given a normal
rate of progress, once we got there we’d have to wait a few days before we
could enter the... well, it’s difficult to explain, you’ll just have to see what
I mean once we get there. So the way I see it, we might as well leave the
morning after New Year’s Day.”
“But... that’s a entire week before we can leave,” Hermione said. “Can we
afford to lose that much time?”
“It’s either that, Pidge, or sit about cooling our heels in the middle of the
jungle.”
“I see.”
“Do you really? Are you thinking what I’m thinking? I hope you’re
thinking what I’m thinking... as for your husband, I know what he’s thinking...”
More laughter.
“Are you an Atlantean?” asked Hermione in her best interrogating voice,
not too thrilled about the humor at her expense.
“Me? From Atlantis? No more than this Gatekeeper is of any of the
Thousand Worlds he tends. All Gatekeepers are of this Earth, and although my
special task has given me unusually long life, Gatekeepers are just as mortal as
you are.” He rubbed his hands together. “The rest of your questions can wait
until we’re on the trail, Pidge, can’t they? This young man’s been waiting half
his life for this after all... heh heh!
“So. I live in Itacaré. I assume you’ve met Elaine, my wife... sorry about
that, she doesn’t take to strangers as well as I do, but then again, she’s not in my
line of work. As I’ve lived in the Mata Atlántica a long, long time... longer than
the current tourist boom, longer than even the Portuguese... I own a bit of
property. One of the places I own just happens to be that hotel you were staying
at when you went looking for me! Will you look at that?” He slapped his thigh
for emphasis.
“If this clown’s a Gatekeeper, I’m a Hairy MacBoon,” Ron said low to
Zach.
“Anyway, anyhow... look. I’ve booked a nice little suite for you two
- 54 -
lovebirds at the Eco Resort. You can swim, shop, surf, sun, and... oh, you know
all the other things that start with ‘s’ that honeymooners get up to. Meanwhile,
the rest of these can help pull everything together for our little trip! How does
that sound? How does that sound?”
Hermione looked at Harry quizzically, then at the others. “Um... there are
plenty of other considerations...”
“We’ll take it,” said Harry. “See you next week, then.”
“Harry!”
“What can I say, love? The man might be certifiable... but bollocks, he’s
right.”
~~~
Surprisingly enough, Harry and Hermione didn’t remain in bed for the rest
of the day. In fact, they didn’t consummate their union right away, either. After
arriving back at the Eco Resort in Itacaré and having a quick shower, they both
fell asleep, utterly exhausted from two days’ nonstop wedding preparation.
They awoke at the same time, showered and dressed, and went down to the
hotel restaurant to have a late dinner. The boys’ choir of the local archdiocese
was on hand to sing Christmas carols in Portuguese and Latin. When they got to
“Ave Maria”, Hermione stopped eating and listened, an enraptured expression
on her face.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Harry?”
He smiled at her and reached across the table for her hand.
“You’re beautiful. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Potter.”
She smiled back in spite of herself. “Merry Christmas back... and you’re
determined to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”
“Until you get used to hearing it.”
“Even though I’ve got a medical degree and have made a name for
myself?”
“Even though you’re the most brilliant woman in our world. Even though
you’re the cleverest Witch of our generation. I don’t care if everyone else always
calls you Dr. Granger. To me, in my eyes from this day forward, you are
Hermione Potter.”
“Hermione Potter,” she repeated slowly. “Why not Hermione Granger-
Potter?”
“Because hyphens are vile. Indicates that my name is detachable... it even
looks detachable written down. If that’s the case, might as well keep your
maiden name and not even bother.”
“Harry, it indicates an equal partnership to many couples...”
“Hermione, it reminds me of Legos.”
She chortled at that. “Yes, I suppose you’re right... all right, then, why not
- 55 -
Paradise Lost 3
Dr. Potter?”
“Because I’m Dr. Potter already. I just don’t use it... remember, right after
the war I got that honorary doctorate from the...”
“I remember now. Well, why don’t you use it? We could be the Drs. Potter
then on invitations and holiday cards and the like. That’s smart enough. Why
don’t you ever use ‘Dr.’ instead of ‘Mr.’?”
“I should think that was obvious. I’m not a doctor. I’m a professor. And
‘doctor’ is what you do, Hermione. It isn’t who you are.”
“It is when you’ve spent many years of your life working for a medical
degree! The title is an acknowledgment and a reward.”
“Yeah, and one day, you’ll retire from medicine. But you’ll be my wife
forever.”
“Yes, I will be that,” sighed Hermione, bringing his hand up to her lips to
kiss. “And I’m honored... and I suppose that upon consideration, it might not be
such a horrible thing if I didn’t insist upon Granger in private life. It’s not like
I ever used my married name much the last time around, so....”
“Really? You’ve changed your mind?”
“I’m starting to warm up to the idea, since it seems so important to you. As
for public life, I can’t wait until this all blows over and Witch Weekly learns
they’ve got to take you off next year’s list of Most Eligible Wizards. Might even
affect your Most Charming Smile award.” She grinned impishly. “I ought to
demand to be called Mrs. Harry Potter at every turn just so I can be the most
hated Witch in the world amongst the sixteen-to-forty year old Wizarding female
demographic. I can just see the owls filled with Bubotuber pus and various
household hexes now...”
They both laughed.
“In turn, Harry, you have to promise me you won’t bite anyone’s head off
when they use Granger. They can’t help it... my patients and colleagues will
likely always do it... so will Malfoy... as I’ve had my father’s last name for the
past thirty-two years. And that, my love, really was the deciding factor in all
this. As much as I love dear old Dad, I am desperately and hopelessly in love
with you... and between the two, I choose to have your name.”
He had to lean over the table to kiss her then.
“Tell me, love, what did I do to deserve you?”
“Nothing other than being you,” she whispered. “Wonderful, glorious you.”
They finished their dinner and headed down to the private beach where
they’d married just that morning. Harry conjured up a blanket, and after starting
a small bonfire (“I don’t know if they’re completely legal here, Harry, so we’ve
got to be careful”) they reclined together on the still-warm sand, enjoying the
stars and the surf and each other’s company.
“Finish our story, Harry,” said Hermione softly.
“Which one?”
“The one that Sirius began, and you continued the other night...”
- 56 -
“Well, as we’ve still got a good one hundred and twenty years left of our
life expectancy, I suppose I can’t quite finish it, other than to say that the knight
and his lady lived happily ever after. Contrary to popular belief, it can happen.
We’re living, breathing proof of that.”
“I think so,” she agreed. “It’s my favorite story now.”
“Even if I add in the epilogue that the knight and his Mrs. had two sprogs?
Girl first, then a boy?”
“Oh, go on,” laughed Hermione. “Not that subject again. I’m rather
surprised you want an eldest girl. All men want boys first, or so I hear. You
certainly don’t hear Ron complaining about all those sons he’s got. Why a girl?”
“Plenty of reasons why. I want a girl first only because of what any child of
ours would have to deal with. I think that my daughter would have a lot less
pressure than my son. I don’t want everyone to have all these expectations of
him... I don’t want him to walk in my shadow.”
“Any son of yours would rise to the occasion, Harry. Of that I’m certain.”
“Yeah, but that’s why I’d rather have the son as the younger child. Then,
too, I imagine this daughter of mine as a good-looking swot like her mum, who
has inherited her dad’s Quidditch playing skills in full measure. I’ll have her up
on a broom before she can walk.”
“You will not,” said Hermione indignantly. “Not if I have anything to say
about it, you won’t...” Then she realized what she was saying, and trailed off.
“Oh, love. You’d have everything to say about it, especially seeing as I’ve
got no other suitable candidates lined up for the job posting of ‘mother to my
children’. Either you accept, or the position stays unfilled.”
“Harry, this isn’t exactly the best time to be thinking about having babies.
You know how I feel about it. Let’s agree not to discuss it further until we get
home, okay?” She snuggled into his chest. “Besides, on the very slim chance
that I did agree to all that, I’d want a son first.”
“Boy for you, girl for me. It works... but of course, as you’ve said that’s a
will-save-for-later topic... much as this ring is,” he said, picking up her hand and
examining the pearl and diamond set.
“It’s a lovely ring, Harry,” Hermione said happily. “I couldn’t have picked a
better one. I love pearls... the Old say they stand for tears, and Merlin knows that
applies to us... and diamonds symbolize the everlasting.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice ring, but the hand that it’s on is far nicer,” said Harry.
“And this is not the ring I intended to give to you. That’s in my vault at
Gringotts back home.”
“I don’t mind this one at all,” said Hermione. “I love it just because you
gave it to me, Harry, and it’s quite lovely in its own right. And I really like these
bands...”
“I enchanted them,” said Harry, studying her face. “Our wedding bands,
I mean. Both of them.”
“Enchanted them? With what?”
- 57 -
Paradise Lost 3
“With my magic.” He reached for his wand, where it was holstered. “Here,
try a simple spell... yes, I know you don’t usually cast with your left hand, but
I don’t think it’ll work for your right just yet... at least, not until you get your
magic back... and you’d likely get better results with your own wand, but...”
“Are you serious, Harry?”
“Just try it.”
Hermione looked around the beach, quickly. Lying about ten feet away was
a large conch shell.
Then she cast one of the first spells she ever learned.
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
The shell rose, clumsily, a few feet above the beach.
Hermione dropped Harry’s wand.
“Oh, Merlin...”
Then she began to cry as Harry held her tight.
“Great, I was hoping it would work,” he said finally, after her tears
subsided somewhat. “It’s an obscure spell, one that Malfoy found in the Order-
lore years ago. While you lot were getting ready this morning, Sirius, Ron, and
Malfoy were helping me cast this properly. It might not have worked as well or
at all if you were truly a Muggle or a Squib... so the good news is that you’re
still a Witch, and that somehow we can get your magical ability back.”
“I’ve never heard of any spell like that.”
“That’s because it is really obscure. In the Order-lore, there’s all sorts of
ancient magic that we modern Wizards don’t pay much attention to these days.
However, the same spellbook Malfoy found the Halving Spell in is what the
Grand Wizards of the Order use to initiate covenants.”
“A book of covenant spells?”
“Yes. Apparently, it’s in one of the Order archives beneath Ayr... Malfoy
copied this out just as the war was ending. When he went into exile in the
Muggle world, he wasn’t certain that he’d ever be able to return to life as a
Wizard. He faced the prospect of living out the rest of his life alone, never
meeting another Wizard or Witch again.
“The Halving spell has to be cast on an inanimate object, like a ring... can’t
be cast on a person. When invoked, it gives half of one’s magical ability to
whatever person the object was given to. What Malfoy didn’t know when he
copied it was that it can’t be cast for just any random person. It has to be at least
a very close blood relative... someone from one’s immediate family, such as a
parent as a sibling... and sometimes even then it doesn’t work.”
“But we aren’t related,” said Hermione. “Why did it work?”
“Because you’re my wife,” Harry replied.
Hermione’s eyes went wide.
“The Halving spell was originally intended for use between husband and
wife, Hermione. Think about it. It’s in a book of covenant magic. And marriage
is the only covenant our world has that transcends the boundaries between
- 58 -
magical and Muggle... it is a covenant that’s recognized across almost all human
boundaries... which is why so many people of every religion, ethnicity, nation,
sexual orientation, and creed embrace this sort of bonding, no matter what they
choose to call it.
“This morning, you promised to be one with me forever. One flesh, one
soul, and one mind.” He clasped her left hand in his so that their rings touched.
“And now, one magic.”
“Could I... could this hurt you in any way?”
“Of course it’s a possibility. Instead of the source of your magic coming
from yourself, your source is me. So I’m not sure that it would be a good idea to
cast anything too terribly advanced, and please, none of the Unforgivable
Curses.”
“Anything else?
“Not that I foresee. I’m powerful enough to lend enough magic for you to
cast most of what we learned at Hogwarts... at least pre-O.W.L.s... and you
wouldn’t have to worry about it causing me physical or magical harm in any
way.” He clasped her left hand in his and looked at her earnestly. “The exception
is if you ever had to defend yourself. You cast first and think about me later.”
“I could never do that! What would be the point of me living in a world
where you aren’t?”
“Well, enough with that sort of talk,” said Harry, not willing to discuss
gloom and doom on Christmas Eve and their wedding day. “At least now you’ve
got an option that you didn’t have twenty-four hours ago. And if you’re not
using any magic at the time, I can fully use my powers without hurting you,
since I’m the source and you’re the receiver. So hopefully this can...”
“I love you,” Hermione said, throwing her arms around his neck so
suddenly that he tumbled backwards onto the blanket. “Harry, I love you so
much. That you would risk this for me...”
“I’d risk anything for you, love,” he said. “And it’s not much of a risk at
all, as we hope to find out what the hell happened soon enough for you to get
your magic back again. Until then, I’ll be sticking close by your side.”
Hermione, lying on top of him, was speechless. This didn’t happen very
often, and it made Harry a bit nervous. So he attempted to explain his rationale
further.
“I don’t know, it’s just that I... I guess I wanted you to be able to do all the
little things that make being a Witch so convenient. We’ll get you a wand in
Salvador before we leave for Atlantis. Won’t be Ollivanders, but it’ll have to do
for now.”
Still, Hermione didn’t say a word.
“It’s not much of a holiday gift, I’ll grant. I’ll do better when it comes to
the anniversary presents... anyway, Merry Christmas.”
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
- 59 -
Paradise Lost 3
“I think I’m ready to give you your wedding present. Right now.”
“Oh?” Laughter, until he caught her meaning. “Oh. Wow. No complaints
from my end, so...”
This time, it was Hermione who Disapparated them both away.
~~~
New Year’s Eve in Brazil is a fantastic time, second in gaiety only to
Carnival in February. The streets of both Muggle and Wizarding Salvador were
filled with the brisk beat of congas, the smooth sounds of jazz, MPB, and bossa,
animated chatter, laughter, and festive noises shortly after sundown. There was a
huge crunch everywhere one went, but it wasn’t threatening. It was life-
affirming.
Harry and Hermione returned from their weeklong honeymoon in Itacaré
just in time for the ministerial celebrations at the plaza in the Wizarding quarter.
This time, it was only her husband whom Hermione danced with, turning down
all other invitations as they came.
“Não... obrigada,” she said, fending off the advances of a young Bahian
man who had to be at least ten years her junior.
Harry returned to where she stood with drinks, glaring at the youth as he
skulked away.
“What part of this,” he said, holding up her left hand from which his rings
sparkled in the flickering torchlight, “don’t they understand?”
“Oh, Harry, lighten up. After all, I’ve noticed that you’ve got the interest of
twice more garotas than normal ever since you started wearing that band. I shall
shortly have to go about carrying a large placard with ‘ HE’S MINE, GO AWAY
BEFORE I HURT YOU’ painted on it just to scare them off.”
Then there were spectacular fireworks, the kind that did not die mere
seconds after they were set off, but danced high about the crowds for several
minutes afterwards... and more dancing.
Harry and Hermione had enough of the party after a while. They went up to
the palace to ring in the New Year with the Minister, her husband, a few
Wizarding dignitaries who were friendly with Sirius and happened to be in the
capital for the holiday, and their friends. Ron had spent the intervening week
with his family, and would be traveling back for the journey to Atlantis just after
the New Year came in at Liverpool.
There were cocktails and finger foods, and music in the private dining
room as well, but of a slower kind. It was all instrumental jazz classics and
standards, reminiscent of good times from a long bygone era.
Renato asked his wife to dance. Joseane agreed, and soon they were
whirling all about the dance floor. Juliana, who had looked a bit woebegone in
the week since Lena had left, accepted Zach’s invitation for a dance... and others
- 60 -
followed.
Harry and Hermione found a window in the far corner of the room to sway
in front of. It commanded a full view of the plaza, the fireworks above dancing
in the midnight sky. Her head rested upon his shoulder as he hummed the tune
just under his breath, so softly that she knew he wasn’t even aware of doing it.
“We’ve been married for one week, Harry,” whispered Hermione. “Any
regrets yet?”
“Yeah. Should have got hitched years ago, if you ask me. Should never
have let you marry anyone else. Should have told you I loved you right after the
war ended. But I can’t dwell on my regrets... not with you here in my arms.”
“I love you, Harry... and only consider this. After everything that’s
happened to us this year... and all the years behind us... in the new year that’s
coming, we’re going to be together. Every holiday, every season, every joy and
sadness... you’ll be there with me, and I’ll be there with you. Just think about
that instead of your regrets, my dear love, and there won’t be any room in your
heart for regrets at all.”
“There isn’t any room at the moment,” Harry said. “It’s too full of you for
that.”
Eva was calling them from across the room. “Come on, Harry and
Hermione! We must count down!”
For the old Wizarding clock on the mantel... as all Wizarding clocks
worldwide... had Transfigured itself so that it had numbers instead of the usual
information for the last five minutes of the old year. This was expressly so that
the New Year could be rung in properly; at 12:01 the clocks would revert back to
their normal state.
“Here’s some champagne,” said Sirius. “Leftover stuff from your wedding,
I think... and very good vintage, might I add... there’s a glass for you, Hermione,
and here’s yours, Harry.”
“A toast to the newly wed Potters,” said Renato, bringing his wife closer to
his side, “to a wonderful new life together, a happy home, and lots of babies...”
Everyone laughed save for Hermione, who pulled a face. Harry kissed her
temple.
“A toast to friendship,” Harry said, “for I was lucky enough to marry one of
my best friends, and have learned throughout the course of my life that good
friends are worth their weight in gold... to all of you.”
“A toast to courage,” Hermione added, “so that we may all have the
wherewithal to stand whatever the New Year brings. As a dear late friend of ours
once said, ‘What’s coming will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.’ Here,
then, is a toast to all of our lost loved ones...”
Rest in peace, Jack, she thought. You were such a wonderful man.
“And at last, a toast to love,” said Sirius. “Because seeing all of you
together makes me miss my wife. I’ll be glad to go home to her once you lot set
off tomorrow. This business of fighting evil is all well and good, but without
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Paradise Lost 3
love, we wouldn’t have any reason to do it.”
“Cheers,” said Zach, just before the glasses clinked.
Then there were only sixty seconds until the New Year, and the countdown
began. Harry swung Hermione into his arms again to kiss.
“Any resolutions, wife?”
“To make it back to Ayr well before spring cleaning,” she told him. “I have
a feeling the bach pad might need it... and yours, husband?”
“To convince you to make those babies with me. Only since everyone else
keeps suggesting it...”
“Harry!”
But the noise inside and out was growing to a fever pitch.
“Cinco... quatro... três... dois... um! Feliz Ano Novo!”
And there in the middle of tropical Brazil, the bands without and within the
palace struck up “Auld Lang Syne” to ring in the year 2013.
The champagne glasses were still half full an hour later when Harry
suggested a round of storytelling. At first, everyone groaned, but Harry insisted
that it would be fun. Soon, they were all pulling chairs into a circle very near the
window.
Sirius suggested that Harry begin, and in the interest of Ron having just
arrived after ringing in the New Year with his own family, he didn’t tell the one
he’d been telling to Hermione. He was enjoying his new wife and the peace with
his best friend far too much to open that particular can of flobberworms.
So Harry told a scary tale he’d heard from a Chinese traveler, about the
shadow world before there was any moon. As there was a very full one just
outside the window, the story had an added effect.
“Wonder how Moony and Tatiana are doing tonight,” Sirius said absently.
“Oh, likely celebrating the occasion in their own way, since they’ve had to
transform” said Hermione.
“Or knowing them, going at it like dogs in heat...”
“Ron!” That was Hermione and Juliana, together.
“Wolves, then. Bloody hell, it’s the same family. After all, Sirius here
always says that Lupin’s like a long-lost brother... ouch!”
For everyone present had pelted Ron with walnuts.
“Why don’t you go next then, Ron?” Hermione said. “Before more
projectiles are sent your way, that is...”
Ron’s stories were always hilarious. The one he chose was no different,
about an ogre who ended up rescuing a princess and falling in love with her. The
sidekick, a neurotic talking donkey, and the nemesis, a prince with a Napoleon
complex, had everyone in stitches when Ron did their voices. He was brilliant at
that sort of thing.
“I think I’ve heard that story somewhere before,” said Hermione once he
was done.
“Of course you haven’t. I made it up myself.”
- 62 -
“Yes, all stories are recycled, but I think I saw that in a Muggle movie
somewhere... are you certain it’s completely original?”
“Are you saying that I’m a plagiarist, Hermione?”
“No, I’m just saying that it sounds really familiar, that’s all. It could be
complete coincidence...”
“I can’t believe this! She’s accusing me of copying!” Both were laughing,
though.
“I did no such thing, Ronald Weasley. If you hadn’t insisted on passing off
the entire narrative as the product of your own imagination, I wouldn’t have said
anything at all.”
Hermione then folded her arms and grinned at Ron as he sputtered, ears
turning red.
“She likes to get underneath your skin, Ron,” said Harry, poking her in the
ribs so that she would pummel him playfully. “As much as you like to get
underneath hers. Me, all I want is peace.”
“All right, Mr. Innocent, who tosses fuel onto the fire, and then hides his
hands...”
“What can I say, love? You two are guaranteed entertainment.” Laughter
from some of the other revelers indicated that they agreed.
Ron glared at her. “I’d like to see what kind of story she comes up with,
since she’s so clever and wise and has never recycled an idea in her life.”
“Gladly,” said Hermione. “Let’s see... I can’t tell you lot my favorite story,”
here she winked at Harry, “so I suppose I’ll tell the one that’s haunted me ever
since I was a little girl. And no, Ron, I can’t take the credit for this one.
“My mother studied Classics before she turned to dentistry. She could read
Greek and Latin, and was utterly fascinated with the mythology of the ancient
world. That is why she named me Hermione... Dad wanted to name me Anne,
after his mother, but Mum insisted on calling me after one of the characters from
the Trojan War epics.
“I knew all of the stories in Bulfinch’s and Edith Hamilton’s translations
before I was seven years old. Mum and my Grandmother Helen used to read
them to me at night. I always did find the antics of the ancient gods and
goddesses fascinating... they seemed so human, unlike the belief systems and
religions that I grew up surrounded by and hearing about at school.
“Yet of all the myths they read to me, the one that has stayed with me all
these years later is the account in Virgil of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus, the
prince of Thrace and the son of a Muse, lyricist of the Argonauts, was a
character that I never forgot. I mean, Odysseus’ Penelope is a byword in
classical literature for faithfulness, constancy, and enduring love... but Orpheus
doesn’t get the same credit at all. I suppose it’s because he’s a man, an atypical
one at that. For after all those years during the expedition with Jason and the
other heroes, he still went back to Thrace and married Eurydice.”
“I knew it,” groaned Ron. “Why are all the heroes in these girly stories so
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Paradise Lost 3
wet?”
“Anyway,” said Hermione, pointedly ignoring him, “no sooner had he
married Eurydice than disaster struck. Some time afterward, she was walking in
a meadow with a group of her friends... likely celebrating the joy of her
wedding. She didn’t see the serpent until it was too late. The poisonous viper
struck... the other maidens screamed and ran... but by the time that Orpheus
arrived, it was too late. His Eurydice was dead.”
“Well, that’s nice and depressing,” said Zach.
“Oh, it’s really not. I haven’t got to the best bit yet. Orpheus didn’t accept
her death quietly. He couldn’t take the thought of losing her so soon. So he
braved the fearsome journey to the underworld. And when he got there, with his
lyre, he charmed all of hell to silence. Everything just sort of... stopped.”
“Too bad we didn’t have a charm like that when we went to Tartarus,”
Harry said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Would have been dead easier.”
“Well, it’s just a story, darling, isn’t it? All sorts of things happen in stories
that can’t happen in real life. So Cerberus relaxed his guard, Tantalus forgot that
he was thirsty, Sisyphus sat at rest upon his stone... Great Merlin, his sad song
even made the Furies cry.
“Pluto and Proserpine – since this is a Roman myth in the Bulfinch and
Hamilton translations – seeing the profound effect that Orpheus had cast over
their kingdom, agreed to listen to his request. And so he sang to them.
O Gods who rule the dark and silent world,
To you all born of a woman needs must come.
All lovely things at last go down to you.
You are the debtor who is always paid.
A little while we tarry up on Earth –
Then we are yours forever and ever.
But I seek one who came to you too soon,
The bud was plucked ere the flower bloomed.
I tried to bear my loss – I could not bear it!
Love was too strong a god. O King, you know
If that old tale men tell is true, how once
The flowers saw the rape of Proserpine –
Then weave again for my sweet Eurydice
Life’s pattern that was taken from the loom
Too quickly. See, I ask but a little thing,
Only that you will lend, not give her back to me.
She shall be yours when her years’ span is full.
“No one under the spell of Orpheus’ voice could refuse him aught. He
Drew iron tears down Pluto’s cheek,
And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
“So Eurydice was summoned, and given to him, with one condition. Once
they ascended out of hell, he was not to look back at her until they had reached
the upper world. So hand in hand, the couple passed back through Hades and
began to ascend. They climbed upwards and upwards... until light appeared...
- 64 -
and soon Orpheus stepped into the glorious daylight...”
Hermione trailed off.
“I always wanted the story to end there. I never liked what comes next.
“Orpheus, joyous that he’d made the journey with success, turned back to
look at Eurydice. What he didn’t realize is that she hadn’t fully emerged into the
light... she was still in Hell’s shadow... and there before his eyes she faded away
into nothing, with one final lost ‘farewell’.
“Mad with grief, Orpheus tried to follow her back down, but to no avail.
The gods would not allow a mortal to enter Hades a second time while he was
yet alive. So he returned back to the world of the living, desolate, playing his
lament throughout the Thracian countryside. At last, a pack of wild Maenads,
those worshippers of Bacchus, God of Wine, happened upon him while they
were in a frenzy. They tore him limb from limb, disemboweling him...
decapitating him... the myth describes his death in great detail.
“That is the saddest story I’ve ever heard,” Hermione said at last.
No one said anything for a moment.
“And you chose to share this with us... why?” asked Ron.
“Oh, don’t you see, Ron? Because it’s so beautiful. Orpheus loved Eurydice
so much that he refused to accept her death...”
“Sounds like an absolute nutter to me...”
“And he went to hell itself to bring her back.”
“Lot of good it did...”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “It was the thought, Ron. The thought... oh,
never mind. I should have kept it to myself.”
“I liked it,” Eva said.
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it then, Evie,” Ron replied with a
shrug. “Next!”
As Eva launched into a Yanomami folktale, Harry leaned over to whisper
into Hermione’s ear.
“Don’t mind Ron,” he said. “He doesn’t understand. Most people
wouldn’t.”
“And you do?” Hermione whispered back, skeptically.
“Of course,” Harry replied. “Makes perfect sense. I understand that
Orpheus bloke completely.”
Hermione took her hand in his and held it in her lap.
And together, they sat in silence, listening to the other stories until the last
of the wine was consumed and the holiday candlelight began to fade.
- 65 -
A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, faithful
Paradisers. Hope you like this gift as much as you liked the one
(PL3) last year... as we leave the eye we’ve been in for the past two
chapters and head back out into the storm.
SOURCES: Consultants Lissanne and Kristin, along with my
Brazilian Dream Team (Ana, Mari, and Beta), have known for eight
months that H/H would get married in PL9. We’ve all been
planning sporadically since this spring, poring over websites and
magazines and catalogs and discussing rings and dresses and
things. There were also a couple of points this weekend where Liss
and Kris got me unstuck, during the wedding and the reception...
thanks, ladies!
Thanks to the Betas of Soul, a fabulous quintet this time:
Heidi, Pippin, Ana, Michelle, and for the very first time... parker, of
H/H short-story fame, who’s a new MA from the University of
London. Congratulations, parker, and thanks to all these fab ladies!
Many elements of Harry and Hermione’s wedding were
shamefully modeled after this one:
http://www.etonline.com/celebrity/a10269.htm
There you get a short blurb on Ines Rivero and Jorge Mora’s
honeymoon wedding, but in this summer’s InStyle Weddings there
was a full article. I found it sweet. And it really fit the situation,
although I doubt very seriously that Harry and Hermione are half as
good-looking as this model couple in any proper fanfiction
universe. The Rivero-Mora wedding was a formal ceremony for a
couple who’d married in secret. My Potter-Granger affair is her
second marriage, and neither of them are in their 20s anymore.
They’re comfortable with each other at this point, and understood
that on their special day they needed little more than each other.
Personally, in RL I find most traditional weddings annoying.
Perhaps it’s the bitter eternal bridesmaid in me, but really, even as a
child I was less than impressed. But I am addicted to InStyle
magazine, and found the ideas in their special wedding issue chic,
avant-garde and interesting. (What possessed me to purchase
Martha Stewart Weddings and Bride’s, I have no clue. I found
absolutely nothing of use there.) So some of this came from my
fave fashion and lifestyle mavens, but to be honest, most of this
I made up as I saw it happening for Harry and Hermione.
Another helpful resource was Jane Ross-MacDonald’s
Alternative Weddings, which has ceremonies for everyone from the
GLBT community to Baha’is. The verse is from Shakespeare (his
116th), and for the rest I blended elements from the traditional
Anglican and a secular, blended faith “religious blessing” ceremony
which was the most heartfelt wedding I’ve ever read... and highly
recommended by the author for non-traditional
destination/honeymoon weddings. There were several great pagan
ceremonies, but I felt they would be more appropriate for use in a
Wizarding ceremony... which Harry and Hermione plan to save for
later.
The food for the Christmas brunch was gleaned from a
website, the suggestions of my BDT, and the advice of my thesis’
director, a professor from Brazil:
http://www.maria-brazil.org/fdind.htm
Of course, if I’d had my way, Harry and Hermione would
have had a short ceremony just after the license signing right in the
castle, without any more fuss... and shagged the rest of the night
and the next day away. But I know I’ve got a lot of female readers
who would have fainted or fussed, and besides, I think Harry and
Hermione got a kick out of their thrown-together tropical fantasy
elopement. I know I did!
Hermione’s story for the New Year is blatantly taken from
Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, which I subject my freshman English
classes to every autumn. I always read Orpheus’ speech to them...
and mostly they indulge me. Hey, what can I say? I may hate
traditional weddings, but I am an incurable romantic.
Song lyrics in Lena’s native Spanish for the tune Harry and
Hermione dance to at their reception are here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_Paradise/message/5402
While writing the reception and the New Year’s celebration,
I played plenty of standards, that sort of music from our parents’
parents generation that everyone either loves or hates. Specifically,
I listened to Frank Sinatra’s “Some Enchanted Evening” (also
recorded by Perry Como and Bing Crosby), Rex Harrison’s “I’ve
Grown Accustomed to Her Face” from My Fair Lady, “Life is But a
Dream” by the Harptones, Etta James’ “At Last”, Sam Cooke’s
“You Send Me”, Ella Fitzgerald and Cole Porter’s “Night and
Day”, and even Diana Krall’s recent send-up of “I Remember You”
while in my truck at night.
Songs like that always make me think of love that lasts... after
all, many of the couples who swayed to those songs just before and
after WWII stayed married far longer than many of our parents did.
And I can’t think in every case that, as many feminists have
asserted, it was just because it was what was done back then. So of
course the music reminds me of my favorite ‘ship... and of this
holiday season.
I grew up hearing the Motown versions of Christmas carols
for very obvious reasons. The holiday season’s approach during the
war in Vietnam inspired the song from which this chapter takes its
title, Stevie Wonder’s “Someday at Christmas”.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_Paradise/message/5407
Speaking of songs, the quote from the opening of the chapter
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Paradise Lost 3
comes from the Vanessa Williams pop standard, “Save the Best for
Last”. Full lyrics are here:
http://www.poplyrics.net/waiguo/vanessawilliams/017.htm
And here is the full quote I omitted from the beginning of the
chapter, lest I give the surprise away:
How could you give your love to someone else
And share your dreams with me?
Sometimes the very thing you’re looking for
Is the one thing you can’t see...
But now we’re standing face to face,
Isn’t this world a crazy place?
Just when I thought our chance had passed,
You went and saved the best for last.
As Lori’s Hermione said in Paradigm of Uncertainty, it’s isn’t
about the first person you love. It’s all about the last person you
love. And my favorite kinds of love stories are the ones where both
lover and beloved go through trials and tribulations and walk
through hell before finding each other... that sort of “after many
days” romance is what gets me all teary-eyed.
I’m not sure that anyone who began reading TiP1 back in
December 2000 – two years ago this month! – could have guessed
at this outcome for these characters. I know I sure didn’t...
serendipity indeed.
Five more short chapters to go, and this story is through. Next
time... we’re off to Atlantis!
– Eb, 12/02/02, 12:38 p.m.
- 68 -
10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
Political upheaval and plagues and passion... oh my! In the
year 2012, the Wizarding world faces the threat of genocide amidst
a time of turbulence and terrible prejudice towards Muggles and
their magical progeny. The only one who might be able to erase this
threat is the most famous Muggle-born Witch of all, Dr. Hermione
Granger... that is, if she and her friends can figure out this most
diabolical of puzzles before she is erased.
The road to Atlantis is the first one that Harry and Hermione
must walk together as a newly married couple, but they cannot do it
without the help of talented friends old and new. Along the way
they must confront their fears about themselves and each other,
even as they learn startling new information about the past, present,
and future.
Dedicated to everyone who waited nearly five months for this
chapter... I hope never to leave you hanging this long again!
Paradise Lost 3
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
- 70 -
10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart?

Who holds the stars up in the sky?
‘Cause true love is just once in a
lifetime...
Did the captain of the Titanic cry?
Does anybody know the way to
Atlantis?
Or what the wind says when she cries?
I’m speeding by the place that I met you
For the ninety-seventh time... tonight...
- New Radicals, “Someday We’ll
Know”
1 January 2013. Wednesday.

Worldwide.
When it came, it came suddenly and without warning.
The orbs were strategically placed at Wizarding New Year’s Eve
celebrations all over the world. The glistening green globes did not attract undue
attention. They blended into the surrounding decor very nicely.
As revelers at each of the thousands of parties passed by each little ball
hovering in the air, very few noticed the emerald glare. Still fewer lingered on it.
The next day, no one remembered it.
Yet by the end of the next day, the ill numbered in the many tens of
thousands.
The sickness was a very strange one. There were no symptoms other than a
burning internal fever... almost as if those afflicted were being consumed from
the inside out.
MediWitches, mediWizards, and maginurses all over the globe were being
called into offices, clinics, private residences, and hospitals. They poked and
prodded with their wands. They placed their hands upon foreheads. They cast
spells and dispensed Potions. They put a brave face on things and smiled
reassurances at family members.
As they left each bedside, however, the medimagical personnel of the world
shook their heads, trying to ignore the chill, uttering long-forgotten incantations
against evil.
What new and present darkness was this?
See what a plague is laid upon your houses!
Paradise Lost 3
1 January 2013. Wednesday morning.
Last hours in Salvador.
Early the next morning, Harry found Hermione in the private salon inside
their suite at the Palacio. She was sitting at the grand piano, playing one of
Chopin’s most famous etudes, the Winter Wind. There was a look of intense
concentration on her face as her fingers flew over the keys, and although there
were some missed notes, her execution of the difficult technical composition
was laudable.
She didn’t look up at all, didn’t notice him. And so Harry sat down on the
stool next to her, back to the piano, legs facing out. Hermione stopped playing
and smiled at him.
“Good morning,” she said, leaning over to say hello with a kiss, then lifted
the wand they’d purchased for her to charm the keys so that they still played.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Don’t know, but when I woke up, my beautiful wife was out here playing
up a storm for me.” He kissed her again, then glanced down at the piano. “You
sounded great.”
“Thanks,” she said, cheeks flushing. “There was an upright that came with
the house I bought in Atlanta, so I picked back up my lessons. Helps to take my
mind off other things sometimes. As I told Jack, it’s like riding a bike...”
“A broom.”
“Right, a broom. If you’re anyone other than me, that is.”
“Okay. Then me.”
“Well, for certain it would be like riding a broom for you, that is, if you
could play the piano... and you can’t,” Hermione replied, with a bit of
annoyance. She never cared to be reminded of anything that she didn’t do very
well.
“No, Hermione. I meant me. I mean, the last I checked we were on things
that you never forgot how to ride... ouch!”
Hermione drew back her hand after the pinch, only to slide it over his leg.
“I’m going to miss being alone with you after this,” she said. “The kind of
traveling we’re about to do affords little privacy... which is why before we got to
Bahia I was so hesitant to...”
“There are ways, love,” he pointed out. “And knowing us, we’ll find all of
them.”
She laughed, then sobered up quickly. “Well, as much as I like the sex, it’s
not the main reason why I married you.”
Harry looked genuinely disappointed. “But... but...”
“Want to know why I did?”
“Do I have any other choice?”
Hermione grinned. “You always have, darling.”
“Go on.”
“I married you for the money, of course. Why else?”
- 72 -
He tickled her then, tickled her until they fell back together onto the
Persian rug, Hermione’s elbow hitting a note on her way down that would have
offended Chopin’s poor ears.
She squealed, squirming underneath the ministrations of his fingers,
laughing until tears fell from her eyes and her stomach hurt. She was no longer
thinking about the nightmare that had driven her out of their bed and to the
piano for some sort of surcease. She was now nothing better than a fit of soft
giggles that quivered on the carpet.
Pinned to the carpet, beneath him as their breathing slowed and hitched...
They were still in their pyjamas. So it didn’t take much to loosen ties or to
slip beneath light fabric.
Or to savor their last moments of privacy before they’d have to give up this
relative luxury for the trail again.
A while later, Hermione breathed against her husband’s skin, “I married
you because I need you in my life just as much as you need me.” Serious now,
as the majestic Chopin etude continued to resound above their heads.
“I’m glad,” he murmured, lost somewhere in her damp brown hair.
“Know why else? I did it because I wanted you to have family. Not just
friends or acquaintances or all-but-adopted Weasleys or Sirius. Not just a
girlfriend. But another Potter here in this world, someone in your home and at
the center of your life. You deserve that, Harry. And if that’s not the very best
reason for marriage, it certainly isn’t a terrible one.”
“What about the money?”
“Never once crossed my mind.”
“And the sex?”
“That,” she said, kissing her way down his chest, “is just the icing on the
cake.”
Just before she savored a bit more of that icing, she muttered, “Definitely
like riding a bike, I think.”
“Broom.”
“Whatever.”
And the music played on.
~~~
When the Potters emerged from their cocoon, all was not well with their
friends.
There was considerable tension at the breakfast table. Hermione noticed
that Juliana half-heartedly picked at her food. There seemed to be something
going on between Zach and Eva as well. She couldn’t sense whether the Bragas
were uneasy because of the general mood, or because something had happened
with them as well. Sirius seemed on heightened alert, in the attitude that he
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Paradise Lost 3
usually had about him just before he Transfigured into his dog form. So did Riki,
but then again, he wasn’t your regular little kid anyway.
Harry didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. Neither did Ron. They
were the only ones carrying the conversation, the others only answering when
either of those two asked them a direct question.
Hermione broke in finally, unable to stand it.
“Juli, what’s on your mind?” she asked, quietly, thinking she wouldn’t
disturb the main conversation. She was wrong.
“Nada,” the woman muttered back. Yet she couldn’t meet Hermione’s stare.
That’s when Hermione knew.
“You’re not coming with us, are you?”
Juliana shook her head, tears falling from her eyes.
“What do you mean, you’re not coming?” said Ron. “Who’re Riki and
I supposed to share a tent with?”
“Meu coração isn’t in it any longer,” she sighed. “I want to go back to my
mother’s house.”
Ron was incredulous. “What are you talking about? You do realize that
your father still lives there, don’t you?”
“Then I shall have to beg his forgiveness, and be celibate until I can finish
university and leave home. After all, it isn’t as if I can dance any longer.
Panteras doesn’t exist. Neither does my apartment.”
She stared across the table so accusingly then that Hermione had to look
away. She’d caught the unstated implication... that it was her friendship with
Hermione that had caused her misfortune.
“You cannot return to Rio, cousin,” said Joseane incredulously. “It is
impossible.”
“Não? Watch me,” Juliana replied.
“Unthinkable,” Sirius said. “You would be a security risk. You must remain
here until the others return from Atlantis and Rio state is liberated.”
“Senhor Black, my apologies, but the last time I checked this, I was not on
the payroll of Black and Potter. You cannot give me orders and expect them to
be followed.”
“What if they capture you? A team of skilled Cabalistica agents is no match
for...”
“I don’t care!”
Eva looked sad.
“You would be so selfish, Juli? Our friends...”
“She was always your friend, Evinha. Not mine. Never mine.”
Hermione sighed. “You don’t mean that, Juliana.”
“I mean every word. You are like every gringa I’ve ever known... you don’t
see girls like us as anything like you, deserving love and kindness and a measure
of respect. No, you see only the poor little ignorant Indian girl and the Latina
lesbian whore who take off their clothes for money because we haven’t got
- 74 -
anything else to offer. We taught you our language, we protected you, and yet
where do our lives fit into yours now that you’ve got what you want?” She was
now visibly angry, sparks flying from her eyes. “Tell me, why are we going to
Atlantis? What is there for me? Is my Lena there?” She whirled to face Eva.
“Why are you going?”
“Because if it was not for Hermione, my son and I would be dead,”
snapped Eva.
“Yes. And if it was not for Hermione, your mother and other innocents
would not be!”
“Look, Juliana, your resentment isn’t anyone’s problem other than your
own,” Harry said tersely. “No one is forcing you to come with us. But you will
not go back to Rio. We will not allow you to risk your life, or for that matter,
ours.”
“We can ask Aunt Helena back here if you like, querida,” Joseane said in an
appeasing sort of tone.
“I’d like,” growled Juliana, “to be left alone.”
And that was that.
~~~
They set off that afternoon for the Mata Atlântica, six in the party that was
to rendevous with Demetrios Solon. Missing were Juliana, who had not been
seen around the palace since breakfast, and Lena, who had not been seen since
Harry and Hermione’s wedding. There seemed to be a strange hole in the group,
somehow, and the mood upon the leavetaking at first was subdued.
Yet once back in the rain forest, their days fell into an easy pattern... and so
did their nights.
After dusk, there was always dinner, served around a smokeless fire. It
gave light to them but not to any would-be intruders, human or otherwise. In the
flickering glow, they forgot their quest. Sometimes wunderkind Riki would tell
stories about all the places he’d been with his famous ancient mother and father
and the things he’d seen. Demetrios would tease the life out of Hermione about
being a new bride, and she would huff and move to clear away plates. The
suggestive snickers of the others only served to infuriate her further.
Harry would laugh too, but as the campfire burned down to mere embers
and bedtime grew nearer their companions couldn’t help but notice the
meaningful looks he and his wife slanted at each other. Although neither were
much for public displays of affection, they always managed to touch. Holding
hands, sitting next to each other ‘round the fire. His arm, circled around her
waist when the party stopped for Demetrios’ midday briefings. Her hand,
ruffling his hair in passing as they broke camp in the evenings.
Harry still never liked to let her out of his sight unless he absolutely had to.
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Paradise Lost 3
Hermione was not yet completely healed from her ordeal in Manaus and at the
Cabalistica facility, and the fact that she could wield both the wand they’d
purchased for her in Salvador and the firearm she wore during all waking hours
didn’t impress him in the slightest.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Harry, you needn’t act as if
I’m a child,” she scolded one night when they were finally alone in their tent.
They’d just finished making love, and soon Zach or Ron would be coming to
collect Harry for the second watch. Usually Hermione was asleep by then;
tonight they needed to talk.
“I almost lost you for good, beautiful,” he said hoarsely, openmouthed
against the warm and smooth skin of her neck. “Three times I lost you... first to
Ron, then to the Muggle world, and almost to the Cabalistica.” His fingers
tangled in her hair. “I am not going to lose you again.”
“You won’t, I promise,” she whispered, turning to kiss him full on the lips.
Then she sighed. “Harry, does it bother you that I’m not a Witch anymore?”
“What? Hermione, you are still a Witch. You still have all of your
knowledge about spells and charms and Potions... you’ve certainly been making
good use of your new wand with my magic, and...”
“No. I’m not a Witch if I can’t use a wand or Apparate or make a cauldron
bubble on my own. What if we do get out of this and I never get my abilities
back?” Her eyes were liquid with fear and apprehension. “What then?”
“Then I’ll just kiss you until it doesn’t matter, I suppose...”
“Harry!”
“Seriously, love, can’t we cross that bridge when we come to it? You know,
Hagrid wasn’t able to use magic fully until his name was cleared during the war.
And there are thousands in our world who cannot use magic but still live out
their lives among us. Like Filch. Like all those Sponge survivors before you and
Neville and Malfoy finished Danae. No one will question your place...”
She frowned. “But I don’t want to be like Filch! He was ridiculed by
students and adults alike. And as much as I loved Hagrid, I’m not nearly as good
natured as he was. What sort of place would I have in our world? Will people
say, ‘There goes Hermione Granger, once one of the most powerful Witches who
ever lived, now little better than a Muggle. I suppose the mud in her blood
finally won out.’”
“They’ll never say that,” swore Harry. “Rather they’ll say, ‘There goes
Hermione Potter, wife to the twice-blessed one, once the heroine of the Second
Voldemort War, then injured by Dark Magic while saving our world again.’”
“Oh, you can be so damned irritating at times. How can you be so bloody
optimistic at a time like this?” fussed Hermione. Then she smiled in spite of
herself. “Hermione Potter, eh? What makes you so sure anyone would be mad
enough to marry you?”
“You did, remember?”
“Yes, that’s right... I did, didn’t I?” They both laughed. “But are you sure
- 76 -
we didn’t make a terrible mistake?” Voice growing husky and seductive, she
shifted so that they were face to face and slid one leg over his. “After all, living
together in sin, as my Dad and Mrs. Weasley would term it, has definite
appeal...”
“Does it really? Then let’s see how sinful we can be, scarlet woman...”
A loud and sharp whistle interrupted their pillow talk.
Hermione lifted her head up in the direction of the tent-flap. “Five minutes,
Ron! Give me five more minutes and I’ll send him out to you!”
“Bollocks, Hermione, he’s already fifteen minutes late! Zach’s already
asleep... and I’m nearly there, so...”
“Oh, damn it,” swore Hermione.
“Come and sit with me for a while, love,” he mumbled into her ear. Then
he turned towards the flap again, rose his voice and said, “Be right out, Ron.”
So that night for the first time, Harry didn’t bother to collect little Riki, who
usually shared the longest and darkest night watch with him (mostly to keep him
awake by talking). Instead, it was Hermione who sat at post with him, curled in
his arms in the starlight, his to kiss and cuddle with, his to watch over as she
slept in his arms until Demetrios and Eva came to relieve him during the third
and final watch.
He reminded her that laughter was the best medicine.
She began to teach him how to dance.
Soon this became a nightly ritual for them. They spent the first watch in
their tent, the second outside, Hermione sleeping and Harry up with his
thoughts, and then during the third watch Harry retreated back to their tent for a
few hours’ shut-eye while Demetrios made his rounds of the camp and
Hermione helped Eva with her reading under the flickering light of her wand,
Lumos-lit with her husband’s borrowed magic.
This routine began to take its toll on Hermione, and Harry noticed. Dark
circles appeared beneath her eyes, and her reflexes slowed during their daily
treks. So at the beginning of their second week of travel, Harry carried her back
to their tent as soon as she fell asleep and put her to bed for the duration of the
third watch.
When Hermione woke up that particular morning, the sun was high in the
sky. It had to be well after dawn. The smells of breakfast wafted into the tent...
Hermione was horrified. How could she have been so irresponsible? How
could she have overslept? The last she remembered, she had been sitting up with
Harry during his watch, head upon his chest, closing her eyes... and then...
She was here.
As she was already dressed, there was little to do but to rinse the sour taste
from her mouth and slip outside of the tent quickly. The others were all bustling
around the camp, in the beginning stages of packing up.
Harry was bending over the fire, scooping out fried eggs and potatoes onto
a tin plate. When he saw her, he smiled and handed her the metal dish.
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Paradise Lost 3
“Hello there, sunshine,” he said. “I was just going to bring you breakfast in
bed, but I see you’ve stolen my thunder.”
Hermione nearly melted at the sight of him. In his khaki shorts and polo
shirt, he looked absolutely gorgeous, glasses having slid down his nose from
where he’d bent over the fire. And yet... and yet...
“Harry Potter, you had no right to carry me back to bed last night. I had a
job to do, and you certainly didn’t help me do it!”
The smile faded from Harry’s face. “You can’t tell me that you’re angry at
me, Hermione. You needed the sleep, you know you did.”
“No, Harry. What I need is to pull my own weight around here. When you
show me favoritism, that doesn’t help anything.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Don’t be stupid. You know I’m right.”
“Really? Then what are you going to do about it?”
His attitude galled her. “I’ll be sleeping alone tonight, Potter. And I’ll make
sure I’m awake for my shift.”
Harry considered her. Then he set the plate down on one of the stools and
leaned forward to kiss her ear.
“No, you won’t.” He grabbed her around the waist. “You know what?
I love it when you’re angry.”
She pushed him away, clearly irritated. “Leave me alone, Harry. I’m not in
any mood to play.”
“Stop being such a child, Hermione. I only wanted you to get some rest.
Between shagging every first watch away, distracting me awake second, and
tutoring Eva during the third, you’re run down.”
“Well, what about you? You have to sleep too!”
“I’m fine, Hermione. I’m a big boy.”
”No, you’re a stubborn boy who doesn’t know when to admit he’s wrong!”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mrs Can’t-Be-Wrong,” he sniped.
“You want to know what your problem is, Harry Potter?”
Folding of arms. “What’s that, then?”
Hands on hips, narrowed eyes. “You’re... you’re such a bloody man.”
Harry looked at his indignant wife, sparks flying from her brown eyes.
Then he threw back his head and laughed heartily.
“Am glad you’ve finally noticed. And you’re certainly all Witch.” He
pulled her into his embrace and whispered, “You’re my Witch, and I love you
for it.”
“Always that,” she said, pressing her lips to his. “Always yours. And
always love you... even when you make me furious.”
She rested her head against his collarbone, closing her eyes, enjoying the
few seconds of rest before she’d have to spring to attention, scarf down
breakfast, help roll up tents, and perform the minimal first aid needed for bug
bites and bracken scratches.
- 78 -
Even in the midst of the mundane, he was her peace.
She felt a prickling at the back of her neck. As if someone was watching
them, but not one of their group. The eerie feeling seeped down her spine, and
she turned around, glancing up at the dense forest and undergrowth just beyond
their camp.
No one.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, following her frown towards the trees.
“Nothing,” Hermione replied. “Just thought I sensed something, that’s all.”
But as he let her go to put out the fire and pack up their campstove and
cooking gear, Hermione couldn’t help but glance that way off and on as she
went about her usual morning routine.
She didn’t stop looking over her shoulder until that spot was far behind
them.
~~~
A few nights later, the Potters volunteered to take all three watches together
while the others slept in.
This was because Hermione had been violently sick starting the morning
after Harry tricked her into sleeping in. She was feverish, yet fighting delirium
so that she could attempt to heal herself. Demetrios’ easy humor was in short
supply during those days, as he fed her a strong powder that tasted a bit like
quinine and stroked her forehead as a father would a daughter.
“The way to Atlantis has been sought by others before,” said Demetrios
solemnly. “A generation ago, the Dark Lord thought to send a contingent of
Dark Wizards here, soulless creatures riding nundus, fearsome jungle beasts that
spread pestilence with every breath. Traces of the plague linger here, but usually
only the very young, the very old, and those with weakened constitutions
suffer.”
“Is my baby in danger?” Eva wanted to know.
“Not if he hasn’t taken sick yet,” said Demetrios, not able to hide the
quaver in his voice. “But your pigeon here is still not as strong as she ought to
be.”
They remained at camp, as Hermione was too ill to move. Harry stayed by
her side night and day, sitting with her, feeling guilty...
“This is not your fault,” said Ron, who sat with Hermione whenever Harry
had to sleep, eat, or relieve himself... which was not very often.
“It is. I let her go with us to Boa Vista, to the containment facility, even
when she wasn’t well... and when she tried to heal me, she drained herself that
way... and then the Atlanteans took her, and she wasn’t right after that... and then
when we got to Salvador, I just had to... damn it, Ron, I should have been more
patient!”
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Paradise Lost 3
“If you want to continue to beat yourself up about it, go right ahead. I’m
not stopping you... although I think you might need your strength, all things
considered.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not my place to say... and as she was talking in her sleep, I...”
“Just say it, Ron.”
“She’s pregnant. Or at least she thinks she is.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “But it’s barely a month since we first...”
“Guess that’s all it takes.”
“She is going to kill me whenever she comes to,” said Harry, looking down
at his drowsing, sweaty wife tenderly, stroking her forehead.
Ron had an odd look on his face. “Yeah, she will. Especially considering
the circumstances. Just don’t tell her I told you anything.”
Harry didn’t. He didn’t say a word when her fever broke and she was able
to drag herself to the nearest lagoon and throw herself in to wash without
drowning. He didn’t say a word when she was able to keep down her first sips of
dried-turtle soup in three days. He didn’t even say a word when in gratitude for
the others covering for them while she was sick, Hermione proposed that she
and Harry should sit up all night, watching over the camp, taking turns dozing.
Then that evening, just before sundown, Eva’s baby took sick. Little Daniel
was gripped with fever, and despite Hermione’s best efforts, there was nothing
that could be done.
“I’ll take them back to Salvador,” said Zach. “It’ll be an easy thing to
backtrack...”
“Not easy at all, man,” said Demetrios. “This is a Portal Land, not Epcot...
there’s no way for the three of you to retrace your steps without a trained
Gatekeeper. It would take you a thousand years...”
Ron’s mouth dropped open. “A thousand years?”
“We’re more than a millennium and a half from where we began,”
explained Demetrios, wrapping the baby up. “Give or take a few decades.”
“Well, at least we’re still in Brazil,” Ron muttered to Harry. Demetrios
caught it and laughed.
“Brazil? Fifteen hundred years before your time, Brazil did not exist, did
it? Step outside of this portal and you’d find a few scattered native tribes. Of
course, they wouldn’t speak any Portuguese... they’d speak dialects that not even
Eva could translate for you.
“And very soon, we’ll not be in any time or space that corresponds with
modern Brazil at all. No, it’s best that I take Eva and the little one back... yes,
young Zach, I know you wish to go with them, but I cannot transport you as
well. Get some rest, and we’ll see about taking you tomorrow. The rest of you
will wait here... Harry, you and Hermione are on watch?”
“We are,” said Harry.
“Very well, then. I’ll be back by morning...”
- 80 -
Eva and Hermione were saying reluctant good-byes.
“Juliana said to me that I had no right to bring my child back into the
forest,” Eva told her. “But my baby was born beneath these trees, and his
mother’s grandmother was born here, so I thought he would be safe.”
“He’ll be safer in Salvador, querida. This doesn’t feel like your
grandmother’s rainforest, somehow. There is a nameless fear here, a terror that
does not sleep. Once you are back, he will recover quickly. But this is no place
for a little one...”
Eva’s hand came forward to rest on her friend’s midriff.
“Indeed it is not, Hermione,” she said. “I see you have taken my advice.
Have you told your husband?”
Hermione’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “I don’t want to
say anything to him until I’m certain. I can’t believe I could have been so
careless, but there you have it. What can’t be cured must be endured, as my
mother used to say.”
“Well, if what you suspect is true, you know one thing, do you not?”
“What’s that?”
“That it will be one pretty baby.”
When she hugged the petite woman, the tears in Hermione’s eyes spilled
over.
Soon Demetrios, Eva, and baby Daniel were gone, and Ron, Riki, and Zach
had gone to bed. This left Harry and Hermione to sit up, watching the camp
from a boulder that overlooked the camp on one side and the aforementioned
lagoon on the other.
It was a beautiful January night. There was no moon, but stars spangled the
sky liberally. As it was midsummer, the foliage of the trees was at its densest,
damp from the daily afternoon rains. The scent of sun-warmed vegetation filled
the air long into the night, and the sound of life everywhere – in the trees, in the
water, scurrying along the ground – filled their ears, as did the mild roar of the
waterfall that poured ceaselessly into the lagoon.
Then, out of the blue –
“Is there anything you want to say to me, Hermione?”
She tore her eyes away from the waterfall and looked up at him. “Huh?”
He repeated it.
“Oh. Well, yes. It’s great to be up on my feet again. That was a particularly
nasty virus... it’s rare for a hyperempath to be on her back that long for any
ordinary bug.” She took his left hand in both of hers, fingers tracing the band
that he wore on his ring finger. “Thank you for being so devoted to me.”
“All in a day’s work, I say,” he said. “But is there anything else?”
Hermione’s smile faded. “What else are you wanting to hear, darling?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, pulling his hand out from hers to place it on
her tummy, revealed by the tied-up t-shirt she was wearing. “I was hoping you
could tell me.”
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Paradise Lost 3
She sighed. “Harry, I haven’t had... not in nearly two months... not since we
were in Manaus...”
“I know.”
“Who told you?”
“No one had to tell me. I sleep with you.”
Another sigh. “Damn.”
“It’s not the end of the world, you know.”
“It’s bloody close to it. There’s a thousand reasons I can think of for not
wanting a child at this particular moment. Including traveling to one of the
Thousand Worlds that no one knows exists and being the singular obsession of
the she-devil reincarnate. Including the fact that we’ve been married for a grand
total of three and a half weeks, two and a half of which have been spent camping
and hiking. One must also consider that there likely was never a woman born
who is worse suited to motherhood than I. And yet... and yet...”
She looked up at him.
“I can’t be exactly upset about the idea, you know. Because no matter what
sort of mother I turn out to be, you’re going to be a splendid father... so maybe
there will be hope for our baby after all.”
Harry’s answer was not in words, but soon after he said, “I didn’t
necessarily want it to be so soon, all things considered. I thought we’d made
certain that it wouldn’t be...”
“Let’s not panic until I’m sure, okay? It might be stress, it might be because
I haven’t been well, it’s possible that it’s not what we think it is,” she said.
“Anything is possible.”
“Yes, it is. Only look at us.”
She squeezed his hand tighter. “Isn’t it the most amazing thing? I mean,
I never would have thought, all those years ago... even though I used to wonder
at times...”
“I had no idea you liked me way back then.”
“Excellent actress, aren’t I?”
“A bit too fine, if you ask me.”
Hermione looked at him mockingly through narrowed eyes. “Sure, let’s
talk about acting, Potter. I can’t believe I didn’t remember Avalon... somewhere
in the back of my mind, I must have always known in some small part, but
I can’t see how I could have ever looked at you through anything other than...”
“A haze of burning lust?”
“Very funny.” She snuggled in closer. “Speaking of burning lust, I think it’s
time for me to hear the Diana story, darling.”
He frowned. “What Diana story?”
“Harry, it’s time for you to tell me exactly why you were engaged to that
tart when I came back. Engaged, when we’d been spending years and years
trying to convince you to stay with the same woman for longer than a few
months at a time.”
- 82 -
“Are you jealous?” Laughing.
“Me, jealous? Jealousy is beneath me... spill it.”
Harry groaned. “What exactly do you want to know? Surely not all the
lurid details.”
“What sort of girl was she like? What was it about her that made you fall
for her, and not any of the others who tried their best to snag you? Why didn’t
you...”
“Why didn’t I wait for you to come to your senses, is what you really want
to know.”
Long pause. “I... well, yes.”
Harry then told Hermione all about his former fiancée.
Diana Oliveira came to DSG and Ayr Island a few short weeks after
Hermione had left, as a young, fresh-faced intern that September. Harry hadn’t
paid any more attention to her than to any of the other interns, although she was
working in telesthetics and he was her supervisor. She also substituted for him
while he was off searching for Hermione that autumn.
“When I returned, we became great friends, although I had no romantic
interest in her at first. In fact, I was under the impression that she had a bloke
stashed away somewhere... it was something we never spoke about, our love
lives and our pasts.
“For the next year or so, Diana proved her worth around the school and
doing basic research below at the Foundation. We were receiving intelligence
from the British and American Wizarding governments that someone had
divulged the approximate location of Hogwarts to the Muggles... and of course,
it turned out to be the truth. 2011 was a very busy year around the island. Again,
I had to leave the school in Jocelyn’s hands, and again, Diana proved her worth.
When I had a thousand and one things on my plate, she somehow eased the
burden for me... I didn’t have to worry about missing class or checking papers,
she’d remind me of my scheduled appointments and even of my meals...”
Hermione was frowning. “You weren’t eating?”
“It was just a tense time, perhaps the most tense time since the war. And
she was just... she was there, I guess.”
“I see.”
“Nothing happened between us for a very long time, Hermione. I simply
wasn’t interested in her that way...”
“Well, exactly when did you get interested in her ‘in that way?’” Hermione
shot back. Something about her tone brooked no refusal.
“It was an accident...”
Hermione merely looked at him.
“School trip. Last autumn, to be exact... we took the students to Italy for an
international academic decathlon. All the major schools of magic were in
attendance save for Hogwarts, for obvious reasons after the storming the winter
before. In fact, we represented Britain, although there was some controversy
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Paradise Lost 3
surrounding our entry.”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, because you’ve got the more able students from
all over the world, and you’re Harry Potter. No wonder they complained.”
“We didn’t win for all that. We came in third... Beauxbatons really trounced
us, you know. I’ve had the staff step up recruitment efforts in France and Spain
as a result.”
“And Diana came along with you.”
“I was set up,” Harry insisted. “It was Sirius’ idea... Carole was supposed to
come, but at the last minute she begged off because Max had a mediWizarding
appointment that could not be rescheduled.”
“Of course,” said Hermione. “So... you and Diana were stuck together in
Italy with a bunch of teenagers, and...”
Harry looked at his wife for a long time. Then he said simply, “Florence is
exquisite at night.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.”
He seemed very upset. “Hermione, I really didn’t mean to...”
“I know,” she said. “And I’ve no right to question you about it, as I was
with Jack when you were with her. It still grates. I suppose it would be different
if she weren’t so young and so very blonde.”
“I’ve always been rather partial to blondes, you know.”
Hermione grimaced. “That explains the crush on Malfoy...”
She dissolved into peals of laughter as he tickled her so hard that she nearly
fell off the boulder. Soon her stomach was sore, and she was clutching her arms
around him desperately, tightly so that he would stop.
“Please... I take it back...”
“You had better. Me and Malfoy? Right.” He wiped away the tear of mirth
that was standing up in the corner of her eye. “What a diabolical idea.”
She blinked, smiling. “Right now, in this very minute I love you so much
that if Diana were to appear suddenly, I’d likely hex her into the middle of next
week.”
“Such violence,” he said, shaking his head and clucking his tongue.
“Of course. No one touches my man without taking their life into their
hands. Diana had better be glad I was half-stunned when she showed up in the
middle of the Boa Vista lab. Have you worked out exactly what she was doing
there?”
“No, but I still don’t think that she’s working for Sebastian, the Dark One,
or the Cabalistica. I get the impression that she and Zach are part of one of the
splinter organizations that Black and Potter have very loose and informal ties
with... so loose, in fact, that we don’t even always know who is working in the
alliance. Sirius believes in respecting the right to privacy of anyone who passes
our extensive Foe Screenings. Thus far, neither Diana and Zach have done
anything to make us regret that... although we still don’t know where that Heath
character has gone.”
- 84 -
Hermione shrugged. “No, and I rather hope he doesn’t return.”
“Thought you said he was handsome.”
“I did not say...”
“Actually, you’re right. I think the words you used were ‘simply
gorgeous’...”
She leaned up to kiss him, laughing again. “Yes, but what girl really wants
a bloke like that?” At his look, her grin widened. “Well, perhaps once in a while,
for show, but certainly not for everyday keeping. Sort of like the difference
between fancy silk robes and your favorite natty jumper... one may look better,
but one keeps you warm, knows just how to fit you in all the right places, and
feels glorious all over.”
“I can’t believe you compared me to an old article of clothing that you
wouldn’t have made even poor Crookshanks play with.”
“And that is what you get for jumping to conclusions. For you’re not only
that favorite jumper of mine, you’re my best silk robes and my most comfortable
garden shoes and my favorite beach hat and my newest pair of stockings...”
“Now you’re talking,” he murmured, keeping her upright via the arm that
was wrapped around her back.
She sighed, tucking both hands between his chest, her cheek and chin.
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
“I meant every word of what I said. I do really love you so much at times
that it’s frightening. I’ve no idea what I’d do if anything terrible happened to
you. Remember what I told you in Avalon?”
His arms tightened around her. “You told me a lot of things back then,
sweet.”
“I know. And so much of what we said to each other now is just... I mean,
we were so young. I can’t believe we were ever that young... that anyone could
ever be that young, really. Building our dream world together.”
“Yes, I seem to remember that you wanted a gingerbread house, like the
kind in all those mid-Victorian BBC period pieces. I was surprised, as I thought
you’d be partial to Georgian manors or West End flats...”
“What surprised me more was that you wanted to have a library. I’d always
thought you hated the library.” She grinned a very conspiratorial grin then.
“Until a few weeks ago in Salvador, that is... too bad we never got to try that in
the Restricted Section some night after Madam Pince retired!”
“So of everything we talked about in Avalon, what is it that you’re thinking
of at this particular moment?”
Even in the dim moonlight, it was easy to see that Hermione was
practically glowing. Her shining eyes looked over the shimmering lagoon, then
up at her husband.
“That there are no words, Harry. There simply are no words.” Her arms slid
around him. “Thank goodness I’m a hyperempath. I can show you... so much...
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Paradise Lost 3
without words.”
And with a cacophony of petal-soft lips and deft, confident fingers, she
began to do just that.
~~~
The Watcher knew that it was the worst possible moment to Intervene. Yet
they were running out of time and options. There were only seven weeks left
until the deadline; only seven weeks left before their mission could be deemed
an utter and complete failure.
After nearly three years of snags, on the surface things finally seemed to be
on track. Lenore, for all her rebelliousness, had finally infiltrated the
Cabalistica... their instruments showed progress on that end. The Knight twins
were headed to England on a promising lead... there was apparently a
conversation at the British Ministry of Magic that was of some importance.
And of course, Zach had earned the group’s full confidence and had been
sending infrequent reports of his progress...
But the death-coordinates still have not changed. That cannot be ignored.
The intervention must take place.
So Heath Canyon steeled himself, cleared his throat, and stepped into the
portal.
~~~
The flash startled both Harry and Hermione immediately. It took all of
three seconds for them to stop kissing, to right their clothing, to pull out their
wands and to point them at the blindingly bright light.
At first, the humanoid-shape was too brilliant to look at directly. Harry and
Hermione had to shield their eyes until the light died down and the shape
became totally recognizable.
“The great Harry Potter and the illustrious Dr. Granger, I presume.”
Hermione, of course, recognized him immediately.
“You!” was all she could manage to say, as he held up his hands slightly in
a non-threatening gesture.
Harry looked from her to the stranger, then frowned at both. “Do you mean
to tell me you actually know this person?”
She sighed, loud and long.
“Darling,” she said. “This is Heath.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Even though Hermione lowered her wand, he did
not.
“Don’t move,” Harry snarled. “Who are you, where did you come from,
- 86 -
and how did you get here?”
“Those questions,” said Heath slowly, “would take more time than any of
us have got left to answer fully.”
“Then suppose you answer this. Why are you here?”
Heath looked from Hermione’s wide, liquid eyes to Harry’s very angry
ones.
“I am your miracle,” he said.
~~~
The camp was awakened very quickly, and the campfire was rekindled.
Ron was just as surprised as Harry and Hermione had been about the presence of
the stranger; Riki and Zach were considerably less so.
Zach and Heath stood face to face, staring at each other.
“I have done all that you have wished for me to do, brother,” Zach said
smilelessly. “But you must understand that these are no longer test subjects that
we are studying from the Tower. They have become my dearest friends, and they
are dear to the woman that I love. Whatever your intent is, you will take care
that you say or do nothing to alarm them unduly.”
Heath considered his younger brother, then nodded slowly.
“Yes, I know. And you have done well here, Zachary. You have proven
your worth.”
Riki was frowning. “I have seen you Watching,” he said. “I saw you the
day I was spying in the desert for Mother and Father, and I saw you when they
sent me to watch over the young Inanna.”
“And I have seen you, young changer.”
Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s attention flickered to Riki.
“You’re a what?” said Ron.
“He’s a shapechanger,” said Heath. “One of the first and the only one to be
born in the Wizarding world. Come now, you did not expect for anyone such as
the formidable Nephthys and Drakkar to have an ordinary child? He has not
changed shape since he has been with you, though... his abilities are not as
developed as they will be, and he cannot control them. After all, he is only a
boy.”
“Anybody else got any other deep, dark secrets they’d like to share?” asked
Ron.
“I still want to know who you are and how you know so much,” Harry said
to Heath, not very pleasantly. He still had his wand trained on the man.
“Haven’t you figured it out already?” snapped Heath. “Perhaps if you
cannot, you do not need to know...”
“Heath,” said Zach calmly, “he’s got every right to know. They all do...”
“All right!” Heath said impatiently. “All right, I will reveal as much as
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Paradise Lost 3
I can, knowing what this might do to their very lives and this timestream. But
we must hurry, for just as time is what we know best, it is also our cruelest
enemy.”
“That’s right, you were changing time on me,” said Hermione testily. “How
can you do that? How can anyone do that? I know more about time than just
about anyone alive today... how can you just bend the laws of physics like that?”
“You do indeed know more than most of your time, Doc,” said Heath. “But
I am not of this time... ouch!”
For Hermione had jabbed him in the chest with her wand.
“You seem pretty alive to me,” she said.
“Yes, but I repeat. I am not of your time.”
“I see. Are you one of the Old?”
He laughed. “Definitely not. Compared to me and Zach, all of you are as
the Old are to you.”
“You... you’re from the future, aren’t you?” stammered Ron.
Zach looked at him. He nodded slowly.
“How far into the future?” Hermione wanted to know. “Ten, fifty, one
hundred...”
“About four hundred and forty years.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me. No one can go that
far back in time! It’s impossible! There’s no technology, no potion, no spell,
nothing in the Wizard world or Muggledom that could possibly...”
“And yet here we are, my friend,” said Zach. “The three of you were born
in 1980... Riki in 2000... and I was born in the year 2426. Heath is nine years
older than I am. On January 4, 2452 we traveled back in time to find all of you.”
“Do you really expect us to believe that?” Harry scoffed.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she considered it all. “Darling, I do think
they’re telling the truth. So much would make sense if they were... even if we
cannot control time now, who’s to say that people in the future will not be able
to do so?” She bit her lip. “Although there are all sorts of paradoxes... travel into
the future is one thing, but travel to the past is so fraught with complications
that...”
“No one would ever undertake anything so foolhardy unless the very fate
of humanity was at stake,” said Zach quietly. “It is the case in our time.”
“Which is why we are here now,” Heath said, the authority in his voice
clear. “Only you can help us...”
“So you expect us to go to 2452 and clean up whatever mess humankind’s
managed to make then?” Ron said incredulously. “You do realize that I’m
officially retired from the hero business, then? That all of us are? I think you’ve
come back to the wrong year... why don’t you try 1998?”
“We don’t want you to come forward to our time,” said Heath. “That will
not work. We need you to save this time, so that our time never comes to pass.”
Hermione nodded. “The very fact that you’ve come here means that your
- 88 -
time no longer exists for you, does it not?”
Heath stared at her for long moments before nodding.
“We cannot go back by any means that we know of, unless we’ve grossly
miscalculated. We knew when we came that it would be a one-way trip, that it
would mean saying good-bye to everyone and everything that we knew.”
“Don’t look so sad, Hermione,” Zach said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“We have been prepared our whole lives for this... ever since we were children.
We have learned your languages and customs. We have studied your lives. We
knew what we were getting into, and we had a choice. I think you understand...
I think all of you can understand why we did what we did.”
“What are you here to change?” asked Harry, getting to the point.
Heath’s face was very grim.
“The fact that we are the only Wizards left in our world.”
~~~
Heath’s tale was a fascinating one, and yet one that raised goosebumps on
all of their skin.
“I am torn over whether to begin my story at its tragic beginning or at its
equally depressing end. But as I have spent my entire career studying you,
I know that you are straightforward and appreciate getting straight to the point.
“So I am here to tell you, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald
Weasley, that it is indeed exactly as you fear, exactly as you have always feared.
Our records show that you have less than two months left to live. And you die
exactly as the prophecies have foretold... Hermione, you are killed first, and
Harry and Ron, you die trying to save her. Your bodies will not be returned to
your families, either. They will be paraded by the Cabalistica, inciting others to
fear and to join the Dark Arts.
“Your deaths signal a new rise of the Dark Arts... even now, the Cabalistica
is experimenting with germ warfare that supposedly will only harm those who
have Muggle parents. However, there have been some glitches in their research.
So the new plan is to vaccinate all those who adhere to Cabalistica teachings or
any of the Dark satellites they are allied with, and to let the rest of the ‘tainted’
Wizarding world die.
“Yet the horrible pestilence that is now in your world will mutate. There is
no vaccine for such a wicked curse. Within a year, nine-tenths of Wizarding
humanity will be dead. And the magiparticular curse mutates again. Within five
years, the rest of magic, along with all your plants, all your creatures, all the
beings that co-exist with you will be gone... and by mid-century, it will almost
be as if you never were.
“The Muggles will not notice that much is amiss... at first. Yet soon things
begin to change in their world as well, as good Wizards have quietly intervened
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Paradise Lost 3
in Muggle affairs since the beginning of time. By the end of this century, global
terrorism and the faltering of diplomacy cause the Muggles to consolidate
themselves into eight last great alliances.”
Heath ticked them off on his fingers.
“The first alliance is that of Anglica. This will include your own Great
Britain, the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Directly
opposed to Anglica will be Arabica, which becomes sort of like the Islamic
caliphates of the Middle Ages, and covers much of the Middle East from
Morocco to Afghanistan. Somewhere politically in between these two extremes
will be the European Union, Gondwanaland of the Southern Cross – which is
Latin America and Sub-Saharan Africa joined together in sort of a Christian
version of Arabica, and Pacifica, which includes your contemporary nations of
Japan, Indonesia, and the Philippines.”
“That’s only five,” pointed out Hermione.
“Well, China, Russia, and India sort of strike out on their own. Then they
form a very loose alliance, and a minor political incident between India and East
Arabica tips off the War of Wars.”
“World War III, yes?”
“No, Doc... World War III is in the mid-twenty first century, about two
decades from now. Some of the global conflicts you’re seeing now over water,
over religion, and over non-renewable fuel will spur that on shortly. What I am
referring to is what happens over the bulk of the twenty-second. This War of
Wars lasts for nearly three generations... seventy-two years, yes, thanks Zach...
and it is the calamity of human history. Entire nations are wiped off the face of
the earth... for instance, Gondwanaland and Arabica end up committing double
genocide... when Jihad and Holy Crusade clash, and the people are already poor,
no good can come of it. Then, too, Anglica sells each side biological and
chemical weapons, and they decimate each other. Millions upon millions –
slaughtered.
“But then someone in the Anglican government slips up, and the rest of the
world learns what Anglica has been doing. The European Union and Russia are
horrified and both declare war on Anglica. Pacifica, long an Anglican ally, in
turn declares war on the European Union and Russia. China and India declare
neutrality, but when a military outpost on their border is nuked, and neither side
will admit responsibility, the Chinese and the Indians declare war on both
sides...”
“That’s totally barbaric!” said Hermione. “I can’t believe people would be
so short-sighted.”
“Well, believe it, Doc. If it wasn’t for the Sabaean Mysteries, that War of
Wars might have been the end of all humanity...”
“What are these Sabaean Mysteries?”
“It is a new philosophy that arises in the ancient Near East, as all the great
religions of humanity have done,” said Zach. “It is a worldview that promotes
- 90 -
conservation of the earth, the inevitable evolution of humanity, and that
advocates for an end to destructive eros and thanatos by breeding such vile
animal instincts out of human beings.”
“It was no longer necessary for human beings to be so hierarchical or
territorial, the Sabaeans told the world,” Heath explained. “It was not necessary
for them to mate as animals do. We had the most highly developed intelligence
of any other species that had ever lived... and yet we were killing the earth and
each other with every breath that we took.
“And so, the War of Wars ended when Sabaean priests peacefully seized
control of what was left of government, and signed a cease-fire treaty. All
survivors... and trust me, there were not many, perhaps a few million or so...
were converted to the Sabaean way or killed. As the leaders could not risk evil
tainting the new world they wished to create, there were no exceptions.”
Hermione gaped, but did not make a sound.
“The new converts were then given drugs and underwent surgery to alter
the hormones and glands that caused the ‘animal residue’ to remain in
humankind. What was different about this revolution was that the leaders
themselves also did this, in an internationally broadcast forum, just before
stepping down so that general Council elections could occur.
“For the past two and a half centuries, the work of humanity has been to
rebuild the earth, to come to terms with how we nearly destroyed it and
ourselves, and to understand how we might evolve beyond what we are now.”
“There are no wars?” Ron asked quietly.
“None for more than two hundred and fifty years. However, there are still
some vast wastelands where the chemical fires from the War of Wars yet rage...
although new technology is teaching us much about how to neutralize harmful
radiation.”
“What about murders? Theft? Rape? Crimes of passion?” he pressed.
“Utterly unheard of. As unthinkable as someone in your day believing in
the Greek gods or that the world is flat.”
“There are no families?”
“Yes, there are, actually. You’d recognize our family units. Children live
with their mothers and fathers, and are grouped with other families in
communes, much like an Israeli kibbutz. In turn, these communes join
neighboring ones to form villages. There is only the One City. But there is not...”
Heath looked at Riki, then continued, “...there are no unwanted children. All
children are planned, selected, and bred for maximum functionality.”
“No wonder all of you are so... so perfect,” said Hermione, looking from
Zach to Heath. “And Harry’s ex... I mean, Diana... she’s one of you, too?”
Heath flinched. All of a sudden, he looked very angry.
“Diana is not her real name, Hermione,” Zach said. “She is Lenore Raven,
one of our most skilled operatives.” He turned to Harry. “She could not tell
you... on her behalf, Harry, I am sorry.”
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Paradise Lost 3
Harry shrugged it off. “There were things I didn’t tell her, either.”
Hermione wasn’t satisfied, though. “What I don’t understand is this. If this
Diana – I mean Lenore person is really from your time, how could she function
as...” here she reddened, “...well, I get the impression that my husband never
suspected that she was sterile or anything like that.”
“Actually, she was,” snorted Heath, “which is why the lie she told to get an
engagement ring from him was so laughable. None of us can have children the
natural way. We are sterilized shortly after reaching puberty, our gametes
harvested and frozen until we do decide to begin our families. But if you want to
know whether we can enjoy sex, Doc, the answer to that is yes. We are still
human, after all... the race hasn’t taken that next step up yet. It’s just that the vast
majority in our time would never think of doing such a thing, any more than
they would think of consuming meat.”
“Think of it this way, Hermione,” Zach said. “Would you treat your
patients with leeches? No, you use a syringe or a spell. Would your father put
you in a chastity belt? Of course not. You see, there are different beliefs for
different times...”
“And yet you found Eva beautiful. You wanted to kiss her, and you wanted
to be with her in every way possible. Surely that can’t be changed... it’s a very
basic biological impulse...”
“Which has been utterly bred out of most of us,” said Heath. “In fact,
almost no one in our time feels that sort of base physical attraction to a potential
mate. We are the exceptions, the anomalies. Most mates are selected by the
Council, and besides, why would anyone be unhappy with their choice? In our
time, everyone is bred to maximum physical specifications. Everyone in our
world is beautiful, healthy, and strong. There are no angry, homely, or depressed
people...”
“But... but you all seem so human,” protested Hermione. “What you are
describing seems to be a race of automatons. You don’t seem very different than
we are.”
“That is because we aren’t,” Zach said. “Remember, Heath said we are
among the last Wizards of our time... and Lenore is one of the few Witches.
What we did not say was that until we were born, there had been no Wizards or
Witches for hundreds of years. Remember, we told you that your kind die out
very shortly after this.”
“Amazing,” exclaimed Hermione, completely ignoring the fact that Zach
and Heath had just announced the end of the Wizarding world and her own
imminent death. “Why, this proves one of my theories, that certain anomalies
inevitably recur in the human genetic pool! After a number of generations with
no Wizards, magic must have just cropped up again and...”
“Not exactly,” Zach said. “Hermione, the Muggle world today hasn’t any
idea that there were any Wizards or Witches... and yet, the world we are
describing to you is a very Muggle one. So the magical realm was not even
- 92 -
missed... not missed, that is, until a very important event happened about forty
years before our time.”
“What was that?” Riki asked, riveted.
“A lone, ragged woman was found wandering on the shore of what you
now know as Greenland,” Heath explained. “She was relatively young compared
to our standards, in her middle thirties... hungry, shivering, and badly frightened.
She also had not been bred according to the Alliance codes... her rescuers could
clearly see that.
“Well, after she was found, she was tranquilized and brought to Sabera, the
heartland of the Great Continent, where the capital is the One City of the
Council. Our doctors and scientists ran tests... our psychiatrists interviewed her
upon awakening... and much to our surprise, we learned that the woman was
over four hundred years old!”
When Heath paused to let that sink in, Zach continued.
“Harry, Ron, Hermione... that woman’s name was Victoria Jenkins, your
old schoolmate and acquaintance, wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban two years
ago for a crime that she did not commit, sentenced to four hundred years of deep
freezing and Charm Suggestion. It was a horrific sentence, designed to ensure
that the prisoner would awaken in an unfamiliar world. Yet the designers had no
idea that four hundred years hence there would be no Wizarding world to
awaken to.”
Both Heath and Zach then spoke about Victoria’s recovery, about the rescue
of other deep-frozen political prisoners from the ruins of what used to be
Azkaban (as the enchantments protecting it from Muggle intrusion had faded),
about the finding of the incredible source of their remarkable preservation, the
lost crystal of Kaban, buried deep beneath the prison’s rubble.
The Council of the One City was fascinated by the find. Here was a great
mystery of a lost civilization that even their ancestors had not known about... a
parallel world. The stories of Victoria and the others were recorded and
distributed far and wide.
“She and the others spoke very highly of you three,” said Zach. “They were
absolutely astonished that nothing remained of the world they’d known and
loved... that Muggles had survived, but magic had not.”
The Wizards and Witches were granted unconditional Alliance citizenship,
and in turn they converted to the Sabaean Mysteries and pledged to study the
crystal of Kaban. Mates were found from within the population, and they settled
down to produce families.
“Do you mean to tell me that Victoria has a sprog four hundred years from
now?” laughed Ron.
“Yes. She has four children,” Heath replied grimly. “She had the option to
accompany us on this mission, but she is quite happy in her adopted time.”
“Actually,” said Zach with a twinkle, “you’ve all met one of Victoria’s
daughters. Her eldest, in fact.”
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Paradise Lost 3
Harry and Hermione gasped. “Diana!”
“Lenore,” Zach corrected. “It was a pun from her husband’s last name,
Raven... from some poem or the other she liked as a young girl. Of course she
was Muggle-born just as you were, Hermione. But yes, that is her daughter.
There was one other of her children who came along with us, my friend Dale.”
“But she looks nothing like Victoria!” sputtered Harry. It was rather hard
for him to reconcile the image of his old schoolmate with that of the woman
he’d slept with for over a year.
“Well, Victoria converted to the Mysteries, so her children weren’t
conceived the way you are used to. She was very carefully bred, as we all were...
Heath and I were born to Wizarding parents who’d been rescued from the
Azkaban ruins, as were all of our team. The Council wished to see if any of the
children would be born with magical ability, and we were. We have all of the
magical ability that you have, although we have not been trained to use it, and
all the health and endurance and strength and intelligence that those of our time
have.”
“A race of supermen and superwomen,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “But
are you happy?”
“Happy?” Heath snapped. “Doc, what is happiness? Is it your world of war
and conflict, of terrorism, sexism, racism and heterosexism, strife and conflict?
Can it be found in any world where places like Eva de Souza’s favela exist?
Where governments spend more to build one bomber than it would take to feed
the poorest third of the world population? Was happiness what happened
between you and Ron and Harry not so long ago?”
“No,” said Hermione. “But it does mean that one has the freedom to
choose, Heath. How can you be happy if you are not free? Your world might be
paradise, but it is a forced paradise... a prison.” She stared at him with pity in her
eyes. “That is why you wanted to come here to our time, isn’t it?”
He returned her stare, yet said not a word.
“What I want to know,” said Harry, glaring at Heath, “is how you can know
so much about our personal lives...”
“Isn’t it clear? The orb, of course,” said Zach. “When our parents – who
actually worked with Lenore and Dale’s – began to study the crystal of Kaban,
they were astounded by its preserving qualities. What they soon learned was that
it did even more. It served as a record of the memories of all of magic. We
learned to extract holos from it, holos that projected the lost Wizarding world
into our own and brought your lives to life for us. We learned of your customs
and language from the holos... we’ve studied them since we were children.”
Heath nodded. “Wherever this crystal came from, it was a substance that is
completely unknown to our world, and to this one as far as we can tell. But
whatever element is it, our tests have shown that all of us who are magic have it
within and without each of our cells. It and we are one. We call it the Source.”
Hermione gasped.
- 94 -
“That is what Nephthys calls it! I thought she was speaking
metaphorically...”
“That is what your ancestor called it,” said Heath. “That is what she and
her sister found nearly ten thousand years ago in Atlantis. The holos showed us
that.”
Zach laughed.
“Don’t you see why we are here? The Sabaean dream was for humankind
to evolve to the next step. Humanity, on the other hand, had taken that step ten
millennia before our time. That is why the number of Muggleborns is increasing
in your world... you, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Riki, are what the people of our
time are striving to become!”
Hermione placed a hand up to her head. It was all so very much to take in,
to contemplate at once.
“What are we to do now?”
“Well, a good first step would be not to die,” pointed out Ron.
“And we need to deal with the unpleasant fact that this disease which is
destined to finish off the Wizarding world is already being spread around by the
stupid and shortsighted Cabalistica,” Zach said.
“Good points,” agreed Hermione. “Also, we have the little problem of
Ereshkigal coming to take over the world to consider. The Dark One is insisting
that I am her sister reincarnated... which is a problem not only because I don’t
believe in reincarnation, but because I rather like being an only child. And yet,
she and I do have an uncanny blood-link... she is the sister of my ancestress,
which could cause trouble.”
“She cannot possess you, kill you, or harm you in any way if you do not
know your true name,” Heath said. “That is why you cannot go to Atlantis...”
“Wait a minute,” said Harry. “Do you really expect for us to trust you?
You’ve been spying on us all this time! We were summoned to Atlantis by
whoever healed my hand and retrieved Eva’s son...”
“It’s a trap.”
“Why, have you seen all this in your magic time machine?”
Heath cleared his throat. “Well, actually, no, but I...”
“Well, then, I think that settles that. Don’t expect us to change our plans
just because you decide to beam yourself in from the future. We’ve been doing
fine without your help, and we’ll continue to do so.”
Heath’s face contorted with anger. He stood up and went to confront Harry.
“Don’t you care about saving her life, man?”
“Saving her life? She is my life! Don’t you dare presume that you can even
begin to understand how much I’m willing to risk for her sake...”
“Harry,” said Hermione softly, coming up behind him to put her hand on
his shoulder, “it’s not just about me. I care about your life and Ron’s too. I don’t
want our way of life to die. And if Heath knows something that we don’t, then
perhaps we ought to listen to him.”
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Paradise Lost 3
Harry looked from her to Ron, who was nodding.
“Fine,” he snarled. “I’m going to bed, since everyone’s up now. When
Demetrios gets back in the morning, we’ll make a final decision then.”
And he stormed off to the tents without another word.
~~~
Shortly thereafter, Hermione lifted up the flap to their tent. She let it fall,
adjusting her eyes to the semi-darkness.
“Harry? Harry, I’m here...”
Her answer was carefully labored breathing.
“Harry, I know you aren’t asleep yet. Are you?”
No response, save for the breathing growing pointedly louder.
“Fine, then. I’ll just go see if Heath is up. I want to speak to him more
about this Source substance... perhaps I can add to my notes...”
He sat straight up then. Glaring at her in the semi-darkness.
“Oh, you don’t like that, do you?”
Nothing.
“You know, I hate it when you do this. I really hate it. You won’t even have
a good argument with anyone. You just refuse to speak to them. That isn’t
healthy.”
“What isn’t healthy is the way that bastard looks at you.”
“Right, now you’re speaking to me! I’m glad. At least that’s an
improvement.” She laughed. He didn’t. “Harry, you can’t murder every man
who looks at me in a friendly manner. Imagine if I did that to all your female
admirers. I’d always be grumpy... and besides, it isn’t like you to be jealous. You
never cared before...”
“You weren’t my wife before.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Hermione, unbuttoning her shirt. “That’s it... I’m
coming to bed. Just wait until I get my hands on you...”
“What about Georgia?”
“Georgia?” said Hermione, letting the shirt hang at her elbows.
“In Georgia, when you were working for the CDC. What you told me on
your birthday. About Heath, when you weren’t sure that he was your new best
friend. About the seduction back in August. What happened then, Hermione?”
“What do you mean, what happened then? I don’t know what happened
then. I don’t know who it was, or if it was a dream. And it shouldn’t matter,
should it? It was months and months ago!”
“It matters to me.”
“Of course it does! It probably was you, as it was you shortly thereafter! It
was you in Rio! That’s how you found me, remember?”
“That was Rio, this autumn. I’m talking about Georgia last summer. Who
- 96 -
was with you then?”
“That could have been you, too!”
“What if it wasn’t? These... people have been manipulating us for years by
their own admission! What if Heath was doing the same damn thing to you that
Diana... Lenore... whatever the hell her name was doing to me?”
“Then it just means we’re even, doesn’t it?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Then he turned his back on her, and plunged his
head back onto the pillow.
Hermione came over to sit on the bed. Reached out to him...
“Don’t touch me.”
“In two seconds, I’ll have you begging for it.”
“And in the morning, I’ll make you regret it.”
She drew back, hurt. “So you’re determined to stay angry about this, aren’t
you? Harry, I didn’t do anything!”
“Exactly. Which is why I want you to leave me alone, Hermione.”
“Harry... please don’t do this. I love you.”
“Hermione, I promised myself that I would never touch you or take you in
anger. Please don’t make me break that promise.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Anywhere. At least until I’m asleep. Please, just leave me alone.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. Yet she managed to leave the tent before
he could hear her cry.
~~~
Heath had slept a normal span the night before he made the leap into the
Mata Atlântica gateland. Therefore, he was still awake and sitting by the lagoon
when Hermione came up behind him.
She’d obviously been weeping. Her eyes were dry, but very red, and there
were telltale stains on her cheeks. He knew without asking what had happened
and sighed. The woman was as brilliant as they came and yet had absolutely no
idea what effect she had on people. Especially men who were desperately in
love with her.
He knew he hadn’t helped the situation, but he didn’t care. Heath had little
reason to feel charitable towards Harry and every reason to feel envious.
If it had been him, he wouldn’t have sent Hermione away. Oh, no.
He would have filled the night with the sounds of their lovemaking. Putting
any would-be pretender on notice for good. The woman would have had
difficulty lifting a finger in the morning, much less walking.
But Harry Potter wasn’t him. He had no idea how to handle a strong-willed
woman like Hermione Granger.
Or like Lenore.
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Paradise Lost 3
His Lenore.
And he certainly didn’t deserve either of them.
“Mind some company?” Hermione said, managing a smile that looked like
it was painful.
“Not at all.” He patted the place on the boulder where she and Harry had
been sitting a few hours before.
Hermione slid down, letting her legs dangle down past the overhang. For a
few moments, they sat in silence. Then:
“I’ve always wondered what the future will be like. I have so many
questions that I don’t know where to begin.”
“Ask away. We have only until the sun rises.”
And so, Hermione and Heath talked. They talked about the ins and outs of
Hermione’s world, magical and Muggle, Hermione filling in the gaps in Heath’s
knowledge, all those things about Muggle life that the Source had not recorded
and could not tell. Heath, in turn, painted for her in living color his world, the
Earth of four hundred and forty years in the future.
She was fascinated. “The one thing that I’ve always wondered about the
future is whether there’ll be interstellar travel. Can you...”
“Of course we can. We figured out hyperspace about one hundred and
twenty years before my birth... the science isn’t even as complicated as you
might expect, and not half as headache-inducing as time-travel on our own
planet. I certainly wouldn’t mind showing you how they figured it out, as your
own physicists are fairly close. Since then, scores of planets have been found...
we’ve not yet found intelligent life, and magic like ours seems unique to Earth,
but our exobiologists have found nearly a million new species of flora and
fauna.”
“Wow.”
“Would you say ‘wow’ again if I told you I’ve set foot on four other
planets?”
“Whoa!”
“Close enough,” Heath grinned. “Yes, it’s much as your science fiction
writers of today dream. Space travel is quite popular for holidays, as so much of
the biosphere was destroyed in the War of Wars. In fact, we speculate that it will
not be able to sustain much life much longer. We’ve accelerated the next Ice Age
by a few thousand millennia... already in my time, the world is nearly ten
degrees colder than it is in your own. And for all our technology, we cannot
bring back all the lost creatures and plants of the Amazon or the Bengali jungles
or the Congo or the Canadian-Russian taiga by mere cloning. What we need is a
bit of magic.”
“I see.”
“I said to you and Harry that I was your miracle. Well, you are mine, Doc.
I’ve waited my whole life to meet you.”
Hermione tried to laugh this off. “I must be a terrible disappointment.”
- 98 -
“Actually? The living, breathing you is far more intriguing than any Kaban
holos.” Heath shook his head. “Harry has no idea how fortunate he is.”
“Oh, but I’m luckier than he is. If it wasn’t for Harry, I wouldn’t be the
Witch I am today. It’s something that I didn’t even realize until recently. Harry
has been my reason since I was a small girl of eleven. Long before I fell in love
with him, he was the inspiration for my life’s work. Surely if you’ve spent your
life studying me, you ought to know that.”
“That was a very long time ago, Hermione. Why do you continue to live in
the past?”
Hermione’s eyes were wide and clear as she looked up at Heath.
“There are so few men in this time who are a match for you, Hermione. Do
you not wonder if you had been born in my time... if you had been Sabaean like
me... that perhaps whatever it is that exists between us could have...”
He left the question unasked. Hanging in the air. Hovering above the
lagoon’s splendor.
But she answered it without hesitation.
“No, Heath.”
“You say that so decisively, without even...”
“There is nothing to decide. There are some loves that last for a short time.
There are some that last for a lifetime. And then there are some that last for all
time. If I had been born in my ancestor Delilah’s time ten thousand years ago,
I would have been in love with Harry then, no matter who he was. If I had been
born in your time, I would have been his then too. Heath, he could have been
born five hundred years ago and I could have been born five hundred years from
now... and somehow we would have found each other. So please, don’t delude
yourself.”
“You are attracted to me, though. You cannot deny that.”
“No, and I won’t try. Harry was attracted to your Lenore too...” At his
surprise, Hermione nodded. “Yes, I surmised that something existed between the
two of you. And yet, attraction isn’t love. It’s mere infatuation. He didn’t love
Lenore any more than I could love you.”
“But I don’t understand. How can you love a man who doesn’t even see
you? Who doesn’t treat you as an equal, as his match... hell, in his case, as his
better?” Heath shook his head. “You deserve so much more.”
“So does he,” smiled Hermione. “And yet we’re together because it was
inevitable. Don’t you see that? You yourself said that even after the intervention,
even after what Lenore pulled, in every scenario you ever saw Harry and
I always are together in the end. That’s because we’re supposed to be, Heath.
Nothing you say or do can change that.”
“Really? What if I were to kiss you right now?”
The corner of Hermione’s mouth quirked upward. “You wouldn’t do that...”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Before she could blink twice, Heath’s mouth was upon hers, with swift and
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Paradise Lost 3
confident pressure. And before she could recoil, he’d withdrawn, almost as if it
had never happened.
“Well?”
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. I’m still just as happily married to my
husband as I was before that kiss.”
“If you were so happy with him, why are you sitting out here with me? And
why is he sleeping alone tonight?”
She could not speak. There was something in Heath’s eyes that chilled her
to the bone.
“Mark my words, Hermione. There is unfinished business between us.
There’s no denying that.”
Her chin went up swiftly. “I do deny it.”
“What about what you felt in that elevator shaft in Chicago, Hermione?
What you felt on the street in London? What you’re feeling in this very
moment?”
“It is nothing compared to him. I feel it ten thousand times over every time
Harry makes love to me.”
“I’m sure. Only, I’ve never made love to you.”
“And you never will. And let me add that if my husband ever hears you
saying such things, he will hex you without hesitation.”
“I thought he was such an honorable man.”
“He is. Which is why he wouldn’t hesitate. His idea of honor is very
different from the Sabaean one, you know.”
“How ironic. So is mine. Mark that down as another thing we’ve got in
common.”
It took quite a few moments for Hermione to break his stare.
“Good night, Heath.”
His intense eyes watched her go.
“Not quite, Doc,” he murmured. “Make that ‘good morning’.”
~~~
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Paradise Lost

From the World Wide Web

Sometimes the very thing you’re looking

21 December 2012. Friday.

Sabaean Watch Station, Negev Desert

“This is what I get for marrying a Gryffindor,” he said to no one in

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

O, no! it is an ever-fixéd mark,

If this be error, and upon me proved,

Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart?

1 January 2013. Wednesday.

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