The Afterlife and Times of Myrtle Potter | By : NormanCharles Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 19696 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: Okay, okay. I'm NOT JK Rowlings, I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from writing these stories, I do it because it's fun and other people seem to enjoy what I write - the best of whom write review and tell me when I get it right and |
Chapter 23: Reincarnation
“Harry, we must get to
Hogsmeade!”
“What’s happening there?”
“Dark ones, black wraiths
are feeding!”
Harry went into his ‘command
mode.’
“Healer Jones, notify the
ministry!” The young physician nodded and ran to the fireplace.
“Who here can apparate as far
as Hogsmeade?”
Narcissa’s hand went up, as did
Hermione’s and Myrtle’s.
“Narcissa, make a portkey for
Draco and Ginny then join us on High Street in Hogsmeade!”
She nodded and Harry and his
ladies disappeared with the loud crack of a triple apparition.
They arrived on High Street
just in time to see a dementor bending over the prone form of a young girl.
“Get away from her you BITCH!”
Harry turned to see a white rhino patronus erupt from the end of Neville
Longbottom’s wand. The rhinoceros tore into the dementor who had been too
intent on his victim to run away. There was an unearthly screech as the wraith
was impaled, thrown down and trampled.
“Amanda!” Neville cried, “oh
God, oh God, oh God!”
Harry’s expression steeled as
he looked down the street. Three dementors were clearly feeding on prone
victims. Sucking out their souls.
“Expecto Patronum!”
Prongs, in his most powerful
golden form, erupted from Harry’s wand, a mongoose issued from Myrtle’s.
Hermione morphed into the White Wraith and chorused in the harmonic blend of
her and Noir’s voices. “Drive them to me, if they do not submit we will have to
destroy them.”
The patroni seemed to
understand and they streaked off in the direction of their quarry looking for
all the world like glowing ethereal border collies. In short order the
dementors were hovering before Noir. One dementor humbled itself, one stayed
upright, defiant, the third seemed to vacillate between the two before
prostrating itself before the White Wraith.
Narcissa arrived, wand drawn,
followed shortly by Ginny and Draco.
Later Hermione described what
had passed between her and the three essensentials.
“Why do you attack us, Lady
of Light?” The tallest one asked.
“You are feeding on the innocent.”
“We are hungry; we haven’t
fed since the battle!” Cried the one who had hesitated.
“Then commune with me and you
can return to our world.”
“This is our world.
It is the only world we have ever known. And there is much food here!”
Tall one insisted.
“You do not need to feed on
the essences of the people of this world.”
“It is the only food I have
ever known, the only food I crave.”
“Don’t make us destroy you.”
“Us? Who is us?”
“I and the spirit that
dwells within me,” Noir explained.
The tall dementor shrieked and
dove for Harry.
“No!” Draco cried as he threw
himself between Harry and the hungry wraith.
He needn’t have bothered, Noir
caught the dementor by its neck and spun around throwing it to Prongs who gored
and trampled the shrieking wraith into a mass of dust and tatters.
A very sad Noir stretched her
hands out to the kneeling wraiths, “Commune with me.”
The light from the essensential
communion was too bright to look at directly, once the light faded three
glowing semi-corporeal beings floated over the cobblestones.
The communion complete the
converted essensentials embraced Prongs and disappeared with him.
Noir had reverted to her young
Hermione form. Harry and Myrtle gathered her into their arms to give her
strength. Ginny followed, then Narcissa. Draco finally joined the communal
embrace looking slightly uncomfortable.
The sound of several aurors
apparating simultaneously broke the mood.
Harry directed the medics to
look after the victims. All in all three people had been kissed, more clients
for the rehabilitation center. Neville was on his knees holding a young girl
in his arms.
“This is Amanda,” he said
between sobs, “it’s her birthday today – she’s twelve, I got special permission
to bring her to Hogsmeade to celebrate. She’s worked so hard and been a real
leader to all the firsties. I wanted to reward her for all her hard work. I –
I told her to stay in the Three Broomsticks, but she must have thought her lumos
would work against these things. By the time I got to her she was being
kissed.
Hermione looked wistful. She
floated over to where Neville’s patronus had trampled the hapless dementor.
She felt around for something in the dirt; then broke into a satisfied smile.
She carried a tiny glowing bead
carefully as if it were made of the thinnest spun glass. Noir became the White
Wraith and placed the tiny bead on Amanda’s lips. The girl remained still and
silent as the seconds seemed to stretch into hours.
“Gasp!” Amanda took a deep panting
breath. “Neville?”
“Oh Mandy, Mandy, Mandy!” he
cried and rocked her in his arms.
“Oh Neville!” she cried, “I was
floating up and I saw you and you were so sad and I didn’t want you to be sad
and so I stayed and, um, Neville?”
“Yes?” he choked out.
“Breathing is good.”
“Oh!” he said sheepishly and
loosened his embrace but did not let go.
Harry stood grinning, and then his
expression turned grim as he hailed the nearest auror. “Who’s in charge here?”
“Tibbets, sir, but I think you
outrank him Commander.” The auror answered.
“Auror Tibbets!” Harry called.
“Yeah?” then he saw who called
him and he gulped, “yes sir?”
“The firecall went out ten
minutes ago, why did it take that long to respond?”
“We were answering to a
dementor attack sir.” He explained, “That means we need aurors who can produce
a patronus and medics who have experience with dementor victims.”
Harry pinched the bridge of his
nose and asked “you mean to tell me that in the middle of a war this is the
best response time we can get?”
Tibblets gulped, “we’ll do
better next time sir!”
Harry gathered his group
together and portkeyed them all back to the manor. “Not good enough, not nearly
good enough!”
“What’s that milord?” Draco
asked.
“Response time, ten minutes!
Everyone in Hogsmeade could have been kissed in ten minutes. We have to be
able to respond more rapidly, get teams into place. Yeah, Rapid Action Teams!
Each team should be able to handle anything that might conceivably come up!”
Harry walked away muttering to
himself as Draco shook his head and said, “Look out wizarding world, Harry
Potter is on a mission!”
Still mumbling to himself Harry
walked into the master bath, shedding his cloak and clothing along the way. He
absentmindedly waved at the shower turning on both tandem showerheads. As he
stepped in he was enveloped by four arms.
“I’m starting to really love
that time-turner.” He said, grinning.
He had a bushy haired brunette
on either side of him lathering and stroking, shampooing, rinsing and
repeating.
One of the Granger look-alikes
knelt before him and completely swallowed his cock, her nose touching the
clean-shaven skin at the root of his member. Harry groaned as one girl sucked him
and the other embraced him from behind, her hands kneading the muscles of his
chest and torso.
He felt the familiar tingling
in his balls and pulled back, helping his lady to her feet. He pulled her left
leg onto his right hip and placed the tip of his pulsing pole at her hot wet
entrance. She was so wet he slid in smoothly eliciting a stereo groan from
both of them. Her double moved around behind her and helped support her as she
brought her other leg up and around Harry’s waist.
The Myrtle sandwich consisted
of three loving bodies, six caressing, supporting hands and three tonsil
probing deep snogging mouths. Add a dash of hyper-stimulated genitalia and the
Myrtle “meat” in the sandwich was babbling and grunting and screaming her
orgasm in short order. Her climax echoed off the porcelain walls of the shower
and bathroom.
Myrtle in the middle looked
over her shoulder and said, “Your turn” before extracting herself from Harry’s
blue-steel boner. The doppelganger brunette turned and bent double at the
waist, placing her hands and forearms on the tile wall. The thoroughly
satisfied Myrtle moved behind Harry to embrace and caress him from behind. She
reached down to help guide his stonker into her double’s eager snatch.
Harry pushed forward and was
rewarded by the sound of his wife’s voice groaning in pleasure.
“Fuuuuuuck!”
He drew completely out then
re-inserted his throbbing man meat, then repeated the process, and once again
before beginning the smooth in and out cadence that he knew she loved. In and
stop then out and back in and stop and out and in, faster and faster until he was
the piston to her cylinder and her purr became a hum which became a squeal
rising to a scream as her insides clamped and milked his member forcing him to
groan and splash his hot spunk deep inside her.
They just stood there, Hermione
bent at the waist, Harry bent over her, his semi-erect cock still snugly
ensconced in her grasping snatch, Myrtle wrapped around both of them caressing
whatever part of them she could reach.
“You do know that I love
you both, don’t you?” he said through the pouring water. Myrtle froze, as did
Hermione.
“Um,” Hermione started as she
reluctantly pulled away from Harry’s delicious stonker. “I don’t suppose I can
even try to convince you that I’m just your time-turned wife?”
As his mushroom shaped head
popped out of Hermione’s welcoming depths he gathered her into a tight embrace,
while Myrtle embraced him from behind.
“Let’s rinse off then we can
talk, okay?” Harry said.
They toweled each other dry in
silence then donned matching emerald green bathrobes. Harry led the girls to
the bed where he sat on the edge and directed them to sit on either side of
him.
He kissed each of them tenderly
and took their hands in his own. Then he took a deep breath and let it out
slowly.
“First of all, Hermione, Myrtle
isn’t comfortable using the word ‘fuck,’ I guess she’s just a bit old fashioned
that way.”
Hermione blushed and looked
over at Myrtle who grinned sheepishly and shrugged.
“It’s not like I use that word
in casual conversation, only when, I’m um, we’re. . .”
Myrtle and I are mate-bonded,
which means, among other things, that I can feel what she’s feeling nearly all
the time. I can almost hear her thoughts, I can hear what she’s
thinking when we wear the vial amulets, but we don’t wear them all the time –
we both like a little privacy every now and then.
“And you don’t get that with
me,” Hermione said, it wasn’t a question.
“No.” Harry seemed to agree,
“It’s exactly the opposite, when we’re making love I’m inside your head, yours
and Noir’s.”
Hermione looked panic stricken,
“so you know what I know?”
“Um hum,” Harry agreed. “Do
you want to tell her or shall I?”
“You start Harry, and I’ll fill
in where I can.”
“Myrtle, what do you know of
reincarnation?”
Myrtle looked pensive as she
accessed her encyclopedic knowledge of the Hogwart’s library. “There have been
a dozen confirmed cases of reincarnation in wizarding Britain in the 20th century, on the average spaced from ten to thirty years from
the time of death to the rebirth. All cases have been gender specific.”
Harry held up his hand. “In
any of the cases were ghosts involved?”
“No,” Myrtle said, “none that I
ever read about.”
“What do all cases of
reincarnation have in common?” Hermione asked.
“Similarities,” Myrtle offered,
“in all cases the reincarnated people have had very similar life experiences,
even going as far as dying in similar circumstances.”
“So imagine a girl, an only
child born of muggle parents. She comes to Hogwart’s where she is scoffed and
shunned. She comes into the sphere of influence of the most powerful wizard of
her day, who has the power of life or death over her. That unfortunate girl is
fated to meet a deadly monster in the second floor girls’ bathroom.”
Myrtle’s eyes grew wide as
saucers.
“In my first year,” Hermione
explained, “I was a frizzy haired, buck-toothed ‘little miss know-it-all.’
Everyone knew it, hell I flaunted it. But what I didn’t have were any
friends. On Halloween in my first year a terrible boy said some really mean
things about me and I just lost it. I ran crying to the girl’s bathroom on the
second floor, where I cried for hours. Then, I was trapped in that bathroom
and was nearly killed by a mountain troll.
“Harry came for me, he didn’t
have to but he’s not built that way. He somehow knew that I was in danger and
he came for me.”
“If he hadn’t, well, let’s just
say you might very well have had company in your bathroom.”
Myrtle was stunned. “Tom
Riddle came for me, but his pet basilisk was slithering around the bathroom.
He didn’t even try to protect me, he just let his pet kill me. Up to that
point our lives were very, um, similar.”
Hermione continued. “Five
years ago, when I needed a safe place to brew polyjuice potion we met for the
first time in your bathroom. I felt a kinship with you, almost like I knew you
from somewhere. Since you’ve ‘borrowed’ my body our connection has been
getting stronger. Noir has sensed it too.”
“Myrtle, you are
Hermione, and Hermione is you. She was born thirty five years after your
death, when she was born your soul, your spirit was reborn.”
“Then why am I still here?”
Myrtle asked in a small voice, “Shouldn’t my spirit have gone to Hermione
then?”
“There are no accidents, you’re
still here for a reason,” Harry insisted. “I think it’s because Hermione’s
spirit needed an anchor so that she wouldn’t be taken by the dementor that
attacked her, and Noir had to be that dementor because she was having doubts
about her own role in the scheme of things.”
“It’s true,” said the
oddly harmonic voice of Noir, “I would never have attacked if I hadn’t been
starved for months beforehand. You can’t begin to understand the pain I was in.”
“And yet she gave of her own
life energy to sustain Hermione’s spirit until they could become fully
integrated.”
Harry looked at Noir and asked
“why?”
“What why?” she evaded.
“Please, Noir, I really need to
know.” Harry asked gently.
Noir bowed Hermione’s head, “because
I share all of Hermione’s thoughts and feelings.”
Myrtle said simply, “and you
love him too.”
The symbiot nodded.
“Hermione,” Harry said softly,
“let Noir take her form for a moment.”
Hermione morphed into the White
Wraith, Harry gathered her into a gentle hug and said, “thank you for saving
Hermione, thank you for keeping her safe. I would love you for that reason
alone, but you are more than that. You have given Hermione your strength and have
shared your Joi de Vive. You are family as much as any of us and I love
you very much.”
Noir enveloped Harry in her
cloak and returned his embrace with all the solidity she could muster in her
wraith form. She brought soft warm lips to Harry’s and kissed him gently.
She glowed brighter and brighter until she literally burst like an over
inflated balloon. Harry and Myrtle were knocked backward onto the bed as if by
a sudden gust of wind.
Noir’s disembodied voice echoed
through the room, “Kiss our beloved.”
“Hermione!” he cried, and
looked frantically around the room.
Myrtle was startled to see a
tiny glowing bead on Harry’s lower lip, and understood immediately. “Calm down
Harry, Hermione is still here, she just needs a minute or so to um, compose
herself.”
He was somewhat mollified, “are
you sure?”
She looked at the glowing bead,
looking for all the world like a brilliant drop of water on his lip, “oh yeah,
very sure.”
“Well I’ll feel better when I
can see her.”
“Oh don’t worry, you will. C’mere
you!” she said and drew his lips to her own.
The tiny bead was drawn into
Myrtle’s body.
You could say that Myrtle
became Hermione, or that Hermione got her body back, but the plain truth is
that Hermione was and is Myrtle, and vice-versa. All the memories all that was
and is Myrtle became Hermione’s as well.
Harry sensed the change in his
bondmate, if anything the bond grew stronger as he felt both Hermione and
Myrtle in the kiss they shared.
“Hermione?” he asked.
“Right here.” She said.
“Myrtle?” he asked,
tentatively.
“Present and accounted for
love.”
Harry and his bondmate looked
around the bedroom at the fine white mist that persisted in the air.
“Noir?” Harry asked indicating
the mist in the room.
“Oh, yes.” His lady answered.
“Will she, um, be okay?”
“Oh yes, and she and your
daughter will be hungry.”
Harry was gob-smacked. “My daughter?”
he asked, tentatively.
“Um hum,” Mrs. Potter smirked,
“when you poured all your love into that kiss Noir experienced the essensential
equivalent of an orgasm. It was more than she could contain so she, well,
there is no human word for it. Let’s just say that there will be two White
Wraiths in about a month.”
“I was going to ask you to
marry me, y’know, officially as soon as possible, will you?”
“Any time you say Mr. Potter!”
“Can we wait until Noir, um,
get’s herself together again?”
She looked pensive, “four weeks
ought to be about right. That’s around Christmas time.”
Three weeks and three days
later two small wraiths formed at the foot of their bed, they were expected
because Hermione’s memory and knowledge of them gave her some insight as to how
they were progressing.
“Noir?” Harry asked.
Both essensentials nodded. The
bushy brunette laughed, “oh this is brilliant! Here I am, essentially two
girls in one body and here she is one girl split into two!”
Harry asked “are you hungry?”
Both white wraiths nodded
eagerly.
“Come on then” he said has he
and his bondmate opened their arms to commune with the fledgling essensentials.
When the bright light faded
there were two fully formed White Wraiths and two glowing humans in the bed.
The corporeal couple was framed by the semi-corporeal siblings. Harry and his
mate were reaching past each other to gently caress their wraith companions.
The wraith spooned up against
Harry spoke, her harmonic tones very soothing. “My sister-daughter and I
shall grow apart. We will need to be named so that our experiences will be our
own.”
Hermione’s soft, warm hand
stroked the semi-solid cheek next to Harry’s. “Then we will name you Noir,
because you are most like the Noir I know so well.”
Harry caressed the shoulder of
the other essensential. “We name you Blanche.” He pronounced the name as the
French would, ‘blonche’, “Because you are so pure.”
Blanche shivered and he could
swear he heard laughter in her melodic harmonic voice. “Be careful my love,
or there will be more of us!”
Harry and his lady (ladies?)
were married on the twenty-second of December, the traditional Yule. Ron was
best man. He had come a long way in six weeks, functioning at the level of a
three year old and getting better every day. Harry had to gently pry the shiny
gold ring from Ron’s hand but his ginger-haired best mate smiled when Ginny
told him what a good boy he was. All the Weasley brothers were groomsmen, along
with Neville Longbottom. Hermione was attended by Noir and Blanche (noir and
Harry’s ‘daughter’) and Ginny, along with Luna, Lavender and Lori, who giggled
incessantly and adored their bridesmaid’s dresses. Amanda Stevens, too old to
be the flower girl and too young to be a bridesmaid was the Gift Attendant, a
responsibility she accepted with grace and maturity.
The Potters honeymooned on
their Caribbean Island and returned three weeks later tanned and toned and more
in love than ever.
Then they got to work.
Judge Vance had described his
ex-wife as a pit-bull with lip gloss and he wasn’t far off the mark. When
Zubedia Vance got through with the companies that had been using Harry’s name
and image illegally they were willing to make Harry a majority stock holder if
he would just call her off. As it was Counselor Vance knew exactly how much to
squeeze out of each corporation so that they were well and truly punished but
not so much that they went out of business. As she once said, broke companies
can’t pay damages.
The barkers who had turned
Godric’s Hollow into a tourist trap were a different story. Guilty of willful
property damage as well as criminal trespass not only were they left completely
knutless each of the four perpetrators spent a year in hotel Azkaban. Harry
restored the cottage that had meant so much to his parents and set wards around
the gravesites so that visitation was by permission only.
Harry checked with the
Department of Mysteries, sure enough there were charms in pace that allowed for
the extended use of time turners that allowed the “time skippers” to avoid
paradox. He used the time turner to accelerate his training program along with
Hermione, Neville and Draco.
Draco had to fight an uphill
battle from day one.
“Not physically acceptable.”
One unctuous mediwitch announced, sniffing. “The applicant is practically
blind in one eye.”
Harry stepped up, “he lost the
use of his left eye while on a mission of vital importance to the side of
light, fix the eye or change the regulation. I don’t care which.”
The healers balked at both
suggestions. Harry presented them with Draco’s Order of Merlin, Second Class, for
conspicuous gallantry under fire. There was good news, better news and bad
news. The good news, Draco could be fitted with a magical eye that would give
him the required visual acuity, the better news; the new magical eyes were of
normal size and color, looking exactly like the eyes they replaced. The bad
news, Draco had to voluntarily give up his left eye and the process was excruciatingly
painful to endure. The worse news, he couldn’t be unconscious for the
procedure.
“Do it!” Draco insisted.
When they completed officer
training they set about forming the Phoenix Watch. As predicted, Harry’s image
on the recruiting poster had witches and wizards clamoring to enlist. The best
of the best were deployed as the Phoenix Rapid Action Team, average response
time fifty seconds. Suddenly everyone wanted to be a PRAT.
Some of the higher-ups objected
to the acronym until Mrs. Potter publicly suggested an all female auror team,
the Tactical Women’s Assault Team. She insisted that Harry was man enough to
handle it.
The objections stopped.
The Potter-Black Manor was
officially renamed the Ginevra Weasley Rehabilitation and Education Center and moved into full operation in the spring of the following year. The Kissed,
including the Kissed of Azkaban, were literally given new lives. The average
stay for any of the Kissed was between three and five years. Some were given
vocational training; others went through more conventional primary and
secondary educations at a magically accelerated rate. Ron was pretty much his
old self again after three years. Two years later he led a completely
recovered Lavender Brown down the aisle.
Ginny received honors and
accolades and most importantly financial support from the wizarding world for
her work with the Kissed. She was deferred to with reverence as the Angel of
Campeltown and developed a following among those who saw her as a spiritual
leader. She chose a single life, confiding to her closest friends that she’d
already had enough carnal knowledge to last a lifetime.
Of course, the occasional
nocturnal visitor was never turned away, as long as his name was Draco. And he
never failed to satisfy.
The Kissed referred to her as
Mummy Ginny. Soon her center became the premier treatment facility for all
long-term magical maladies. Gilderoy Lockhart became one of her most
celebrated success stories. Humble and self effacing Gilderoy was no less the
charmer. He sent back his 2004 “Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile” award with
the simple note. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Neville kept a warm and
platonic friendship with Amanda, and encouraged her to date boys her own age. She
longed to follow him into the Auror Corps so he encouraged her to study hard so
that she could apply for the officer program when she graduated.
When she was fourteen her
grandmum became very ill. Grudgingly her mum took her in and Amanda got to see
first hand the parade of men trooping into and out of their small two-bedroom
flat. One of the “boyfriends” tried to corner her in their living room – she managed
to get away and lock herself in her room as the drunken lout hammered on her
door. She used her signaling mirror to call her guardian angel; Neville
apparated directly into their living room. He cast a sobering charm on Amanda’s
would-be rapist; then calmly and without the use of magic, broke both his arms.
“Why the sobering charm?”
Amanda asked.
“I wanted him to feel it.” He
growled.
He left Amanda’s mother with
one set of instructions. “Clean up your act, get a real job and be a mother to
Amanda or I will see you in Azkaban and Amanda will spend the rest of her
childhood in a very nice room at the Potter-Black Estate.”
Three years later on the
morning of her 17th birthday Amanda apparated to Neville’s apartment
and dragged him, kicking and screaming to bed. Okay, maybe he wasn’t exactly
kicking and screaming, but they both made a LOT of noise that day.
Draco became Harry’s shadow and
fiercest bodyguard. When Harry took to the field his wife was by his side
(“just you try to keep me away Mr. Potter!”) and Draco had his back.
Narcissa and Sharpclaw parlayed
Harry’s fortune into an obscene amount of money. Whenever Harry’s fortune
approached the billion galleon mark he insisted that the goblins find worthy
causes to invest half his fortune. Trouble was they were so good at investing
that within weeks the ledgers were approaching the nine-zero’s mark again.
Even fully funding Ginny’s hospital didn’t put much of a dent in his fortune.
Draco and Ginny never lacked
for company, or suitors for that matter, but neither felt the need for company
outside of their own circle of family and friends. Narcissa met an investment
broker who treated her like the highborn lady she was.
“Milord Potter-Black,” she said
very formally one afternoon.
“Cissa, it’s just Harry.” He
sighed, leaning back in his comfortable study.
“Not today milord, I have to
ask a great favor.”
“Anything Cissa, you know
that.”
“Jeffrey wishes to, I believe
the phrase is, get to know me better?”
Harry raised an eyebrow, “and?”
“I am your liege woman,
milord. He and I need your permission.”
“Have we discussed this
before?”
“It’s never come up before,
milord.”
“How do you feel about Mister,
um, Jeffrey?” he asked.
“Detleff, milord, Jeffrey
Detleff.” She clarified.
“Is this what you want
Narcissa?”
“It has been a while,
Harry.”
“And Jeffrey does it for
you?” he smirked.
Narcissa had the good graces to
blush and nodded.
“If Mr. Jeffrey treats you with
love and respect and if you are agreeable then you have my blessing.”
“Thank you milord Harry.” She
said smilingly.
“Is Jeffrey here?”
“In the parlor Harry.”
“Bring him in.” he said with a
predatory smile.
Jeffrey Detleff stood before
the most powerful wizard in Britain, possibly the world and was pleased to note
that he didn’t shake visibly. He knew he could love Narcissa but he was afraid
he wasn’t good enough for her. He asked to speak with Harry in private.
“Not bloody likely,” said
Draco.
“We can talk Mr. Detleff,
anything we say will be held in confidence.”
Jeffrey had the good sense to
not try and impress Harry with stories of his successes and business acumen.
Rather he spoke of those things closest to his heart, how Narcissa reminded him
that it was only good to make money if you were going to do some good with it.
“She’s stripped me of my
avarice and I am in awe of her Lord Potter-Black. I would like to try to spend
the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her.”
Harry looked at Draco, who
raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly.
“Mr. Detleff, may I call you
Jeffrey?” when the man who was old enough to be Harry’s father nodded
respectfully Harry continued, “I have to admit I called you in here to impress
upon you just how dangerous it would be for you to hurt my Cissa in any way.”
The man gulped visibly as Harry
continued. “But I think your heart’s in the right place. You and Narcissa have
my blessings. Make sure you always remember how rare and beautiful she is.”
The gentleman practically
floated out of Harry’s study.
“Are you okay with this
Draco?”
“I think so milord, time will
tell.”
Six months later Jeffrey led
Narcissa down the aisle, Harry gave away the bride and Draco stood as best man.
Harry had to reinforce the
silencing charms around Cissa’s rooms, which had been converted into the bridal
suite for her wedding night.
“Enthusiastic, aren’t they?”
Mrs. Potter smirked.
“Ah to be young and so much in
love!” Harry placed the back of his hand on his forehead and sighed
theatrically.
“C’mere you!” she growled.
Harry barely got the locking
and silencing charms up in time as Hermione and Myrtle and a little bit of Noir
all decided to make some noise of their own.
My Dearest Husband,
Today marks the fifth
anniversary of the day I was reborn and found the love of my lives, or rather
the loves of my lives. I love you and I love Hermione with all my heart, you
are so easy to love and Hermione is, well, me. If I hadn’t died in that bathroom
so many years ago we wouldn’t be where we are today. I didn’t think it was
possible to love you more but today I love you more than ever. Everything that
I am can be laid at your feet. Because of the man you are I am a reborn
spirit, a decorated war hero, a commissioned officer, a wife and in seven and a
half months I will be the mother of your beautiful baby.
Of all the awards and titles
bestowed upon me the greatest and dearest to my heart is that I can sign my
name, with all my love.
Mrs. Myrtle Potter.
_____ooo000ooo_____
Thus endeth the tale. I have
to give credit where it’s due, I was outlining this story last April when I got
an e-mail from Demondeathstone AKA Thomas. He suggested that I have Myrtle
take over the body of someone who had been kissed, that one idea germinated and
grew into the just completed story, Thanx Thomas. Special thanks to all who
have supported my efforts in this tale, especially GreatWriterSarah who has
taken time from her busy life to beta more than half these chapters, thank you
Sarah, like your first love, you never forget your first Beta. To my most faithful
reviewers, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Lastly, I’ve always
wanted to use Ripley’s line from Aliens, looks like J.K. beat me to it
in DH. Oh well.
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