Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Moments in Love	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 175861 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the story.

Chapter List
- 67
- 68
- 69
Meet the Parents

Harry drew in a breath of crisp fresh winter air as he and Hermione traipsed through the snowy grounds of Jennifer’s estate. At nearly one hundred and fifteen acres of hill, much of it wooded, there was plenty of estate for a nice explore. The rest of the Coven were engaged in various activities after having spent a good part of the morning training with Ginny to accustom her to performing spells as a Coven.
Passing through a thick copse of evergreens, Harry and Hermione found a bit of bluff nearly untouched by snow just under the canopy of the trees on the other side. Even given the pearly grey skies, the view from the bluff was spectacular. The sea was visible in the distance one direction, and the snow covered ruins of Corfe Castle in the other. And much closer, the Potters could see the Church steeple and a bit of the village.
Well bundled up against the cold, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and smiled, then sat cross legged on a patch of ground covered in pine needles. Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed contentedly as he wrapped an arm around her. They sat like that for a good while, drinking in the beauty of the wintry landscape.
Harry let the peace wash over him, soothing even the parts of his soul where the shadows of recent events still lurked. He pressed his lips to the knitted cap which covered Hermione’s bushy hair and kissed it. Hermione snuggled even closer if possible and sighed happily again. Moments later, their lips met for a proper kiss.
When the kiss was finished, Harry’s eyes caught the church steeple again. The steeple stirred a deep yearning within, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why. Then he recalled the little cemetery behind the church and it struck him.
He cleared his throat, feeling a bit like he had when he had asked McGonagall to let Hermione go to Hogsmeade in third year, despite the fact that Hermione’s parents hadn’t signed her form. Harry began tentatively, wondering if she would think it was too risky.
“Hermione?”
“Yes Harry?”
“Er... I was wondering... I... I really want to go to Godric’s Hollow - to visit my parents’ grave with you... maybe use the Resurrection Stone.”
Hermione peered into Harry’s green eyes and bit her lip.
“I don’t know Harry,” she said after a moment passed. “Of course I want to go with you, but I’m not sure that it would be safe for us. I would be surprised if the Minister wasn’t staking out your parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow just in case you show up... And even if we both went disguised, there’s a good chance that we’d be detained anyway, just to see if we’re muggleborn.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah! You’re probably right Hermione. I guess I was sort of thinking the same thing... I just really want to go now. I’ve been feeling more ready for it since visiting Jennifer’s parents’ graves with her. And... and with, er... everything we’ve had to deal with recently, it’d be nice to actually see for myself that people really do go on after death.”
“I’m sorry Harry.” Hermione smiled at him sympathetically. “Eventually we’ll get to Godric’s Hollow. I’m sure of it! But if you want to, you could use the Resurrection Stone anytime you like.”
“I thought about that actually. But - I’m not really sure why - it just seems right somehow to use it in Godric’s Hollow.”
“Well, I suppose that does make sense on some level - it was your home after all, where you were born and lived with your parents. And there’s a lot of history in Godric’s Hollow, Harry, as well as your own...”
“Yeah!” Harry nodded. “It’s been ages since I’ve read it, but I remember from A History of Magic: Godric Gryffindor, and the guy who created the Golden Snitch lived there... and Dumbledore told us that his family used to live there too.”
“And then there’s Bathilda Bagshot, who actually wrote A History of Magic,” said Hermione, grinning. For all that Harry complained about his memory and intellect not being as good as her own, Hermione mused again that Harry was far more intelligent than he gave himself credit for.
Hermione thought back to the end of First Year, when Harry had pieced together all the bits that others had told him and worked out that he and Voldemort were connected, and that eventually Harry would have to kill Voldemort or be killed himself.
That had been a brilliant and logical piece of deduction, based on his own recollections, and confirmed by Dumbledore’s revelation of the Prophecy. Of course Dumbledore had also pointed out that Prophecies were “a dubious business,” and most never fulfilled - most likely due to the increasing number of variables - the ever branching probabilities and roads not traveled - as the future unfolded.
And it had turned out that Harry was more or less right, despite not knowing at the time that Voldemort’s obsession with him was due to a Prophecy. It only made sense logically that Voldemort would come after Harry time and time again if Voldemort had believed in the Prophecy, regardless of the truth of it.
When it came right down to it, Hermione reckoned that Harry’s deductive reasoning skills had always been one of his biggest assets, besides his strong ability to visualise complex patterns, and his diligent study habits.
Harry raised his eyebrows, regarding his wife’s amorous expression with bemusement. Despite himself, Harry couldn’t help beaming back at Hermione’s radiant features, her golden curls spilling out from under her knitted mauve cap and tumbling over her shoulders.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asked.
“Oh... er...” Hermione was slightly taken aback, not prepared for Harry’s question, not having quite realised that she was feeling a bit breathless and tingling with arousal - which was no doubt apparent to Harry. “I was just... er... thinking about how brilliant and smart you are,” she said, biting her lip and blushing furiously.
Still grinning at Hermione, Harry turned a bit pink. He couldn’t help feeling a swell of elation at Hermione’s unsolicited praises. Suddenly, without warning, Harry leaned in again and took Hermione’s lips with his own, kissing her steamily.
Hermione’s spark of desire burst into flame and she fell back upon the bed of pine needles, pulling Harry atop her.
Harry’s lips were so busily engaged, his own libido unchained, that it took him a moment to realise that Hermione was tugging off her jeans and knickers... which she was doing with some difficulty as Harry’s legs between her parted thighs were blocking her way. Glancing down, Harry caught an eyeful of Hermione’s exposed pubes and bare hips, feeling himself grow harder.
“Er... you sure about this Hermione. Wouldn’t you like to go inside? It’s starting to snow again.”
“This is perfect, Harry!” Hermione said curtly as she panted. “Now help me!”
Harry grinned again and grasped Hermione’s jeans and knickers which were rucked up near the top of her thighs. Moments later, the bottom half of Hermione was completely nude (excepting her thick woolen socks) and Harry was between her spread legs, trailing kisses up the silky skin of her inner thighs until his lips reached her flushed, dampening slit.
Hermione let out a little moan of pleasure when Harry’s tongue slipped between the inner petals of her humid vulva, seeking out the little button hidden within. She felt a soaring sensation as if she were on the back of Harry’s broom. Moments later, squealing, Hermione’s back arched, her thighs clasping Harry’s tousled head, trembling blissfully.
Harry’s tongue continued its mission and Hermione peaked several more times, reaching new heights of ecstasy with each climax. Hermione quaked. Letting out another squeal of delight, she lost herself to a churning storm of ardour as sparks of magic flew.
Hermione was too giddy to care that the clouds had darkened and the wind had come up, sending a flurry of snow into the hollow under the canopy of the evergreens. Harry was now repeatedly driving his lance into her clasping warm sheath, his own jeans halfway down his thighs.
In a brief moment of lucidity, Hermione managed to undo the front of her parka and tug her jumper and t-shirt above her belly button. Harry grinned, understanding Hermione’s plea. As Harry continued to rock her, his hands slid across the satiny skin of Hermione’s abdomen, slipping under the hems of her t-shirt and sweater.
Rolling around on the bed of pine needles, Hermione found herself atop Harry riding his shaft. The open parka flapped around Hermione's sides as she rode Harry ever more vigorously, his hands under her jumper and shirt kneading her breasts, his fingers gently pinching and tugging her rock hard nipples.
The fervor eventually took Harry and Hermione both. Hermione gasped, bursting ecstatically once more as Harry groaned, releasing his essence into Hermione's depths. The magic exploded, crackling and arcing, lighting up the little alcove under the trees.
Hermione slumped on Harry in a blissful haze, and the pair faded into oblivion.
When Hermione came to, she felt a blast of cold air and snowflakes melting on her heated bare bottom and between her legs as a gust of wind drove the heavy snowfall into the otherwise sheltered clearing under the evergreens. Entwined with Harry, Hermione could still feel him inside her as she stirred.
Hermione shivered from the bitter cold, surprised that she wasn’t half-frozen until she remembered that she was still tattooed with the runes which prevented hypothermia and freezing to death. She slid off Harry’s front and clambered to her feet, sighing to see the layer of snow on her jeans and knickers which lay on the pine needles and underbrush close to the edge of the tree canopy.
Harry stirred and sat up, grinning at his half-naked wife, unable to help feeling another swell of arousal at the sight of Hermione standing there bottomless next to her snowy jeans and underwear. Hermione blushed at his intense gaze, feeling a little thrill herself.
“Too bad Hermione,” Harry chortled. “You’ll just have to hang them up on a branch for a bit and wait. I’ll keep you warm until they dry.”
Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes, half-tempted. There was something strangely exhilarating about the otherwise embarrassing idea of being nude outside in inclement weather with “no other choice” but to wait for clothes to dry.
“Don’t be silly Harry!” she said as she picked up her knickers and shook off the snow. “I’ll just perform a drying charm.”
Hermione giggled when Harry gave her an exaggerated look of disappointment.
“Alright... Fine!” said Hermione, rolling her eyes again, secretly giving in to her own desires. “But only if you get naked too. I’m not going to freeze my arse off by myself.”
“Done!” exclaimed Harry, grinning again as he yanked off his jeans and boxers. And just to show how much he was willing to share in Hermione’s “predicament” he chucked them out into the snow as well...

~o0o~
Minister Umbridge took a sip of tea, considering her options carefully. There had to be a response to Dumbledore’s pirate broadcast of course. The most suitable narrative was that of Dumbledore’s past, previously published in the pages of the Daily Prophet, perhaps presented in a documentary format on the Wiz-Vision. That should help muddy the waters in the minds of the public.
Satisfied with her plan, the Minister took another sip of tea and peered at her list again. The next item on her agenda was what to do about the Dementors. The Ministry had been most fortunate that there had been no scheduled Feeding for the Dementors the night of Dumbledore’s attack upon the Ministry’s Welsh Detention Centre, as Bellatrix had been working at one of the other facilities. Had the Dementors been at that location, Dumbledore would have no doubt destroyed them with his Secret Weapon.
At the moment, the Dementors had returned to the ruins of Azkaban, awaiting the call for another Feeding - sucking out the souls of those that Bellatrix had finished torturing while she prepared herself to kill the prisoners and turn them into Inferi. And twice a week, the Minister had allowed the Dementors to take their leave of Azkaban to roam Britain and Feed from the ambient emotions of the general public.
All things considered, it might be best to disallow the regularly scheduled Soul Feedings at the detention centres and give the Dementors carte blanche to leave Azkaban and rove Britain at will, drawing their sustenance from the emotions of the public as needed. At least then the Dementors wouldn’t all be gathered in one location, presenting themselves as an easy target. They could still be called to the facilities in small groups on an impromptu basis to Feed on Souls whenever Bellatrix was ready with a new batch of broken detainees.
Confident that she had resolved another problem, Minister Umbridge moved on to the next item on her list. The Ministry needed a means of instantaneous communication to coordinate Unspeakables and Aurors engaged in the field. Owls and Memos sent through the Floo System were wholly inadequate for communicating with those in the field conducting operations. It was long past time for the wizarding world to take another step forward, technologically speaking.
Noting the irony, the Minister sighed as she scribbled a memo to send to the Unspeakable Office ordering the procurement of muggle communications devices - specifically, two-way radios and mobile phones - and the immediate formation of a research project to develop equivalent magically based devices. This was a top priority.
Finally, Minister Umbridge scowled as she looked over the reports of several skirmishes between Ministry officials and wizards resisting the registration process. The damage from Dumbledore’s propaganda was already taking effect; more people were digging in and fighting back instead of simply running away and hiding. Hopefully countering Dumbledore’s propaganda would ameliorate some of that...

~o0o~
She wasn’t sure how long they would be in Brazil, but Madam Amelia Bones was beginning to wish she had brought her anti-sunburn ointment as she followed the head of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations and another senior member of the committee, and an assortment of large wizards in crisp, black muggle business suits and dark sunglasses.
They were all in turn following the Brazilian Minister of Magic and his assistant through a crowded beachfront street towards a less populated stretch of the sandy seashore which appeared to have been roped off for VIP’s.
Madam Bones felt a momentary measure of relief from the heat when they passed under the canopy of a Cabana with an open bar. A few musical notes caught Amelia’s ear as she dabbed at her sweaty forehead with her hanky. Amelia glanced at the band playing a bossa nova on a platform by an outside patio at the other end of the Cabana.
“There he is,” said the Brazilian Minister of Magic, gesturing at a stretch of sand halfway between the Cabana and the waterline, “ Minister Tsuchinoko. Just follow me...”

~o0o~
The Japanese Minister of Magic drank in the rays of the heavenly sunlight as he sunned himself on the golden sands of a beautiful stretch of beach not far from Rio de Janeiro, nursing a cocktail with a tiny umbrella sticking out of the glass, his eyes closed. Several sultry young witches - who might as well have been naked for all that their barely-there-bikinis covered the most intimate parts of their plentiful assets - cooed and giggled as they nuzzled, kissed, and caressed him, their fingers and lips trailing along the lines of his elaborate colourful tattoos.
He was basking in the glow of glorious victory. The Japanese International Quidditch team had resoundingly defeated the Brazilian team in their own home stadium the night before, and now he was enjoying the fruits of their Win. His Brazilian hosts had been very gracious indeed, putting him up in their ritziest resort for VIP’s, and making their sexiest Companion-Witches available to him - completely free of charge.
A shadow loomed over the Japanese Minister, blocking the sun, and the tittering of the witches went silent as their soft touch fell away from his skin. The Minister opened his eyes to see what had interrupted his pleasure. He frowned in puzzlement when he spied the Brazilian Minister of Magic peering down at him with a thin smile on his lips.
“Ramón... is this important? Is there a problem?”
“That remains to be seen, Asahara,” the Brazilian Minister replied. “I am merely here to facilitate a meeting. I hope you can forgive me...”
The Japanese Minister clambered to his feet, groaning inwardly, a knot of trepidation forming in his gut when he saw the delegation from the ICW striding across the sand towards him. His two bodyguards scowled, but he kept his own features neutral, unwilling to show weakness.
“I must apologise, my friend,” the Brazilian Minister continued, raising his eyebrows. “But the duties of my station come first - I cannot flout International Law. I suggest that you cooperate fully.”
“But of course...” Tsuchinoko Asahara muttered. He bowed stiffly towards the stern German Witch approaching with another member of her committee, a number of large grim-looking, impeccably groomed wizards wearing dark sunglasses and black muggle suits, and a dour square-jawed witch with a monocle.
“Dame Machschnell, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Minister Tsuchinoko!” Angelika Machschnell returned, politely bowing to the Japanese Minister. “Madam Olubunmi Ogoba the Nigerian delegate to ze ICW - I believe you are both already acquainted. And zis is Madam Bones - formerly Head of ze British Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“Ve are here on a fact-finding mission, and I am hoping that you can tell me vot these vere doing at ze bottom of the Black Lake... They vere discovered after an attempt on Harry Potter’s life during the Tri-Vizard tournament, and recently passed along to our committee... ”
The Head of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations narrowed her eyes shrewdly as one of the black-suited International Aurors accompanying her opened a briefcase. Sure enough, despite Minister Tsuchinoko’s determination to maintain his composure, a slight twitch in the corner of his right eye gave away his recognition of the items, two sais and a throwing star etched with an intricate design.
Another International Auror opened a second briefcase, with somewhat morbid contents: a well preserved severed hand which had formerly been attached to a kappa.
Despite his increasing angst, Minister Tsuchinoko took some satisfaction in the knowledge that there was nothing which tied him directly to the kappa assassination team which he had recommended to Minister Umbridge.

~o0o~
Dora yawned as the filtered grey light of a wintry dawn heralded the arrival of another January morning. The snow was coming down heavily again, piling up on the terrace just on the other side of the French doors. She smiled to herself, sighing in contentment, feeling cozy as she snuggled next to Fleur. But after a while, she reckoned it was time to get up.
As Dora shifted, she felt a soft warm hand give one of her breasts a little squeeze, and Fleur’s silvery lashes fluttered open. Fleur leaned over and gave Dora a wet kiss.
“Bonjour Dora,” whispered Fleur, an eager gleam in her eye. “I also am awake - per’aps you would like some company in ze shower?”
“Er... yeah,” Dora grinned, “that sounds smashing Fleur. Just gimme a minute first.”
A few minutes later, as the steam rose, Dora and Fleur soaped and fondled each other under the hot spray of water. Gasps and moans of delight could be heard over the thrum of the falling water as fingers slipped into wet crevices and hands kneaded ample curves. The pair of young witches both cried out ecstatically, bringing one another to completion.
As they toweled each other off after the shower, there was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Is Dora in there?” asked a muffled voice which sounded very much like Hermione’s.
“It’s alright, you can come in,” said Dora without thinking.
“Would you care to join us?” Fleur tittered when she saw Hermione’s bushy head peeking around the door.
“Oh... er... What?” Hermione sputtered, eyes boggling, reddening with embarrassment as she gaped at the two nude, dripping witches with towels in their hands.
“Sorry Hermione,” said Dora, quickly wrapping her towel around herself. “I just lost my mind for a minute...”
“And I was just teasing,” purred Fleur, who looked like she hadn’t been teasing at all.
“It... it’s quite alright,” Hermione said faintly, trying to ignore the flutter in her middle. “I just came because Sirius is on the mirror for Dora...”
“Oh, alright then,” said Dora, looking slightly puzzled. “Ta Hermione... Tell Sirius I’ll be there in half a tick.”
“Got it,” Hermione replied. “I’ll... er... just be going then.”
Hermione quickly shut the bathroom door and made her way back to the parlour, her face still aflame. Harry looked up with a bemused expression when he spied Hermione’s crimson features.
“What’s up Hermione?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Hermione muttered before leaning in and whispering in Harry’s ear. “I’d really like to play with Harriet tonight.”
Harry grinned. “No problem Hermione. So, is Dora on her way?”
“She’ll be here in just a moment...”

~o0o~
“Blimey!” Dora chortled after Hermione left the steamy bathroom. “‘Would you care to join us?’ ... Really Fleur?”
“And if ‘Ermione had accepted my offer, you would be so disappointed?” Fleur raised her eyebrows and peered at Dora knowingly. Dora flushed and squirmed a bit, her giggles abating.
“Well, she’s married for one thing... bit young... more or less family,” Dora mumbled, not quite meeting Fleur’s eye. “And you and me...”
“...would ‘ave lots of fun, non?” Fleur tittered. “Per’aps if ‘Arriet likes, she may join in too?”
Dora tried desperately to put all such thoughts out of her head as she quickly threw on a pair of jeans and an artfully torn Blondie t-shirt. But when she entered the parlour, there was Hermione, sitting on a sofa next to Harry.
Harry glanced back and forth between Hermione and Dora, who had inexplicably both blushed and quickly avoided each others’ eyes when they spotted each other.
“The mirror’s on the coffee table Dora,” said Harry, standing up and taking Hermione by the arm. “We’ll just leave you to it then.”
Hermione and Dora both gave Harry a grateful look, and both blushed again when they caught each other’s eyes once more. Dora waited until they had both departed the room and took a deep breath to clear her head before picking up the mirror...

~o0o~
“Okay Hermione... Spill! What was that all about?”
“I... er... I walked in on Fleur and Dora together - by accident - they’d just got out of the shower...” Hermione trailed off, leaving it there and hoping that Harry wouldn’t press for more.
Harry smirked a bit, knowing that there must be a bit more to the story. Hermione wouldn’t even look him in the eye; her face was still as red as a fire-engine, and it seemed significant that she wanted him to be Harriet tonight...

~o0o~
Dora lifted the mirror from the shiny spotless coffee table and Sirius’s grinning face came into view.
“Mornin’ Sirius! What’s up?”
“Sorry about this Dora!” The grin was replaced with an apologetic smile. “I’m actually just acting as secretary. There’s someone else here who’d really like a chat with you...”
Dora flushed and groaned inwardly when her parents both appeared in the mirror. She had been hoping to put this off until she had worked out a way to tell her parents that Harry had promised to pay her way until she got her cartoons or music off the ground once this was all over.
“Nymphadora , you look positively radiant,” her mother gushed effusively, taking Dora by surprise. Her father’s face was right next to mum’s, but there was something a bit goofy about his grin when he said, “Hi Sweetie.”
“Oh... er... Hi Mum, Dad!” said Dora, puzzlement crossing her features. “So... What’s goin’ on?”
“Darling, it would be simply delightful if you could visit us tonight,” Dora’s mother beamed. “You can bring your girlfriend. It would be lovely to meet her finally.”
“...Oh... and maybe the Potters would like to join us too,” Dora’s mother added nonchalantly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.
Okay, now Dora knew something was going on! Calling Dora by the hated moniker “Nymphadora” was typical Mum, but Mum almost never ‘gushed effusively’ or ‘beamed’ at anyone unless something was up, and it was as clear as a bell that Mum and Dad were both eager to meet the Potters. Dora bit her lip and her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.
“Er... I’ll ‘ave to check with Harry and Hermione. But I s’pose if they’re game...”
“Oh, wonderful dear!” said her mother enthusiastically. “We shall be dining precisely at seven - just the six of us. So you don’t have to dress too formally...”
Which really meant, “Please dress up and don’t wear your usual rags,” to Dora’s ears; she turned pink when she remembered what she was wearing.
“...Anyway dear, I can’t wait to see you and Fleur and your friends this evening,” her mother continued. “Bye for now! Please don’t be late.”
“Bye Love,” said Dora’s father, who looked relieved that he hadn’t had to say anything. “See you tonight.”

~o0o~
Harry and Hermione both let out sighs of relief when they managed to land on their feet upon their arrival on Black Manor’s front lawn via Portkey with Fleur and Dora. They were all dressed up spiffily (Hermione had helped Harry transfigure some of his clothes with the assistance of Parvati’s and Daphne’s fashion sense), and Harry for some reason felt like he had when he’d almost met Hermione’s father in Diagon Alley.
Harry couldn’t quite get over the impression that he would be under scrutiny, sized up for approval by the parents. But for the life of him, Harry couldn’t work out why. He thought Hermione looked a bit perplexed as well.
Feeling a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach, Dora peered awkwardly at Fleur and the Potters’ anxious faces as they all waded through the snow towards the front door of Narcissa Black’s manor from the portkey arrival site.
“I’m not really sure what’s goin’ on. Sorry guys...” Dora started to say.
“It’s alright Dora,” Harry interjected, making a feeble attempt at putting on a brave face. “I’m really looking forward to meeting your parents,” he fibbed. Perhaps under other circumstances it might have been true, but Dora’s growing anxiety rang alarm bells in Harry’s brain.
“This will be lovely, really!” said Hermione, doing her best to look like she meant it. Like Harry, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this visit than a casual dinner with a friend and her parents. The whole situation had a distinct “meet-the-parents” vibe.
“Oui, mon amour. All shall be well,” Fleur said to Dora, wondering who she was trying to convince more - herself, or Dora. For Fleur, there was no question about it, this was her moment to either impress her girlfriend's parents or fall flat on her face.
They were greeted at the door warmly by Narcissa Black and invited in. Narcissa led them to the parlour in which Andromeda and Ted Tonks awaited the arrival of their daughter. Out of the corner of her eye, Dora spotted Clara and her sister Gemma in one of the other parlours. Clara seemed to be consoling her sister, who looked like she’d been crying.
Thoughts of the Dawson sisters quickly evaporated as Dora approached the entryway and spied her beaming parents on the other side in a small cozy looking parlour with a roaring fire in the hearth. She swallowed nervously as she entered the room.
“Hi Mum, Dad... This is Fleur...” Dora began a round of introductions.
“How lovely to finally meet you, Fleur!” said Mrs Tonks, pulling her into a big hug.
“You as well, Madame Tonks,” Fleur gasped, trying to catch a breath in the tight embrace of Dora's mother.
Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before shaking Mr Tonks’ hand, his heart thumping in his ears. Harry felt somewhat relieved that Mr Tonks seemed happy to meet him. But this time it was the frankly appraising looks he was getting from Mrs Tonks which unnerved Harry the most.
There was definitely something weird going on.
Hermione shared a bewildered look with Harry, having picked up on the puzzling sense of hopefulness from Dora’s mother when Mrs Tonks had swept her into a hug as well.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” said Mrs Tonks cheerily. “Dinner should be served momentarily, but in the meantime, perhaps some wine?”
“Er...Oui, zat sounds vairy nice,” said Fleur, who looked even more anxious than the Potters. Fleur couldn’t be happier to take a few gulps of the French Chardonnay, hoping it would settle her nerves.
Everyone settled in around the little dining table near the window and began chatting amiably about the most innocuous of things while awaiting the arrival of dinner as some light classical music played in the background.
When it arrived, Madam Black’s house-elf served up a fantastic meal, easily worthy of Dobby or the elves at Hogwarts. On his second glass of wine, Harry began to relax, his thoughts drifting as the voices around him faded.
He found himself ruminating on the plight of house-elves again. Wizards of means just took them for granted, when house-elves deserved so much more considering how much they provided for those they served. They at the very least deserved to be able to choose who to work for, and to not be forced magically to obey. It was a place to start anyway.
It was still hard for Harry to reconcile the utter complacency most house-elves felt about their enslavement. Harry had looked up Stockholm Syndrome after Hermione had mentioned it not so long ago, and he reckoned that she was right.
He thought about how unhappy and frightened Winky had seemed at the World Cup, belying her protestations of delight at serving her master. Harry supposed there really wasn’t anything wrong with her working for Crouch - she really seemed to love him. But she deserved to be treated fairly and kindly, like any sentient being.
It wasn’t right that not only was she forced to obey orders which terrified her, she wasn’t even allowed to acknowledge the validity of her own feelings about it. Harry was more determined than ever that one day he and Hermione would somehow work out how to get house-elves more rights without upsetting them...
“...Harry?”
“Hunh?” Harry suddenly snapped out of it when he realised that Mr Tonks was addressing him with an odd gleam in his eyes. Harry glanced at the empty second glass of wine in his hand and decided that he’d had enough.
“Er... Sorry Mr Tonks! What were you saying?”
“Too many distractions, eh?” Mr Tonks said to Harry with a roguish wink.
Dora stopped half-listening to her mother’s gossip, her cheeks turning pink when she heard her father’s off-hand comment. Her chest tightened. Oh no! Here it comes, she thought.
Harry was simply confused. Distractions? Somehow Harry didn’t think Mr Tonks meant absentmindedly pondering future plans for liberating house-elves. And what was with the winking? There was only one thing which made sense. But surely Mr Tonks wasn’t implying...
“So my Dora tells me you actually used your metamorphmagus skills to navigate the Second Task, not Gillyweed,” Mr Tonks continued, looking really impressed. “That takes some real focus, that does. Your Intent must be off the charts!”
“Er... Maybe, I suppose!” Harry replied tentatively with a nervous grin, wondering where this was all leading. “I mean... Sure, it took a bit of focus, but I wouldn’t say it was ‘off-the-charts.’”
“...And so humble.” Mrs Tonks beamed at Hermione. “My dear, your husband is simply delightful!”
Dora’s eyes widened, her breath quickening as panic began scratching wildly at the door to her brain like a terrified puppy frightened of an approaching storm.
Hermione was at a loss. She suddenly felt like she was at a cocktail party in an old black and white film.
“Er... Yes! Harry’s the best!” Hermione squeaked with a slightly strained smile, cringing at the sound of her voice and the lameness of her response.
“And an up and coming quidditch champion perhaps, from what I hear,” chimed in Mr Tonks.
“...And quite a potioneer from what Severus tells us,” added Mrs Tonks. She turned and gave Hermione a look that was both meaningful, and almost uncomfortably warm. “Indeed he tells us you are both some of the most exceptional students he has ever had the pleasure of working with...”
Hermione and Harry both dropped their forks at the same time and gaped, unable to imagine Snape ever using the terms “exceptional students” and “pleasure” in the same sentence. There was no doubt about it now. Mrs Tonks was clearly buttering them up for something.
Dora hid her blazing face in her hands, knowing that the dam was about to burst.
Fleur watched with great interest, the corners of her mouth twitching with mirth, free to enjoy the show now that her own interrogation was over.
Apparently oblivious to all of the expressions and gesticulations of her guests, Mrs Tonks cheerfully barreled on.
“...I can imagine that you’ll both make wonderful parents one day!” Mrs Tonks sighed wistfully. “With your talents, I have no doubt that you’ll both have your pick of careers, providing stability and comfort for your children...”
Dora audibly groaned through the hands still covering her face.
The Potters were now simply stunned into silence. Children was the last thing on their minds; both of them were thrilled at the efficacy of the wizard world’s Contraception Charms and Potions.
“I miss children,” said Mrs Tonks. “Metamorphmagus children can certainly be a handful, but more fun than you can possibly imagine. You might both find that out some day. I hear that the talent actually runs through some families from one generation to the next.
“Anyway, You should have seen our little Nymphadora, such a cherubic little angel and wicked devil all rolled into one. We have some pictures somewhere, in one of our suitcases...”
“Muuuuum!” groaned Dora.
“...I had hoped that one day another little one would join our family.” Mrs Tonks let out another wistful sigh. “Of course that’s just me being selfish though.” She gave her daughter an affectionate motherly look. “I only want my Nymphadora to be happy...”
Dora felt like slamming her head into the table and knocking herself out so she wouldn’t have to listen any more.
“...And I know how happy Fleur makes her...” Mrs Tonks shot Fleur a winning smile.
Dora winced ahead of the bombshell she knew her mother was about to drop.
“...And it’s obvious how happy you two make her as well...”
There it was!
“Mum!” Dora said sharply, dropping her hands from her face to glare at her mother.
The Potters could only continue to listen in horrified fascination, their eyes popping. Fleur covered her mouth, struggling to hold back the laughter.
“...And please don’t worry yourselves that Ted and I won’t understand your relationship with our daughter and Fleur. We are both quite accepting of alternative lifestyles...”
“MUM!” Dora shouted. “That’s enough...”
“...and I can’t tell you both just how happy I am to have a new hope that I may yet have a grandchild,” Mrs Tonks concluded, beaming more cheerfully than ever.
“Wait... You mean... me... I... ” Harry sputtered, finally finding his voice as his head spun, unable to fully comprehend that this was really happening. But Harry’s attempt to clarify whether he was dreaming or not was interrupted.
“OH MY GOD!” Dora fumed. “Shut UP! Harry and Hermione are JUST FRIENDS! I can’t believe you Mum! Where’s this all coming from? Dad, please tell me you’re not in on this...”
“Why, if it weren’t for your father dear, it might have escaped me completely.” Mrs Tonks gave her daughter a sympathetic smile. “Those photos of the Potters and Fleur from the end of the second task - and there you are in some of the photos, right behind them grinning like a little monkey... your closeness with the Potters... your trip to London all together with Fleur... It all makes sense now, and I couldn’t be happier for you!”
“Please stop, Mum!” Dora moaned, glancing at Harry apologetically, then sharing a desperate look with Hermione, and Fleur who was still valiantly fighting a fit of giggles. Mrs Tonks' comments were hitting uncomfortably close to home after the awkwardness between the three young witches that morning; Hermione’s features appeared to be in a race to catch up to Dora’s in redness.
Harry caught the looks and the rosy cheeks. Wondering what the hell had actually happened during the Shower Incident that morning, Harry slumped in his seat and groaned, resigned to whatever fate the Universe had in store for him.
“Now dears, there’s really no need for all of you to make such a fuss or hide it from us,” Mrs Tonks said kindly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “The love you all share is as plain as day now that I see you all together...”
“Oh God! You’re not going to give up are you?” Dora rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in exasperation. “Okay... fine! Believe whatever you want to believe! I’ve ‘ad enough of this...” Dora pushed back her chair and stood up. “I think I’m ready t’go home now. ‘Ow about you guys?”
“Er... yeah!” Harry couldn’t scramble to his feet fast enough. “Er... thanks for dinner!” he said to Dora’s parents.
“It was lovely to meet you both!” Hermione squeaked, wincing again at the sound of her own voice.
“Madame, Monsieur Tonks!” Fleur stood up gracefully and curtsied, a beatific smile on her face. “Thank you so much for your ‘ospitality.”
“Yeah! Thanks for dinner Mum, Dad!” said Dora in a weary, defeated tone of voice. “Love you both!”
Ted and Andromeda Tonks both sighed happily as their daughter departed from the parlour with her companions. Andromeda took out a hanky and dabbed the tears of joy glistening on her cheeks.
“Oh Ted! I think it might really happen. We might really get a grandchild one day!”
“Eh? What’d I tell you then? You believe me now, don’tcha?” Ted waggled his eyebrows at his wife and grinned. “Now that you’ve seen ‘em... ”
“You were right Ted,” Andromeda sniffled. “It’s so obvious when you see them all together. I just... I still can’t get over how much Nymphadora seems so at home with all of them - even Harry Potter.
“I never thought I’d ever see our daughter look at a young man like she looks at her girlfriends. It’s his eyes - you saw them didn’t you Ted? Harry Potter’s eyes? ... They’re just too pretty for words...”
Ted raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit at his wife.

~o0o~
“Bloody Hell! I can’t believe it!” Harry muttered as the four of them trudged back through the snow to the portkey departure point, his face blazing like a furnace. “I can’t bloody believe it!” he repeated.
Harry peered beseechingly at Dora. “Your mum actually wants me to get you pregnant? ... I’m only fifteen!”
Dora hid her face in her hands, moaning, “I’m so sorry Harry! I swear... I ‘ad no idea that was gonna happen!”
Fleur was laughing uncontrollably now that she was outside and no longer had to restrain herself; she was laughing so hard that she had to stop and clutch at a stitch in her side.
Hermione felt all of a jumble - finding herself torn between laughter, embarrassment, and anxiety. She gave Harry a sympathetic smile and curled an arm around his waist...

~o0o~
Amelia Bones adjusted her monocle while Dumbledore poured them both a cup of tea in his office. She had spent two days in Brazil and was eager to get things under way. After taking a few sips of tea, Amelia began.
“It was quite apparent that the Japanese Minister of Magic knew much more than he let on. Unfortunately, the ICW does not have enough to charge him with any crimes, nor to compel him to reveal any more information about Dolores’s connection to the Kappa Kill Team.”
“That is a shame indeed,” Dumbledore sighed and nodded. “But not entirely unexpected.”
“Quite!” Madam Bones replied drily. “However, he did not deny the connection outright, but rather, indicated that Dolores may have approached wizards associated with the Yakuza for referral to the assassins... which is nonsense of course!”
“Of course!” agreed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Amelia was thoroughly in her element when engaged in uncovering a mystery.
“I have no doubt that Minister Tsuchinoko himself provided Dolores with the contacts necessary for hiring the Kill Team,” Amelia continued. “Regardless, he at least gave us enough to track down the assassins sent to kill Mr Potter. Once the International Auror Office has them in hand, the assassins should be able to provide direct evidence that Dolores - or someone closely associated with her - hired them.
“The evidence collected by the Potters and their friends is being sifted through by the Committee. The most damning of all, will of course be the direct testimony being provided by those imprisoned at the compound... I will be taking a trip to Japan for the next few days to follow up the leads on the Kappa, but Kingsley and I will be heading to Brussels again next week, this time with Ms Mason to provide evidence of collusion with the muggle Prime Minister. If all goes to plan, the Committee will be able to bring a Motion to the floor of the ICW to issue an International Arrest Warrant for Dolores within the next four to six weeks.”
Satisfaction crossed Dumbledore’s countenance as he listened to Amelia’s report.
“Excellent!” he said with another nod. “In the meantime, we can continue to focus our own efforts on countering the Minister’s forces here at home...”
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Moments in Love