I hope our story has a happier ending

who is in control

Hermione and Harry lay on their backs across from each other, sprawled across the seats on opposite sides of the train car.

"Can you imagine if you'd told us a year ago this is where we'd be?" Harry grins at her. "It's Christmas and I'm happy to be going home. And you're coming with me. And we can eat whatever is in the kitchen whenever we want and we'll be able to sleep at home. I'll never get used to it—I wake up every morning expecting to be back under the stairs."

It's so brutally honest; the kind of thing he can't say to anyone else, because they'd be horrified.

(But he and Hermione have always understood each other—understood the light that gets one through the darkness.)

"Honestly that's how I feel most days at Hogwarts," she agrees. "We'll be old and grey and I still won't believe it's real."

Harry turns onto his side to face her. "You know they won't kick us out, right? I—I feel like that's part of why you work so hard, why you don't let yourself have any off days. But unless you plan on murdering another student, you're guaranteed your wand."

"I—rationally I know that." Hermione bites her lip. "And I want to believe it. But Harry, I'm muggleborn. The way Death Eater families talk, the way people like Barty Crouch think...well, you took muggle history same as I did. You know about the Holocaust, about prejudiced legislature in America. That ideology's power could very well jeopardize my place in the magical world if push comes to shove."

Harry narrows his eyes. "We'll do whatever we have to—if it comes down to it, Sirius will kidnap you, and blood traitor or no he's still sacred 28."

Her laugh rings through the compartment. "I do appreciate the offer for abduction. I very well might take you up on it if the need arises."

Ginny comes in a few minutes later, lifting Hermione's head long enough to sit down before letting it lay on her lap.

(it feels right, when they're all together—dark and twisty souls that understand each other.)

"Bill's coming home for Christmas," Ginny announces, smile blinding. "He can't wait to meet you both."

"Even though I'm an attention seeking twelve-year-old stealing his soulmate's limelight?"

Hermione snorts. "Harry, I'm sure the sibling Ginny and the twins look up to the most knows better than to believe a single thing Rita Skeeter writes."

"Also, you're my friend, and Fleur adores you. And he trusts the two of us over anyone else in the world." Ginny's assurance soothes him.

But Hermione's heated, now. "The nerve of that woman—exposing Hagrid, publicizing personal details for no reason just to cause a stir and make people pay attention to her. She's getting this information from somewhere—and my guess is that it's illegal. I'm going to figure her out."

"Little vindictive there, Mia?" Harry teases.

"Not hardly. Anyone who gets that kind of sick satisfaction from exploiting those who are vulnerable needs to be stopped."

It's only the beginnings of an idea—wisps of theories of how the bloodthirsty journalist does it. Bits and pieces of plans of how to stop her.

(Rita has no idea the war she's started.)

/

Spending the holiday at Andromeda's...it's pretty much the best three weeks of Hermione's life.

Professor Lupin—Remus, he keeps reminding her he's just Harry's uncle Remus, now—is around for scintillating conversation.

She can see how he and Sirius fit so well together—Remus knows the pain of a fucked up family, too, but he's rational and gentle in all the ways Sirius is righteous and impassioned.