Shadow Walks |h.p/h.g|

ch. 22

The Great Hall was crowded, and the low glow of candlelight flickered just above everyone's heads. Harry felt the weight of every single eye in the room, and it made him shift uncomfortably. Somewhere in the cavernous room, a camera flashed, and he reflexively flinched. The Headmistress was speaking, but her words rushed past his ears without meaning, like the gurgle of a brook.

Instead, he sought out Hermione. She's beautiful, he thought, but it went beyond the golden highlights of candle-shine on her hair, beyond the way her eyes moved over the familiar features of the room with a comfortable air. She was shining, a radiant look of peace on her face, and Harry allowed himself to think proudly, I did that.

He looked at Ron and Luna in turn, also present on this special day. Luna was tucked under Ron's shoulder, and had some kind of fluffy looking wildflower perched precariously behind one ear. Harry thought he spied a bit of root hanging down, and surmised that Luna had plucked it from the Hogwarts' grounds as she came in. Ron winked and smiled, and raised his goblet in a kind of silent toast to his best friend.

Harry saw Hermione notice the gesture, and nearly laughed at the way her eyebrows came rushing together in the center of her forehead. Ron set the glass down so quickly that liquid sloshed over the rim, and Harry saw his mouth move,

"It's butterbeer, I swear."

Harry smothered a smile, the contortion of his face occurring simultaneously with the concluding segment of McGonagall's announcement, as she swept one arm backwards in presentation of him. He swallowed awkwardly, and tried to force his expression into something a little more natural.

"...though he needs no introduction, I am proud to present to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Mr. Harry Potter."

The Hall was awash in thunderous applause, as Harry half-stood and reclaimed his seat at teacher's table on the dais as quickly as possible. Seated at the nearest part of the Gryffindor table, Ron, Luna, and Hermione had come to their feet first, followed by the rest of the student body. It seemed to Harry that the Slytherin table did so in a decidedly reluctant fashion.

"He will be making his home here in the castle, along with his lovely wife, formerly Miss Hermione Granger..." There was something slightly misty in the Headmistress's eyes, as she looked fondly down on her former pupils. "... who will be pursuing a Charms Mastery under apprenticeship to myself and Professor Penhallow." The Charms teacher who had replaced Flitwick inclined his head and lifted his glass toward McGonagall.

Harry was no longer truly listening, his attention having drifted at the phrase, his lovely wife...

It was the start of term at Hogwarts, and over a year had passed since Hermione's miraculous return.

Things had been awkward between the members of the Trio at first, as they hesitantly tried to figure out how to reconstruct what had been lost and incorporate it into what now existed. Ron had been tentative, walking on eggshells around Hermione mostly, and when he had needled her, it had been done gently, as if he were more than half-afraid that he'd infuriate her right out of their universe. One morning, he had finally said something catty about her hair and insulted her coffee, and she had startled the life out of him, by hugging him fiercely in response. Things were more like old times between them after that.

For Harry, the declaration between himself and Hermione had been the elephant in the room, as he'd battled the shriek in his head, it's too soon! and the desire that welled within him to drag her down to the Ministry and marry her posthaste.

After approximately six weeks of further waffling, Hermione had finally thrown down the gauntlet by surprising him in his bed one night, wearing very little.