Harry and Hermione walked into the Gryffindor tower, going towards their portrait. Harry was so happy that he couldn't wait until he saw his children and play with them. Hermione, who seemed a bit perplexed after she and Harry left the tent from the First Task, kept muttering something. He couldn't fully understand it, but it sounded something like "the twins," "something..." "They can't be hurt…" and other things he couldn't quiet understand.
He was tempted to ask her what she was muttering about, but decided against if after Hermione suddenly brightened up and kissed him. Though, he still wasn't sure why she had been muttering.
"Prem," they said in unison. The portrait swung open, and they walked in to see a teary eyed Dobby. Hermione ran straight into the twins' room, thinking something disastrous had happened. Harry ran towards Dobby and hunkered to his size.
"Dobby, what happened?" He asked quietly, putting a hand on his bony shoulder. Dobby just wailed and sat down, wiping the flowing tears from his eyes.
"D-Dobby b-bee-been bad e-elf," the poor creature wailed. Harry took some of his rags, and started wiping the tears off of his face.
"Dobby, I'm sure that you did nothing bad." His voice somewhat placated the house-elf. "Now please, tell me what happened."
Dobby, getting up and wiping his face, started walking into the nursery, where they saw Hermione staring at the dome, holding Lillian. Harry looked at her, confused, wondering why there was a dome hovering around his son's crib. He walked over, and picking up his son (who was currently playing with his fingers), he walked over to Dobby.
They led the house-elf to the couch, and sitting down on it, he asked Dobby once again.
"I-I bur-burneded Headmaster Dumbly!" he wailed.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and then down at the twins. What did they mean he burned Dumbledore? Did he want the twins?
"Dobby," Hermione said softy, "can you tell us everything that happened, please?"
Dobby nodded and proceeded to tell Harry and Hermione the story. He told them about how Dumbledore came inside, asking for the children. After a few minutes of balling, he told them about how Dumbledore started heading towards the children, but Dobby stood his ground, saying that no one except the people who said they could see (which was only Harry, Hermione, and Dobby), but Dumbledore refused to listen. He told them about how Dumbledore started walking towards them, and Dobby put up the barriers, burning a few of his fingers.
"Okay, I've heard enough!" Harry nearly shouted. He was too pissed, he need to take out some of frustration. He walked over to the nursery and put his son gently back into the crib, and walked out.
He saw Dobby still teary eyed, and Hermione with tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching her daughter tightly, as if afraid to let her go.
He started pacing, suddenly full of energy that was just waiting to be let loose.
"Why? Why the fuck would Dumbledore do… why the fuck…" He shouted to no one in particular. He suddenly ran towards his Firebolt (which was sitting atop on a case which was hanging on the wall near his desk) and took it roughly, not noticing Hermione flinch at his roughness.
"Harry," Hermione shouted, walking up to him, Lillian still in her arms.
"What?" he said rudely.
"Don't speak to me in that matter, Harry James," she snapped. She certainly wasn't in the mood to be talked to in that matter. Harry sighed, forcing himself to calm down a bit. "Harry," she started again, "don't do anything you'll regret later on." She went to touch him arm, but ended up putting her arms around her daughter a bit more securely when the father suddenly burst.
"DON'T DO ANYTHING I'LL REGRET LATER?!" He shouted, not noticing what Hermione had just done. "HERMIONE, HE JUST TRIED TO KIDNAP OUR CHILDREN! AND YOU'RE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN!" He laughed maniacally. "I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I AM GOING TO KILL THAT BASTARD!" he shouted. Lily started crying, and he could hear a faint whimper from the nursery. But Harry paid no attention to that; he was too pissed to even register what he had done.
Hermione walked quietly into the nursery and quieted her child down. She placed Lily into the crib, and then quieted James down, and placed him back. She sighed, not knowing how to soothe her overly frustrated boyfriend, and walked out of the room and back towards Harry.
"Dobby, do you think you could bring back a cold washcloth and maybe some hot tea?" Hermione asked politely. She absolutely hated asking Dobby—actually any house-elf for that matter—to do something for her, but it was necessary right now.
Dobby nodded, and with a snap of his fingers, he popped away.
Hermione walked towards her boyfriend and placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He just shrugged it off and walked to the couch, landing on it with a bit thump. Harry was too pissed to even be calmed down by his girlfriend. He thought that when he and Hermione had gone to the first task, nothing would happen to his children. Oh, how wrong he was.
He sighed and ran a rough hand through his raven locks. He just wasn't sure what to do anymore. A large part of his brain was shouting to kill the old bastard, but then again, the tiny, minuscule part of his brain was nearly whispering "no, this isn't right. It's wrong." Though he knew that killing him outright would be horrible; a well thought out plan would work.
He mentally chuckled. He and well thought out plans did not work together. Though, he did have a pretty—
"Harry?" Hermione said quietly, hoping not to anger him any further.
He looked up at her; her shoulder was tear stained, though that was most likely from his daughter's tears; her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks tear stained. To any other person, she'd look like a down right mess, but to Harry, he looked like a sad child.
Anger fading away, he held out his arms, beckoning her to join him. She tearfully smiled and went into his arms, burying her face in his chest. She sat there contently, just enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. He, though, was thinking madly, debating whether or not to kill Dumbledore, or spare his life. He knew that, because of Dumbledore, his children were here in the first place. He loved his children very much, but he was much too young to become a father. He could've waited until he and Hermione got married, at least. But apparently Dumbledore had other plans. He certainly hoped that Dumbledore would never pull a stunt like that again, though he wasn't too sure himself. And when Dumbledore tried to kill him, he'd partially forgiven him (since a small part of his brain decided that he actually deserved to be yelled at). Though, being hit with the curse was not necessary. What really pissed Harry, though, was what really pissed him off, was the fact that Dumbledore tried to kidnap his children.
He decided to give his throbbing brain a rest and rest for some time (the First Task had really taken a lot out of him, and he hadn't noticed until just recently). He looked down and noticed that Hermione was sleeping; he decided that some sleep would do them both good. He gently pushed her to the side a bit, and put one hand behind her back and the other under her knees. With that, he picked her up and started walking towards their room.
Just before he got there, Dobby decided to pop back in.
"Mister Harry Potter sir and his miss sleep now?" he asked uncertainly, silver tray behind him.
"Yeah, we're really knackered. You could just leave that on the table or something," said Harry, walking towards their bedroom again.
"Does Mister want Dobby to watch over little Potter babies?" Dobby asked, eyes widening in anticipation.
"No, Dobby, you don't have to watch them. It's okay, really." Harry watched as Dobby gave a small, sad smile and popped away.
Harry walked into their room and gently placed Hermione on the bed, anger now completely gone. He took off her shoes and placed them on the floor. He wondered if she was still comfortable, though. Wearing jeans to bed wouldn't be quiet comfortable. In the end, Harry decided, Hermione should be comfortable. He went over to her dresser and looked through the drawers (lingering in the underwear drawer), and brought out sweat pants and a cotton shirt. He walked over to Hermione and wondered how he was going to change her without waking her up.
Finally, after nearly ten minutes (and nearly waking up Hermione four times), he got Hermione undressed and redressed. By the time he had finished with Hermione, he was just about ready to plop on the bed and welcome the darkness that lay beneath his eyelids, but fought against it, for he still had to change himself. He quickly took out some shorts (not caring if it were the middle of November) and a long-sleeved shirt. He went into bed and nestled himself under the warm covers, and got closer to Hermione, wrapping his arm around her waist.
0—0—0—0
The plan was perfect; it'd surely work. Today, when he had talked to the Kelsey, a Gryffindor first year, she instantaneously agreed to help him.
He planned on giving the same potion he gave to Hermione, again, but this time, to Harry and Hermione both. Once they would take the potion, they'd forget about their children and go on, exercising their own needs. But, that wasn't all; once their twins were left unguarded by their loyal parents, he'd be able to murder them. Once Harry and Hermione would notice their children were missing, they'd instantly go to him, demanding to know where their children were. But, that wasn't the best part; the best part was after he killed their children; he'd be able to kill Harry and Hermione. Seeing them in such a venerable state would surely give him the advantage of killing them.
He smiled happily to himself; his plan was nearly perfect. Dobby, Dumbledore made sure, had enormous amounts of work that day, making sure that he wasn't allowed to listen to anyone until his duties were finished.
Once the potion was finished, his plan would go into motion.
After a few more minutes of quiet thinking, Dumbledore heard a knock on his office door.
"Come in," Dumbledore said politely, moving away from his unfinished potion to the desk chair.
McGonagall strode in, a furious look on her face.
"Why haven't you expelled Ginevra Weasley yet?" she asked, temper flaring. Ever since this morning, she'd been curious as to why Dumbledore hadn't expelled the youngest Weasley.
"Because," Dumbledore said, completely unfazed by the tone of her voice, "I believe that Mister Malfoy was just playing yet another prank. Though, this one has gone much too far. I believe that I might have to-" started Dumbledore, but was interrupted by a furious McGonagall.
"Mister Malfoy did no such thing, Albus." Her tone was harsh. "Mister Malfoy, actually, presented me with a small vial which contained the potion. I honestly do not believe that he'd do such a thing to Harry, even if they are enemies." Her eyes narrowed at the aging man, as if challenging him to contradict what he said.
"Yes, that is precisely why Mister Malfoy would pull such a dangerous stunt." He was fully aware of the truth; however, Miss Weasley could be of some use in the future. "I believe that Mister Malfoy did this because he wished to make Mister Potter's (McGonagall looked oddly at him for calling Harry, 'Mister Potter') life even more miserable at school." He looked at McGonagall, eyes twinkling away. She quickly drifted her gaze. "Don't you see, Minerva? He wished to get in the way of true love. As my duty of Headmaster, I could not let him do such a thing. So, I did not expel Miss Weasley, for she was framed." He smiled slightly at her expression.
"Albus, I know that Harry does not love Miss Weasley. If he had loved her, why would he have two children with another woman right now?" she asked. She looked past his shoulder and saw a cauldron with a potion brewing in it. She wondered, if this was the potion Harry and Hermione mentioned about earlier.
"The answer is quiet simple, Minerva: Miss Granger simply seduced young Harry into having sexual intercourse. And in doing that, she got pregnant; furthermore, knowing the kind nature of Harry, he'd never leave her side. So, I conclude-"
"Albus!" she exclaimed. "This is not an essay; it's about real lives!" Her eyes were nearly flaring. Seeing the potion just added fuel.
"Yes, I know what you're trying to say, Minerva. Though, I'm sorry to say that I shall not be expelling Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said calmly.
McGonagall sighed; she was going to have to take things in her own hands. She gave another murderous glare towards Dumbledore and turned around, slamming the office door shut.
0—0—0—0
"He could've died!" Ginny exclaimed, walking into Gryffindor tower. She, Ron, Fred, and George all sat in various spots on the couch and armchair.
"Your point?" said Ron lamely. Quiet frankly, he could care less if Potter died.
Fred and George looked at each other oddly. Why was Ron acting like this? Was he not Harry's best mate?
"Ron-"
"Brother-"
"Insufferable rodent we were forced to live with-"
"Good one, Fred."
"Why thank you, George."
"Get to the point already!" Ginny and Ron exclaimed. Sometime having twin brothers was tiring.
"Why is it that you said you could care less if Harry, your best mate, could've died?" Fred asked, slight smirk upon his pale face.
"Because he wasn't thinking," Ginny answered quickly, glaring at her brother.
"Mmhmm," George said, looking at the two skeptically.
"Sure," Fred said, extending the "u" for a ridiculous amount of time.
"Shut up!" the two exclaimed. "Fred, George, can you leave us alone? I need to talk to someone, privately," Ginny said, glaring at her brother.
Fred and George looked at each other, as if contemplating the question, and then they nodded. They got up and said, "Don't worry, baby sis. We'll leave now, but remember, we have ears everywhere. You can't hide anything from us." They grinned at the expressions on their sister and brother. They grinned at each other and then went out, leaving the two youngest Weasley's to the "privacy."
"Did you hear Mum's howler?" Ginny asked quietly, hoping that she wouldn't be overheard.
Ron snorted. "Of course I did. Who didn't? I mean, the whole bloody school must've heard it."
Ginny's eyes widened in horror, "What… What if… What if Harry and Hermione heard it?"
"You mean… if… oh bloody hell," Ron muttered, burying his face into his pillow.
"That means they must know…" She looked thoughtful for a moment, but then exclaimed, "What if they weren't there? What if they-"
"Ginny, stop playing the "what if" game. They were there, I saw them." His voice was muffled by the pillow.
She deflated almost instantly. Now she had no idea how she'd get her Harry back. Ron, too, was contemplating on how he'd get his precious Hermione back.
Little did they know that two ears were plastered behind the armchair…
0—0—0—0
After a few hours of peaceful resting, Harry finally awoke. He looked to his right and saw Hermione sleeping peacefully. He grinned and rolled on top of her, putting half of his weight on his hands and nestled his legs in between hers.
He started kissing her nose, cheeks, eyelids, ears, wherever he could find. Her eyes fluttered open, and chocolate met emerald. She smiled and then noticed that Harry was on top of her.
"Harry, why are you on top of me?" Hermione asked quietly, bringing her hands up to encircle his neck.
"Because," he said before kissing her lips.
She smiled against his lips and brought him closer. He parted their lips slightly, and slid his tongue into her hot, wet mouth. She moaned slightly as his tongue started exploring her mouth. Harry brought one arm down and rested it on her hip, while the other entangled itself in her mane of bushy hair. They tongues dueled, each raking each other's for victory. Harry's hand went towards the hem of her shirt, and he started pulling at it. Just as he was about to take it off of her, Hermione abruptly stopped kissing him.
"What?" he asked, nuzzling her neck, planting kisses on her throat.
"D-don't you t-think w-we're just a bit t-too young to be having s-sex again?" Hermione asked, moaning slightly as his tongue flicked out, kissing, biting, and sucking on the column of her neck.
"How exactly is that? We've already got two kids, everyone knows what we did," Harry said, immediately going back to her neck.
"But still, we're only fourteen." She moaned again as his hand found her breast. "How-how about till we're, um, fifteen?" she asked, moaning even louder as Harry squeezed her breast, his mouth never leaving his torture on her throat.
He stopped kissing her neck, though his hand never left her breast, and said, "I-I guess we could do that… It's only one year, though, why wait?" He asked quietly, getting off her and lying on his back.
"I-I'm sorry, Harry. I guess, I gu—I guess I'm just not ready yet," she said quietly.
Suddenly, Harry jumped out of bed and started shouting. "What do you mean you're not ready? We've already had sex before, what's the difference this time?"
"Harry, we very well know that I was under the influence of the potion at the time of-" she started, but was cut off by Harry, who was furious by now.
"So what you mean to tell me is that you only stuck around because you got pregnant? You don't want to have sex again?" He shouted,
"Harry, don't twist my words around-"
"Don't 'Harry' me!" He shouted, pointing a finger at her.
"Harry, just-"
"What 'just'? What do you want me to do, Hermione? Just stick around, thinking that you actually loved me?" asked Harry, not realizing what he had just said.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione shouted, temper getting the better of her. Good thing that the twins' door was closed, otherwise they would've been crying by now. "Don't you ever accuse me of not loving you! It was your fault you got me pregnant, too, you know!
Don't think, just because we haven't had sex since they were conceived, that I don't love you!" She shouted, advancing on him.
"Then why the fuck won't you have sex!?" Harry asked, crossing his arms around his chest.
"You know what, Harry James?! If you want sex, here, have it." She started taking off her shirt, then her pants, bra, and lastly, her underwear. She wore nothing in front of him, except her socks.
"I don't want sex anymore," he muttered, walking out of the room.
"HARRY JAMES!" She shouted, sliding down the wall, tears threatening to fall.
Harry walked into the common room and sat on the couch. He knew that he was just being selfish, wanting to have sex, but he really loved Hermione. Did age really matter?
Apparently, he thought miserably.
He knew that he was going to sleep on the couch tonight, and probably for the rest of the week, but he didn't care. He felt that he deserved every bit of it.
Hermione walked out a few minutes later, fully clothed, and silently went into the nursery. Harry, in the midst of the fight, hadn't thought about their children. He quickly went into the nursery to make sure they were alright. Hermione was in there, picking up James (who was giggling at the sight of Hermione's hair), and only said six words to Harry: "You're sleeping on the couch tonight." With that, she calmly left the room, leaving Harry and his daughter alone.
He walked over to the pink crib, and gazed down at his daughter. She was staring at him, as if in awe. Her emerald orbs were wide, staring at God knows what, and her hands were curled up in fists. He smiled slightly, anger ebbing away, and picked up his child. God, he didn't regret a day that he spent with his children.
When he was younger, having children at such a young age would seem scandalous, but now he couldn't imagine a day without them.
And that was what mattered. With his children and Hermione (though they were currently fighting), Harry could get through anything.