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Her Bound Heart Chapter 19.
🕑 Added 2024-04-04 15:10:03 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: Teasing.
“Let’s go over the instructions one more time.”
Hermione frowned. She didn’t like the idea of following Harry’s rules (a first for her, she had to admit) but she knew the alternative was probably having to stay back while he fetched the portkey alone. She gently massaged her bare neck, sorely missing the safety and security her collar had provided.
“Stick close to you. No wandering around. If you tell me to run, I run. If I have to run, I go straight to the address you gave me, nowhere else,” Hermione parroted.
“Do you remember the address?”
“I got six O’s in my NEWTs, Harry Potter. That address was two lines. What do you think?”
Harry laughed and kissed her pouty lips.
“I can never be too careful, especially when it comes to your safety.”
He pulled away from her and walked up to the bed, raising his eyebrow at the sight of the cloak arranged on it. They were both dressed in comfortable t-shirts and jeans, but he insisted she wear a cloak for extra safety. She had told him she wanted to choose the cloak, and while suspicious of her request, he had allowed her to pick something from their trunk. He reached down and ran his fingers along the edge of the soft cloak.
“You just changed its color,” Harry murmured, studying the blood-red cloak.
“Did you expect me to do something else?”
“Honestly, I expected you to ruin every cloak in the trunk. You’ve been in a decidedly bratty mood ever since we came to Albania and you made it clear you didn’t want to wear a cloak.”
“You’re the one who needs to hide his identity, sir. Not me. But I know when to stop testing your patience,” Hermione smiled. “I may not like all your orders but I never want to be the reason you worry, Harry.”
Harry’s lips twitched as he picked up the cloak and gently wrapped it around her neck. Despite all her worries, she was already settling into her future role as Lady Potter. He wondered how she did it. Submissive, yet perfectly comfortable standing by his side as his partner.
His hands ran over her gentle curves as he smoothened the cloak before reaching up and pulling the hood over her head.
“Can you get me the basket, please?” Hermione requested in a sultry whisper.
“Basket?”
She silently pointed to the wicker basket on the nightstand.
Harry raised an eyebrow. He walked over to grab the basket and handed it to her.
“Why do you want one?” he asked, watching her fix it on her arm.
“For Crookshanks!” Hermione replied brightly. She struck a pose and her lips curled into an impish smile. “How do I look?”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. With her white shirt, red cloak, and the basket on her arm, she looked like a character straight out of his favorite fairy tale.
“Brat,” he growled. He rested his forehead against hers and reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his hand.
“No,” Hermione giggled. “I’m Red Riding Hood. And you’re my big bad wolf,” she murmured, tilting her head to kiss him. “Fairy tales have a happy ending, sir. That means no matter what happens, you have to come back to me,” she whispered against his lips.
“I will. Always.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Harry pulled away from her with a sigh.
“We’re already late. As much as I hate to leave this room without truly exploring it-”
“It’s too close to that forest for comfort,” Hermione finished for him. “And the Ministry needs to know he has returned. Don’t worry, you can bring me here for our honeymoon,” Hermione grinned. She walked over and wrapped her arm around his waist, watching him stuff their luggage into the small pouch she had enchanted to be larger on the inside. “I’ll let you do anything you want for three days.”
“Dangerous words, Miss Granger.”
“Need to give you something to hold onto, sir.” She tightened her hold around his body. “I sometimes wonder if you’d have hired me that day I stumbled into your office if you knew how things would turn out.”
“Mione?”
“Yes, sir?” Hermione asked, her eyes closed to stop tears from falling. She was afraid. Not for herself, but for him and the future she now knew was possible. Fate had always been cruel to her. Was it now showing her happiness, true happiness; only to snatch it away?
“If I was a seer and could see into the future, the only thing I would change from that day… I would have asked you to be my girlfriend, my partner, my submissive.” Harry turned and kissed her forehead. “You’re my queen, Hermione Granger. I was mistaken to think you could ever be something as simple as just another sugar baby.”
Hermione shivered in his arms. Queen. She was his queen. She forgot the danger they were in and spent a few seconds basking in his praise.
How does he always know the perfect thing to say?!
Harry reluctantly pulled away from her and held out the pouch for her. He watched as she fixed it around her neck, carefully pushing it under her cloak for safekeeping.
“Ready?”
Hermione reached out and clasped her hand in his. She interlaced their fingers and gave him a nervous smile.
“Ready.”
They exited the room and walked down the stairs. Hermione grinned when she saw Harry discreetly wave his wand behind his back to create the illusion of him dragging their suitcase down the stairs.
“Do you think the people working in this hotel will be in danger?” she whispered as they exited the stairs and made their way to the hotel’s reception.
“I doubt it,” Harry murmured. “Voldemort wouldn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself until he’s strong enough to challenge the Ministry. Between the Azkaban breakout and us escaping the forest last night…” Harry trailed off as they approached the receptionist’s desk. He smiled at the peppy blonde and requested to settle their bill, leaving her a generous tip for her helpfulness.
Hermione left his side and quickly walked down to the pet room to fetch Crookshanks. She smiled at Harry when she returned and showed him the basket.
“Will he be alright with the cloth?” Harry asked, glancing at the blue and white sheet covering the basket.
“Yes. I’ve charmed it to be bigger on the inside. Crookshanks has all the space he needs,” Hermione whispered when she leaned up to kiss his cheek.
Harry accepted his copy of the bill, carelessly tucked it into his pocket, and pulled away from the desk.
“I’ll ask father to get one of his Albanian contacts to keep an eye on the hotel for a few days,” Harry murmured as they exited the hotel to assuage her fears. He smiled politely at the grinning man who was waiting for them next to the cab. Harry deftly dodged out of the way when their driver reached out to grab the illusionary suitcase. “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep it in the boot myself. Can you open it for me?”
“Of course, sir,” the man said with a tiny bow.
Harry grinned at the sight of Hermione’s playful pout and walked over to go through the motions of placing the nonexistent suitcase in the boot of the old car. He relaxed once the driver slammed the lid shut, letting go of the charm keeping the illusion alive.
Hermione nuzzled against him the minute they were in the cab.
“The capital, please. We’re in a hurry so there’s an extra twenty pounds in it for you if you can get us there in less than three hours,” Harry said before raising the plastic privacy divider.
“Do we need a privacy charm as well?” Hermione whispered.
“Only if you feel the need for one. I don’t intend to talk about anything other than my deep and abiding affection for you, kitten.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped his chest.
“We need to make plans.”
“No, we don’t,” Harry countered quietly. “He was in my head last night, darling. Dad, Sirius, and you need to make plans. Until I can figure out a way to keep him out, all of you need to keep me in the dark. I’m not handing him our entire strategy on a silver platter next time we meet.”
“How did he do that?”
“Legilimency, probably. But that would make him the strongest Legilimens I have encountered. I will need to meet Professor Dumbledore once we’re back in Britain. He knows more about Legilimency and Occlumency than anyone else on the island.” Harry rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He smiled when Hermione shifted her head to his chest. “I’ll figure something out. I was never great at Occlumency but I think with enough practice I can learn to keep him out of my mind,” Harry whispered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her closer and took comfort in the warmth emanating from her petite body.
“What about your scar?”
“What about it?” Harry murmured.
“It hurt the entire time you were in his presence. Don’t you think it’s odd?”
Harry opened his eyes slowly and nodded.
“It was, but I can only worry about so many things at a particular time, Mione.” Harry bent and brushed his lips against her brown curls. “My best guess? He gave it to me and he can make it hurt.”
“Can you please get it checked out at Mungo’s?”
“My father consulted the best specialists when I was a child. They couldn’t find anything except traces of residual dark magic.”
“Can you get yourself checked out again? Healers have made tremendous progress in purifying rituals in the last ten years,” Hermione pleaded, trembling in his arms. She captured her lower lip between her teeth and chewed on it worriedly, disturbed about the possibility of her beloved having a trace of the Dark Lord with him for the rest of his life. “Maybe they’ll find something the experts missed when you were a child. We know how the scar works now.”
“Okay,” Harry said, glancing down and realizing she would not be deterred. “When we get back I’ll drop in at Mungo’s and get myself checked the first chance I get.”
“Thank you.” Hermione turned her head and kissed his chest right over his heartbeat.
“Can you do something for me?”
“Anything,” Hermione replied without hesitation.
“I need you to think of a plan. Wizengamot is deeply divided and Fudge is useless,” Harry muttered, making a face. The worst kind of man was their leader during a critical moment. “Voldemort is going to take advantage of our disunity. Father is trying to replace Fudge but it won’t occur fast enough to make a difference.”
“Who will replace him?”
“We don’t have a candidate in mind. Right now, we’re trying to get enough votes to impeach him so we don’t have to wait until the next election.” Harry turned his head to look out the window. They were speeding down an empty road and the trees of the forest on either side of them were merely a green blur.
“Who is the one person whose authority nobody will dare to question?”
“Dumbledore. But he’s turned down the position twice. The man runs from power like I run from celery,” Harry said with a dry chuckle.
“Maybe the news of what happened last night will convince him to change his mind?”
“Maybe. I’ll bring it up with him during our meeting. For now, I need you to think of everything we need to do. Concentrate on the tasks that are feasible without the Ministry’s support.”
Hermione’s thoughts immediately wandered over to her tormentor in Hogwarts.
“First, we need to make sure Mal-”
“No, don’t tell me,” Harry hissed urgently. “I cannot know, remember?”
Hermione nodded reluctantly. It would be the first time she’d be keeping secrets from him since they got together and it didn’t sit right with her. But the palpable panic she could feel through their connection didn’t feel right either. Suddenly she wished they were back to the heady days when she was his princess and he was her dominant, and the only thing of consequence she had to worry about was deciding which kink she wanted to explore.
They passed the rest of the ride in silence. Harry stared out of the window for the most part, only turning occasionally to kiss Hermione’s furrowed forehead. He did not speak. She was lost in her thoughts and he did not want to disturb her. After a while he simply closed his eyes and meditated, concentrating on the calming movements of her fingers as they traced random patterns on his shirt.
The cab finally slowed as they entered the main thoroughfare of the city. The driver skidded to a halt in front of the shop Harry had named and politely knocked on the privacy barrier.
Harry lowered it and held out a wad of cash.
“Sir, this is-”
“Double the fare, I know. I need you to circle the city and drive back to the hotel. Do that and I’ll make sure to hire your services every time I am in Albania,” Harry said quietly.
“I…” The man’s heavy hand closed around the wad of money and he nodded slowly. “I understand, sir,” he said solemnly.
“Good. Come on, darling.” Harry climbed out of the taxi first and waited for Hermione to grab the basket and check on Crookshanks before helping her out.
He pretended to go to the boot and get their luggage out, then waited until the driver had pulled into traffic and was out of sight before turning to Hermione.
“Let’s go,” Harry murmured. He reached out and took her hand, pushing the other one into his pocket. His fingers curled around his wand and he relaxed slightly at the feel of the polished wood against his skin.
“Is this the entrance to the magical quarter?” Hermione asked, studying the mannequins on display in the window. A pretty dress caught her eye and she wistfully wished for enough time to sample the local specialties.
“Yep.”
Harry smiled at the bored woman manning the reception, only to receive a bored nod in return.
“We are going to Albania’s version of Knockturn Alley.”
“I’ve never been to Knockturn Alley,” Hermione whispered back worriedly.
“Stick close to me and you’ll be fine.” Harry squeezed the hand he was holding, his heart fluttering at the nervous and trusting smile he received in response. Her unquestioning faith in him made him nervous.
“Harry-” Hermione started as he pulled her into the changing room.
“We can’t talk about that. Not with so many prying ears,” Harry warned, correctly guessing what was on her mind. He pulled out his wand and tapped the wall opposite the door of the room. The wall disappeared, revealing a crowded and noisy street full of street vendors and their customers.
“Can we talk about something else, then? Distract me, please.” Hermione pressed into his side, nervously eyeing the people they passed. What if the Death Eaters were waiting for them? She had been utterly useless against them in the forest. Real-life dueling was nothing like her experience in Hogwarts’ Dueling Club and she knew she was a liability to Harry in a fight even if he loved her too much to say so.
“Are you alright?”
“What if they’re here?”
Harry tensed and gripped his wand tighter. That was certainly a possibility, especially if they had infiltrated the Albanian Ministry. It was natural for Voldemort to expect them to run to the black market for an illegal portkey to make their escape.
But if he was here…
Harry recalled the basic lessons of Occlumency. He had to focus his mind on an overwhelming memory or emotion so that anyone attacking him would see that and nothing else.
“I miss her,” Harry admitted quietly. “Last night, after finally admitting my feelings for you, my first thought was to go and tell her. But I can’t. Not the real her, anyway. The best I can do is talk to a memory, a faint shadow of the glorious woman everyone tells me she was.”
“Your mother?”
“Yeah,” Harry murmured. Fear. That was what he felt. That was what he wanted Voldemort to feel if the Dark Lord attacked him again. The overwhelming fear that he would lose Hermione. He wondered if the man had ever experienced the loss of a loved one. Could he even love?
“She’s a remarkable woman.”
“Was. Was a remarkable woman,” Harry corrected bitterly.
“Is,” Hermione insisted. She raised their enjoined hands and rested them on his chest. “I see her in you. I’ve only met her once but I am certain she lives on in you, Harry Potter. You are kind, generous, and loving. You are your mother’s son.”
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard but I have her eyes,” Harry joked tearfully.
“They’re very pretty eyes. I’m glad I’m the woman who gets to gaze into them for the rest of our lives,” Hermione giggled and bumped her shoulder against his. “Is that why you never bothered with an actual girlfriend? Because no one can replace her?”
“Are you asking if I have some sort of Oedipus complex involving my dead mother?”
“I… uh… no! That wasn’t what I meant!” Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks bright red.
“Because if I did, I would be pursuing women that look like your best friend,” Harry murmured with a slight smile. He bent and kissed her ear. “Not adorable brunettes with perfect tushes.”
“Sir!” Hermione gasped, her blush deepening.
“Growing up, I saw what the loss of my mother did to my father,” Harry said, growing somber again. “He barely ate, didn’t sleep, and spent his days talking to her portrait. The only thing that kept him going was me. The pain broke him and he hadn’t fully healed, not even now. I didn’t want that kind of pain.” Harry paused and thought over his last statement. “Actually, I think I didn’t want that kind of pain until I met a woman who made the risk worth it.”
“I better not be that woman,” Hermione teased. She was so engrossed that she didn’t even notice he had led her through the main market and was guiding her to the seedier parts of the town. “I’m just a Muggleborn with nothing to my name. All of Magical Britain will howl when I marry a Potter.”
“I’m glad you said ‘when’, not ‘if’. Because I don’t care who howls, I am going to make you my wife, Hermione Granger.” Harry neatly sidestepped a man selling amulets and pulled Hermione with him. “Besides,” Harry grinned. “You are a mysterious Muggleborn. I know nothing about your past.”
“It’s nothing good, to be honest,” Hermione admitted with a sad shrug. “I lost my parents when I was five. Car accident, they said. Bounced around orphanages for a few years. A woman adopted me when I was nine.”
“That’s nice of her. I’d love to meet your adoptive mother someday.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to meet her,” Hermione muttered, angrily stomping on a discarded cardboard cup to crush it. “She realized I was smart for my age and took me so I could manage her farm for her. She didn’t care about it besides the money it generated. She didn’t have to pay me, could clothe me in second-hand dresses, and feed me leftovers. Pretty good deal for her. I oversaw the farm and she concentrated on her precious dogs.”
“Did she give you the scars on your body?” Harry asked in a measured tone. He carefully controlled his growing rage so she couldn’t feel it through their connection. They were close to his contact’s shop but he filed away every detail she was revealing so he could pursue this vile woman at a later date.
“Some of them. Others I got working in the farm or in Hogwarts. She had a riding crop you see, and the horses weren’t the only ones she liked to use it on,” Hermione muttered.
Harry frowned and tugged on Hermione’s arm to pull her to a halt. They were outside the shop he had been looking for but he had no desire to end the conversation.
“Harry?”
“We’re here,” Harry murmured, nodding to the antique store to their right. It was dark and empty. The windows were grimy and the display pieces were coated with a layer of dust. A grizzled man with messy white hair was asleep at the counter by the door. “Before we go in, can you tell me one last thing? What was the woman’s name?”
“Why do you want to know?” Hermione asked with a frown.
“Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie to you?”
“Harry!” Hermione glared at her boyfriend. “It’s in the past. It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen her. I packed everything I owned and left when Hagrid came to fetch me and never went back.”
“Alright. I don’t want to force you, Mione. But if you ever need to see a Mind Healer-”
“Thank you for the offer.” Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand. “Really. But I’m fine. Besides, we have bigger problems to worry about than my stupid adoptive mother.”
Harry nodded reluctantly and pulled her into the store. A bell jingled loudly when he pushed open the door. The shopkeeper was startled awake and he peered suspiciously at them while he wiped his chin with the grimy sleeve of his shirt.
“Darius,” Harry greeted the man.
“Potter? The young Potter lad?” Darius said. His voice was gravelly from years of smoking a pipe. “You’re a long way from home, boy.”
“Circumstances can make travelers of us all.”
“Whatcha trying to say?” Darius pushed his worn pipe between his lips, stuffed it with tobacco, and lit it with a wave of his wand.
“I need a portkey. Fast.”
“Express costs double.”
“Even for old friends?”
Darius raised a bony finger and pointed it at Harry in an accusatory manner.
“I haven’t forgotten what your father did, old friend. I asked him to ignore my side dealings for old times' sake but he still let that bitch mistress of his burn my enterprise to the ground.”
“Madam Bones isn’t… Fine. I’ll pay you double,” Harry said with a sigh.
“Great. Swing by at six and collect the portkey. Where do you want to go?”
“I need it more urgently than that. We need to get back to Britain as soon as possible.”
“When do you want it?” Darius asked, pulling the pipe out of his mouth. His curved lips created three perfect rings of smoke that lazily rose into the air.
“Right now. Within the next few minutes.”
“Impossible.”
“Wrong answer, Darius.”
Darius licked his lips nervously and looked around the empty store. He looked like he was weighing the possibility of a trap but his greed won out in the end.
“Triple the usual amount. It can only take you to the preset location. You cannot tell anyone. If people came to know I keep ready portkeys-”
Harry interrupted him by wordlessly dumping a pouch full of galleons on the counter.
“Give me a portkey and take it all. Do we have a deal?”
Darius nodded, his eyes flitting greedily to the pouch even as he rummaged under the desk. He finally found what he was looking for and pulled it out, dumping a brown paper bag containing a boot onto the counter.
“This will take you where you need to go, Master Potter.”
Harry leaned in and studied the label scrawled onto the bag in black marker.
“Close enough. Now, when I tell you to, duck.”
“Wha-”
The bell jingled as Yaxley slammed the door open.
“Duck!”
“Leaving so soo-” Yaxley said.
Harry pirouetted with the grace of a ballerina, moving himself between Hermione and the door. Before Yaxley could finish speaking, Harry’s wand was out. A jet of red light slammed into Yaxley, the force of the spell lifting him off his feet and flinging him into the glass front of the store across the road.
Everyone in the street paused and turned toward the sound of shattering glass.
“I’d take that money and run, Darius,” Harry grunted. He nodded at the portkey and pulled Hermione out of the store once she had picked it up. His reflexes kicked in and he ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding Bellatrix’s hex. The jet of purple light sailed harmlessly over his head and slammed into a light pole. The metal sizzled and crunched as the pole began to melt.
“Come on. Don’t drop the bag,” Harry muttered. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he wordlessly deflected the hexes the Death Eaters pelted in their direction.
“Where are we going?” Hermione wheezed. Harry was pulling her down the street with no clear aim in sight. Her eyes widened at the sight of two robed figures blocking their exit at the far end of the street but Harry flicked his wand and sent the car parked close to them flying in their direction.
They scurried to avoid the behemoth of steel flying towards them and Harry took advantage of their confusion to stun one, then the other. The car landed on the ground with a loud THUD and rolled a few meters before coming to a halt.
Harry kept his attention focused on their pursuers. There was utter pandemonium in the street. Shopkeepers were shuttering their stores and people were apparating away, eager to get out of the line of fire.
“Running, Potter?!” Bellatrix screamed. She created a whirlwind of fire that slammed harmlessly into the wall Harry created from a section of uprooted tarmac. Harry took advantage of the momentary reprieve to pull Hermione to relative safety behind the wrecked car.
“This is what happens when Purebloods refuse to marry no-name Muggleborns with nothing to their names and keep things within the same few families,” Harry muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was breathing heavily but had a massive smile on his face. “Their children often turn out to be batshit insane.”
Hermione stared at Harry incredulously.
“I’m joking, love,” Harry grinned.
“You think a wall can stop me?!”
The wall keeping them separated from the Death Eaters shattered into a thousand tiny pieces from Bellatrix’s spell.
“Not the best time to joke, sir,” Hermione said with a nervous giggle.
“Oh, but it is. This is the most fun I’ve had in years,” Harry muttered, his eyes glinting with excitement.
“They’re getting closer!” Hermione nervously peeked over the car to see half a dozen Death Eaters warily approaching their hiding place, their wands drawn.
“I know. Cover your ears.”
Hermione obediently followed his orders and pushed her fingers in her ears. She watched Harry stand and before anyone could react, he raised his wand in the air. A high-pitched, shrill shriek emerged from the tip of his wand, so loud that it shattered the windows of the stores closest to them. Her own vision darkened and from the corner of her eyes, she saw the Death Eaters collapse to the ground, screaming in agony and scrambling to cover their ears.
Harry created a cloud of black soot between them and the collapsed Death Eaters. He pulled Hermione to her feet and led her to the closest store, throwing his shoulder against the door. The door broke on the third try and he pulled Hermione into the relative safety of the shop.
“POTTER!”
“I need to have a word with Sirius about his bloody cousins,” Harry muttered. He was tiring so fighting was not an option. He waved his wand to shut the door and created a quick and simple ward to slow Bellatrix down.
“Pull the portkey out the minute we’re upstairs,” Harry ordered, pulling Hermione through the empty store and up the stairs. “It takes ten seconds to charge once you touch it.”
“Understood, sir,” Hermione grunted. Her stomach hurt and she was drenched in sweat. If they survived their current ordeal she swore to herself that she’d join Harry on his daily jogs. She reached into the paper bag and pulled out the boot the minute Harry burst into the upstairs bedroom.
“Harry, you need to touch it as well!” Hermione said urgently.
“They’re upstairs! Get them, you idiot!”
Harry’s eyes flitted around the room and he made a split-second decision. He wrapped his arms around Hermione and flung them out the open window, reaching out and grabbing the boot the second before it activated. The spells aimed at them smashed against the street harmlessly as they disappeared in a flash of blue light.
Harry held onto Hermione as they were flung through the formless aether. He only let go once the portkey delivered them to their destination. Not being made to exacting specifications, the magical device transported them not to firm ground, but a few meters above it.
Harry groaned as his back slammed into the soft sand, all air being pushed out of his chest when Hermione landed on top of him. Her hair, having escaped from the ponytail sometime during their escape, fanned out around her face and tickled his chin.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked breathlessly.
“Mhm. Crookshanks? Crookshanks!” Hermione shot up when she realized the basket was no longer on her arm. “Crookshanks, where are you?!”
She ignored the protests from her sore body and pushed herself to her feet. She looked around until she spotted the basket wedged in the wet sand, inches away from the water.
Harry propped himself up on his elbows and watched Hermione remove the cloth covering the basket and pull out a rather displeased orange cat.
“How is he?”
“He’s fine. Just a little shaken up,” Hermione said, inspecting her new pet. She slowly stood, cuddling him in her arms. “Where are we?” Hermione asked as Harry walked towards them.
Harry smiled and gently grabbed her shoulder, turning her around.
“The safest place in the world,” he said, pointing to the castle in the distance.
“Home,” Hermione whispered, staring at the building she loved with all her heart.
Notes:
Continuing my quest to revive all my popular long stories and finish them, I bring you the latest chapter of Her Bound Heart! This chapter is rather plot and action heavy and I had a blast writing it. I also included a sneaky Easter egg in this chapter, I wonder how many people will spot it? Let me know if you spotted it in the comments and I will tell you if you are right! I am also thinking about making Luna a bigger character in this story as a friend for Hermione because Hermione and Luna friendships are awesome.
Comments
R. Collins
Bingo!
Brian Jordan
Is Hermione's wretched excuse for an adopted mother dear old Aunt Marge?
