Disclaimer: Characters, places, ideas and even one little line of dialogue does not in any way, shape or form belong to me, Kristen Elizabeth. It all belongs to JK Rowling and...um...all those book and movie companies. So, please don't sue. You can't take my autographed picture of Jonathan Frakes away from me!!!

Author's Notes: To follow the story.


An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth


"So...what do you think?"

With a critical green eye, little Harry looked older Harry up and down, from head to toe. "You look..." He stopped.

"I look...what?" Harry splayed his fingers across his chest, patting the black vest. "Is it buttoned up wrong? Is black too boring? Is it not black at all?! Did they give me navy blue or something?"

His son snickered behind one hand as his father turned around, searching for a better angle to catch the light streaming in from the window. "Made you look."

Harry stopped, a sour look on his face that was entirely directed towards the boy. "You're killing me, kid."

"It's buttoned up fine. It's jet black. And it's not boring." Sirius approached his godson and brushed non-existent lint off the shoulders of Harry's black dress robes. "It's classic. Your father wore something just like this."

"I know," Harry smiled. "I've seen the pictures." The sudden onslaught of butterflies in his stomach made his smile fade quickly. "Was he nervous?"

Sirius shot a look towards Lupin who was sitting on the edge of the bed, polishing Harry's right shoe. "Let's just say that we wouldn't let him eat any breakfast," he finally replied.

Little Harry pulled at the white collar of his brand-new dress shirt. "I've never heard you talk about my real grandfather. What was he like?"

"Harry," the older Harry gestured until the boy approached him, still tugging at his formal clothes. "You have a real grandfather...two, actually...downstairs getting ready. You know?"

His son nodded. "I know."

Lupin handed Harry his shoe and winked at little Harry. "Tell you what," he addressed the boy. "After this whole shindig, Sirius and I will sit down and tell you all you want to know about your Grandpa James."

Sirius spiked his eyebrows at Harry. "So much for my idea of sneaking off with a lovely, intoxicated Muggle girl."

"I remind you that you're not sixteen anymore." Balancing on one foot, Harry pulled on his freshly-polished shoe. "Oh bloody hell, what do I care? Have fun. It's my..."

There was a sudden knock on the door. It opened a crack and Hagrid's large head appeared in the room. "Almost ready in 'ere?"

"Just about," Harry replied. The butterflies stirred once more within his empty stomach. "Is everyone else?"

Hagrid stepped inside. He had abandoned his ancient coat for the occasion and donned a relatively new set of formal robes...made out of what looked to be a combination of hare and fox fur. "Guests 'ave all arrived. Gittin' seated as we speak. An' I got word from down the 'all...she's 'bout ready, too."

Harry blew out a breath as the butterflies turned into a swarm of killer bees. "Wow. All right. This is it."

"I'll let 'em know." Before leaving, Hagrid grinned from ear to ear. "Breathe, 'arry. Breathe."

"Easy for him to say," Sirius chuckled. "But seriously, Harry. Breathe. You're starting to look like maybe we shouldn't have let *you* eat any breakfast."

Little Harry peered up at Harry as he concentrated on his breathing. "It's all right, Father. It's not raining and it's not too hot and Grandma Molly made chocolate squares. Something to look forward to afterwards, right?"

"I'd imagine he's looking forward to something more than just chocolate..." Lupin stopped, catching the brunt end of a hard look from Sirius. He cleared his throat.

"What do you mean?" little Harry asked, curious.

Giving Harry's son a final once-over to make sure his clothes were properly set, Lupin patted his flaming locks. "Cake. Your father is very much looking forward to the cake."

"Harry?" Sirius opened the door. "It's now or never."

Time seemed to stand still for a minute as Harry turned his head to look out into the fourth floor hallway of the Weasley home. Twenty-eight years in the making, this day promised to be the best of all, and he included the day Hagrid had appeared and single-handedly plucked him out of hell and placed him into his real life. There were so many moments in between that stood out, too many to count.

But the hardest ones by far had been the most recent.

"Go on ahead and I'll...I'll be along." Harry flashed his groomsmen a weak smile. "I just need a minute."

Sirius nodded. "Come on, kid." He let the boy go first, Lupin second and finally, himself, but not before he turned to look at his godson again. "Don't be late."

"I won't be," Harry promised. "Trust me."

Once he was alone, he closed his eyes. His shoulders were too tight to even try to relax them, but he did take several more deep breaths as he thought back over the past month and a half. He found himself wandering back in time to that day in the hospital wing.

The seconds it took her to continue speaking after her simple sentence that nearly drained him of all the blood in his body had ticked by like years. *I won't consider it,* she had said. She might as well have hacked into him with an axe.

But then, like the angel that she was, she had gone on. *I won't consider it, Harry, because I've been considering it since I was sixteen years old. And no matter what's happened, or what you've done, or what I've done...any of it...no matter what, I've always known what my answer would be.*

Harry opened his eyes. Everything after that had been a blur. A happy blur, but a blur nonetheless. All he had known in that moment was that everything was about to change...and that it was all for the better.

But he hadn't thought about the hard realities that were to come, the hardest of which had been facing Ron's family and telling them the truth about little Harry's parentage.

"Harry?" A soft voice and an even softer knock jarred him out of his thoughts. "Are you decent?"

He smiled. "Come on in, Ginny."

She entered, looking magically amazing for a woman who had given birth only a month and a half earlier and carrying a white-swaddled bundle in her arms. "Oh..." Her smile lit up her entire face. "You look smashing. Wait, is that a good compliment for a man?"

"It works for me." He reached out to pull back a fold in the white flannel. A little face was nestled in the cloth, a soft red curl resting on its forehead. "How's he handling the chaos?"

"Pretty well, as you can see," Ginny replied, stroking her infant son's cheek. "He's just like Ryan. Very mellow." She glanced up to give Harry another thorough look. "You don't know how many times I used to wish I'd be standing next to you while you were wearing something like that someday. Except..." She gestured to her loose-fitting light blue dress robes. "I always imagined *I'd* be the one wearing white."

Red colored Harry's cheeks from ear to ear. "Ginny..." he mumbled, tucking his hands under his arms.

She laughed suddenly, making little Ron jerk slightly in his sleep. "And you also don't know just how much fun it is to make you blush." A moment passed during which Harry's attention seemed to slip further and further away. "Harry? Is something the matter?"

He rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses. "Tell me again that your parents don't hate me."

"Harry," Ron's sister pursed her lips. "Of course they don't hate you. Don't be silly. They insisted on having the wedding here, didn't they?"

Harry couldn't accept this and began pacing across the woven rug in front of the bedroom's fireplace. "How could they not hate me? After everything I did...all the lies that I set in motion. And then having to stand in front of them and tell them..."

"We should have all known much earlier, Harry. I mean, I look at him now and I think, of course he's your child. No one but you has eyes like that. And his smile..." Ginny adjusted the bundle in her arms. "But more than that...I lived in same dormitory as you and Hermione during your last year at school. I should have guessed right away that my brother was not the man she..." Her voice trailed off.

"Hermione loved Ron," Harry said quietly. "Believe me...I was forced to come to terms with that on a rather intense scale courtesy of Vo...Malfoy."

Ginny tilted her head to one side, silky red hair spilling over her shoulder. "Is that what's really upsetting you, Harry? Because you know my parents adore you and will always love Harry as their grandson no matter what."

Harry nodded all too miserably for a man about to be married. "It's not so much what they had together. It's just..." He hesitated. "Malfoy killed Ron. And if he hadn't done it...I wouldn't be here today."

"Oh, I see." A long moment followed as Ginny considered her next words. "I'm going to tell you something that you might not want to hear, Harry. But I think it needs to be said." After drawing in a breath, she continued. "Ron came to me once, shortly after he and Hermione were married, looking very much like you are right now. When I asked him what was wrong...he said, 'Ginny, she makes me so happy...but the only reason I get to be with her is because we don't have Harry with us anymore'."

"Ron said that?"

She bobbed her head ever so slightly. "It sometimes seems that something bad has to happen in order for something good to come about. To have what he had with Hermione, Ron lost you. To be with Hermione again, you lost Ron. It's all...mucked up and awful, but it's just life." Balancing her baby in one arm, Ginny walked forward and reached for his hand. "The three of you will always be tied together in spirit. It's something Draco Malfoy couldn't break, because it's something he couldn't understand if he tried for a hundred years. So get out there and marry her and don't even worry...because wherever he is, Ron would only be happy for you."

"You're right." Harry squeezed her fingers lightly before dropping a kiss onto her forehead. "You really are the smart one out of the bunch, Ginny."

Ron's sister winked at him. "Oh, I know." She backed out of the door. "I'll see you down there."

Harry stood still for another moment after she left, collecting all the new thoughts in his head. When he couldn't think anymore, he took once last glance around Ron's old room. He was finally ready for whatever came next.


On May 15th, a pleasant spring day, in Molly Weasley's fragrant garden, with everyone who had ever been important to them in their lives thus far watching, Harry James Potter and Hermione Granger Weasley were married...at last, many of the guests were overheard saying.

The bride wore white silk dress robes, quite unlike the lovely Muggle wedding gown she had worn several years earlier. She carried lilies in her hands, and her cheeks were rosy for the first time in weeks. When she spoke her vows, her words were clear and precise and without hesitation.

In truth, the whole thing felt like a dream to Hermione, one of those dreams from which you hope you never wake. She hadn't thought it was possible to love her husband-to-be anymore...until she saw him standing at the end of the grass-carpeted aisle, waiting for her to join him. He was clearly nervous, but doing his best to hide it. Fortunately he had his godfather standing just behind him to give him a reassuring pat on his shoulder when she started walking towards him on her father's arm.

She smiled halfway down the aisle, unable to keep it in any longer. They were entirely surrounded by people who loved them. Their old classmates from Hogwarts, their beloved teachers, friends, family. Their son.

And Ron. He was there too, a lingering presence that was neither intrusive nor unwelcome. She almost felt like she could reach out and take his hand. He would always be there, she realized, watching out for her, watching out for the child he had loved as his own, and watching out for Harry who had, in some ways, been closer to him than his blood brothers. Her smile grew brighter as she reached her fiancee.

The ceremony was simple. Vows from the heart, things that should have been said years earlier. An exchange of rings, plain silver for him and a single translucent pearl set into a matching band of silver for her. Only Harry knew that underneath her robes, she wore her other wedding band of gold and garnet on a chain next to her heart along with a pendant of rose quartz.

When they kissed, there was a great round of applause led by their son...who had been prompted by his identical uncles. Molly Weasley and Hermione's mother both cried. Hagrid sniffed rather loudly. Dumbledore clapped, quiet approval and happiness in his ancient eyes. Even Snape, in the very last row, almost managed a genuine smile.

Harry and Hermione broke apart too soon for their liking, exchanging a private smile. "I love you," he whispered, touching his forehead to hers.

Her eyes shimmered brown-gold. "I love you, too, Harry. Always."


"Sixth year," Harry said out loud.

Hermione frowned, propping her head up on her hand to look down at him. "What's that?"

"You fell asleep in the common room." He turned his gaze up to the white-washed ceiling. "Studying. As usual." She swatted him playfully. "I had woken up in the middle of the night and I came downstairs to read...and there you were. Lying on the loveseat with your books half-open. You were drooling a little and..."

"Oh, I was not!

Laughing, he caught her indignant chin in his head. "Well, your skirt had ridden up on your thigh while you slept. And that's when I started thinking...I might like to be right here someday."

"That's a truly touching story, Harry," she said dryly.

"I was sixteen years old. Would you have expected me to turn away without another thought?"

Hermione thought for a second, smiled and laid her cheek back down onto his bare chest. "I'm glad you didn't."

A few blissful minutes passed as Harry played with a thick lock of her unkempt hair. "Thank you, Hermione."

"For what?"

Outside, he could hear waves lapping onto the shore; the bungalow they occupied was the only structure on an uncharted island somewhere in the South Pacific, the perfect place for a magical honeymoon. "For marrying me." Harry swallowed. "For forgiving me."

Her fingers trailed up and down his ribs like delicate wings. "Do you want to know the first time I thought about you...you know...sexually?"

"All right," he frowned. It was not the sort of response he had been expecting.

"Fifth year." Hermione smiled. "I beat you by a year. Well, we were at breakfast the day of a Quidditch match and..."

"What game was it?"

She gently pinched him. "It's not important to the story, Harry. It's not even important to the story that you were wearing your Quidditch robes and those really form-fitting khaki..." Shaking her self out of the memory of that particular detail, she went on, "What made me...want you was this. You had done something really minor that made me kind of mad a few days earlier..."

"It was versus Hufflepuff," Harry cut in. "I had accidently added too many lavender seeds to our potion in class and Snape gave you the worst grade you had probably ever received."

"You remember all of that?"

He nodded. "And we beat them by mile."

Hermione hugged his waist with her arm. "You apologized to me, do you remember that? In front of everyone. Like it really mattered to you."

"It did. You were *really* mad."

"You've never been one to shirk away from responsibility. It made you so attractive to me that day. And the pants helped." Hermione sat up to see him better. "But what happened to our baby..." She slowly shook her head, her long hair brushing against her bare back and shoulders. "You can't keep taking all of the blame for it, Harry."

He sat up too and faced off with her. "But I was the one who..."

"Why do you insist on torturing yourself when there are so many better things we could be doing?" Hermione put her hands on her hips.

"I'm not ready to accept...what I did," he replied, combing his hair back off his face

Her eyes narrowed as she gave him another moment of self-indulgent moping. As soon as it was up, she pulled him into a full-body kiss. "Accept later. Live now."

The sky outside had begun to be touched by the morning sun before they really spoke again. Harry kissed her soft neck and wrapped her up tighter in his arms. "Am I going to have to buy a pair of Quidditch pants?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, sleepily. "And Harry?"


"You didn't kill our baby. Voldemort did."

He rested his chin on top of her soft bed of thick hair; she smelled like jasmine and roses. "Yeah." A parrot cawed on the other side of the bamboo-shaded window. "But he'll never get to do it to anyone else again." Harry reached behind and knocked on the head-board.

Hermione laughed. "Good thinking."

"Better safe than sorry."


The Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry fairly hummed with energy and excitement. Each of the four immense tables, which had only hours earlier stood empty, were crowded with hundreds of young students in black robes and pointed hats. They were chatting, shouting, laughing, giggling...waiting as patiently as possible.

Harry watched them all from his place at the Professor's table. Not entirely unlike the students, he couldn't manage to keep still. His hands were clasped in his lap, but his thumbs circled each other as he fidgeted frantically.

"It's windy out tonight," he blurted out. "What if the boats have tipped over or something?"

Hermione turned to her husband, amused. "You are so adorable right now."

"I'm just saying..." Harry set his hands on the table, palms down flat. "It doesn't take this long to cross the lake."

"Yes, it does," she replied, covering his hand with one of hers. "He's perfectly fine, Harry. You saw him on the platform earlier. He couldn't wait to ditch us and get on the train."

He nodded. "I know." Harry shifted in his chair to look at his wife better. "What House do you want to see him in?"

"The House he's most suited to." Hermione leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss, a gesture that did not go unnoticed throughout the Hall. "Relax, love. It's out of our hands."

Snape tapped the back of Harry's chair. "You do have an audience, in case you've forgotten." Hermione pulled back, a rose blush painting her cheeks. Harry threw the potions master a frown, before settling back, still holding Hermione's hand.

Just then, the huge doors on the far side of the Hall opened; all conversations halted and every eye turned to see approximately forty little people file inside. Each child took in the floating candles, the enchanted ceiling, the intimidating presence of hundreds of their peers and Albus Dumbledore presiding over them all; their eyes grew large, most with awe, but some with fright.

They followed Professor McGonagall through the long aisle and gathered around the foot of the steps that led up to the High Table. The Sorting Hat sat on a wooden stool set onto the steps, looking quite like a tired old hat.

Harry didn't hear the Hat's song. All he could think about was the fact that at this exact moment one year earlier, he'd had nothing. His life had just been turned upside down by the grief of learning his best friend was dead, the startling knowledge that he had fathered a son who didn't know him and the fear that Hermione could never forgive or love him again.

His searching eyes found little Harry in the crowd of first-years. Although he had been in the Great Hall many times, he had never seen it quite like this before. Awe glowed on his youthful face. Harry watched as his son looked at a boy beside him and said something. The other child nodded, grinning mischievously.

**So, we've just got to try on the hat! I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.**

Everything was better now. Different, but better. But the loss of his best friend would never go away. It was even more painfully clear now, seeing his son making new friends. Just as he had found Ron almost two decades earlier.

Hermione gripped his hand tighter. "They're starting, Harry."

He blinked and concentrated on the Sorting Hat which was being placed on David Armstrong's head. A moment later, a new Slytherin joined his House. Harry and Hermione held hands as they watched the Ceremony, clapping particularly hard at each new Gryffindor. Everything went smoothly until Professor McGonagall called out, "Bronson Malfoy."

Losing his father had visibly affected the blond child who stepped up to the Sorting Hat. His eyes no longer shone with malice and his hair was cut much shorter and spiky around his face. He sat completely still when the Hat was placed onto his head. There was a long pause, far longer than there had been for any child so far.

"RAVENCLAW," the Hat finally announced, almost proudly.

Amidst much whispering and muted clapping, Harry turned to look at Hermione. There was matching confusion and shock on her face. But after a second, she smiled. "Life isn't a picture," she told him, softly. "Things can change as they move."

Harry pondered her words all the way up to the second he heard McGonagall say, "Harry Potter, Jr."

A hush had fallen over the Hall at Bronson's name, but dead silence blanketed it at this. Harry sat up straighter, his heart thumping practically in his throat. Hermione's hand was suddenly cold as she too leaned forward a bit.

The only person in the Hall who didn't seem affected by his name was little Harry himself. With a slightly nervous smile, he approached the stool and allowed the Hat to settle onto his red head.

Harry held his breath during the seconds that followed. All he could see was his son's back and he certainly couldn't hear what was being whispered into the boy's ear. He had complete faith in the Hat to do the right thing...and he'd be proud of little Harry even if he were placed into Slytherin, but he couldn't help but hope...


There weren't any words to express what went through Harry that moment. Happiness seemed too simple. Joy, too much Relief, too harsh. He settled on pride. Biased though he might be, he knew the Gryffindor House and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that little Harry belonged there.

He felt Hermione's arms around him and returned the tight hug with kiss. Down the Hall a bit, their son joined the Gryffindor table, receiving handshakes and greetings and a quick, manly hug from his older cousin, Bill.

Hermione studied him. "Were you worried?"

"Not so much," Harry lifted one shoulder. "I'm just glad to be here. And to be a part of this."

A slow smile crept onto her curvy lips. She leaned closer to him, bringing her mouth close to his ear as she spoke in the lowest of whispers for a minute. Anyone watching would have seen Harry Potter's jaw take a comic drop. Just as the Sorting Hat placed Rosalind Williams into Hufflepuff, bringing the ceremony to and end, he cried out, "Really?!"

There was a twittering of laughter. Down the table from him, Dumbledore shook his head, highly amused. "Really, Harry." Winking at his Defense professor, he stood up and tapped his fork against his goblet. "Welcome to Hogwarts, new and old. To begin the term, I have only two announcements. One being..."

Harry's attention was entirely on Hermione as Dumbledore spoke. "Are you certain?"

She nodded. It had been so much easier to tell him this time around. "What is it about us, Harry? Put us together in a room and..."

"Is it safe? I mean..." He touched her chin as he whispered, "Will everything be all right after..."

"Madam Pomfrey said everything would be fine just this morning." Hermione's eyes misted over. "Her birthday will be in April."

"Her birthday..." He blew out a breath and looked around, nervously. Hagrid winked at him before he glanced back at his wife.. "I really want to pick you up and swing you around, but..." He jerked his head towards the students.

Hermione touched his cheek lovingly. "Later. When we tell Harry."

Refusing to let go of her other hand, Harry forced his attention back to the Headmaster. She was right. Things did change. They changed and they moved. Second chances were given. Loss happened, but beginnings were created from it. And the heart, with all of its fire and passion, was an organ capable of withstanding anything.

He found his son in the crowd of Gryffindors. Little Harry grinned and Harry returned the smile with similar enthusiasm. He only broke the stare to turn his eyes up towards the enchanted ceiling. The moon was full that night and the stars looked down on Hogwarts, protecting it as they had for centuries. And he was a part of it all once more.

Dumbledore raised his hands. "Let the feast...begin."

No, Harry thought. Let the journey begin.


The End


Author's Notes: And so, after a year and two months, we have come to the end of my very first Harry Potter fan fic. It has been a most interesting ride; for awhile there, I thought I might never finish it. I bet a few of you thought the same thing. But so many of you have stuck with the story and written such wonderful reviews. I really can't find the words to express my thanks, and words are my life. So, I'll just say, I appreciated each and every one of them.

Sequels? I don't know. Someone gave me the idea to write a prequel. Something like Harry's adventures after he left, or the story of Ron and Hermione. I don't know. I'd actually like to step out of the world of this particular story and write something new. I have a few ideas; we'll see where they go;)

I had so much fun writing this story. I can't even tell you. I have a feeling that when the fifth book comes out in June, everything I've written will be completely overturned;) Lol. And that's just the way it goes. So, enjoy the story until then! Cause after that, it will probably be an alternate universe. I just have a feeling.

Once more, thank you. Keep writing, keep reading, keep dreaming;)

Kristen Elizabeth
January 24, 2003