Disclaimer: I have no idea where this came from, not the sort of thing I like writing at all, and I want to empathize that last bit, not at all.

Love is a Many Splendored thing

A bright smile adorned Harry's face as he strolled into the Headmistress' office. "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall."

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Potter," the old woman responded, happy to see one of her favorite students again. "Thank you for coming on such short notice.

"I get word that Dumbledore wants to speak with me, how could I stay away?" Harry replied with his ever present grin.

"I'll just leave you two alone then, shall I?" McGonagall asked. "As much as I'd like to catch up, I'm afraid there are some matters in the castle that must be attended to. Perhaps later."

"Perhaps," Harry agreed.

"Thank you for coming, Harry," the portrait said with a grandfatherly smile.

"I could never miss a chance to speak with you again," Harry replied with a frozen smile on his face.

"You might be wondering why I asked you to come here," Dumbledore continued.


"It was to tell you how proud I am that you were able to put aside everything Severus was forced to do to you to maintain his cover and all that you endured because of me," Dumbledore explained. "I'm glad to know that you at least understand the hard choices we had to make."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean by putting aside my hatred for the two of you," Harry said thoughtfully, his smile hadn't changed a bit.

"You named your child after us, didn't you?" Dumbledore said with a frown.

"I would never name my child after either of you," Harry said.

"But . . . Minerva said . . ."

"Like I said, I would never name any child of mine after either one of you," Harry stated. "Just a little cry for help that no one noticed."


"Hermione killed herself yesterday," Harry said, a smile still on his face. "I envy her. Pity she couldn't have taken me with her, but I don't begrudge her for that. I'm not sure I'd have been able to force myself to wait a second longer if I had the chance."

"What do you mean, dear boy?"

"Do you know why love potions are so horrible?" Harry asked.

"Why?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Because you know that you're under them, but it's so hard to muster up the will to break through them. Love is a wonderful feeling, a wondrous thing. You need every ounce of will you possess and every bit of outside motivation you can find to do it." The man shook his head. "Over a decade of rape did it for Hermione, I wish the knowledge of what was happening to my only friend in the world had been enough for me."

"Harry, you must believe me, I never thought . . ."

"I'd be smart enough to figure it out?" Harry interrupted cheerfully, the expression on his face still at odds with the subject at hands. "Hermione and I used to talk about it when we were able to be alone together. It wasn't often; we couldn't talk about it where people could accidentally overhear, that might get our loves sent to Azkaban." The man cocked his head. "Or maybe not, it's only a mudblood and a half blood that are the victims after all, not like it was someone important."

"Harry, I . . ." The old man's eyes were filled with horror.

"Harry, I . . ." the old man's eyes were filled with horror.

"I imagine you thought we'd eventually love the slut and the slob," Harry told the portrait. "Those are little pet names we came up for our spouses, it's okay to poke fun at a loved one with a little nickname that makes fun of one of their faults, endearing even." Harry nodded to himself. "I'm not allowed to hate them, but I'm allowed to hate you, the children that aren't mine, the nieces and nephews my best friend was forced to give her rapist." The man nodded to himself. "Most of all, I'm allowed to hate myself for not stopping them from doing what they did to my best friend."

"I wanted you to be happy," the old man confessed. "I thought proper pureblood matches would be enough to bring both of you into our world."

"Hermione never went to get her parents you know, the Slob didn't want her to," Harry said, ignoring the old man. "I always wondered if you'd had something to do with the fact that Hermione obliviated them."

"I left instructions with Severus," Dumbledore confessed. "I couldn't let a witch that bright slip back into the muggle world."

"Did they really get obliviated or did Snape dump them in a shallow grave somewhere?" Harry asked, looking for all the world like he didn't care about the answer one way or another.

Dumbledore looked away. In a defeated tone he began to speak,"Delivering the Grangers helped keep him in Tom's good graces after you slipped through his fingers."

"Wonderful!" Harry cheered. In an instant, the man's hand darted into his pocket and withdrew a vial which was uncapped and dumped down his throat in record time.

"The antidote?" Dumbledore asked, fearing the answer, fearing what the wizard before him would do to the world to exact his revenge.

"Of course not," Harry said, looking outraged by the very notion. "I could never stop loving my wife."

"What was it then?"

"The most painful poison I could find," Harry said. The smile on the man's face began to look genuine as he dropped to his knees. "No possible cure, I deserve nothing less for abandoning the love of my life and her brother whom I love like a brother." Harry choked, staining the room with a discharge of blood. With a coughing laugh, the man who'd slain the worst Dark Lord in recorded history collapsed and began trembling. It took him nearly an hour to die, not even death wiped the smile off his face.

AN: A mix of the potions pushing Weasley cliché which I tried to make cannon compliant. Don't see myself doing anything similar for a while. Another fic or two like this and I think I'd have to change my name to 'raven' or 'dark fire' or 'moon shadow, or even 'raven moon fire dark shadow.' Maybe wear black lipstick, dark clothes, and pale makeup. Make up poems about how no one understands me and cut across the streams for attention.