When Demetrios Solon arrived back at camp the next morning, bringing

them the welcome news that Eva’s son was receiving much-needed care back in
Salvador, he seemed remarkably unsurprised by Heath’s presence.
“Actually, I wondered when you’d drop by for a spot of tea,” said
Demetrios. “You’ve been tracking us for more than a week.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Harry wanted to know.
Demetrios laughed. “Well, well. It did say we need ‘eight to enter’, didn’t
it? Couldn’t risk you eager lot becoming overanxious and picking off needed
companions, could we? What do you say, Pidge?”
Hermione was sitting next to Ron, chewing on a slice of zwieback and
sipping coffee that was like oil thoughtfully. “I have absolutely no opinion on
the matter.”
“Six down, two to go. And we’re less than a week from Atlantis. We’re
making good time. Been a relatively calm journey, all things considered. I quite
appreciate it.”
No one responded to this. Demetrios, totally unaware of any undercurrents,
pressed on, urging them to pack up camp so that they could set back off.
Harry slipped into their tent to begin pulling it down. Hermione glanced
around, then slipped in after him.
He knew she was there without even turning around. “Hermione, I’m fine.
You don’t have to help me, you know...”
“I know.” Her arms slipped around his waist. “How was your sleep?”
“Terrible. Hope you’re happy.”
“No, actually, I’m quite upset to hear that. At least you were dozing by the
time I slipped into bed.”
“That’s because you were finally there. Where did you go?”
“Just out for a walk. Don’t worry, I had my wand with me.”
He stopped tugging at the knot and turned around to face her. “Hermione,
I’m...”
She placed her fingertips against his lips. “I know.”
“And well, I just...”
Standing up on tiptoe, she pecked the spot that her fingers had just touched.
“Yes, I know.”
“Really, you...”
This time, she lengthened and deepened the kiss until he wound his arms
around her. “Yes, I know that too,” she breathed moments later.
“Hey, wait a minute... hear me out, beautiful. I want to you know that I’m
really sorry for acting like such an idiot last night. I mean, really. It’s obvious
that the man is here only to help, for whatever reasons he might have, and I have
no right to feel threatened.”
Hermione looked down. “Oh.”
He tilted up her chin to look at him. “What’s more, no matter how Heath
might feel about you, no matter what might have happened between you two in
the past, I know you love me. And without trust, what sort of husband would
I make? You know, I don’t even mind making amends with him...”
“No!” said Hermione quickly. “I mean, it’s just... I’d rather we let it go,
Harry. I just want to forget about last night, okay?”
She shut her eyes tightly and tried to forget everything as he held her. And
indeed, she knew that she was completely and totally in love with Harry...
Yet why couldn’t she forget about the laughter and good conversation that
she shared with Heath?
Why couldn’t she forget about that kiss?
And why did she feel so guilty?

~~~
Their trek for the next few days was by far their most grueling.
The thick, lush growth of the Mata Atlântica had finally given way. Here
the trees were few and far between, with sparse foliage sticking up from the
branches high above. The ground was barren and quite chilly, and they learned
exactly why Demetrios had made them pack ski gear.
“Always a slight nip in the air when one travels back in time,” said the old
Gatekeeper cheerfully. “Right, then... step lively... nothing like a brisk pace to
put fire in your blood, eh?”
The dried-turtle and manioc flour soup that they’d so loathed at the
beginning of the trek, with the delicacies of the Palacio still fresh in their
memories, soon became ambrosia fit for the gods. Ron teased Hermione as she
lapped up every last trace of what was in her bowl at lunchtime.
“There is more where that came from, you know.”
“Shut up. If I’m hungry, I’m just hungry, all right?”
But then she would look up, and meet Heath’s eyes, and know that she
wasn’t the only one who was hungry.
At night, the watches continued, but Hermione no longer sat up with Harry.
She went back to spending first watch with him, then sleeping away the second
and third. Heath and Zach took first watch, Ron and Harry second, and
Demetrios and Riki the third. At first, Hermione protested indignantly about not
being included on the schedule, but Demetrios waved her off.
“You’re going to need your strength, Pidge... because I need you to open
up Atlantis for me.”
“What, aren’t you Gatekeeper?” asked Ron.
“Yes, but even I cannot go and come in the oldest of the Old realms as
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
I wish, friend Weasel... there’s always a catch, isn’t there?” He grinned. “You’ll
see.”
So Hermione’s strength recuperated in full measure over that last week. For
the first time in a long time, the dark circles beneath her eyes disappeared and
her ribs were not visible. Harry, pleased by this, remarked on how well she was
doing.
“And not a trace of my cycle yet,” she said with an uncharacteristically shy
smile one night during first watch a few nights later.
“Hmm. Wonder who’s responsible for that sad state of affairs?”
When she saw his smug grin, she poked him in the chest, then kissed him.
“We’re going to have to do something about that swollen head of yours, you
know... ooh... oh...”
“Wonderful advice, Mrs. Potter,” he murmured against her jawbone,
settling more comfortably between her thighs. “And thanks for the kind offer.”
Afterward, they savored the few short but sweet moments they had together
before it was time for his watch.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured with appreciation. “And soft. Makes me
look forward to getting back home... night are long and dark and cold until
nearly June.”
“You’re warm, too,” she whispered back. “I can’t wait to get home simply
so that we can spend an entire night together again. Our honeymoon spoiled me,
I think.”
“Witch like you deserves to be spoiled. Just like I plan to spoil her,” he
said, placing a caressing hand on her belly.
“Let’s make sure that he’s coming for certain before we make any plans for
spoilage.”
“Never too early to start. And I forgot to tell you... did you know that
Carole is expecting again?”
“Really? Why, that’s wonderful!”
“Yes, Sirius said right before we left... but everything with Juliana
happened, and then we started this particular expedition, and I didn’t remember
to tell you. Another son, due sometime in June... with any luck, this one will
come in time to be his playmate.”
“Oh, indeed. Have you thought anything about names? I mean, for certain
we won’t know anything until we get to Atlantis, or at least Demetrios claims
there are mediWizards of a sort there... but I suppose it’s never too early to start
thinking ahead.”
“Right, if it’s a boy, we’ll be naming him Herman after his mum...”
“We will not! If so, then the second there’s a girl you’ll be welcoming
Harriet Potter to the family...”
“Or even better yet, if they’re fraternal twins, we can call them Herman and
Harriet.”
She giggled. “Helen. Heloise. Or Hortense... I really like Hortense.”
 “Harold, which is what everyone thinks my given name really is for some
odd reason. Or Henry. Or Herbert. Or even Hector, if we wish to keep the
Trojan theme going.”
They were both laughing hard now.
“Harry? I’ve got a brilliant idea about this naming business... let’s promise
never to give any of our kids ‘H’ names. No matter how tempting it might be, no
matter how adorable our friends think it is.” She shook her head. “I’ve never
minded my name, but I think I’d like my child to have one that doesn’t require a
pronunciation guide.”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to use a nickname as a given name, like my
parents did.”
“And we’ve got to be mindful that whatever names we choose go well with
our last name.”
“Oh, Potter is like khaki. Anything goes well with it.”
“Thank Merlin you’ve got me to dress you now,” said Hermione, rolling
her eyes. “I am so glad Ginny’s not anywhere near to hear that statement. She’d
likely have a heart attack on the spot.”
“What? Everything does go with khaki!” She began to giggle
uncontrollably. “Hey, it’s not funny. Name one shade that doesn’t go with it...”
A sharp whistle just outside the tent interrupted their playful banter.
“Harry! Time to go, mate...”
Hermione’s laughter died down to a sweet smile. “It’s going to be
frightfully cold in here without you, you know...”
“I’ll be back in three hours, love,” he said, kissing her. “You just keep my
spot warm. And make sure you’re asleep when I return. No sitting up and
waiting for me.”
“All right, but no promises,” she replied, kissing him back. “Love you.”
“Love you more.” Another kiss.
Returning the favor. “Totally not possible.”
“Quite possible indeed...” Kissing yet again.
“Want to bet?” She was pulling him back down onto the bed.
“How many Galleons are you willing to lose?”
Ron was growing impatient. “Harry! Let’s go!”
With one last lingering kiss, Hermione kicked her husband out of bed and
off to watch their small camp with their best friend.
Meanwhile, in the tent, without Harry there to banish away the darklings
and the fears, Hermione began to dwell on her Heath problem. And she knew
very well that he was a problem that she’d have to confront soon.
Telling Harry about that kiss will only make things worse, much worse.
There’s no way that Harry will understand or be helpful... he’ll see red!
Well, I can’t very well carry on as if nothing is happening... as if the man
isn’t undressing me with his eyes every time he looks my way.
The whole idea of the Source being used in the future to create holos of our
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
lives is utterly eerie. Heath and Zach all but admitted to eavesdropping and
voyeurism. Even if during their time it’s considered legitimate research, during
ours it’s a felony! Don’t they understand how invasive such a thing is?
Not if they’re scientists. Not if they looked at our time as simply
researching distant ancestors. Not if we were objectified in their eyes.
And it’s very likely that Zach saw the same holos, and took notes, and
thought no more of it... or of me. It can be done, you know. Just as I’ve seen
countless male patients, treated them, and not been anything other than
professional.
But Heath...
Heath’s seen me in the holos... and imagined... and dreamed...
Oh, great Wizards.
He wants me. And he’s got the look of a man who hasn’t got anything to
lose. Didn’t he leave everything he knew behind? And he’s got nothing here...
I’m happy with Harry.
Yes, I’m attracted to Heath, I can honestly admit that, but I couldn’t love
him the way I love Harry. There’s no question of that. There’s nothing for me
there. I don’t even think I’d be interested in him if there was no Harry... he
doesn’t understand that we’re two different sorts of people. But he is making me
uncomfortable. I don’t want to be alone with him, ever...
Why did he even have to come? To save my life? Doesn’t he realize how
many times over Harry, Ron, and I were supposed to be dead? Doesn’t he
understand what a lame excuse that is? Honestly!
Why am I dwelling on this? Why do I keep thinking about this? And why...
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
Suddenly, the blankets were lifted from her, and Harry climbed back into
bed with a gush of cool air. She shivered a bit until he pulled her into his arms
and tucked the covers back around them snugly.
“That was quick.”
“It’s been three hours,” yawned Harry. “You don’t look as if you’ve slept
at all... come on, Hermione, what’s on your mind?”
“Why would anything be on my mind?” she shot back.
Harry frowned.
“It’s just... cold, that’s all. That wind is howling so loudly that it’s
distracting me awake. But I’m fine now that you’re here... except for the fact
that your feet are freezing cold... and so are your hands!”
He laughed, frown disappearing. “Well, it isn’t exactly sweltering out
there, beautiful... anyway, I thought I told you to keep my side of the bed
warm.”
“But this is my side...”
“Correction. Now it’s our side.”
Once again, having Harry with her banished away all the ghosts and bad
thoughts. She sighed comfortably, giving herself up to her husband’s embrace
and the sleep that had eluded her.

~~~
The next morning, Demetrios announced that they were two short days
away from the entrance to Atlantis.
“And then what happens?” Ron wanted to know.
“Nothing, friend Weasel, unless you’ve got a cloning machine handy. We
wait.”
Zach turned to Heath. “Isn’t there a way to get a message to the station? If
you send word to Dale or Seal...”
“Don’t you think I haven’t already? My instruments aren’t working here.”
“I suppose not,” said Harry. “No telling how many thousands of years back
we are now. I’m only surprised that you found us.”
“I found you through Zach,” said Heath. “Zach, like all of us, has titanium-
chip instruments that he’s using during the mission here. Those instruments are
quite easy to track from the station, as there is no technology present on the
planet today like them. But I am not sure how far in space-time our tracking
devices would work.”
Hermione turned to Demetrios. “Why can’t you be one of the eight?”
“Well, I might, if it came to that. But as there are only seven of us,
I obviously can’t.”
They slowed their pace from then until lunchtime, where they rested near
what Demetrios claimed would be the last stream before reaching Atlantis. The
air was almost cold now, with very few trees. The ground was covered with
scrub brush and moss, and little sharp rocks that kept getting into their shoes.
For lunch, Demetrios presented them with a surprise snack of not-very-
stale tea biscuits (“don’t ask, don’t tell”) to supplement the ubitiquous dried-
turtle soup. They were back to loathing it.
“I never want to eat another bit of dried turtle or tropical anything as long
as I live,” swore Hermione wearily. “Harry, the first thing I am going to do
when we get back to civilization is to have a cream tea. Ron, you’re invited...
bloody hell, you’re all invited.”
“What do Atlanteans eat, Solon?” Ron wanted to know.
“Ambrosia and nectar, and manna of course...”
Harry laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Yes, actually I am. However, Zach and Heath here will likely be very
pleased with their diet. The people of Atlantis eat nothing but fruit.”
“Wouldn’t that get boring after a while?” said Riki.
“Oh no. They’ve got thousands of varieties of the stuff, with every sort of
taste imaginable. Just wait until you have a real feast there. You’ll love it. And
best of all, you won’t even be able to tell that most of what you’re eating is
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
fruit.”
“What sort of people are they?” Hermione asked.
“A very wise and ancient people. There isn’t another race of folks that have
ever graced the planet quite like those dwellers of Atlantis. They have golden
skin and diamond eyes and silver hair... and their robes are of every color of the
rainbow. You thought Brazil beautiful? Ha! Even my ancient domains have
nothing on Atlantis. Seeing is believing... you’d have to invent names for the
colors you’ll find there.
“Their island continent is ringed with canals, which are bridged with
mother-of-pearl, and the waters of the canals are for the healing of humankind.
Legend has it that if you drink of the waters of Atlantis, you will always long for
it... or you will live forever... or you will never be thirsty again, depending upon
the legend.” Demetrios shook his head. “As Atlantis was the first land, it is the
birthplace of all legend.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” said Hermione softly.
All of a sudden, Demetrios pulled her up by her hands and twirled her
around until she laughed.
“Atlantis cannot wait to see you, Pidge. The Atlanteans are intrigued by
you, and that is why they came to you in Boa Vista, I think. Your ancestress
shines through your eyes, I believe.”
“Did you know her, Demetrios?” asked Hermione.
“Gracious, no,” he chortled. “I was born millennia after her time.”
“When?” Riki wanted to know.
Demetrios was amused. “Why, it’s not polite to ask a gentleman his age...”
“I know. I wasn’t trying to be polite.”
“Little scamp,” he laughed. “Well, if you absolutely have to know, I was
born in a place called Mycenae a little over three thousand years ago. Hole in the
wall, really.”
“Whoa, you’re young,” Riki said.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, Zach and Heath looked at him.
“Well, compared to my parents...”
Hermione nodded. “You know, you’ve got a point there.”
“What kills me is that they’ve got a twelve year old,” laughed Ron, ruffling
the boy’s dark hair.
“Even the Old do not last forever,” said Demetrios. “We are long-lived, and
yet we are just as mortal as you are. Whether too soon or too late, we all are
destined to go the way of all flesh. It is only in the face of our children that we
can ever glimpse true immortality.”
“Amen,” said Ron, half-jokingly, yet also quite serious.
Zach was frowning. “A nice sentiment for those of us who can actually
have children of our own...”
Demetrios placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You think you are here merely to aid your friends, young Zachary? All
who enter Atlantis, enter as pilgrims and Seekers of truth. Ask, and it shall be
given to you. Knock and the door shall be opened. You are one of the eight for a
reason.”
“Speaking of opening doors,” Hermione said, “I still don’t understand how
I’m supposed to help you open Atlantis. Are there some special instructions
I ought to have in advance? I’ve always been the type to like to revise a bit
before exams...”
“A bit?” said Harry and Ron together. Hermione pulled a face at them.
“When we get there,” said Demetrios, “you will recognize and you will
know.”
As they all packed up for lunch, Harry handed Hermione their canteens.
“Why don’t you get us some water, love, before we forget and move on?
Even with a bottomless enchantment, it’s nice to have fresh water... and this
spring really tastes good. We must be getting close.”
So Hermione took their canteens to a place just around the bend of the
creek, where the water flowed swiftly over smooth stones. She tossed what
remained of the brackish lagoon water and rinsed all traces of the stuff from the
jugs. Then she began to fill them up...
“Think you could spare a drink of water, Doc?”
The back of Hermione’s neck prickled. “I don’t see what’s wrong with
your hands.”
Heath came to stand on the bank next to her. “There’s still time to turn
back, you know.”
“Exactly.”
It took him a moment to get her drift.
“Doc, if you go into Atlantis, when you come out, you will die. There will
be no changing the timestream then... it will be too late to Intervene. I don’t
want to see that happen to you... I don’t know what I would do, knowing that if
I had only...”
Having finished filling Harry’s canteen, she stood back up.
“Then I absolve you of all responsibility. You can go your way with a clear
conscience. Lucky you.”
“You are absolutely impossible.”
She now reached for her canteen to fill it. “Thank you. I’ve been told this
all my life.”
Heath crouched low to whisper into her ear. “Have you thought about what
I said that night?”
“Yes,” said Hermione. “And I wish to let you know that you are not going
to seduce me right underneath my husband’s nose. Not now. Not ever. So you
can just go away and leave us alone...”
“Is that what you really want? You know, I lay awake during the second
watch too.”
Hermione stiffened. Was it possible he could read her doubts, her fears?
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
“Doc, all I want to know is one thing... and if you answer that, I will
assume that you are really content with him, and never bring any of this up
again...”
“Hermione?”
She glanced up. It was Harry, with a look of concern on his face. The set of
his jaw let her know that he was also just a bit ticked off.
Screwing back on her canteen lid tightly, she ran over to her husband with
both canteens filled and sealed, relieved.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, looking at Heath, who had crossed his
arms as he surveyed the scene. “We’re all packed and ready to go. I was
wondering what was taking you so long.”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, pecking his lips quickly. “I’ll just run along now
and catch up to Ron and the others, okay?”
Before he could say a word, she dashed off.
Heath stood up slowly to meet the challenge in Harry’s eyes.
“I expect you want to have a word with me, Potter.”
“No, a word isn’t what I had in mind,” said Harry shortly. “I’m not much
for talking. Then again, you ought to know that better than anyone.”
“Then what did you have in mind?”
“Stay away from my wife, Heath.”
“Turnabout is fair play, I always thought.”
“Look, I had no idea who or what Diana was when I was with her. And you
will not use my wife as a pawn in your sick game of revenge!”
Heath merely smirked.
“She studied me, didn’t she?” Harry said slowly. “Just as you spent years
studying Hermione, Diana... Lenore... whoever she was studied me back in your
time. That’s how she seemed to know me so well... knew everything I would
want...”
“She did. Lenore wrote her dissertation on you, just as I wrote mine on
your Hermione.” Heath’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve watched every moment of
your lives, but not only the great deeds that got written up in the history books
of our time and yours. We watched you, Harry, as she bent over backwards for
you when you were little more than children and you accepted it as your due.
We saw the look on your face when you got the excited owl from Ron that said
Hermione had come to stay with them the summer you were sixteen... the
summer when Ron told you she was his girl. We watched the way you looked at
her when neither of them could see. We watched you in Avalon, and heard the
pathetic promises you made her, and watched as you broke each and every one
of them over the years.
“And guess what, Potter? I know something you don’t. I know that in the
end, when the chips are down, when it matters most, you never save her. You
watch as the life and light drains out of her eyes, as she dies in your arms, and
you do nothing. You sit there as the woman you purport to love dies. We have
tweaked the timestreams over and over again, as much as we dare, and the only
reason why I’m here is because at the moment of truth her hero never saves the
day!
“You say that you’d give your life for her, Potter. When have you ever
done so? It was Ron who saved her from Lucius Malfoy while you battled
Voldemort... if it hadn’t been for Ron, Lucius would have strangled her to death.
When she was captured by the Cabalistica, when any other Grand Inquisitor
would have killed her, where were you? Oh, that’s right... you didn’t bother to
check for weeks! When she left for three years, where were you? When she was
captured by the Cabalistica again most recently, she rescued herself! Every time,
Harry, it is her ingenuity, her tenacity, and her strength that pulls not only her
own arse out of the fire, but oftentimes, your own!
“I don’t care if she is a strong woman. I don’t care if she is the most
powerful Witch of your age. She is still your Witch and your woman. And you
treat her more like a comrade at arms than anything else, Potter...”
“What are you, my conscience?” Harry said angrily. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here because I want to know the answer to this question: are you
always going to watch her die? Or is there ever a future where you are the
reason that she lives?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“The next time I see you alone with my wife,” he hissed, “I will cast first
and ask questions later. Just remember that, Canyon, the next time you presume
to be my judge, jury, and executioner.”
Heath stared at Harry grimly before pushing past to meet the others.

~~~
That night, they camped on a desolate heath after a slow climb down a
rocky crag. Their campfire seemed lonely and dim, as it flickered in the midst of
a damp fog. Around it sat seven figures, wrapped well in fleece and wool.
Packing winter clothing had seemed insane in sweltering Salvador; now, it was
clear that Demetrios Solon knew this Portal Land as well as Sirius knew Ayr’s
dark underground caverns, and as well as any Gatekeeper knew his trade.
“One more day!” said the Gatekeeper cheerfully. “And a great thing, too, as
the food is getting to be a bit unbearable.”
“A bit?” smirked Ron, letting the watery dried-turtle soup fall from his
spoon.
“What day is it tomorrow, Demetrios?” asked Hermione. “I mean, if we
were still where we began, the days and nights we’ve spent here considered?”
“Let’s see,” he said, cocking his head from one side to the other, “I do
believe we’ve been traveling for almost a month now. Today would be the
twenty-third of January...”
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
“That’s what I thought,” she replied. “I’ll be back.”
Hermione stood up and disappeared inside the tent that Harry had pitched
just before supper. She re-emerged moments later with a tiny rucksack, the
corners of her mouth twitching upwards.
“There’s one extra, which I had intended for Eva... but since we’ve picked
up someone along the way,” she did not glance at Heath, “it’s actually worked
out well. Let’s see here...”
She placed the sack down on the ground, waved her wand at it, and both
her and Harry’s wedding bands glowed as brightly as the fire did. With a simple
Engorgement Charm, the sack grew to regular grocery size.
“A bottle of warm and toasty butterbeer for each of you,” she said, passing
them around as Zach and Ron gasped in appreciation, “and don’t ask me how
I got them. The Bragas’ House-Elves are as resourceful as they are talented,
we’ll just leave it at that.”
“You and House-Elves... thanks, Hermione!” Ron said, grinning.
“Yeah, thanks,” agreed Riki, reaching for Ron’s wand to pop open his
bottle.
“Thank Harry. As of tomorrow morning, we have been married for an
entire month. Happy anniversary, darling,” she said, leaning over to kiss him on
the cheek.
“Ah, I remember when I counted off the months,” said Demetrios. “Now
I do well to remember every five years or so. But I’ll drink to it.” He clinked
bottles with Zach and Riki, then with Ron and Harry. “To many, many more.”
“Thoughtful as always,” Harry murmured in her ear, setting his bottle down
to pull her into his arms. “But you didn’t pack one for yourself...”
“It’s still in the bag. And don’t open yours just yet. I’ve something else in
mind for you. Wait until you see what else I’ve got...”
For there was still something in the enlarged rucksack.
When Hermione produced a different bottle, Harry’s mouth dropped open.
Then he burst out laughing...
“But that’s your favorite, ‘Mione,” said Ron. “Right... Taittinger’s Comtes
de Champagne Brut Rosé... yeah, I remember the vile stuff. Over one hundred
pounds a bottle for glorified white zinfandel... why would that be for Harry?”
She glanced at him, then at Harry, and started laughing too.
“They’re being icky,” said Riki, pulling a face. “Can’t you tell?”
Zach shook his head, taking a swig of his butterbeer. “I can.”
“No, we’re not,” Hermione protested. “Ron, if you must know, the last time
we had this was at your sister’s wedding. That much is an insider joke, I’ll
admit. But look at the date I chose...” She handed the bottle to him. “Ring a
bell?”
“1991? Hmm... well, besides the fact that it’s over twenty years old and
thus quite a bit more expensive than one hundred pounds... and when it was
bottled, we were all too young to have a swig...”
 “Speak for yourself,” said Demetrios between hearty chugs of his
butterbeer.
“And some of us, technically speaking, still aren’t of age,” laughed Zach.
He nudged Heath, who did not seem to be enjoying the mirthful atmosphere.
Hermione did not notice this, as she put her hands on her hips and frowned
at Ron.
“Ron. 1991. Nineteen. Ninety. One. Think really, really hard.”
Ron blinked.
“It was the year we all met, of course! Train... midnight duel... troll...
Hogwarts? Ron!”
He dodged the empty rucksack, which Hermione threw at him. “Hey, Harry
didn’t remember either!”
Hermione whirled on him. Harry gave her his best incredulous look.
“Don’t listen to him, Hermione... yeah, it was 1991, Ron, surely you’re not
growing senile yet?” But his poker face was broken up when he couldn’t help
but laugh at her indignation. So Ron tossed the rucksack back to her, and she
bapped him in the chest with it.
“Ow! What? I didn’t forget! Who are you going to believe, Ron or me?”
“Harry, you are still officially the worst liar in the Wizarding world,” said
Ron eloquently. “Give it a rest.”
Demetrios was shaking his head. “Were you three always this entertaining
to watch?”
“Yes,” said Zach and Heath together.
“Eh, we’ve mellowed somewhat with age,” Ron said. “Give us some
credit.”
“And it was always them,” laughed Harry. “If you’d had a Quick-Quotes
Quill, you could go pages and pages and pages with those two going back and
forth and me never getting a word in edgewise.”
“Yes, because after all, we know that the great Harry Potter is in fact
absolutely perfect.”
Heath stood up, his bottle of butterbeer untouched. He handed it back to
Hermione without looking at her.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to prepare for my watch.”
There was a long, cumbersome silence. Hermione was the first to break it,
speaking as if the good mood had never been interrupted.
“It was because Harry never used to talk,” she told the others briskly. “And
when he did, it was usually to tell us something that scared us half to death.”
“Yeah, it was,” agreed Ron, cottoning on. “Either his old curse scar was
hurting, or he’d had a weird dream, or he was hearing voices no one else could.
I guess rather than tell us any of that, he just let Hermione and me yammer on.”
Harry managed a grin. “I rather liked the sound of your voices. Helped take
my mind off things.”
Ron grinned back. “Always.”
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
But when the fire died down, and everyone headed off to their respective
tents, Ron followed Harry and Hermione into theirs. Both of them had expected
this. In fact, Hermione cast an additional Silencing Charm around them before
Ron plunged in.
“What is with that Heath character? Can we drop him off a cliff or
something?”
“I’d like nothing better,” agreed Harry.
Hermione sighed. “Come on, we can’t just go dropping people off cliffs
because they’ve got chips on their shoulders for whatever reason...”
“Hermione, you know exactly what the man’s problem is.” Harry folded
his arms. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
Ron looked at both of his best friends.
“It’s her, isn’t it? Hermione, has he tried anything? Because if he has...”
“Oh, come off it. Heath has... well, I suppose he’s got a little crush.”
Harry snorted. “I’d like to ‘crush’ him.”
“Hey! That’s my line,” grumbled Ron. “I’m supposed to be the grum-py,
cynical and witty one, remember? You’re the lead, the long-suffering hero. Get
it right... and while you’re at it, need any help with the crushing, mate?”
“Neither of you are going to crush anyone,” said Hermione, in a tone that
brooked no refusal. “Heath knows things, you two... he’s spent his entire career
studying my life, and he knows exactly what to expect during these supposed
last few weeks. If we’re to avert whatever dangers we might face, we need just
to grit our teeth and bear whatever unpleasant feelings...”
“Hermione, when I caught him with you yesterday, the man looked as if he
was ready to drop his bloody jaw and swallow you whole. His supposed
‘advanced knowledge’ of the future is the only reason I didn’t hex him open
from neck to knees.”
“Can’t you trust me to take care of myself?”
“It’s not you we don’t trust,” Ron said. “I mean, think about it, Hermione.
If the bloke has really done nothing for the past decade or more but study you,
day in and day out, then he’s little better than a stalker.”
“But Zach...”
“Zach is younger than he is. And he didn’t specialize in a particular person,
either... we’ve talked about it, as we’re tentmates. Zach studied our educational
system, and that is what he would have taken his degree in. He says that if the
mission goes well, he’d like nothing better than to finish his internship at DSG.”
“And we’d like that for him,” Harry said. “However, his brother is a
Kneazle of a completely different shade. Hermione, I don’t like the man one bit.
So if he has done anything around you that is inappropriate, as your husband,
I have the right to know.”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“What, Hermione?” said Ron, before she could murmur a denial. “What
did he do?”
 Harry’s eyes darkened at this. “He did do something, then?”
“No! It was nothing, really.”
Harry and Ron looked at each other. “Nothing” in Hermione-speak always
meant that something was up... and usually something big.
“If it was nothing,” said Ron, standing up from the pack he’d been using as
a seat to circle the tent-flap, “then why won’t you look at either of us?”
“Because I know the two of you. I know that you both like to blow things
out of proportion, jump to conclusions, and make a mountain troll out of a
Puffskein, when if you’d just listened to me in the first place...”
“We’re listening now,” Ron said, as affably as he could, seeing that Harry
wasn’t in any mood to coax. He was staring at his ex-wife, trying to read her,
and none too amused at what he suspected was on the page.
Hermione attempted to laugh it off. “Let’s just drop it. I think I handled it
well. It hasn’t happened again...”
“He kissed you, didn’t he?”
Her eyes widened. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve got that look on your face.”
“Don’t be silly, there is no bloody look on my face!”
“Yes, there is. That’s your classic ‘some bloke just grabbed me out of
nowhere and snogged me senseless’ look, Hermione...”
“Ronald Weasley, he didn’t snog me senseless!”
“Ha! So you admit it. He did snog you.”
Hermione was aghast. Oh, dear.
Both she and Ron looked at Harry, very warily.
“Right, that’s it,” he said quietly. “He’s dead.”
Before they could blink, Harry Disapparated.
“Oh, fucking hell. We’d better go...” and seconds later, Ron and Hermione
were gone as well.

~~~
But when they stepped outside, Harry hadn’t yet committed murder. In
fact, he was standing just a few feet in front of the tent, staring intently at a
shadow-wraith that was moving over the rocky crags towards the camp. His
wand was at the ready, and even the very air about him seemed heavy with
anticipation.
Ron and Hermione didn’t ask questions. Within seconds they’d flanked
him, wands withdrawn. Waiting.
They had not been under magical Covenant for five years. Yet in that
moment, they were seventeen again, thoughts moving in tandem,
communicating wordlessly.
In three more seconds, if that thing is still moving, stun it.
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
But in two seconds, there was a gust of something that was like wind, on
either side of them. Before they knew it, Heath and Zach, who had been on the
other side of camp, had wrestled the very-material phantom to the ground.
“Well, that’s rather anticlimactic,” said Ron, as they ran to see what quarry
their companions had captured.
By the time they got to the spot, Zach was holding the very human-seeming
figure’s arms back, while Heath was jerking away its hood... exposing platinum
hair and aquamarine eyes to the dim starshine.
“Of course,” he spat.
The woman jerked away from Zach with surprising strength now that both
men were not holding her.
“You nearly wrenched my arm out of the socket, boss,” she said angrily to
Heath, in a clipped dialect that was hard for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to catch
on to. It wasn’t exactly another language, but the sound of her English was
clanging and hard on the ears.
“Nearly? What a shame. I certainly meant to.”
“That’s no way to talk to a lady!”
“I’d agree if I were speaking to one...”
“Both of you, shut up,” said Zach angrily. “Lenore, what on earth? You’re
supposed to be in Tartarus!”
“I was there until I realized that they’d done something to make someone
who knows too much really very angry. The Cabalistica knows you’re here,
Harry,” she said, totally ignoring Ron and Hermione, “and I’m only a day’s trek
ahead.”
“How could they get here? Only Demetrios can open up Atlantis!”
“Yes, that’s true. But that Dark One is helping them... they’ve got several
of her “pets” with them. Gatekeepers in general are good at navigating their way
through Portal Lands... and the Bermudan Gatekeeper is an old friend of the late
Diane Johnson and firmly in the pocket of the Society. She’s proven to be better
than a Sherpa guide on Phobos. I was only able to slip away a day and a night
ago, and I have not slept. But they’re not as far behind as I would like.”
“So what do we do?” asked Harry.
“You’ve got to surface and take the water gate. Demetrios was avoiding it
because it’s far more perilous, but it’s the only way. If you continue by land,
even if you outpace them, they will overtake you before you can open the
entrance.”
“How many?”
“Nearly fifty. Not counting the Demons. Harry, you can’t fight them.
You’ll have to go the other way.”
“But if we surface from here, not only do we run the risk of being seen,”
said Demetrios, rushing over with Riki not far behind, “we’ll lose a week!
Which means that we’ll have to wait another month before Atlantis opens
again.”
 “You have no other choice, Solon. And well you know it.”
“I don’t think we should listen to her,” snapped Hermione. “I say we
proceed as planned.”
“Why? Just because I suggested it?” Lenore snarled.
“No. We’re going to eat dried turtle soup and drink that vile coffee for
another month because of a few goons and a couple of Demons? Are you mad?”
“Besides, I don’t have a month,” said Ron. “My wife will likely murder me
if I’m not back by the time she goes into labor. The only reason why she’s
allowed me to trot along thus far is because of her allergy.”
“But Di... Lenore might have a point, Ron,” said Harry.
“She has no point!” roared Heath. “This woman is a traitor and a liar and a
thief! Why do you think she was selected to infiltrate the Cabalistica? For all we
know, she’s leading us straight into a trap!”
“You selected me because I am the best, Heath,” Lenore said quietly. “The
entire Tower knows that. You yourself know that. Don’t let your personal biases
affect their lives...”
“You dare talk to me about endangerment? We all gave up our homes and
our lives for this, and your little antics upon arrival nearly cost us the mission!”
“No, Heath. The fact that you are a leader who does not listen to anyone
other than yourself is the reason why I did what I did.” She turned to the others.
“I say we vote.”
Harry nodded. “It’s only fair.”
“I say we don’t,” Hermione said. “You brought us valuable information,
Dia... Lenore, and for that you have our gratitude. However, we are choosing to
proceed as planned.”
“No, you’re choosing to proceed as planned,” said Harry. “We will vote.”
Hermione looked very unhappy at this, but she shrugged. “Fine.”
“I suppose I should abstain, and only vote in the case of a tie,” said
Demetrios.
“All right, all those in favor of continuing to the land gate tomorrow
evening, respond with ‘aye’.”
Hermione, Ron, and Heath raised their hands.
“In favor of detouring through the ocean?”
Harry, Riki, and Lenore voted for this.
Everyone looked at Zach.
“Zach, you’ve got to vote,” said Lenore. “And you know what’s right. You
know and trust my instincts... don’t listen to your brother, you know how he is!”
“Yes, but I also know how you are about grudges. And I know I want to
see my Evinha and Daniel before another month is gone,” he said. “I’m voting
to press on.”
“You’ll regret it!” Lenore said angrily.
“No more than I regret not leaving you behind in Sabera,” Heath snarled.
“We shall see, Heath.” She snickered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
“Wait a minute,” said Harry. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the Cabalistica camp, of course,” snapped Lenore. “I haven’t been
relieved of my orders, boss.”
She turned to glare at Heath.
“Tomorrow, you will regret sending me to Sebastian Borgin’s bed when
I fight on his side.”
And with a swirl of the mist, she Disapparated.

~~~
All watches were abandoned that night, now that they knew exactly who
was following them and when they would likely arrive. Demetrios admonished
them to get as much sleep as they could.
“The opening of the land gate is much more difficult than the sea one,” said
Demetrios. “But with my Pidge here to help, I don’t anticipate any trouble. In
fact, if the Cabalistica is as far behind as Cosmic Girl seems to think, we won’t
even see them.”
“I wonder what Atlantis is like,” said Hermione, once they were back in the
tent, as she pulled off her damp hiking boots and stuck her feet into the
washbasin. “Just think, this time tomorrow, we’ll be there...”
Harry didn’t say anything. He just pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the
pack.
“What’s the matter?”
Nothing.
“It’s not about my vote, is it?”
Still nothing.
“Correction. This had better not be about my vote, Harry. Because if you
think that I’ve got to agree with you on everything...”
“It’s not that. Although I’m sure you would have voted with us if Diana,
I mean Lenore, hadn’t been the one to suggest it.”
“No, I would have voted exactly the same,” said Hermione, reaching for
her wand. “Running away from Dark goons is stupid, especially when there’s so
few of them. I’m weary of the food, I think I am pregnant, and I’m ready to find
out why the Atlanteans want us there so badly. If I have to camp out for another
month, I’ll go mad...”
“Fine. Want to talk about that kiss?”
“What kiss?” she said, squirting soap suds from the tip of her wand into the
basin.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Heath kissed you?”
“Because he kissed me, not the other way around. And I handled it.”
“How exactly did you handle it?”
She shrugged, sloshing a washcloth in the basin. “Well, I insulted him.
I told him that I was still your wife, and that I got nothing out of the kiss.”
“And?”
“That’s all. I left him and came back to bed.”
Harry hung his glasses from a tent peg. “That is what you call handling it?”
“Harry, it wasn’t even a real kiss. It was just sort of a peck. And I didn’t
want to have a dramatic reaction to it. That would have encouraged him even
more...”
“No. What you did was a blatant invitation, Hermione. ‘Right, Heath, you
call that a kiss? Why don’t you bloody well try again, if you’re wanting to
measure up to my unsuspecting husband?’”
“Sod it, Harry, it’s not a pissing contest!”
“You’re damned right it isn’t. What I can’t understand is why you seem to
be so flattered by the man’s attention...”
“Right, Harry, I’m flattered – accio towel,” she said, pulling her wet limbs
out of the basin to dry. “I’m so flattered by Heath that I refused to sleep with
him even before we were married. I’m so bloody flattered by him that I’ve spent
the whole time since his arrival feeling guilty when I haven’t done anything but
worry about how you’d overreact!”
“I am not overreacting. You are my wife and he is disrespecting our
marriage.”
“No, Harry. You’re disrespecting it by not trusting me.”
Silence again. Hermione turned her back on him, shucked off her flannel
shirt, and began to sponge the day’s grime from the rest of her body. She took
her time, as Harry was obviously in one of his moods. Well, fine. Let him sulk
over nothing. He would find his bed cold this night. She wasn’t in the best
humor herself...
“Are you nearly finished?”
She glanced over her shoulder. He was lying down on the bed, hands
tucked beneath his head, watching her.
“No. Go to sleep.”
“I’d like to wash first, if you don’t mind.”
“Then you’ll bloody well have to wait until I’m done, won’t you?”
“Obviously. Which is why I asked.”
She whirled back around angrily and slapped her cloth back into the basin.
“If doing your back would speed up the process, let me know.”
“No, I’d rather do it myself,” she said shortly, squeezing out the cloth.
“Want a book to read or something? It’ll pass the time.”
Silence.
She tossed the cloth back into the basin and peered back over her shoulder.
He was still staring at her.
“What, Harry, what?”
“You know, I can’t figure out whether or not it’s a spell or a sickness or a
potion.”
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
“What are you talking about?” she said.
“Whatever it is that snakes through my veins whenever I look at you.”
She turned back to her washing. “Don’t start. I’m none too pleased with
you right now, and I’m dead tired, and I’m not in any mood for lovemaking...”
Her hand was suddenly covered in the water.
“Neither am I, Hermione. Neither am I.”
No, neither of them felt much like making love just then.
But within moments, Hermione knew that whenever she was with him, it
was firespell and fever and draught all at once.
This time, she took the lead. She was the one who stripped him bare,
opened her favorite bottle of champagne with a twist, and drenched him in it
until it pooled all over the wood-slatted tent floor. She was the one whose hot
mouth trailed all over his skin, seeking his strength and his heat. And,
hyperempath that she was, she sent him all her urgency, all her need, the fact
that he was her sunlight, her water, and her air... that she not only loved him, but
lusted after him so much that any other man, Wizard, or he-creature who dared
approach would be laughed at and disregarded as a pathetic pretender
forevermore.
With her mouth and her fingers, with her lips and her hands, she coaxed all
of the Demons out of his blood, making him cry out in the night until he was
utterly boneless...
Even then, she did not stop. When he reached out to touch her, to take the
Quaffle back into his keeping and possession, she eased his hands away and
refilled the basin. Then she sponged him from eyes to thighs, from knees to
soles, and even lathered and rinsed his hair. Afterward, she widened the towel so
that it was the size of a small blanket and wrapped him in it, rolled with him in it
until the cool air and her heated skin dried him.
Still, still they did not make love. When she came to him the next time, she
was rough and harsh like the elements. Soon, his very breath was short-
circuiting in his chest and his eyes were rolling backwards into their sockets...
“You’re determined to be the death of me, Hermione, aren’t you?” he
whispered after their anger and frustration and desperation and lust was spent at
last. This time, she was the one with the smug look on her face and he was too
worn out to move a muscle.
“No, I’m determined to be the life of you. Which is why if you ever again,
as long as you live, accuse me of anything but faithfulness and love, know that
you will suffer a fate far worse than death.” She stroked his head where he’d
settled it to rest lightly on her chest. “I don’t like being treated as the ‘little
woman’, even if we are married. Don’t do it again. I’m your equal.”
“No, you’re not, Hermione. You’re my better.”
They fell asleep then. Peacefully. Dreamlessly.
Hermione.
Her Harry.
 ~~~
As they set off the next morning, Hermione clapped Heath on the back.
“Hello, my friend! Did you sleep well?”
He glanced over at Harry, who grinned at him and winked at her. Heath
knew immediately what must have happened the night before. He was obviously
being put on notice that he was no longer a threat to their marriage.
“I slept wonderfully well,” Heath lied. “Nice to have the night off from
Watching for a change.”
“I’ll say,” agreed Hermione, practically glowing. “Well, got to go...”
She skipped up ahead to walk right next to her husband.
The trek that morning was nearly all descent, as the craggy ledge dropped
down to encircle something that looked like a bottomless pit. Hermione felt as if
she was going to fall tumbling forward at nearly any second, and was very
grateful for Harry’s steadying hand on her waist.
“Don’t look down, Hermione,” he said, knowing her long-time fear of
heights.
“Oh, I won’t let vertigo get the better of me. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
“You will, because I won’t let you fall.”
To pass the time, Demetrios told stories. Being over three thousand years
old, he knew plenty of good ones, and everyone had their favorites. Hermione
loved his Roman comedies best, while Harry and Ron preferred ribald
Renaissance farces. Riki liked the epic tales of his native Near East, and Zach
would request anything about Brazil.
Of course, they all liked hearing the history of Atlantis.
“Are you the Solon of legend?” asked Hermione.
“That I am. I was a lot more serious in those days, you know.”
“Did you deliberately mislead Plato and others?”
“Well, yes and no. I was right about Atlantis being beyond the Pillars of
Hercules, wasn’t I?”
“You were wrong about it being destroyed by a great cataclysm, weren’t
you?” Hermione’s tone was severe. “People have been looking for Atlantis for
centuries...”
“Well, the sinking of Atlantis marked the beginning of the Receding Ages.
Wizardkind and Mugglekind found that they had less in common as secular
governments replaced magical and religious ones. The Atlanteans had been a
Confederation of sorts for the world during the Golden Age... sort of like your
One City, Zach, Heath... but about seven thousand years ago other folks didn’t
understand why there ought to be just one city. So they built another city at what
is now Babylon and challenged the authority of Atlantis. Rather than fight, the
Atlanteans chose to retreat from our world.”
“And I’ll bet once Atlantis sunk, they spread around the story about the
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
judgment of the gods,” nodded Ron. “That goes to show why religion and
superstition is so stupid. Be a good thing once people are past all that for good.”
“Not all religion is pointless, Ron,” said Harry. “I mean, I’ve never been
religious myself, but we’ve all seen things that neither Muggle nor Wizarding
natural law could explain. One can see why people even in this modern age
continue to believe in something greater.”
“That’s because people tend to fear what they cannot comprehend,
darling,” Hermione said. “It doesn’t mean that there is something out there.”
“All the same, I still say religion isn’t all bad. Certainly fanaticism of any
sort isn’t a great idea, but in moderation, it’s inspired people to do extraordinary
things, both Wizard and Muggle.”
“I’d have to agree with that, Harry,” Zach said. “In the future, it is a
religion of sorts that pulls humanity out of the War of Wars.”
“Well, if you were a good Sabaean, you couldn’t marry Eva, could you? Or
have the other children you’ve said you want, if something can be done for you
in that regard...”
“True enough, Ron. But one doesn’t have to be a good Sabaean to be a
Sabaean. It is what some people of my time believe, but it is what all of us are.”
“And yet the Sabaeans sound a lot like the Atlanteans,” said Ron. “Hey,
they even rhyme!”
“No thanks, Ron,” laughed Hermione. “But I don’t think the people of
Atlantis are a race of celibates, cut off from everyone else as they are... they’ve
had to perpetuate themselves somehow.”
“Cloning?” Ron shot back. “Works in the future.”
“No, definitely not clones or celibates,” Demetrios supplied. “The people
of Atlantis are as epicurean as they come.”
“Well, then, the only question that remains is whether they believe in a god
or whether they are gods,” said Ron comfortably. “They seem to be able to do
all sorts of things that others can’t...”
A sharp whistle from the rear drew their attention.
“We’ve got trouble!” yelled Heath. “Look!”
They looked up... and up... and up.
Sweeping into the chasm from the crag above were several Cabalistica
operatives, mounted on...
“It’s dragons!” Ron cried out. “Take cover!”
The dragons were mere youngsters and mongrels – one couldn’t classify
their specific species by just glancing – but their sulfur and fire and fangs were
just as potent as those of an adult. Quickly, Harry and Ron began to blast the
side of the canyon to form a cave.
“Don’t do that, you don’t know what it’s made of! Besides, there’s a
natural cave down there!” said Hermione, who’d spotted it about sixty feet up
the path. “Demetrios?”
“You and Riki try to run for it! I’ll head them off... hey, twice-blessed!
Weasel! Give Pidge and the boy some cover...”
He was cut off by the nearest goon, whose dragon’s fire was about forty
feet away and moving fast... and like the others was casting Slicing Spells as fast
as he could flick his wand.
Secaro! Secaro! Secaro!
Merry little Demetrios changed on the spot. His eyes glowed bright blue,
and he was encased in a strange blue light all of a sudden.
Both spell and fire bounced off the glow, and ricocheted back towards the
sender.
Both henchWizard and dragon exploded in a fantastic show.
“Very good!” said Ron. “One down, forty-nine to go... I’m impressed!”
“The field isn’t wide enough to protect all of you! Cover the pigeon! Now!
She can’t fight them!”
For more of the mounted henchmen were sweeping into the gap.
And the walls of the cavern shook as troll-like Demons plunged over the
side and began to crawl down.
“Hermione! Get down!” Ron shouted.
But it was too late. The Demon that happened to climb down directly above
them had started an avalanche. Hermione, who was almost in the cave with Riki,
saw the boulders tumbling, shoved him inside, and jumped back out of the way.
But she lost her footing and...
“No!”
Harry ran towards the edge of the canyon. Ron grabbed his shirt so that he
didn’t fall over. Yet his eyes were wide with shock too.
Their view was obscured by the tumble of the rocks, and the resulting thick
grey dust. The good thing was that they couldn’t be seen by the dragon riders in
their moment of shared anguish. However, the dust meant that they couldn’t see
much of anything, much less what had happened to Hermione. If she’d been
buried under the rocks. If she’d fallen into the darkness.
There was no time to react, no time to do anything rash. The Demon that
had caused the avalanche was now on top of them...
“Diffindio!”
“Incendio!”
The Demon was temporarily sliced open, and temporarily winced from the
flame.
Then all effects seemed to disintegrate...
Until its head fell from its shoulders, and its body dropped into the abyss.
“The only way to kill a Demon from Tartarus is to take its head off,” said
Heath, who’d Transfigured his wand into a saber and was gesturing at their
necks. “Something I learned from watching you... step up!”
Harry and Ron got the message. No matter what had happened to
Hermione, they were going to have to either fight their way out of this mess, or
die their way out before they could do anything about it.
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
They chose to fight, side by side, with Heath.
Zach was already fighting another of the Demons as he struggled to free
Riki from where he was imprisoned in the cave. Demetrios was attempting to
shield him as much as he could from the dragons.
Working together, they succeeded in dispatching half of the Demons and
more than one-third of the dragon riders before the creatures seemed to retreat...
was it with a titter?
“What is going on?” frowned Ron.
Harry wasn’t paying attention. The reality of Hermione’s fall hit him in that
moment of pause like the many tons of rocks that had caused it.
He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Anything so that he
didn’t cast himself over the edge.
Yet within a few seconds, the sudden eerie silence was interrupted by a
single dusty hand that suddenly appeared over the ledge, and gripped tightly.
“Help me up!” shrieked Hermione, desperately. “Come on...”
They all ran to the ledge. Harry and Ron each grabbed an arm and yanked
her back onto terra firma.
Harry was shaking like a gelatin mold as he pulled Hermione into his arms
and let her comfort him as only she could, reassuring him that she wasn’t killed
quite as easily as some people seemed to think (“as if I’d leave you like that,
Harry, honestly!”). Ron exhaled with relief and good humor (“next time,
Hermione, why don’t you try screaming like a normal Witch for a change, so
we’ll know you’re down there?” “Yes, well next time, why don’t you try
looking over the edge instead of giving me up for dead?”)
Zach reemerged from the cavern with Riki, rushing over to assess the
situation.
“I’ve cleared a gap in the rocks. If we move on now...”
But then something leapt into the gap, and was crawling down the ledge
with great fury.
It was a nundu... one of the giant leopards of legend whose pestilent breath
could wipe out entire villages. Along with the manticore and the lamia, it was
considered one of the most dangerous magical creatures in existence.
And it was the one ferocious beast that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had
never faced.
Indeed, it usually took one hundred highly skilled Wizards to control a
nundu.
And of these, usually less than ten survived to tell the tale.
This nundu had riders. A divan was set upon its back, and there were two
tiny yet clearly visible figures inside.
Above, the dragon rides circled again, like vultures anticipating a meal of
carrion. The six giant Demons that remained guffawed from the canyon’s lip.
“Well, mates,” said Ron. “It’s been nice knowing you.”
“Oh, come on!”
 “Only look how fast it’s coming, ‘Mione! It’ll be upon us in five minutes.
No way we can outrun that fleabag.”
“Wait a second,” said Hermione. “According to Heath, we’ve got another
six weeks to live...”
“Hermione,” said Ron. “D’you really think the reading wouldn’t change,
looking at those odds?”
“Just listen to me. What is the part of the nundu that everyone fears most?”
“That’s easy,” said Riki. “Even the faintest whiff of its breath kills in
twelve hours... it says right in my Children’s Bestiary at home.”
“And not just its breath, love,” said Harry. “That goes for its spittle, its
blood, its tears... it’s a walking sack of plague. How can we fight it?”
“So isn’t it obvious? We avoid all that.”
“Yeah, but how?”
“We don’t breathe.”
Ron was exasperated. “Right, so that’s your plan? ‘We don’t breathe.’ How
exactly are we going to manage that?”
But Harry was nodding. “You know... there is a charm that might work.
Mind, I’ve not seen it used in nearly twenty years... and then, it was
underwater... but... by Merlin, I think you’ve got it, Hermione!”
He grabbed her around the waist.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking of, Harry. Fourth year, TriWizard
Tournament. Poor Ced... and the Second Task.”
“The Bubble-Head Charm! Brilliant!”
“Perhaps not, but at the very least it should buy us some time.” She kissed
him. “We’ll have to be careful killing that beast, though, since anything that
spews out of it will be harmful to the skin as well.”
“Do you always think of everything, beautiful?”
“I’ve always had to think of you, so I’m quite used to it. It’s part and parcel
of the territory.”
Ron groaned as they kissed again. “Okay, you two, please cut it out so we
can try this Bubble-Head thing... are you sure it doesn’t take oxygen out of the
water, Hermione? It won’t help us much if it’s water specific.”
“In fact, I’m sure it does. But since we’ve got to make each bubble
absolutely impermeable, then we’ll each have as much air as is in the bubble.
That won’t give us much time, but it’s all we’ve got.”
So they all cast the Bubble-Head Charm on each other, made certain all
their skin was covered, transfigured wands into longswords, and waited for the
nundu to come.
And it came, its eyes filled with fire, with biting jaws and catching claws. It
was about the height of a Knight Bus, and the length of one-third of the
Hogwarts Express. As the creature approached them, it slowed down to a
stalking swagger, as if it planned to spring and leap to overtake them.
“Ready?” mouthed Ron, beneath his bubble.
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
They all nodded. Everything had to be very carefully timed... their reflexes
had to be good...
The huge death-cat sprang back on its haunches...
“Now!” they all said, and ran forward, just as the beast sprang.
From the vantage point of the observers above, it looked as if the nundu
had crushed all seven of the travelers. The dragon riders screeched from their
high perches; the Demons chortled with snorts with amusement.
Yet just then the beast let out a huge scream, as it lifted up... and up... and
up... .
The riders in the divan, also with some sort of transparent protective
sacking over their heads, scrambled down from the creature’s back and
attempted to run back up the ledge.
The dragon riders and the Demons ceased laughing when they saw what
had happened.
The group had pierced the nundu from throat to tailbone with their
conjured butcher-knives. Careful to avoid the gush of poisoned blood, Heath,
Zach, Ron, and Harry were now levitating the dying, vainly biting beast
upwards... up towards the spectators...
Several of the dragons caught a whiff of the nundu’s dying breath and
plunged, dead, with their riders into the abyss. So did a Demon, shaking the far
side of the canyon every time it hit it.
The rest scattered.
Demetrios looked relieved.
But the nundu had one last trick up its sleeve.
It swiped its claw towards Heath, who was in its path. Harry saw it, and
went to push Heath out of the way...
And its claw pierced his head-bubble.
Hermione’s heart stopped beating.
“Demetrios, help us get rid of this thing, please!” Now that Harry was
down, Hermione used his magic in full. “Leviosa!”
The dead nundu landed out of sight an the far edge of the cliff. Hermione
then ran to Harry, whose face was fast turning purple. Ron lifted him up to sit,
but that didn’t help.
“It’s too late, you two,” he grated out. “Clear the air so you can breathe, at
least.”
Hermione turned to Demetrios. “Do something!”
“Pidge, you do something.”
“You’re the Gatekeeper,” she snarled.
His manner became almost reverent.
“Yes, and you are the Inanna come back to life. Atlantis is your natural
home. Call the winds of Atlantis; we are close enough so that they will hear.
I think you’ll find they’ll obey their mistress much faster than they will a
servant.”
 Hermione rolled her eyes, as this Inanna thing was becoming a sore point
with her, but she raised her wand and looked over the canyon’s edge. What was
she supposed to say?
But her mind seemed to say it all for her.
Four winds from Atlantis of the deep, come to me now... sweet west wind,
cool north wind, balmy southern wind, moist east wind, breathe on me now...
freshen this air, make it fit for Inanna to breathe...
And the winds came, howling, swirling, blowing. Sweeping away the dust
and the pestilence and the poison.
Hermione didn’t hesitate. With the tip of her wand Transfigured back from
the sword, she pierced her head-bubble and took a gulp of clean, cool air.
“It’s okay!” she shouted. “Go ahead and get rid of your bubbles.”
But her husband wasn’t okay. Panic gripped Hermione’s chest as she
rushed back to him. She shucked her gloves from her hands, ready to press her
palms to Harry’s face so that he could share her strength...
“There is nothing you can do to save him,” said a voice behind them.
She turned around to face Lenore.
“I took care of Vladimir,” she said flatly. “He was the other person who
was riding the nundu.”
“Why didn’t you ‘take care’ of the damned nundu, then?” Hermione turned
back to Harry. “And I’ll save his life or die trying.”
Lenore gripped her shoulder.
“Well, if you heal him with your Sharing, you will die, Inanna or not. The
nundu’s breath doesn’t discriminate between Wizard or Muggle or demi-
goddess. Why do you think the very Demons ran before it? Even a hyperempath
cannot cure him... and neither can a hyperempath’s love.”
“I suppose you’ve got a better plan, then.”
“I do. Let me take him ahead to the gate of Atlantis. A small stream from
the outer canal flows there. It will heal him.” She saw the look on Hermione’s
face. “And no, you cannot call the water to you as you did the wind, unless you
wish for us all to drown. Besides, it isn’t just the water you need, it is water
infused with the Source. And that is present in Atlantis in abundance.”
Hermione frowned. “How can you take him ahead? Even if you’re fast, you
cannot possibly carry him alone.”
“She won’t have to.”
Heath stepped up. A grim look of determination was on his face.
“Heath,” said Lenore patiently. “I can move far faster without you. You
know what we’ll have to do, and you know who does it. I’m the better rider and
flier. After all, I was the one who studied his life.”
“But you’ll need help once you’re at the gate. And what if the dragon riders
come back?”
“They won’t come back. In Sebastian’s absence, the Bear is in command.
Like I told you, I have taken care of the Bear. He is my mouthpiece now. They
 10. Rest Stop at the End of Time
will return to El-Kharga, and that will buy you some time.”
Heath frowned. “You saw this right before you found us, Raven, didn’t
you?”
“I did. If you had taken the water gate, his life would not hang in the
balance now.”
Hermione hung her head. She stood up to face Lenore and opened her
mouth to speak.
“I know what you are going to say. There is no need. We have all made
many mistakes, Hermione, and I have definitely made my fair share. We all
have our masks that we wear in our time, masks to protect ourselves, masks that
unwittingly wound others. Yet you are coming to a place in your life where all
masks can be swept away forever if you are willing.”
She placed a pale and exquisite hand on Hermione’s shoulder, the gesture
of a friend.
“I bear you no ill will. I have no further designs on your husband and no
ulterior motive. I only wish to save his life. Please, allow me to do that for you...
granted, it is only a beginning, but even a Sabaean must begin somewhere.”
The women regarded each other. Wordlessly, Hermione nodded.
“Then there is no time to lose. Riki!”
The young boy trotted forward warily.
“I need you to Transfigure.”
Riki’s eyes widened. “But I am not of age yet. My parents said...”
“Riki, you have proven your worth as a fully qualified Wizard on this
expedition, and from all accounts, at Boa Vista,” Demetrios said quietly. “You
are your father and mother’s son. They will be proud.”
“But... but I’m so unsure of everything as of yet. Whenever I transform,
I move from shape to shape to shape... I can’t control it... what if I fall?”
“You will not fall,” Hermione said, Harry’s head in her lap. “Lenore won’t
let you. And you are our friend. I have every faith in you, Riki dear. I know you
will not fail us.”
“Riki,” Lenore continued, coaxingly, “remember your hunting hawks, back
home in the Egyptian desert? Remember how sad you were when your parents
wrote to say they had need of you in England and in Brazil, and how you left
them with a friend, saying to them that you’d be back?”
“Whoa,” said Riki. “You guys didn’t miss anything about us, did you?”
“You’d be surprised,” she smiled. “Well, what I need you to do now is to
think of Sheba, Iman, Dawoud, Ebana, Musuri, Hadad, and Tuya... I need you to
become all seven of them at once... I need you to become a giant hawk.”
“I can’t...”
“Riki,” said Hermione. “Please try. We need you to try.”
The desperation on her face and in her voice made Riki steel his resolve.
He took a deep breath, lifted his dark eyes to the gray daylight far above the
canyon, backed up, ran...
 And jumped off the ledge.
They waited for him to emerge.
When it did, it was no longer as an Egyptian boy. It was as a glorious
raptor with golden-tipped feathers. His wingspan was nearly twenty feet. To
Hermione, he appeared as an angel of mercy as he swooped up to perch on the
ledge.
“Slithering slugs! This beak feels really weird,” he said. “Hard to talk...
easier to squawk.”
As Heath and Ron pulled Harry up on the bird, Hermione was hugging
Riki’s leg. “Thank you.”
“Thank me when I get him there without changing into a croc or a tortoise.
Here’s hoping!”
Lenore jumped onto Riki’s back without help. Hermione grabbed Harry’s
hand. He could no longer talk, but she brushed her lips across it, careful to
shield, hoping her husband could sense her love all the same.
He did. “Love you,” he murmured, starting their game.
“Love you more,” she said back, hot tears filling her eyes.
When she heard his whispered “that’s not possible,” they spilled over.
Unbeknownst to her, Heath was standing on the other side, talking to
Lenore.
“Fly well, Raven, and we’ll meet you at the Atlantis gate before the
evening.”
“Thank you. And once we are there, they will have much to attend to...
which will be excellent. For you and I need to have a long and uninterrupted
talk. Yes. There is much that we need to say to one another.”
Heath didn’t say anything.
“Oh, and Heath? Remember what she told him last night... the “little
woman” thing gets really old, really fast. Let me finish out the mission without
being encumbered by your misguided notions of chivalry.”
“And after the mission? Seeing that we’re stuck here?”
“If that is truly the case...” she said, “...then we shall see, won’t we?”
She sat up, plunged her hands into Riki’s plumage and leaned forward. As
the others stepped back, he took off from the ledge and soared downward with a
swoop.
Hermione brushed the tears away and grinned bravely at Demetrios and the
others.
“Well, what are we standing here for? Atlantis is that way.”
And picking up her wand and her pack, she led the group through the gap
and towards the gate.
 A/N: Next time, the Atlantis chapter... and it’ll be the last of
Paradise I’ll write before OotP. After Book 5, you can expect three
more chapters and an epilogue, and Paradise Lost will be a done
deal.
I’ve got a modest proposal for you guys... how would you like
to rewrite Paradise? In chapter 11, you will have your shot at it!
Visit the Paradise list for more information:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_Paradise/message/5831
Pippin and Beta? Thanks a million for the beta-reading. You
guys are two in a million.
Many, many thanks to the Paradisers who responded to my list
survey. You guys mean a lot to me... so much, in fact, that I’ll be
giving you credit in the Schnoogle A/N. When your name is up in
lights, I’ll let you know.
As always, let me know what you think.
SOURCES:
Okay, as you can tell from this chapter, I’m a huge classical
music fan. A great place to listen to Chopin’s music is
http://www.chopinfiles.com/etudes.html – I don’t play piano, but
I do appreciate the intricacy of these compositions and the technical
accomplishment required to play them well.
My very favorite Chopin etude is the stormy Opus 25, no. 11,
the Winter Wind... in December, when I heard this while driving,
I had to pull over and wait for it to finish... but I really don’t think
Hermione could have pulled it off. Many world-famous pianists
have broken their fingers on that one. Of course, both Lissanne and
Carl assured me during the writing that Paradise Hermione could
pull it off, and so I leave it to you, the reader, to decide.
And I am officially in love with the disbanded group, the New
Radicals. This chapter was stalled for nearly five months until
I stumbled upon their one-hit album Maybe You’ve Been
Brainwashed. Everyone who knows me knows I’m really not a
rock-and-roll girl, no matter how light or alternative it is, but
I listened to them over and over and over as I wrote. They’re also
hometown folks... which brings me back to my smug theory that
Detroit is definitely one of the top ten cities for popular music in
the world. (The rest of the theory is that there isn’t crap else to do
around this post-industrial disaster, so we might as well make some
noise.)
You can hear the subtle Motown influence in the mournful
“Crying Like a Church on Monday”, which inspired my favorite
H/H moment in this chapter (two guesses which one that was!) –
something about the song reminds me of Smokey Robinson. The
lyrics of “Someday We’ll Know” became a chapter theme of sorts,
and I also played “In Need of a Miracle” and “I Don’t Wanna Die
Anymore” as I wrote.
Paradise Lost 3
Finally, I also let Sarah McLachlan and the Muppets sing my
favorite childhood song, “The Rainbow Connection”, to me as
I conceived Atlantis and the One City of the Sabaeans... my first
love, at age two, was definitely Kermit the Frog, and that was the
song that did it. :-D
Until next time, everyone!
– eet, 4/27/03, 6:43 p.m.

Summary: In Atlantis, the group finds disappointment as well

as truth. Meanwhile, Hermione begins to learn more about her
ancestress through a series of dreams... before being faced with the
temptation of the universal question: “What if?”
Dedicated to all of those who search and yearn in their hearts
for a paradise to find.

- 30 -
 11. Atlantis

“When this all began

I knew there’d be a price...”
– from Jekyll and Hyde,
“Once Upon a Dream”

W hen Harry opened his eyes, he was in the midst of a shadow world.
Cloudy light and dim silhouette-shapes dominated his field of vision.
It was if he’d suddenly found himself in the midst of an
extraordinarily bright star. All of his other senses seemed dulled; there was
nothing here save for the bright incandescence.
One shadow in particular seemed to predominate. He blinked, trying to get
the grainy sensation out of his eyes. The lids seemed to be secured with
imaginary strands of filament, making them difficult to open, making it difficult
to see.
He tried to raise his head –
“Not so fast,” said a soft voice.
A cup was pressed to his lips, and he drank deeply of the substance within.
Diamonds made liquid slipped down his throat, and the mist seemed to abate
somewhat.
He was looking up into Lenore’s starry eyes.
“Hello, Harry.”
“Hello, Diana... I mean, Lenore.” He blinked. “Hard to remember your real
name, seems.”
“You don’t have to. In some ways, I liked being Diana better.”
“Diana wasn’t real,” Harry said, sitting up slowly. “She was a lie.”
“Yes,” Lenore admitted, helping him sit upright. “Perhaps that was the
reason why what we had was doomed from the start. I won your heart because
of a lie.”
“No. The lie only made it easier for me to be with her. Even if you had
really been who you said you were, I would have loved her. So there’s no need
to feel badly... my heart was already hers.”
“I know.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I had a past before I met you, too.”
Harry blinked once and his vision was finally clear. He had that strange
Paradise Lost 3
exaggerated feeling of good health and bliss from being newly recovered, the
life that quickens the body rejoicing at the prospect of having eluded death once
again.
They were sitting at the end of a huge underground cavern. At least he
assumed that it was underground. Harry knew from experience on Ayr that all of
the Portal Lands could be deceptive, and that the only way to be completely
comfortable in them was to trust the intuition rather than the intellect when
navigating them.
There was a third person in the cavern as well. Between them, young Riki
slept, oblivious to the hard ground, a bit of black down surrounding his
slumbering form. There were dark circles beneath his closed eyes... and his face
no longer seemed quite so young and childish.
Lenore interrupted his reverie with a question.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better... what is in this water?”
For inside of that cave was a glorious stream. Rather than reflecting the
light, it seemed to be the source of it...
“Source.”
“So it’s real.”
“You can see and touch it, can’t you? What could be more real than that?”
Harry trailed his fingers through the water, and drew them back.
They glowed so brightly that he could not bear to look at them for several
moments before they faded back to normal.
“Every molecule of that water, Harry, is infused with the number of
elements plus one. It can be found in every cell of every Wizard or Witch who
has ever lived.”
“So magic is just,” he trailed his fingers through the water again, “water?”
“No, no. It is what’s in this water that makes it Source.”
She sighed, staring at it.
“So many societies the world over and throughout time have this legend...
that in a land far away, there is a river whose water is the water of life. It was
said that if you drank of this water, you would never thirst again. If you drink of
this water, you would not die but would live forever.”
“Is it true? Seems like it saved my life.”
“The water offers healing, Harry. It cannot resurrect the dead. Nothing that
we know of can. But yes, it is amazing to finally lay eyes on what I’ve seen in
the holos all my life.”
She cupped her hand to the water, ladled up some of the water, and brought
it to her lips.
“Have you seen Atlantis?”
“Strangely enough, no. We have holos from some of the worlds, and one
from this very outer chamber, but none from Atlantis. I’m looking as eagerly
forward to this as you are.”

- 32 -
 11. Atlantis
Harry rubbed his eyes. When he looked up, she was still staring at him.
“Something about you...” she said softly. “I don’t know what it was or
when it was. Whether it was in studying your childhood, or watching you as an
adolescent at Hogwarts, or if it was seeing you as a man, but... Harry, you draw
people to you, whether you know it or not. You’re a natural leader. You always
were.”
“I never wanted any of it,” he replied.
“No,” Lenore agreed. “You only wanted a sense of normalcy. But the
problem is that you’re not normal, Harry. And you never will be.”
“Perhaps not normal, then. I’ll settle for happiness.”
“And you are happy now.”
“She makes me happy. With Hermione, I’ve found the closest thing to
happiness that I’ll ever have. That is what attracted me to you, you know... you
seemed to look past the legend and everything that came along with it. There
were moments with you where I could just be me. By doing that, you reminded
me of her.”
“I think it’s a matter of perspective, Harry. Hermione was one of your
dearest friends, so she wasn’t affected by the hype. And I’ve spent the past two
and a half decades of my life studying you...”
“Two and a half decades? Surely you weren’t born spying on people, were
you?”
“No,” Lenore said. “I’m older than you think, Harry.”
“How old?”
“Almost forty.”
“You’re what? But I thought...”
Lenore winked. “I know. I’m seventeen years older than what I led you to
believe. Nearly thirty-eight, not twenty-one.”
“And Heath...”
“He’s just turned thirty-six. Very young according to Sabaean standards.
We live as long as Wizardkind does in your time.”
Harry shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re that much older than me.”
“For what it’s worth, you were still born before I was. If that’s some small
consolation.” She smiled.
“Some.”
A faint pinprick of light flickered in their peripheral vision. Harry looked
and saw that it had come from the long corridor.
“Great,” said Lenore, not sounding as if it was very good at all. “We’ve
been rescued.”
The first to enter the cavern was Hermione. Harry felt as if it had been a
hundred years since he’d seen her last. He opened his arms and she came to him
quickly, carefully at first until he half-crushed her in his embrace.
“Oh... I don’t want to hurt you...”
“You’re not hurting me, beautiful,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m glad

- 33 -
Paradise Lost 3
you made it here.”
“Are you okay, Harry?”
“I’m fine.”
Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder to smile gratefully at Lenore.
“Thank you.”
Lenore shrugged blandly, then turned her starry gaze back to the strangely
sparkling stream.
Soon the others entered the cave. After a few sustaining drinks of the
stream infused with Source, none were hungry, although they’d missed all of the
day’s meals.
As Hermione finished her last drink, Demetrios tapped her on the shoulder.
“Are you ready?”
“I don’t know what I am supposed to do.” She frowned. “Haven’t you ever
opened up Atlantis?”
“Never, in all these years. There was always an Atlantean here to greet me.
Since you are who you are, and they are not needed to open the gate, they very
likely assume that I will bring you to them.”
Hermione frowned. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid this isn’t very good at all.”
So they sat, all of them attempting to help Hermione remember what she
had never known.
“Do you tap one of the walls with your wand?” asked Ron. “Seems to me
that’s how Sirius does it on Ayr most times.”
“No, I don’t think that is it,” said Hermione. “Besides, that’s too obvious.
Ayr is far more accessible than Atlantis, and if it was that easy, they would have
been discovered long before now.”
“Maybe the entrance is underneath the stream,” Harry suggested. “Since
Atlantis is a water world.”
“We’re underground now,” Demetrios said. “Underground, and a long time
ago.”
“Right, then... is it above us?” said Hermione. “Only thing is, tapping on
the cavern ceiling presents the same problem of the obvious as tapping the walls
did.” She sighed and said “oh, dear” again, plunging her chin into her hands
with frustration.
“Aren’t you experiencing any déjà vu at all, Doc?” Heath asked.
She bit her lip. “Not really. Perhaps my ancestress didn’t come this way
after all. Or suppose it’s much as I suspected... that this Inanna thing isn’t
everything it’s cracked up to be.”
“Perhaps if we think about the legend,” Lenore offered. “Surely there are
some clues buried somewhere in the myth?”
“The myths,” Harry corrected. “Hermione’s got a notebook full of them.”
Hermione was already sorting through her pack. “Yes, and it’s in its second
incarnation, actually... as the first was destroyed in the Manaus explosion. Let’s
see here...”

- 34 -
 11. Atlantis
They all crowded ‘round, but Hermione had to render her doctor’s scrawl
intelligible. So she read from the notebook, her voice echoing off the cavern
walls.
From the Great Above she opened her ear to the Great Below.
From the Great Above the goddess opened her ear to the Great Below.
From the Great Above Inanna opened her ear to the Great Below.
My Lady abandoned heaven and earth to descend to the underworld.
Inanna abandoned heaven and earth to descend to the underworld.
She abandoned her office of holy priestess to descend to the
underworld....
“If I do not return,
Set up a lament for me by the ruins.
Beat the drum for me in the assembly places.
Circle the houses of the gods.
Tear at your eyes, at your mouth, at your thighs....
“Go to Eridu, to the temple of Enki.
Weep before Prince Enki.
Prince Enki, the God of Wisdom, knows the food of life,
He knows the water of life; He knows the secrets.
Surely he will not let me die.”...
When Inanna arrived at the outer gates of the underworld, she knocked
loudly.
She cried out in a fierce voice: “Open the door, gatekeeper! Open the
door, Neti!
I alone would enter!”...

Ron blinked. “Talk about melodrama...”

But Hermione had stopped reading, very abruptly. To the others, it seemed
almost as if she were about to go into a trance. Her eyes were staring at some
spot in the distance; her hands went limp on the notebook.
Harry was shaking her, obviously alarmed. “Hermione... Hermione!”
Demetrios placed a hand on his shoulder. “She cannot hear you.”
“Why not?” said Ron, coming to kneel on the other side of her with a
frown.
“Because, young Weasel... she is remembering.”

~~~
“My sister, we must turn back,” said Nidaba with a frown. “We will never
open the gate of Atlantis. And even if we do, who is to say that we will not be
deluged? Who is to say that we will not find a desolate land of ruins? No one
has seen Atlantis since the days of the Great Deluge, in the Time Before...”
“Turning back is not an option, sister. We have come to the very end of the

- 35 -
Paradise Lost 3
earth. I am determined that our journey will not be in vain.”
“Only immortals can see Atlantis.”
“That is not true. For in our flesh, dear sister, we shall lay eyes on the Land
of Fountains.”
“Why us, then? Why us when so many have gone to see the great
desolation and have never returned?”
And Delilah – she who would someday become the great Inanna – smiled.
“It is our destiny.”

~~~
Hermione came to with a gasp, breathing hard. Zach thoughtfully brought
her some of the Source-water, as she tried to gain her bearings again.
“What did you see?” Harry asked, holding her tightly.
“I saw this cavern, without the limestone that’s accumulated over ten
thousand years.” She turned to Demetrios. “It’s not a natural cave... it’s man-
made.”
“Now, that’s something I didn’t know,” Demetrios replied.
“And I was with... I was with her.” The last was a whisper. “She was not
always what she has become, the Dark One. She was once beautiful... and we...
we were very close, I think.”
“‘We?’” asked Ron. “You aren’t starting to think that you actually are a
goddess, Hermione?”
“No, no... but then, Delilah wasn’t a goddess when she first entered
Atlantis, either. She was only mortal then, and my ancestress, and...” her finger
pointed at the stream... “the gate is down there.”
“How are we going to...”
But Hermione didn’t hesitate. She shrugged off her jacket, shoes, and
socks... and with a great splash, plunged into the water.
The others watched her sink the twelve feet to the bottom. Harry appeared
to want to follow her, but again, Ron gripped his shoulder and made sure that he
didn’t go.
One could see clear down to where Hermione was clearing away the
vegetation of the bottom and silt, very quickly... because she was running out of
air. When she’d exposed a patch of gold as big as her notebook, with some
effort, she stood up as best she could and placed her feet upon it.
And then they could not see anything at all, because the water began to
swirl and spin and bubble.
When the disk spun out of the water, Hermione, strangely dry, was not
standing directly upon it any more but hovering a few feet over. Her eyes and
skin were glowing, and the very air of the cavern seemed to warp.
The warping seemed to concentrate on the area under the disk. It looked

- 36 -
 11. Atlantis
very much like a portal.
“Bollocks,” muttered Ron, staring incredulously at his ex-wife, then at his
best friend, whose wedding band was glowing bright red as he placed his hands
on either side of his head. “She’s using your magic to do that, mate?”
“It would appear so, Ron,” Harry snapped. He was frowning.
Demetrios was just as astounded. “It’s the gate. She’s opened the land
gate...”
“Yeah, so let’s end this information session, shall we?” grated out Harry.
“All of you, go!”
Riki didn’t need to be told twice. He leapt into the space between the disk
and the stream... and disappeared. Zach and Heath and Lenore followed. After a
quick glance around, Demetrios went, then Ron, staring helplessly at Harry...
“Go on, Harry!” Hermione panted. “I can’t keep it open much longer...”
“Not without you,” he replied through gritted teeth.
Hermione swooned from exhaustion, and tumbled off the disk. Harry,
headache suddenly gone, caught her with some effort and dragged her through
the gate just as the disk dropped into the Source-stream and they fell into
oblivion.

~~~
Whispers, voices, breath surrounded them. Yet all was dark, save for the
single light in Delilah’s hand. She’d always had a knack for flames. This
bluebell one hovered a finger’s width above her cupped hand.
Nidaba frowned. “Where are we?”
“In the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?”
“A new world, my sister. Old things have passed away; here, all things are
new.”

~~~
One by one, they surfaced.
They surfaced, and blinked... and then had to blink again.
Night had just fallen in Atlantis.
The darkness was something like a blanket. As they climbed up to the
marble-stepped shore, the sloshing of the water seemed muted and far away. So
did the sound of the wind.
Hermione remembered when she was a little girl, growing up in Muggle
Oxford in the 1980s, that glow-in-the-dark toys and jewelry had been all the
rage. The same sort of Lite-Brite effect seemed to be in place here. From the
- 37 -
Paradise Lost 3
diamond-sparkling stream to the flower garden that extended almost to its banks,
to the buildings scattered everywhere that seemed to be made of jasper,
sardonyx, and pearl, everything seemed to emit its own light.
There were no stars above, no moon in the sky. Yet the place didn’t seem
alien. Its peace enveloped them like amniotic fluid, cradling them as they had
not been cradled since birth.
“Welcome to Atlantis.”
The voice was everywhere and nowhere at once. They turned around.
Standing amidst the flowers was a hooded figure, cloaked in a pale blue
robe that, like everything else here, glowed as of its own accord.
When he drew back his hood, a collective gasp sounded from their lips...
and Harry uttered a strangled, horrified cry.
For he was staring at himself.

~~~
A short time later, their eyes were nearly used to the otherworldly
luminescence, the fact that not only the flame but the candle itself glowed, that
the water in their glasses and the food on their plates gave sustenance as well as
light.
There was a handsome youth who served them, one who shone even
brighter when he saw Zach and did not take his eyes from him until he withdrew
from the table.
“Welcome to Atlantis, the Land of Many Waters,” said the man who had
greeted them without preamble, coming into the room and sitting down at the
head of the table. “I trust that your journey was not without peril?”
“Right, we almost died,” said Ron incredulously. “D’you mean to say it
was all done on purpose?”
“The journey to Atlantis is more than a physical journey, young friend. It is
a journey of the soul. Just as Avalon, Valhalla, and other of the worlds are
barred to all save the foremost heroes of the ages, Atlantis is solely for those
who are in need of refreshing... or complete rebirth.” He turned to Demetrios.
“In all the millennia since you have first come to us, Solon, this may be the most
important party you have ever brought to these lands. They have no idea, old
friend.”
“I know it,” said Demetrios, sipping from his cup reverently.
The man’s eyes turned to rest upon Hermione. “You do not look very much
like her, you know. Her skin was bronzed golden from the sun, her hair was
darker, and before she came here she’d worked hard all her life. Women of that
age were as strong as the men of this one.”
“The Dark One said as much,” Hermione said. “Tell me, who are you?”
“To my people, I am simply the One Who Knows. I have had many names

- 38 -
 11. Atlantis
throughout the course of my long life...”
“You look just like my husband,” she said bluntly.
“Well, perhaps not exactly like,” Harry chided gently. “He hasn’t any
glasses. And my eyes are green, not blue.”
“Are you his ancestor?” Hermione continued, as if Harry hadn’t spoken.
The man shook his head. “Not that I am aware of. His line goes back in a
different direction... towards the ancient Celtic sorcerers. And I don’t have any
living male descendants that I am aware of.” He looked pained for a moment,
then changed the subject. “You have come to Atlantis in search of something...”
“A way to kill the Dark One, as binding her did not work,” Harry said.
“A cure for the terrible disease that threatens our world,” Hermione added.
“And how to get my magic back.”
“Freedom from any and all regrets. And peace in my marriage and home.”
That was Ron, who did not look up from his plate, but continued eating as
if he had not spoken.
Heath broke the ensuing silence. “Advice on how to rescue my mission.”
“Whether we can get home to Sabera,” Lenore said. “At first we were
assuming we could, then Vick said we’d changed this time far too much... but if
I’d known I’d never see my mother again...”
“No! I don’t ever want to go back there again!” Zach said passionately.
“Not to a place and time that these people would consider a nightmare. Where
how we live and who we love are regulated by injected hormones, where people
are grown in laboratories and not raised in loving homes, and where good
behavior and civility are regulated by pseudo-spiritual, tyrannical laws...”
His fair and handsome face was contorted, reflecting the depth of his inner
turmoil.
“I want my manhood restored, not that my Sabaean birth allowed me to
ever have it in the first place. I want to desire my Eva, the same natural way that
any man these days lusts after his beloved. I don’t want her only child to be
Daniel... I want her to have my son and daughter as well. Even if that is
impossible...”
“Anything is possible,” said Riki, sending Zach a sympathetic look across
the table.
“Indeed,” said the One Who Knows. “Welcome to Atlantis... Land of
Possibility.”

~~~
After their meal, they were shown to separate sleeping quarters, small
houses that dotted the vast gardens between the palace of the One Who Knows
and the Council Rotunda and Gardens. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to
the strange light effects, but once they slid between the cool linen sheets, all was

- 39 -
Paradise Lost 3
comforting, all-encompassing darkness.
Harry and Hermione stayed awake for a while longer, talking it over.
“I think that the ‘One Who Knows’ knows more than he’s willing to let
on,” Harry told her. “He was quite obvious about it, don’t you think?”
“Yes. I also think that the uncanny resemblance between you and him isn’t
just coincidence...”
“Who do you think he is?”
“Was.”
“Delilah’s lover?”
“The legends never say what became of Enki.”
“History does, however... come on, Hermione, you’re supposed to know
this better than I, as you’re the one who stayed awake through Professor Binns’
class most of the time! Prince Enki died quite rich and was supposedly buried
somewhere in modern-day Iraq. Long after we left Hogwarts, British soldiers
found his grave during the second Gulf War, but by the time they stumbled upon
it, most of it had been plundered.”
Hermione made a small groaning noise before burying herself more deeply
into the covers.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Then she groaned again. “It’s just that I can’t believe that
you’re so... so...”
“Unbelievably cute?”
“Well, I was going to say unbelievably simple. Harry, just because
someone had a funeral doesn’t mean they’re actually dead.”
“So you think that the One Who Knows is Enki?”
“Wouldn’t it make sense?”
“Well, personally, I don’t care if he’s really Martin the Mad Muggle in
disguise. All I care about is getting rid of The Dark One, getting your magic
back, and figuring out the disease before it spreads even further. Anything
beyond that is purely ornamental.”
“I suppose. But oh, didn’t it break your heart to hear Zach?”
“I had no idea that he... well, that he had that problem.”
“I suspected slightly, but I just think that what the Sabaeans do to their
children is cruel and uncalled for. I understand their rationale, but really, what
kind of world is it where there’s none of that sort of love?” She paused. “I also
feel rather badly for Ron, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Yes, I do. Nothing that we can help, I suppose.”
“No, I suppose not,” she murmured as he pulled her closer. “Being in
Atlantis might, though. This place reminds me of... strangely enough, although
I know it’s impossible...”
“Of Avalon?”
“Yes. Do you ever miss it there?”
“Before last October, often and always. Now, occasionally, but not so

- 40 -
 11. Atlantis
much.”
That surprised her. Hermione remained awake for quite a while after she
knew her husband was sound asleep.
Perhaps Harry was here in Atlantis for more than she could ever know.

~~~
Riki Abidijan opened his eyes shortly after dawn and shut them again.
“Ow!” The light was so bright and fierce that one couldn’t look at it
directly. Slowly, he squinted them open.
A kind-faced woman with brilliant amethyst eyes was looking at him. A
strangely familiar woman...
“My son, has it been so long?”
Riki sat bolt upright.
“Mother!”
Nephthys held out her arms as the reed-thin boy came to her. “Ah, my little
Riki, long has it been since I held you.”
“It’s only been two years,” said a gruff voice just about Riki’s head. “Or
has it been three? You have certainly grown enough for that.”
Riki tilted his head back and looked into his father’s deeply scarred yet still
striking face. “Father, did you hear? I changed shape! I flew the twice-blessed
one and a warrior-woman from the future all the way to the Atlantis gate! I...”
Drakkar managed a half-smile. “Yes, Demetrios Solon has told us all. Or
knowing him, he has told us most. You have done well, my son. I am proud.”
Riki hung his head shyly, feeling as if he might burst from the pride of it
all. Drakkar Abidijan was not one to give an offhanded compliment. He’d
always felt as if his parents doted upon him as a small child, but never before
had he felt the pride of accomplishment.
“Come, attire yourself, my son,” Nephthys said, holding out a bundle.
“Make use of the garden baths and then join us as we break our fast.”

~~~
Hermione left the tent first that morning. Harry was still a bit tired, still
catching up on rest, and was moving slowly. Then again, she’d always been the
lark.
“I’ll catch up soon,” he assured her.
So she made her way down the path, where she saw Ron, lolling in the
gardens, taking his time as he walked to the palace of the One Who Knows.
He’d exchanged his flannels and khakis for the traditional loincloth and mantle
of the Atlanteans, just as she was now wearing a very colorful robe that left one
- 41 -
Paradise Lost 3
shoulder bare.
“Hi, Ron,” she said brightly.
He glanced back at her. “Good morning.”
“Yes, isn’t it? A very good morning indeed. No more worries about eating
stale dried-turtle soup, or of being cold on the trail, or...”
“I’m trying, you know.”
Instead of being jarred by this sudden change of subject, Hermione was
right there with him. “Yes, I know. And you’ve been quite wonderful.”
“Right. That’s what you think.” He turned to her suddenly. “Hermione, it’s still
dead difficult at times. Not that I miss our marriage, it’s just that I... seeing you
and Harry together, all the time, especially with Maureen not being here, it’s
just...”
“I understand.”
“I know I’m being selfish.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “It
shouldn’t matter. You and Harry, well, you’re my best mates and I ought to be
happy for you. And generally through all this over the past few months, I have
been. It’s just that...”
“Oh, Ron, I’m sure you’re happy for us. I think it’s just because it’s so new
for us, you know... we’re still reeling with the surprise and quite frankly the
shock of it all. Harry and I are still pretty much newlyweds and we’ve been
acting like it, I suppose. Only wait until we get home and I’m nagging him about
tracking mud everywhere after a flight, or leaving the toilet seat up...”
“But having a child with him is different from having one with me, isn’t
it?”
Hermione bit her lip, leftover anguish enveloping her even in that painfully
gorgeous morning Source-light. “Oh, Ron,” she repeated. “Please don’t think
that I... it isn’t like that at all.”
“D’you... do you ever think about it, Hermione? Do you remember?”
Her eyes were smarting. “Of course I remember. Even after everything,
Ron, I regret that bit more than you realize. I wish... if only...”
“She would have been a girl, the doctor said,” Ron continued as if he had
not heard her. “We were going to call her Veronica, after me. Remember, we’d
decided on our honeymoon when you settled down from your practice and we
had our children we were going to have a Ronald Junior and a Veronica...”
“But you have your little Ronald now,” said Hermione softly. “Artie, right?
And you’ve got Maury, and Maureen will soon have...”
“Quinn,” Ron said. “He’ll be named Quinn, after Maureen’s grandfather.
It’s another boy. Weasleys produce an overabundance of blokes, I suppose.
Never mind, I’m glad of it. Someone else for the other two to roughhouse about
with.”
Hermione laughed. “Perfect. I’m hoping for a boy myself, so he can just
roughhouse about with your lot. I know that Harry wants a girl out of me for
some odd reason... most men want sons...”

- 42 -
 11. Atlantis
“Not odd after all. Because it’s you, ‘Mione.” He sighed. “You know, if
our child had lived, I would have been honored to have Harry as her stepfather.”
“Who knows? Perhaps if she’d lived, we’d still be married.” Yet even as
she said it, Hermione felt even the thought of it squeezing at her throat, making
her feel as if there was no air.
“No, I don’t think so. There was still Maury, and after all, Maureen needs
me more than you do.”
“You great scab, you were in love with her. You are in love with her. Don’t
try the noble act with me, Ronald Weasley. I know you.”
“And I know you. Talk about being in love, I know him... and you know
there was a time when I thought that perhaps she was his child.”
Yes, she remembered that well, remembered the pain of the projection of
Ron’s infidelities onto her. Although towards the end, she’d been extremely
tempted to make good on those accusations... especially that day when she’d
cornered Harry in his classroom and practically begged him to tell her what was
going on.
Back then, she figured she might as well commit the crime she was being
condemned for.
But Harry would have none of her, at least not then. Little did she know the
real reason why...
“Rather amazing how things all worked out,” Hermione said
philosophically. “And that we’re all okay.”
“Right, I’m not one-hundred-percent okay.” She frowned. “But I’m getting
there.”
Her frown faded.
“Shall we see what these Atlanteans call breakfast?”
“Right behind you.”

~~~
Heath stepped onto the smooth marble path quietly, somehow not wishing
to disturb the tranquillity of the morning. Everything back home seemed so
artificial, so the dreamlike natural beauty that surrounded him made his eyes
water.
When she stepped towards him, she seemed more like an apparition than a
real woman. Her white robes shimmered brightly in the preternatural Atlantean
light, as did her flowing silvery blonde hair and starlit eyes. Heath felt as if the
wind had been completely knocked out of his chest, and that he would never
breathe again after the sight of her.
Her eyes raked over him, drank him in. It was insane, she thought to
herself. At home in Sabera, Heath had stood out from childhood. In a world full
of ectomorphic, pretty men and boys, Heath had been seen as a throwback, his

- 43 -
Paradise Lost 3
strong and muscular frame considered unattractive and out of date. Primitive.
Neanderthal.
Lenore inwardly laughed at the incredible irony.
“Boss.”
“Raven.” His voice was gentle as he gazed at her. It was an absurdity to
call her Raven, this creature of spun white light. In her there was no darkness at
all.
She was no crow, but a dove.
“You slept well, I trust?”
“For the first time since Sabera.” She was still staring. “And you?”
“More than I expected.”
Lenore frowned. “Heath, you must take care of yourself. The mission is far
from accomplished, and we alone know what dangers await. We can’t afford for
you not to be well...”
“We?” he queried. “Raven, since when have you cared more for my health
than for the good of the group?”
“Since I betrayed you in the worst way I could think of.”
Heath blinked. What was this Atlantean light, in which lies and pretense
could not hold muster, this pure shimmering light where all barriers were swept
away?
“Raven, I...”
“Heath, you must cease your foolish pursuit of her. She is with whom she
belongs and you know it. Please don’t use her to get back at me. We’ve come to
save their lives, not to make them miserable.” She shook her head. “What if we
cannot save them without great personal risk? What if the mission fails...”
“We will not fail, Raven,” said Heath harshly. “We cannot. If we fail, then
our people and our time die.”
“What of the divergence that Vick and Dale encountered when we first
arrived? Zach has told me all about that. They already have discovered that we
very likely cannot return. Now it seems that we are on some other timestream
altogether, leading to a very different future. We cannot find our way home... it
is as if our future no longer exists. Heath, we were so very careful... other than
my relationship with him, and that should not have mattered so much.”
“It mattered to me.”
She shut her eyes tightly. “I was so very angry with you.”
“Angry with me? For what?”
Lenore would not look at him.
“Raven, sweet Raven, don’t you think that it killed me to give you those
orders? Don’t you think that I struggled with the decision to send you to
Sebastian Borgin’s lair? You were the best operative I had. If our people and our
very time were not at stake, I would have found another, another way...”
“There is always another way, Heath. As it is, I shall never wash his filth
completely away.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, although

- 44 -
 11. Atlantis
the day was warm like new spring. “Do you have any idea what that feels like...
to be unclean?”
Heath did not hesitate. In another moment, Lenore was in his arms, her ear
clutched close to his heart so that the beating of it calmed her.
Exactly where she belonged.
“I do not deserve such a woman as you. I never did.”
Slowly, she lifted her face from his chest and looked into his eyes.
“And Hermione?” Her usually confident voice, the voice of a warrior from
the end of time, faltered the slightest bit.
“Everything that I see in Hermione Granger is but a pale reflection of you.”
And there in the ancient, life-giving Source light of Atlantis, Dr. Heath
Canyon and Dr. Lenore Raven kissed as if it were the last morning of the world.

~~~
The visitors were summoned to the Council Chamber after breakfast.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione in particular were excited and pleased to hear that
Nephthys and Drakkar were in the vicinity, and would be meeting them at the
council that morning. Hermione also noticed that Heath and Lenore were sitting
together, Heath pulling Lenore’s chair out for her.
And when Heath’s eyes met hers, for the first time they did not smoulder
with unquenched fire.
Hermione was glad.
Ron, who along with the others ate his fill, remarked that he could not
believe everything they partook of was fruit-based.
“This tastes exactly like toast and bacon! Sure this isn’t...”
The manservant of the One Who Knows laughed. “All fruit? I can assure
you that it is.”
“Don’t question it, Ron,” laughed Harry. “Just eat up, and be glad it’s not
more dried turtle soup.”
Ron laughed too. “You’ve got a point there, mate.”
After breakfast, they all crossed the little footbridge over the stream from
which they’d surfaced the night before. The bridge connected the gardens
behind the palace of the One Who Knows and the Council Rotunda grounds.
Hermione, her fingers interlaced with Harry’s as they walked, found herself
fighting off a powerful wave of déjà vu...

~~~
The voice of the One Who Knows thundered from his throne, at the curve
of the rotunda.
- 45 -
Paradise Lost 3
“What mortal dares come to the Land of the Living Water, seeking
knowledge of the ancient and arcane craft of the gods?”
“Eternal life and good health to you, Your Majesty. I am Delilah of Ur, and
this is my twin Nidaba,” said she, her head held high even as her sister bowed
low before the One Who Knows. “We have come to...”
“You do not look like twins,” interrupted the dark-haired young man who
was sitting at the right hand of the ruler, his magnificent eyes sweeping over her.
“You do not look as if you are related at all.”
“You do not look as if you have much sense,” shot back Delilah, even as
Nidaba sucked in her breath sharply at her sister’s audacity. “Appearances are
often deceiving.”
“Indeed they are,” said the youth. “For you have the face of an angel, the
tongue of a viper...” His voice dropped. “And the body of a goddess. Quite the
intriguing combination.”
Delilah’s chin lifted proudly, ignoring the laughter of the Council. “I have
not come to speak with you, Prince Enki. I have come to speak with your
revered father, who long ago took a bride from our lands. That bride has become
living legend, a patron deity for all Ur. I follow in her footsteps, but not to wed.
I have come seeking knowledge and truth, wisdom and enlightenment...”
“What do you mean, ‘not to wed’? What else is one such as you meant
for?” taunted the prince. “You should be in your homeland, tending your man’s
cookfire and minding his babies. You are but a woman...”
“And you are but an insufferable fool!”
“Delilah!” moaned Nidaba, horrified. “You cannot come before the King of
these lands and insult his heir! You are speaking to an immortal prince!”
Delilah was like a spitting cat as she turned on her sister. “He is not my
prince! I am High Priestess of Ur, not a courtesan of Atlantis! We have
journeyed long to look upon the face of the One Who Knows, sister, we have
suffered much in our pilgrimage to the City of Fountains, and I will not be
patronized! I’ll not endure him, Nidaba, even if I must suffer death!” She looked
Enki squarely in the face, annoyed by the fact that he seemed amused rather than
outraged. “I bow to no man, least of all to...”
Nidaba was in tears. “ Have you no reverence? Have you no fear?”
The One Who Knows attempted to fight off a smile in vain. “Yes, little
Nidaba, your sister is very afraid. However, your sister is ever as prideful as my
brash son. She hides her fear well.” He touched his staff to the girl’s shoulder.
“Come, stand and look upon my face as your proud sister does. We have much
to talk about.”

~~~
“What are you smiling about?”

- 46 -
 11. Atlantis
Hermione blinked and realized that she was grinning rather like an idiot.
“Oh, nothing. Just reflecting upon how the centuries and millennia might roll by,
but men will never change.”
Harry’s mouth quirked. “Should I be insulted?”
“Yes, because then I’d have to kiss you to make amends.”
He grinned. “Then I’m terribly insulted.”
She kissed him briefly. “Better?”
“For now.”
They walked into the Rotunda, a perfectly round structure that according to
the manservant of the One Who Knows had been carved at the beginning of the
world out of the heart of a single giant pearl. It was located in the exact center of
the island world. Two hundred and seventy degrees of the circle were open to
the air and the vast, lush gardens just outside. Hermione wondered idly how the
Council got anything done, with such lavish beauty surrounding them in all
directions. Surely it was distracting?
The remaining ninety degrees were enclosed. A concave platform was set
up, and upon it were twenty-four chairs. Upon the twenty-four chairs sat twenty-
four men and women, obviously Atlantean, from Solon’s descriptions of the past
month. Their eyes and hair were of silver and their skin was of gold. Around
their necks they wore amulets of precious jasper, healing amethyst, and
stimulating sardonyx.
In the middle of the platform, upon another raised platform, there were
three very tall thrones. The One Who Knows sat upon the one in the middle.
Flanking him were Nephthys and Drakkar Abidijan.
Even seeing their mentors amongst the Council, all approached very
slowly. With some trepidation. Again, Hermione found herself vacillating
between the strange and vivid flashbacks of having been here in Atlantis before,
in another time, and references to her Muggle background. Strangely she was
reminded of the moment in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy and her friends
approached the Wizard within the walls of the Emerald City. There was that
same sense of foreboding...
...and then a compulsion to sink to their knees, one that Hermione alone
fought. She gripped Harry’s hand more tightly, even as the hyperempath in her
sensed his knees wanting to buckle. All the rest of their friends went prostrate
before the Council, frozen as if Stunned, oblivious to their surroundings.
Hermione raised her chin. Like her ancestor before her, she would not bow
down. Like her ancestor before her, she had suffered long and much.
Like her ancestor before her, she was worthy of the City of Fountains.
The laughter of the One Who Knows rang throughout the Rotunda.
“The Inanna indeed lives on in you, little one, and lives strongly,” said the
king of the Atlanteans, much amused. “And yet, you live in a time where a bold
woman is deemed as acceptable. Delilah did not. Yet she never bowed her head
to any man, and only one such as she could have kept it in those times for all her

- 47 -
Paradise Lost 3
impertinence.”
“You loved her,” Hermione said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of
fact.
“Love is not a strong enough word for what existed between us, little one.”
The One Who Knows turned to the nearest councilor on the left. “The language
of these children is so limiting, is it not? They use the same word to indicate
what is between mates of the soul as they use for describing one’s predilection
for peas and carrots.”
The One Who Knows shook his head, and all the Council laughed. Then he
turned back to Hermione.
“You and your companions have come to the ends of the earth, seeking our
counsel...”
“Not exactly,” said Harry, narrowing his eyes. “You snatched my wife
away from me and returned her with a message inscribed upon her back. Where
did you take her, and was it you that healed my hand?”
“It was indeed she, with use of the Source, twice-blessed,” said the One
Who Knows. “We learned of your distress through Nephthys, who perceived the
fear and pain and despair of her daughter in the craft. A party of our Searchers
came to you and compelled you to drink from the well that does not run dry, and
once you did, it was a simple matter to help the mate of your soul reconnect the
hand, better than new.”
“But you took her. You took her away from me.” Harry’s mouth was a
mere slash in the middle of his face. Despite the power emanating from the
Council, he wanted answers and he wanted them now. “I demand to know what
you did with Hermione when I woke up that morning and couldn’t find her.”
Very deep sigh. One that spoke of infinite patience and concern. “We
brought her back here and attempted to restore her. But it was too late. All we
could do was refresh her, safeguard her against what she did not want, and
return her.”
“Explain,” snapped Harry.
“The mate of your soul was very weak when we took her, weaker than you
know, twice-blessed. I do not think even she comprehended the extent of her
weariness... she was living on adrenaline and her hyperempathic ability. She is a
Witch living without the life-giving Source flowing through her veins, not a
Muggle or a Squib whose cells have never known it.”
He paused.
“We gave her a blood transfusion. It has helped some, as she is not in
danger of collapse any longer. We also gave her two medicinal Potions. One to
encourage the mental block she is naturally forming against the Dark One...”
“But I thought the only way to do that was to learn Occlumency,”
Hermione said quietly. “My husband has mastered both that and Legilimency,
but my mentor trained me to keep my mind and heart open, as a hyperempath
must...”

- 48 -
 11. Atlantis
“You did learn Occlumency of a sort, dear one,” came Nephthys’ soft,
soothing voice from the seat next to the king’s. “Not mental, of course...
emotional shielding, so that you would not be bombarded constantly with the
cares and woes of humankind. That helped you do what was natural, to shut out
what was evil and vile and unclean from poisoning your mind unduly.”
“But the nightmares,” Hermione said in a near-whisper. “I wasn’t strong
enough to prevent...”
“You were, after a time,” said the One Who Knows. “The potion we gave
strengthened your mind. Although he does not realize it, the mate of your soul
aided you with that as well. As you have said, he has mastered Occlumency. He
was very distressed, sick at heart with the thought of you having terrible
nightmares... as he knows something of nightmares, does he not? So while you
slept, his mind guarded yours against the intrusion.” He smiled. “When is the
last time you felt the Dark One in your mind?”
Hermione thought about it, then looked gratefully at Harry. Thank you.
Don’t mention it. What else is a ‘mate of the soul’ for?
I know. That’s a new term for us.
Yeah. But you know, I quite like it.
She looked up and at once knew that the Council could hear their thoughts.
Flushing, she squeezed Harry’s hand tightly and continued.
“You said you gave me two Potions. What was the second for?”
The One Who Knows opened his mouth to speak, but Nephthys laid a
tentative hand on his arm, before turning to Hermione.
“Dear heart, we wanted you to be free from care,” she said. “You were not
at peace... deep within, you were at war. On the one hand, you wanted to be with
your love, to join with him, to give him your body as well as your heart and
soul. On the other, you were fearful of heartbreak, separation, and perhaps even
another unwanted child. So we removed that fear from your soul...”
Hermione held up a hand. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘you
removed the fear?’ What have you done to me?”
And she knew, even before Nephthtys said it, knew as she looked into her
old mentor’s eyes what had been done.
“You hold within yourself the precious hope of being with child, dear
heart. It is not so. It is true that you have ceased to bleed, but it is not because of
the reason that you think. We gave you something that would prevent any
possibility of conception.” She sighed. “We thought it was what you wanted...”
“No, it wasn’t at all what I wanted!” shouted Hermione, horrified. “How
long will it last? I want it to wear off! What, does it last for six months... a
year...”
“It is not that simple,” Nephthys said gently. “You are thinking of the
Potions that you learned of in your Wizarding training, suitable for mortal
Witches. What we have given you is of the eternal. It will last the duration of
your lifetime.” Her lavender eyes were filled with compassion. “Before you lost

- 49 -
Paradise Lost 3
your magic, you had Charmed yourself so that you would never conceive. We
only assumed...”
“You shouldn’t have assumed anything! You should have asked me...” She
dissolved into tears, into the strength of her husband’s arms. “Do you have any
idea what you’ve taken away from us? Do you have any idea?”
Harry held her tightly as she sobbed freely. He looked over her head at the
One Who Knows, expressionless, ignoring Nephthys’ pleading eyes.
“For every curse, there is a countercurse. For every spell, there is a
counterspell. You cannot tell me that this is irreversible...”
Sorrow was etched on the ancient king’s handsome face. “As irreversible
as her magical loss, twice-blessed. In the short time that we had her here before,
we tried everything, even long and forgotten magic that has not been used since
the dawn of time. We have obtained no result. She will never be able to give you
a child for as long as she lives. And she will never use magic on her own in this
lifetime.”
Harry felt himself go cold. In his arms, he felt Hermione go absolutely
limp, absolutely still. He knew that she had slipped into shock and
unconsciousness.
“Then why did you bring us here?” His voice was flat, emotionless. As if
all the color had gone from his world, from his very being.
“Because despite everything that you have lost, you must still defeat the
Dark One,” said Drakkar gruffly. “You must stop the Cabalistica.”
“That is the job of the entire Order.”
“No, that is the lifework of the twice-blessed and those he has called to his
side.” In his own way, Drakkar cared as much about them as Nephthys did, but
he was much more impatient with the antics of mortals than his wife. “Do not
close your mind to me, Harry. I know what you are thinking... we all know.”
“Oh? Then I don’t have to tell you, your wife, and this entire Council to go
straight to hell? Thanks for saving me the trouble.”
The One Who Knows grinned. “Young man, you’re much more like me
than I thought...”
“Actually, I’m nothing like you. I wouldn’t have let the woman I loved die
by her own sister’s hand, see... I wouldn’t have managed to live ten thousand
years without her, either.” His green eyes were aflame with anger and disgust.
“What you did to my wife, you did to me also.”
Leaving their frozen friends behind, Harry gathered Hermione into his
arms, turned his back on the Council, and walked out of the Rotunda into the
blinding light.

~~~
Delilah’s eyes filled with tears. The delicious, succulent slice of Atlantean

- 50 -
 11. Atlantis
fruit fell from her hands.
She was wounded to the core.
“Are you saying that our journey was in vain?” she asked, her usually
confident voice dropping to a quavering whisper.
The One Who Knows looked around. His son’s eyes were riveted upon the
girl, completely unknown to her. Meanwhile, her sister was openly lavishing
attention upon the prince, obviously besotted.
The One Who Knows sighed.
“Delilah of Ur, you have the heart and soul of a lioness. Nothing you do in
this life will ever be in vain. Least of all this journey to the end of the world.”
“But you have just said that the knowledge I seek can never be mine in this
lifetime. You have said that such knowledge is too rich, too overpowering and
all-consuming for mortals such as myself to hold. You have said that it is
beyond my ability to attain it, that it would kill me.” Her eyes burned fever-
bright. “Good king, I ask that I be given the key to the god-magic at any cost to
my own soul. And if I die, I die.”
The king sighed heavily. “If that is the way you feel, then...”
“No, Father! I forbid it!”
That was the prince, slamming his goblet down upon the coral table, wine
splashing over the sides. He stared at Delilah, daring her to defy him in his rage.
“Enki, you forget yourself,” said the One Who Knows. The slightest edge
of a warning was in his voice.
“Father, I obey you in all things, but in this, I cannot remain silent.”
Delilah was furious. She flew on the young prince.
“For the past fortnight, Prince Enki, you have done nothing other than to
make my life miserable. You block me at every turn, I cannot walk two steps in
this land without turning and seeing your mocking visage. I want you to leave
me alone! What I choose to do with my own soul is my affair!”
“It is not,” countered Enki. “You are but a woman.”
“Any woman breathing is twice as good as two men. Men destroy and take
life, women create it. Men take and women give. Men are all thoughtless action,
but women are wisdom and truth. In the Time Before the Cataclysm, women
ruled the Thousand Worlds and men were their consorts, not the other way
around. It was even so in my homeland, in my great-grandmother’s time. The
old ways are changing, and I like it not!” She was getting angrier and angrier the
longer she looked at him. “Young though I might be, I am a priestess of renown
throughout Sumer. Mortal though I might be, I am a woman grown in the eyes
of my people, whereas you are a mere stripling amongst immortals...”
“I will not let you die, Delilah.” It was more of a growl than a statement.
“I will not!”
“Then if your father will allow it, aid me with the transformation.” She
turned to Nidaba, then back to the prince. “Although placing my life in such
hands as yours is against my better judgment.”

- 51 -
Paradise Lost 3

~~~
Hermione awoke, feeling groggy, almost as if she’d been in a potion-
induced sleep. She tasted nothing on her lips, or on her tongue... but she felt
weak for some reason. Where was she? How long had she slept?
She opened her eyes, opened them and saw Harry’s green ones.
It all came rushing back.
She turned away from him and buried her face in the pillow.
“Please,” she said, her voice sounding rough, new, untried.
“What?”
There was a sob that was so embedded in her throat until she could not get
it out. “Don’t look at me, Harry. I can’t bear it.”
“I can’t stop looking at you, Hermione. The sight of you is the only thing
that’s keeping me from tearing this damned place apart.” He stroked her hair in
an attempt to calm her. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you are...”
“Harry? You don’t have to make me feel better. I know that I’ve ruined our
lives.”
“Excuse me, but how?”
Hermione clutched the linen sheet closer to her body. “This is all my fault,
Harry. Because of my selfishness, you now have a wife who is little better than a
shell...”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Harry, you know it’s true.” The tears surfaced, flowed freely once more.
“All our lives, you’ve always depended upon me. You came to me looking for
answers, for help, for healing, for love. You always admired the knack I had for
witchcraft, and my skills saved your life time and time again. One of the reasons
why I think you were drawn to me above other Witches was because I worked
so very hard to be worthy enough to stand by your side, to give you not only the
care you needed, but to guard your back. You, of all Wizards, need a Witch with
that strength... need it badly.
“Since October, I’ve been nothing but a liability. Instead of me giving you
what you needed, you’ve had to practically carry me on your shoulders. You’ve
had to rescue me when I was too heedless and stupid to realize that I was more
of a hindrance than a help during at least three fights with the Cabalistica. I’ve
often been the weakest link in our group... and it has slowed us down countless
times.
“Now we have learned that not only will I always be like this, I can never
give you the only thing you’ve ever wanted. After everything you’ve sacrificed
for our world, your parents, your childhood and youth, your peace and safety, all
you asked in return were two things: love and a family of your own. Because of
my arrogance, you not only are shackled to a wife who will never be what you
need, but you will never have the children that you want. So if you want to leave

- 52 -
 11. Atlantis
me...”
She was crying openly now.
“I am so sorry, Harry. I wish I knew when I made those decisions, when
I chose to sterilize myself, when I chose to run again deliberately to hurt you...
I wish I knew what I know now. I would have chosen very differently. But
now... I know I’m not what you need in your life...”
“Hermione,” he said, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. His voice
was so gentle, so tender that she thought her heart might break.
“Harry, I can’t look at you right now. Please.”
“Hermione, if you don’t look at me this very minute, I’ll stop breathing in
short order. I need you to look at me.”
She turned back over, but her eyes remained shut. He brushed his lips over
their long-lashed lids, compelling them to flutter open. Then his eyes held hers,
even as his arms pulled her close. One hand held hers, tightly.
“Right, that’s better. Now, listen to me. I need you to listen to me as you’ve
never listened to me before.
“Hermione, you have always had faith in me, more faith than everyone else
put together... and yes, as much as I love Ron, I am including him in that. You
have always seen me as more than what I am... you see me as I should be. You
have always believed in me without doubting, believed in me when no one else
did, even when I didn’t believe in myself.
“Hear me now, Hermione Potter. I will never let you go. Even if I had the
strength, I don’t have the will. You are mine, wife, and I will always want
everything that you are. If you were to leave me again, I do not think I would
want to go on living. You need to know that, Hermione. You need to know that
with every last ounce of your being. You need to know it, because if I ever hear
you even think about ‘leaving me for my own good’ again, I won’t be
responsible for my actions.” He twined his fingers through her hair. “The very
thought of you leaving me is enough to drive me mad. It is the one thing that
I cannot bear.
“While you’re listening, let’s get something else sorted out. Your magic
and your ability to bear children have absolutely no bearing on my love for you.
Hermione Potter, if you were deaf and mute, blind and wheelchair-bound,
I would still be mad in love with you. If you were unable to make love to me,
I would still be in love with you. I don’t care if loving you means that we adopt
a Cambodian village to have our family, or if I have to snap my wand in half and
get a job driving a taxi around Piccadilly Circus. I’ll still...”
He was interrupted by her chortle, her tearful smile.
“What?”
“Oh, Harry,” she said, giggling. “You don’t mean it about becoming a
taxicab driver, do you? Because darling, you’re the most terrible driver I’ve ever
seen in my life.”
“What? I am not!”

- 53 -
Paradise Lost 3
“Harry, you never seem to remember that a car is not a broomstick! How
many vehicles did you wreck before you gave it up altogether?”
He was indignant. “Only four, I’d like to remind you... and that Aston
Martin was a lemon anyhow...” Then he saw she was laughing away her sorrow.
He joined in, holding her tightly, holding her close to his heart.
She snuggled closer, wanting to be as near to him as possible. “I love it
when you hold me like this,” she said. Then she blinked at the soft, pastel light
filtering in through the curtains. “Is it evening already? I must have slept the day
away.”
“More like a day and a night,” Harry said. “It’s morning, Hermione. The
Council meeting was yesterday.”
Hermione wasn’t alarmed at all. Evidently she’d needed the rest. Besides,
had she ever found reason to be afraid in Harry’s arms?
“The others?”
“From what I understand, each spoke with the Council in turn. They have
received their answers. We are all going to talk about our next step after dinner
tonight.”
Hermione couldn’t hide her frown.
“I won’t leave you, Hermione,” he said, voice full of finality. “Just as you
didn’t leave me in the darkest hours of my life, I will not leave you. Not now,
not in the future, not ever. You are not alone, beautiful. You’ve always been
there for me, always. And I will always be right by your side, no matter what
decision you make.”
Yes, her ears heard him. But she needed more. She needed not only to hear
his reassurance, but also to feel it. For flames of longing were licking over her
skin, and she shifted in his arms with deliberate intent, wanting to show him
how much his words meant to her, how much she needed to hear them always.
And Hermione had never known that she could need so very much, need
something or someone other than her all-consuming quest for knowledge and
truth and righteousness. Perhaps their kind, all humankind, were searching for
this mythical Source that surrounded them there in Atlantis, but all Hermione
knew was that her Source had long been Harry, only Harry. He was her strength
and her courage and her truth, the yardstick by which she measured all things,
the constant to which she always turned.
Always before him, she’d thought that this, the need for joining and
completion, the longing for shattering and release, was something that she
occasionally wanted. It was so, but it was much more than that. With him, it was
like food and shelter, like air and water... she needed him quickening inside of
her as much as she needed her daily bread.
Is it the intensity that compels me?
Or is it the thirst?
When a hyperempath makes love without shield or inhibition, the very air
around her shimmers. The effect is something like diamonds under water. In

- 54 -
 11. Atlantis
Atlantis, this effect is intensified.
So when Hermione opened her eyes, in the midst of an everlasting high, the
world around her seemed to be covered in a dewlike mist.
And then she was caught up his eyes...
Explosion.
Blackout.
She came to gradually, traveling upwards again through a series of dusky
veils that fell away from her consciousness, one by one. Lazily, she stretched
against him, wrapped her limbs securely, softly around him, and dragged her
fingertips along his scalp.
“You know, I love it when you do that,” Harry murmured against her
forehead, tracing the curve of her hip. “Does wonders for my ego.”
“What, faint dead away at the moment of truth? Come to and cling to you
as if you’re a life preserver? Or make your hair even more of a lost cause than it
already is?” She pressed her lips to his chest, his shoulder, trying to regain her
bearings.
“All of it. All of you.” He tilted her head back so that he could kiss her.
“They were wrong, you know, Hermione. We will have children, and we will
get your magic back.”
“Harry, I don’t want to get my hopes up...”
“Believe me when I say it, love.” His fingers ran along the underside of her
breast, just before his lips brushed the tip. “If you believe in me as you always
have, if you believe in us, then it will happen.”
She closed her eyes, giving herself up to his touch once more. Wanting
desperately to believe his words, wanting to believe that everything would be all
right...
...and that the gathering nightmare was little more than a prelude to a
pleasant dream.

~~~
Delilah sank to the bank of the stream next to the waterfall where the third
canal’s waters flowed into that of the second. Every cell of her body ached with
fatigue. A silent scream of frustration streaked through her mind.
“Let’s try it once more,” said Enki, patiently. “Watch me...”
He makes it look so easy, she thought resentfully. All Enki did was chant,
and raise his hands, and the column of water from the stream shot up as far as
the eye could see. Satisfied, he dropped his arm down and the water was as
normal again.
Enki turned back to her, satisfaction written all over his face.
“Easy enough for you,” Delilah snorted. “You’re the son of an immortal,
grandson of Poseidon, Lord of the Waters. All know that the gods can command

- 55 -
Paradise Lost 3
the elements at will.”
“Nothing about our lifespan has anything to do with that sort of mastery,
Delilah...” Enki sat down next to her on the sand, running a hand through his
hair, as if he could ever be as frustrated as she. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps
this control cannot be learned...”
“No, no!” she said angrily, even as the tears sprang to her eyes. “It can, it
must! Otherwise there is no justice in the Thousand Worlds, if the children of
men are lesser than the children of the gods.”
Enki whistled underneath his breath. “You are so passionate at times,
Delilah of Ur. Where does it all come from?”
“I... don’t know,” she said, at a loss. “I have always known the mind of the
gods. My mother was High Priestess before me, and every time they came to sup
at the temple, I would trail after them. My people say the gods have always
looked upon me with favor, and my enemies say that I wish knowledge too high
for me to attain. That I wish to be a goddess.”
“Or a consort fit for a god.” His voice was strained, almost as if his throat
ached, but Delilah did not know why. “Your mother was the former High
Priestess, yes? Who was your father?”
“My father is our king,” Delilah said quietly. “He was born in another of
the Thousand Worlds, a mercenary general from a world of eternal autumn and
harvest, but the old king adopted him as son when his own heir died.”
“Then you are of royal birth, of royal blood...”
“Your mother is of Sumeria,” she snapped back reproachfully. “Surely she
has told you of our customs and traditions. I am a royal bastard. My father and
mother were youthful friends who became lovers, but they were not mated in the
eyes of the temple or according to the customs of our land. He wed a princess of
Mari, who was jealous of our father’s great love for our mother. After our birth,
she ordered my mother killed by her personal guard. They said she died in
childbirth, but she died by the queen’s own hand.”
Enki was instantly furious. “And your father allowed this to happen? After
all the tales I have heard of his legend...”
“My father did not know until both women were dead.” Delilah closed her
eyes. “Do not think to champion me, Prince. When I was a woman grown, the
day that I ascended to the High Priesthood was the last day of the Queen’s life.
I saw to that personally.”
He looked at her with undiluted admiration.
“And your twin sister is a scribe? So few mortals have mastered the sacred
script of the gods...”
“Even so, Nidaba is the chief scribe of our temple, the inscriber of runes,
and my most trusted priestess. We are young, Enki, but all of Ur knows who and
what we are. They know that we run the source of their spiritual lives, that we
are the daughters of the aging king.” She looked him full in his face. “My father
has no heir. The throne will very likely pass to my cousin Enlil, who is a priest

- 56 -
 11. Atlantis
of Lagash. He has little liking for the trappings of kingship...”
Delilah’s fingers trailed through the water. She did not want to speak of
what caused her to flee Ur, to compel her beloved sister to accompany her on
this long and hard journey.
“What manner of man is Enlil?”
“A ridiculously good one,” Delilah replied with a laugh. “Our cousin is
quite dear to us. He does not wish to rule, though. My father knows this. Just
before I left, he learned that Enlil had become a eunuch, so dedicated to temple
and king was he. My father was furious.”
“Did he kill Enlil?”
“Of course not. He only wishes to end my life, in a manner of speaking. He
wishes to relieve me of my duties as High Priestess, acknowledging me as his
heir, and sell me off to the highest royal bidder in the Land Between the Rivers.”
Her eyes sparked. “My mother would have clubbed him round the ears, if she
had been alive. This new practice of trading in women is vile, and I’ll have none
of it.”
“So you do not wish to wed?”
“I am High Priestess of Ur, dedicated to the service of the gods. I am
subservient to no man.”
“You are magnificent. Think of all the good you could do for your people
as queen...”
“The queen is nothing more than a royal consort these days. She is solely
there to provide an heir. The king in all cities save Ur has command of the army,
sits as judge at court, and stamps the royal decrees.” Delilah sighed. “It was not
always so.”
“That depends on the king.”
“I have no desire for the power of mortal men,” said Delilah, lifting her
chin defiantly. “I only wish to know the power of the gods...”
Pressure, swift and sweet, against her mouth. Lips against hers, persuading
them to part.
The earth seemed to move beneath her feet.
Delilah opened her eyes and looked into his. Surprised. Breathless, even.
But certainly not angry.
“I cannot offer you the power of the gods just yet, my Delilah,” Enki told
her huskily, licking his lips. “But if it is any small consolation, know that there
is at least one young god whom you will always have complete power over.”

~~~
The group save for young Riki declined the offer of hospitality in the
palace of the One Who Knows. Instead, they met together in the second room of
the house that Demetrios Solon always stayed in while in Atlantis. Harry and

- 57 -
Paradise Lost 3
Hermione, having slept the day away, were among the last to arrive.
“There you two are,” said Lenore, indicating the two places at table that
had been left vacant for them. “Shall we get started, then?”
Hermione slid into her seat gratefully, and Harry pushed it under the table
before sitting down himself. “Yes, please. I feel as if I’ve been cut off from
communication for a week, instead of for a day. What have we learned?”
“That the Atlanteans are full of shit,” Ron said eloquently. “This was a
complete waste of time, and I’m ready to go home.”
“Well, we did learn that there is absolutely nothing that any of them can do
for any of us,” Zach pointed out. “Everything that we asked them for... they
haven’t been any help.”
Hermione felt as if she was being mean, but she felt somehow comforted in
some small part by this. She had assumed that she was the only one who was
refused help. It was good to see that this was evidently not the case.
“The people of Atlantis help those who help themselves,” chided
Demetrios gently. “I have never seen them forsake one who is truly in need.”
“Right, Demetrios. My wife needs her magic back. We all are in need,”
said Harry angrily. “One would think that after untold millennia, living forever
would have taught them something to help us.”
Demetrios laughed.
“What is so funny?” Heath asked smilelessly.
“All of you. You have everything that you are asking for already.” He
turned to Zach. “You love Eva. There is nothing in the way of your having her
as your woman in every way save for your own mind. You are of the same
blood as Heath, and he feels in every way that a man can. Are you saying that
you are less than he?”
Next, Demetrios glanced at Heath and Lenore. “You ask for advice on how
to save your mission, when your mission is not in jeopardy at all. You know
what you must do and what you cannot prevent. You knew when you were back
in your time! It is up to you to decide whether to accept it or not.”
Then there was Ron. “And you, young Weasel... you are more content that
you know. You have a wife that loves you so much that she was willing to give
up everything she had... her career, her reputation, her independence... to be with
you. You have two healthy sons and are waiting for a third. You have a family
that loves you and stands by you no matter what... brothers, a sister, in-laws,
nieces and nephews, and let’s not even begin with your parents. And you are
part of the Covenant that saved our world.”
“And then, there’s the two of you,” he said, eyes coming to rest upon Harry
and Hermione at last. “Not quite as easy, the two of you. Your problems are
fourfold: two because of your care and concern for your world, two that are
personal and between the two of you.
“A terrible disease that even now is spiraling out of control. The Dark One
released from Tartarus, making her plans to overrun the earth. The loss of your

- 58 -
 11. Atlantis
magic, as well as the loss of hope for your future together. Yes. These are grave
matters indeed.
“Yet I say to you as I say to the others: everything you need is within
yourselves. You will find a way.”
“Right,” said Ron sarcastically. “Really helpful.”
The ancient gatekeeper patted the young man’s shoulder. “Yes, yes. I try.”
Demetrios left them alone to talk over their untouched, cooling meal. The
minute the door was shut, everyone spoke at once. It took Harry to get
everyone’s attention so that they could speak one at a time.
“I say that we leave Atlantis as soon as possible,” Ron said. “We’re
wasting time here.”
“Indeed we are,” said Lenore. “I am privy to the plans of the Cabalistica.
They plan to unleash their reign of terror in several places at once, and to spread
the terrible disease to the four corners of the earth. None of Wizardkind shall
escape it. We must act immediately.”
“And the Dark One?” Hermione asked her.
“She is coming back to Brazil, Dr. Granger. She has told the Cabalistica
that she wishes to deal with her sister herself.” Her eyes were imploring as she
reached across the table to grab Hermione’s hands. “Hermione, there is another
as well, one you do not know about. He is someone who bears a grudge against
you. He is a Squib, but his mind is no longer stable, so he is dangerous. The
Dark One uses him, possesses him, and in the history of our time, in the holos
that we have seen, he assassinates you before she takes over your body in
earnest.”
Hermione was surprisingly calm. “When, Lenore?”
“In our time’s history, you were assassinated on Carnival Tuesday, in Rio.
They will be waiting for you. You are separated from Harry, from Ron, from
everyone you are working with, and under cover of the crowd, he fires. We have
done simulations, and we cannot figure out how to get you out of...”
“Then we shall go back to Rio after we leave here, and we will prepare for
their coming,” Hermione said.
“Doc, what are you saying?” asked Heath incredulously. “In our history,
you had full use of your magic and still died. In this one, you do not.” He turned
to Harry. “Surely you are not going to let her do this.”
“Heath,” replied Harry with great patience, “Hermione is my wife, not my
daughter. Obviously, I like this very little, but knowing her as I do, I think it
would be a waste of time and breath to protest.” He turned to Hermione. “What
about the disease, love?”
“That is the one thing I think I can solve before I leave this place,”
Hermione said. “It’s all coming back to me now.”
“What is?”
“Delilah is. I can feel her within me.” She laughed at herself. “I still don’t
believe in reincarnation or anything like that... but I think that something of her

- 59 -
Paradise Lost 3
must have passed down through the generations to help me.”
“How can a Witch that lived ten thousand years ago help you fight a
disease that was invented only recently?” Zach asked.
“In my thoughts and dreams, I’m... this is going to sound strange, but I’m
recalling just how she became a Witch. It’s almost as if her memories have
become my memories. And if I can find an antidote, or even a vaccine, then we
can use our friends in the Confederation, Black and Potter, and the MMRI to
ensure that the infected are duly treated. I am hoping, Heath and Lenore, that
your team can also be of great help there. But I must go to Rio, and I must send
the Dark One back to the hell she came from. No one else can do that.”
Suddenly, she felt extremely heavy at heart.
“Only you, Hermione?”
That was Ron, looking at her with concern. She smiled at him.
“Only me, Ron. And you know what I am going to say next.”
He did. “You want me to go home.”
“Ron, according to what Heath, Zach, and Lenore have told us, you are
with Harry when I die. Always. I know what I am asking is going to defy every
single instinct you have had since we were eleven. But we have got to thwart
this somehow... we have got to change time. We succeeded with Sirius, and we
will succeed with ourselves.”
“I can’t go home knowing what you’re about to face, Hermione. I wouldn’t
be able to sleep for wondering...”
“Your place is with your wife,” she replied. “Maureen and I have had our
differences, but she loved you enough to let you go, to come to my aid. I did not
understand what she was giving up until very recently. Now I think I know. Go
back to her, and when I can, we’ll have that cream tea in Liverpool.”
Ron was frowning, the muscles in his neck working. “What about Harry?”
“I’m going with her, of course,” Harry said. “She can’t do magic without
me being near... the Halving won’t work if I’m halfway around the world. And
even if Hermione were not involved, I very likely would have been there
anyway. Either through the Foundation, or as a favor to the Confederation...”
“Just be honest for once, mate,” Ron said dryly. “There’s no way you’re
going to leave her, and that’s that.”
“Ron, we’re not excluding you,” Hermione spoke up desperately. “Please
don’t ever think that. It’s just that you can do so much more at home in Britain,
especially once you mobilize your family. After everything we have seen and
witnessed, all you need is that blasted Pensieve of yours... and a single owl to
the Daily Prophet... and half our woes will be solved.”
“Hermione, don’t forget that he’s wanted as an accomplice,” Lenore
pointed out. “The world outside of Brazil and Atlantis thinks that you are guilty
of selling the Wizarding world out. It does us no good if you are subjected to the
same fate as my mother was.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Hermione said. “This might sound arrogant,

- 60 -
 11. Atlantis
but they will not arrest Ron or Harry easily. Me, perhaps, but Ron’s siblings and
in-laws, along with our old school friends, practically run Wizarding Britain
now. And for all of Malfoy’s differences with him, neither he nor Gin will let
anything happen to Ron. They hold too much power.” She turned to Ron. “Will
you go home?”
It was a long time before he spoke. “Yes.”
“Then it’s all settled,” said Harry. “We’ll leave Atlantis day after
tomorrow, and start setting up the counterattack. There’s much to do before
Carnival, and I’m not fully sure of how Atlantis time runs in comparison to
ours...”
“It’s two to one,” Hermione said, not knowing how she knew. “Two of our
days for every Atlantis day. It’ll be around the first of February when we get
back, I’m thinking.”
They all left Demetrios’ home and went their separate ways. At breakfast
they would tell the gatekeeper and the One Who Knows their plans.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Harry murmured in Hermione’s ear, as they fell
behind the others.
She looked up at him and nodded in agreement.
It was another glow-in-the-dark Atlantis night, so lovely and caressing and
warm that Hermione’s eyes ached at the sight of it. She walked along the bank
of the shimmering stream with Harry, hand in hand, falling once again into
reverie.

~~~
“What do you think of Prince Enki?”
Delilah stopped brushing her damp, soot-dark hair and turned to face her
sister. She had just come in from her bath in the waterfall, and had paid little
attention to the other woman upon entry to their sleeping quarters. There was a
dreamy look on Nidaba’s face, and the stylus and tablet in her hand wobbled
precariously with her excitement.
“Whatever do you mean, what do I think of him?”
“Exactly what I said. What do you think of him?”
She frowned over at her sister. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. I do not think
of him at all. Why do you ask?”
“Because he is the most comely creature I have ever laid my eyes upon...”
Delilah shook her head with amusement. “All immortals are pleasant to
look upon, or at least most of them. Enki is hardly a standout in that regard.”
“Oh, Delilah, why do you hate him so? Enki is not only the heir apparent of
Atlantis, but the people of Mari wish for him to ascend to the throne after his
great-nephew dies. If one of us were to marry him, he would soon rule all of
Sumeria as well. Immortals are different than men. Any woman of his would

- 61 -
Paradise Lost 3
rule as an equal by his side...”
“Any woman of his would be shackled to his sleeping quarters and his
cookfire. He would have her barefoot and pregnant in no time at all. Immortal
my eye.”
Nidaba groaned, then ran to where her sister sat on the stool, taking
Delilah’s hands in hers.
“Would you be terribly opposed if Enki and I were to wed?”
Delilah’s heart sank like a stone, and she had no idea why. “I only want
your happiness, dear sister. But you fail to tell me why you think such a thing is
possible.”
“Have you not heard the excitement of the servants, Delilah? Of the
people? All of Atlantis around us speaks of the young prince finally finding his
match in one of the young daughters of Ur. He speaks of nothing else, they say,
and is pleading with the One Who Knows to offer the bride-price to our father.”
Delilah smiled ruefully to herself. “Young prince? You do realize that he is
two hundred and twenty summers, not twenty such as we are?”
“Yes, I do... but as he will never die, he is young in the eyes of the gods, a
mere stripling. And it is ridiculous to be twenty years of age and never to have
lain with a man.”
“If I live to be two hundred and twenty, I will not consider it to have been
in vain if a man never knows me,” shrugged Delilah, trying to shrug away the
suddenly compelling image of lying with Enki... and having him know her truly.
“There are so many other things that I care for, Nidaba.”
“I know,” she said. “Which is why I fail to understand why Father wishes
for you to marry...”
“It is because you look like our mother,” Delilah said. “You are sweet and
fragile as the flowers that grow upon the Euphrates flood-plain. I am strong like
Father is. He knows that the men of Ur will not wish to subdue you as High
Priestess, as they seek to thwart my authority.”
“I don’t want any authority,” Nidaba sighed. “Enki will be enough for me.”
And Delilah felt her sister’s words snake through her veins like poison.

~~~
When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. There
was absolute silence in the single room of their detached sleeping quarters... and
when she sat up, there was no sign of Harry.
Her sleep had been deep, untroubled. Yet now she was disoriented. And
suddenly, strangely lonely. In the nearly six weeks of her marriage, she had
never awakened without Harry next to her.
She didn’t like it. It made her uneasy.
Harry? She thought it to herself. It was an anxious thought, and she

- 62 -
 11. Atlantis
expected nothing to come of it.
Ah, you’re awake.
Hermione’s eyes were wide. For she heard Harry’s voice, clear as a bell
and as loud as if he had spoken in their room. It was nothing like the faraway
contact they’d struggled to maintain back in October, in Rio. It was simple and
easy...
And it completely flooded her body until she was lightheaded with relief.
Yes, I’m awake. Where are you?
Into her mind flew a picture of Harry walking towards a building on the
palace grounds that she had seen but never been very curious about. He was
dressed in the fashion of the Atlanteans, with his mantle draped around his neck
and over his shoulders... and a very tasty loincloth tied around his waist, falling
to a couple of inches above his knees.
Do you see me?
Yes, but Harry, how are we able to do this?
I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the Halving spell, as we haven’t been apart long
enough for this to happen. I only know that I heard you call out to me, and I saw
you as clearly as if you were standing next to me.
You saw me? Can you see me now?
Yes. And don’t you dare pull the sheet up to your chin now that you know.
I’m quite enjoying the view. Laughter. Hermione, the blush makes it better, not
worse...
Change of topic! Where are you going?
Come and see.
It was a simple matter to wash quickly, to dress in her light gown of many
colors, to slip out of the door barefoot, to go running into the morning light, that
strange Atlantean light that came from the Source and not from the sun. She
laughed, forgetting the Dark One, the Squib assassin, the devastating disease,
the grief over her barren state, the loss of her magic.
She felt as if she was twenty years old again.
Hermione ran into the building, chuckling as Harry caught her.
“Look what I found,” he said, turning her around.
She heard the soft neigh before she fully registered what the creature
standing before them was. The dark-brown mane and tail were tossed proudly
about the chestnut head and flanks... but the wings were dark as Titan’s had
been.
“It’s a Pegasus,” said Hermione incredulously. “A winged horse.”
“Indeed it is. The One Who Knows told me about his horse a couple of
days ago, and said I can borrow him anytime. As long as Natum is amenable,
that is... hey, do you want to go for a ride?”
Avalon.
She was silent, so he turned her to face him again. And noticed the tears
slipping down her cheeks.

- 63 -
Paradise Lost 3
“You know, the first time I ever snogged a girl, she was crying like that.”
Hermione giggled. “Yes, I know. I remember being annoyed with the silly
creature when you told us. Who in their right mind would cry because she was
kissing you?” Her breath hitched in her chest.
He kissed her then. “Yeah, nothing’s changed in all these years. Wet.”
Harry kissed her again. “Wet. That gives me an idea, actually... that if, if you’re
up to the ride.”
She wiped her face with a smile. “If you promise not to let go.”
Soon they were on the horse and in the air, in the warm morning shine.
Hermione didn’t feel afraid at all. She felt exhilarated and feather-light. There
was nowhere she’d rather be than here right behind Harry, her arms around him,
resting her cheek against his back.
“Remember the first time we rode together, Hermione?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I really miss Buckbeak,” she laughed. “Oh, I thought
I was going to fall to my death that night. I really don’t like heights very much,
you know. And before Avalon, I wasn’t very fond of horses.”
“Whatever changed your mind about flying all of a sudden, then?” asked
Harry, mock-innocently.
“It happens to be a ‘who’, not a ‘what’, that changed my mind about flight.
And I trust this particular ‘who’ so very much. In the face of trust like that, there
can be no fear.” She held him as tightly as she could. “Only the thought of
losing you has the power to make me afraid now, Harry.”
He reached up to stroke her hand.
“Come on, Hermione, if you remember the last time we did this, you have
to remember the rules, don’t you? Right now, there is no world outside, nothing
waiting for us on the other side once we leave Atlantis. Right now, you and I are
the only two people in this world, and there is no worry or loss, no death or fear
possible here.”
Hermione felt his lips upon the back of her hand.
“You are the only peace that I’ll ever know, Hermione. Come away with
me and forget everything for a while. Or at least for the morning. Who knows
when we’ll get a chance like this again?”
And they flew off beyond the borders of the capital to the farthest reaches
of that island world.

~~~
Even as High Priestess, Delilah liked to do her own washing rather than
subject her womenservants to the volume of it. For in this, as in so many other
ways, she was unlike other women. She owned a different kaunake dress for
every day of the week, in addition to her priestess garments and bed coverings.
So once a week, she would steal down to the banks of the Euphrates under cover

- 64 -
 11. Atlantis
of darkness to perform her ablutions.
Sumerians were superstitious by nature, and many legends were told of the
dangers to be found in the night. These existed as remnants from the Time
Before the Cataclysm, when Atlantis contained the only true cities, before the
largest Paleolithic land mammals had been hunted out of existence. Delilah
loved hearing the stories of that wild time, when immortals and mortals
commingled freely, when women ruled their tribes and men were but mere
warriors and sex objects, when the only deity worthy of worship was the Great
Mother Goddess... and all the humans of the earth paid reverence to her.
These were the stories she told to the children of Ur now.
When she did her washing, she usually stripped bare so that all of her
garments would be clean for the next span of time. She didn’t mind, however.
There were none to disturb her at this hour and it allowed her the excuse for a
dip herself. As a small girl, she’d regularly swum in the waters of the life-giving
river, splashing and playing with male and female children alike, but such was
unseemly for the highest ranking woman of their great village.
Delilah did her washing as usual, seven days after she and Nidaba returned
to Ur. There had been much fanfare, and her father’s face had glowed like the
new sun.
“The king of Atlantis has sent word. He has sent an offer of marriage! My
daughter and the grandson of the great Poseidon! Imagine it, my little one... you
shall be queen of Atlantis and all of Sumeria!”
“No, Father. The offer of marriage was for one of your daughters, was it
not? It did not specify. My sister is mad in love with Prince Enki. She is the
intended match, not I.”
The king had frowned, not liking the development, but not wishing to
offend the great One Who Knows. “Oh. I see.”
Delilah had posted the banns herself. Priestess and chief scribe Nidaba
would now be Princess Nidaba of Ur, eligible bride for the son of Atlantis. The
wedding would take place in two moons’ time. She was very glad for her sister...
Yes. She should feel nothing but happiness, shouldn’t she?
A dip in the Euphrates was exactly what she desired. It might get her back
in good spirits. With the agility of a young gazelle, Delilah pulled off the day’s
kaunake, let it fall to the pile, and prepared to jackknife into the river.
Unbeknownst to the High Priestess, invisible eyes were watching.
Normally, Delilah would have noticed the shimmer in the air, but the Watcher
had wisely chosen to obscure his presence in the tall reeds growing near the
riverbank.
Those eyes burned a few moments later, when Delilah emerged from the
river, much refreshed, having forgotten the wedding she would have to officiate
before the seasons changed once more.
The Watcher’s mouth went completely dry. Before she could return to the
washing, he materialized.

- 65 -
Paradise Lost 3
Delilah gasped.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come for my bride,” said Enki, standing up from amongst the reeds
and walking toward her.
Delilah took a step back. “Your bride sleeps in the temple tonight.”
“No, she is standing before me.”
She shook her head wildly. “It has all been arranged. My sister is my
father’s heir. She will be your queen, and I will continue here as High Priestess.
It is best.”
He ignored her. “Why did you leave Atlantis without so much as a
farewell, my Delilah?”
“Because I did not find the answers that I sought there. Because I will
never know the power of the gods, surging within me. I desired too much, Enki.
Such knowledge as the immortals possess is too high for me to attain. So
I remain with my people.”
“If you had attained the knowledge and the power of the gods, what would
you have done with it?”
“I would have helped my people,” she replied quietly. “I would have
watched over their needs, taken them into my care. And not just the people of
Ur. I would have watched over all who dwell in the Land Between the Rivers...
indeed, all who dwell in the former lands of the Great Alliance that existed
during your infancy, when the One Who Knows looked after the needs of the
human world.” She sighed. “The Great Mother Goddess is diminished,
forgotten. Offended, she has withdrawn her presence from the earth... but oh,
how her children need her.”
He had closest the space between them. His fingers reached out to touch
her lips.
“Not as much as I need you.”
She sighed heavily, but did not pull away. “Enki, it cannot be. Nidaba is the
twin of my heart and I love her beyond all reason. I cannot do this to her.”
“She does it to herself, Delilah. I do not love her. She knows this and has
misled all of you intentionally. I told her before you left Atlantis that she is not
the one. Now you tell me with your lips that you believe her deceptions, when
your heart cannot lie to me...”
For the first time ever in his presence, Delilah dropped her eyes. The night
hid her flushed face.
“Enki, your own mother sleeps beneath the healing soil of our land. Her life
was prolonged because of her marriage, but she was mortal. In the end, even
your revered father could not save her. It is said that he was inconsolable for a
century.”
She frowned, trembling a little.
“You cannot love me this way, Enki. It is a crime against the earth, against
the gods’ will, for what is immortal to love frailty so. In the Time Before, in

- 66 -
 11. Atlantis
many lands, a family consisted of a woman and her children, and men came and
went freely as they chose and were chosen. A union only ought to take place for
the continuation of society, for the reproduction of children...”
She was cut off when the last inches of space between them were closed. A
great shudder shook her like a small earthquake when she realized that he’d
either shed or willed away his garments.
There was nothing between them. Nothing at all.
“Delilah, I realize that you think you know everything, but as your elder,
let me enlighten you about a thing or two. First and foremost, by the next watch,
you will become my lover. In two moons’ space you will become my bride.
I have waited two centuries for you. I want none other. You will be my consort,
the queen of Ur, Mari, and Atlantis, not a celibate High Priestess. Of course,
I wish for you to choose me freely, but I have already searched your heart and
mind for the truth, and I know that you have chosen.
“Realize that once you are my wife, I will find a way to make you
immortal, or else I will become mortal. If you die, I will not want to go on
living. I am my father’s son, but I am not my father. My grandfather Poseidon,
the god of the Atlanteans, has made me god of the life-giving waters of Sumeria.
My grandfather has made what is mortal immortal before. I will do the same.
You will have the knowledge that you seek, and an eternity to watch over your
people.
“Finally, Delilah, know that a union between a man and a woman should
not be a matter of haggling as if you are in the village square. A union is the
joining of two into one, each one incomplete without the other. I have been
incomplete without you, Delilah of Ur. I cannot rule, I cannot give the children
of mankind counsel, and I cannot discern without having you by my side.”
Enki stared at her as if he wished to memorize her features for all time.
“You are fit to be the consort of a god. And so you shall be.”

~~~
 Hermione dismounted first, staring at the rocky overhang from which a
sheet of white water fell into steam, into a secluded lagoon. The only way to
reach this primal spot of Atlantis was from the air, as the sides of the mossy
cliffs were steep. It warmed her face and neck and ears, turning them pink, and
her bushy hair was fast curling like the ferns that grew everywhere in sight. She
felt languorous, weighted down by the humidity.
“What is this place, Harry?”
“It’s a natural spring,” he said, jumping off the winged horse and letting it
fly to perch on a ledge about halfway up, in a bower of flowers. “The water
comes up from that cave... just there,” he pointed at a cleft near the bottom of
the cliff, “gushes out into a warm river, and flows back down here only to be

- 67 -
Paradise Lost 3
pushed up again. Nice, isn’t it?”
“Fascinating.” Hermione sank down to the grassy knoll that was just
beyond the bank of the lagoon. “Fascinatingly hot. Reminds me of a sauna,
somehow. With much better scenery.”
“Bit like the Amazon with no bugs, yeah.” He let his mantle drop to the
ground next to her and lowered himself down upon it, folding his hands behind
his head and watching the waterfall. “Nice and relaxing.”
Hermione didn’t recline. She was far too warm. She lifted her sweaty hair
from her shoulders and fanned herself with her hands in vain.
“You could take off your clothes and go for a swim, you know.”
“Haven’t we had this discussion before? I don’t take my clothes off out-of-
doors, it’s not proper.”
Harry was amused. “Even if there’s no one to see but me? And I’ve seen it
all before? And I happen to prefer you that way?”
“Harry, if you wanted to see me starkers, then did we really have to fly all
the way out here? Why not just stay in bed? Besides, there might be...” she
paused, a look of horror on her face, “...fish in there.”
He laughed so hard that tears of mirth popped up in the corners of his eyes.
“What, do you think a piranha will start breakfasting on your legs? We’re not
actually still in Brazil, you know...”
“No... I’m thinking more of... tiny fish. Or tadpoles. Or waterbugs.” He was
howling. “Harry, stop laughing at me! I’m a doctor, and there have been all sorts
of cases of people having creatures stuck inside of them from skinny dipping in
lakes and rivers and streams...”
“At least that is what they told you,” he said, trying to regain his bearings.
“Hermione, people do all sorts of kinky things and then lie to their doctors about
it. You’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
She placed one hand down on the mantle, gazing at her husband. She
adored his body... although he wasn’t tall and gangly like Ron, nor was he thick
and brawny like Jack. No, he was perfect... his build was lean without being too
skinny, and his muscles were long and honed rather than stout.
His shoulders were broad, and his hips were narrow. But his rear end was
quite cutely rounded... Hermione remembered teasing him about it in Avalon.
His chest and limbs were not exceedingly hairy, either... the one thing Hermione
couldn’t abide was feeling as if she was sleeping with a wolf rather than a man.
She especially liked his hair and his eyes. His eyes were easy... everyone
always noticed Harry’s eyes, especially when one removed his glasses as she
was doing now... but in her mind, his hair signaled the fun in his nature, the fact
that not everything in Harry Potter’s life was strict and rigidly disciplined. When
they were younger, he’d used the messy look to his advantage, but now in his
thirties he wore it slightly longer, and that helped tame it somewhat.
She loved his hands. He had rather large hands, large and strong, able to

- 68 -
 11. Atlantis
enclose her fist nearly completely. When they were children, his hands usually
bore a trace of something on them, whether a grass stain from the Quidditch
pitch or a trace of broomstick polish, but as a man he kept them reasonably clean
from fingertip to wrist. For that, Hermione was thankful. One of her few turnoffs
was seeing crusted-over dirt beneath a man’s nails.
And she loved his arms...
Arms that were now swinging her up against his chest as he stood up.
“Harry, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got two legs.”
“Yes, and I’ve also noticed that you’ll likely stare at me all morning if
I don’t take action. You can stare at me in the water.”
He went to the bank and unceremoniously tossed her in, then jumped in
after her.
When she came up, sputtering, looking rather like a drowned and forlorn
mouse, he was there, laughing. She splashed him, then attempted to get her
bearings. Her feet encountered solid ground. Once she looked down at her feet
and the water stopped rippling, she saw that the sand beneath them was black,
most likely the result of volcanic activity.
Perhaps it was a stream of lava, hundreds of feet below the surface, that
warmed this water. She looked at the shimmer of the waterfall, of the lagoon,
and wondered how much of the healing Source these very therapeutic waters
contained.
Harry helped Hermione unwind her waterlogged and heavy robes, and
tossed them on the bank for her. His loincloth soon followed.
She sighed, enjoying the buoyant and comforting feel that the water
provided. The water covered her all the way to her diaphragm. Steam floated
like mist all around them.
“I could stay in here all day,” she breathed. “This feels so good.”
His arms went around her waist, hands cupping her hips, lifting her,
positioning her.
“Does it? And how does this feel?”
Hermione shuddered. “Even better.” The words came out as a dreamy sigh.
“I can tell,” he groaned with satisfaction. “You made your little noise.”
She was floored, even as she tried to keep her train of thought amongst the
flood of sensations, the steamy water, his body anchored to hers.
“What little noise?” she asked as he pulled her closer. This was very
different. Weightless, dreamlike. Almost like shagging on the moon, she thought
wildly. Then she was embarrassed at the thought. “Hey, I’m not... I’m not noisy
during sex.”
“Of course not. Because you just did it again.” His tongue darted out to
taste the salt of her hairline, and she felt his breath, his laughter against her skin,
the echo of it throughout her as he moved slowly. “It’s one of the things that
I love best about sex with you. The way you sound.”
Hermione sought to answer him, but the warmth of the lagoon, the heat of

- 69 -
Paradise Lost 3
his body, the wonderful feel of him against her chest, and the insistence of the
surge within her prevented her from coming up with a good retort.
Her lips parted...
“Ooan,” she said.
He laughed. “Yeah, I know.” One of his hands came up to trace the line of
her jaw, her temple. “All the years we were apart, Hermione, thinking about you
with him, with the other one, being with other women who weren’t you, and
then getting up and finding you, talking with you, working with you, laughing
with you, pretending that I didn’t want to shag you senseless, the only thing that
kept me sane was remembering you exactly like this.
“The way you taste, like honey and sweet lemons. The way that your skin
always has this delicious vanilla scent that clings to it. The way you look the
moment before I make you shatter. The way you feel when we’re joined like
this, as if you were created just to fit with me. But most of all, I remembered the
way you sound... and I hoped someday I could tell you.”
Hermione could barely breathe. The warm water relaxed and soothed them,
prolonged their lovemaking, took away some of the usual urgency, gave Harry
the ability to say all the things that most of the time he was too caught up in the
moment to even think about voicing.
“I remembered the way you gasp with surprise when I first take you, as you
did the first time, as you did the hundredth time, as you did just now, as I know
you’ll do the last time. It’s the same sound you make on Christmas morning, and
it makes me feel as if I’m what you’ve always been longing for.”
Oh, how she longed for him now. Instead of the usual sharp flare, at the
center of her there was now a dull, throbbing ache. She gripped his shoulders
tightly, forgetting that she was an excellent swimmer, believing for a fleeting
moment that she was in danger of drowning.
“And then I’d remember your whimpers, when I come to you rough and
hard, needing you in my blood, when we wrestle until the dawn and you’re
pushing as if you want to push away, when I know that you’re trying to pull me
with you, into you, until I am you.”
Her back arched over his hands, midriff rising out of the water, sending
new slow-moving sensations throughout her body like shock waves. In spite of
herself, her Sharing allowed her to feel what he was feeling, feel herself
surrounding him, so much more soothing than the water that caressed the rest of
him.
“But beautiful, what I remembered most, what I’ll remember always is the
way you sound when I come to you defeated, when I come seeking your peace,
when I need you to cleft for me so badly that I think I might die of it... and you
moan, and you whisper my name, and you sigh, and you heal everything inside
of me that’s broken.”
Hermione whispered it then, whispered because she was boneless,
mindless, and only his words were keeping her afloat. “Harry. Harry, please.”

- 70 -
 11. Atlantis
“No, not yet,” he murmured against her lips, hands pulling her more tightly
against him beneath the warm water, just before he slid his fingers down, slid
them so that he stroked the strained place of their joining. “We’ve got all
morning. And I’m going to make you whisper my name like that all over again.
I’m going to make you whisper and whimper, and moan and sigh, in succession
and then all at once.
“I want to you scream and to shudder until the water of this lagoon boils
into steam... and perhaps then you’ll believe me when I say that nothing in this
world or the next, neither Atlanteans nor Demons, neither best friends nor lovers
from the future, neither our highest heights nor deepest depths, neither our
darkest hours nor our greatest failures, Hermione... nothing will ever separate
you from me again.”
At long last, sparks of silver and gold shot from the core of her, shot
through each vein like a neverending flutter of miniscule Snitches. Everything
that she was contracted, compressed, until she was a human black hole, then
exploded outward into a supernova as she opened her mouth into a hoarse, half-
silent scream. Her body arched against his, the ends of her damp hair trailing
into the water.
She sank down into the depths, and the only thing that kept her from
drowning was the fact that she was still anchored to him...
And great Wizards, that anchor was still moving.
“No, Harry,” she pleaded, gasping for air like a beached fish, eyes
streaming with their commingled sweat and her tears. “I can’t take any more just
now, my Sharing will make me just... I’ll die, I swear I will...”
“If you do,” he grated out, “then I’ll just have to bring you back, won’t I?”
“Harry...”
He shushed her with his lips. “You can take it, because I love you. And you
will, because you know I need you. But this time, I’m right there with you...”
As he held her fast, as he held her despite the fact that her muscles had
dissolved into the healing waters long before, he showed her a place beyond
herself. Beneath the water, she crashed against him much like the waterfall just
beyond slammed into the lagoon. And he met her blow for blow like iron, forged
deep down in the bowels of the earth.
All around them, the warm Source-water bubbled and splashed furiously
into spray, into foam, into mist. They clung to each other as if he, she, were
flotsam, were seaweed, the only chance of life in an ocean of hopelessness and
despair.
Hermione, lost, gave in to the second tidal wave, let it engulf her, let out a
helpless cry in the face of her own drowning. And as she heard his own cry, her
name riding the crest of it, above even the soft roar of the waterfall, she knew
the truth of his promise.
Nothing would separate the two of them ever again.

- 71 -
Paradise Lost 3

~~~
Nidaba looked at her father, at the One Who Knows, at the man she
thought would soon be her husband.
“There must be some mistake.”
“There is no mistake, Nidaba,” said her father. “Your sister was willing to
sacrifice the kingdom and her love for your sake. You must be willing to do the
same for her.”
A strangled cry issued forth from Nidaba’s lips. She turned to Enki, eyes
pleading, imploring.
“I can be just like her,” she said, so desperately that even the onlooking
servants blushed for her sake. “We are twins. We have the same heart, the same
mind. I can be anything you want me to be... as long as you love me, dear
Prince.”
Enki sent a look of real pity towards the girl.
“Princess Nidaba... and you shall always be Princess of Ur, with all the
rights of that title, for your father will not disinherit you... you should never seek
to change yourself for the sake of another. You are fair as your lovely mother,
and dear to me as my own younger sisters, but Delilah is the one for whom my
heart longs.” He sighed, then turned back to the kings. “Surely another suitable
prince can be secured for her?”
“Indeed, my son,” said the One Who Knows. “The king of Babel has such
an heir. Prince Dumuzi is a fine youth. Union with Babel would bring all of the
Land Between the Rivers under the control of a single dynasty. A marriage in
the generation to come between the divine house of Enki and the mighty house
of Dumuzi would ensure peace for an age... just as it was in the Time Before.”
“You will not sell me off to the highest bidder!” shouted Nidaba, surprising
them all. Nidaba was the sweeter of the twins, the one who was most like their
mother, the one who was always meek and obedient. But now her eyes were full
of venom.
“I will not wed Dumuzi of Babel. And it is not over between us, Prince
Enki. It will never be over!”
With those words, she slammed out of the palace. Risking her life for
leaving the presence of two of the greatest kings on earth without being formally
dismissed, but what did she care?
Nidaba’s life was over anyway.

~~~
They stretched out beneath the midday sun upon the cool grass, letting the
warm stream that drifted over from the lagoon dry their skin before dressing

- 72 -
 11. Atlantis
again.
“I’m hungry,” Hermione complained. “Is there anything to eat around
here?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We’ll have to go back.”
She sighed. “That was the lovely thing about Avalon. You could literally
sit in one of the orchards or the fields there all day without having to move.
Unless you got sick of eating apples and pears, that is... but of course the Lady
would not allow me to snack on any of it.” Then she stretched with a smile.
“I still can’t believe we spent nearly two weeks there doing nothing but playing
like little children, eating, and shagging. It seems positively decadent when you
think about it.”
“Well, when we get back, I plan for us to spend the summer renovating our
home, eating, and shagging... I’m sure we can fit playtime somewhere in there.
It’s not Avalon, but it’ll have to do.” Harry grinned. “What do you think?”
“I think...”
But Hermione never got to say what she thought. Harry turned around to
face the intruder who would disturb their privacy.
The One Who Knows came towards them in his flowing robes of state,
ancient of bearing, serene. He looked first at Harry, then at Hermione.
“She and I once sat upon these banks, hand in hand, as well.” He looked
out at the waterfall, eyes distant. “It was our secret place.”
“So you are my ancestor,” Hermione said quietly. “If you are, then you can
tell me...”
“I can tell you nothing, little one. You must seek what is in your heart to
find. What you are seeking for is not the tales that I could tell, and not the stories
that you are allowing yourself to experience in your thoughts and dreams. You
do not need to know my Delilah as a young woman in love. You need to know
her as the Inanna in all her strength and power.”
“How did you give her the Source?” Hermione persisted. “Was it a blood
transfusion? Was the Source itself somehow placed into her veins? Did you...”
She looked over at her husband, trying to hide her blush. “Did her magic come
to her when you... well, when you seduced her?”
“None of the above. Little one, the answer is right before you and you do
not see it.”
“You’ve given me my answer. You said that I never will have use of my
magical ability again...”
“...in your lifetime.” His eyes were full of hope.
Harry did not like the way the ancient king was looking at her. “In case you
have forgotten, my wife is a mortal woman.”
“Yes. And what I am telling you is that if it is impossible for her to be
reborn, then it is impossible for her to receive her magic back.”
Hermione frowned with impatience. “Reborn? Surely you don’t mean it in
the Christian sense?”

- 73 -
Paradise Lost 3
The One Who Knows was amused. “Little one, Jesus of Nazareth and his
followers spoke Aramaic and Greek. There were words already invented for the
concept of rebirth long before they were alive.” His eyes saw the waterfall
again. “Such is the way of the earth. What was once, will be again.”
“I can’t be reborn,” said Hermione flatly. “There is no way to live my life
all over again, from the beginning...”
The One Who Knows’ look of amusement faded.
“Certainly there is.”
“How?”
The ancient king paused.
“In the Valley of Decision.”

~~~
Weddings at the dawn of the human world were joyous affairs. The
feasting lasted for days, with enough for even the village’s very poorest to eat
and gifts for the smallest babe to the eldest elder. And yet, the tradition of
having elaborate celebrations around a mating ritual was only a couple of
generations old.
In those days, nine thousand years before the common era, villages were a
new concept in human history. Only two hundred years before, in the time of the
Great Cataclysm, people lived in small kinship bands everywhere save in
Atlantis. The only city with a king was the capital of Atlantis, which was named
for its god and king, the great Poseidon. Everywhere else, women and their
children lived in tightly knit bands of kinship and camaraderie, with their men.
Some of the men stayed with the band from mating until death. Others only
stayed for a short time.
The first permanent settlements beyond the great Ocean Sea were formed
about forty years after the Cataclysm, once the earth settled down and the waters
receded. The final gift of the gods before they departed from their dwellings
among men was the gift of agriculture, and the knowledge that children were not
just the gift of the gods after a mating to worship them, but that a specific man
fathered them. These first villages were situated mostly on the flood plain of the
Land Between the Rivers, although some were further south. There were ten of
them, each ruling the surrounding area and having its own High Priestess and
the lugal, the leader of the High Priestess’ armies.
Ur was one of these first prehistoric cities... and yet not prehistoric, for the
people who lived there in the morning of human civilization had dreams, had
hopes...
...and had stories.
The last true lugal of Ur was Delilah’s maternal grandfather Harharu.
When the High Priestess died in childbirth, Delilah’s mother Ningal was

- 74 -
 11. Atlantis
installed in her place.
Yet Ningal was but a girl of ten at the time.
The lugal Harharu assumed all authority, and became King Harharu.
At this time, Ur was little more than a collection of gazelle-skin tents and
huts made from the earth. The only building that was made of stone was the
temple of the Great Mother Goddess, also known as a cella, which had taken the
lifespan of five High Priestesses to build.
Yet the demands of the kings of men are more burdensome than that of a
mere lugal. Harharu aided the other lugals of the Ten Cities to rebel against the
sacred priesthood and the cult of the Great Mother Goddess, who had been
worshipped faithfully for as long as man had walked upright. One by one, they
tricked the High Priestesses, caused them to give up their power by seduction,
rape, imprisonment, or even death.
It was a lawless time, one that was spoken of by the elder priestesses in
voices that trembled. The Great Mother Goddess was so aggrieved by the
deliberate mistreatment of their daughters that she shut up the gates of the
heavens so that the rain did not fall. She sent a great pestilence through all the
Land Between the Rivers. She sent marauding barbarian armies from the
northwest and the east, bands of wild men who did not yet know how to tend
crops, who ate their meat raw from the bone in the absence of fire.
The crones told of the one who saved the human race from descending
back into ignorance and depravity, of the one who saved the light of knowledge
and the true worship. Good King Gilgamesh ascended to the throne of Ur
immediately following the death of King Harharu. The exploits of Gilgamesh
are long in the telling... but of course one could hear of his legend from any
traveling bard in those days, if one offered grain and shelter for the night...
Among other things, Gilgamesh was a fair and just ruler. He persuaded the
new generation of kings to consult their high priestesses in all things as he did
with first Ningal, then Delilah, who was wise beyond her years. He convinced
them to allow their wives to sit beside the throne instead of standing behind it,
and to rule in all cases that involved the affairs of women. Just as his wife, the
spoiled and selfish Queen An of Umma, did on a daily basis.
Queen An did, that is, until she had Ningal murdered, and in turn was
herself murdered by the avenging hand of Delilah, daughter of Gilgamesh and
Ningal.
Perhaps the one failing of Gilgamesh was that his love for the beautiful and
wise Ningal colored the way he saw women. Because he loved her, he assumed
all women were like her. He failed to see what lengths his wife would go to in
order to discard his lover.
He was yet blind to the ways of a jealous female.
The double wedding was perhaps the most significant event since the Time
Before. All in the Land Between the Rivers whispered of the momentous event.
Delilah of Ur, daughter and heir of Gilgamesh, formerly High Priestess to the

- 75 -
Paradise Lost 3
Great Mother Goddess, was to wed the god-prince Enki of Atlantis, grandson of
Poseidon, heir to the throne of Mari. On the same day her sister, Princess Nidaba
of Ur, beauteous younger daughter of Gilgamesh, was to wed Dumuzi of Babel,
son of the mighty King Nimrod and the fair and cunning Queen Semiramis.
It was to be the first royal wedding in history.
This momentous occasion would unite the Land Between the Rivers
underneath the beneficent rule of one dynasty within one generation, all who
would possess the blood of the good Gilgamesh. More than that, the marriage of
the princess-priestess Delilah to the good Prince Enki would place the strength
and wisdom of the gods back into the rulers of men.
Some of the sons of men said that perhaps fair Atlantis would return from
beneath the waves of the Ocean Sea once more, and the light of men would be
restored to the earth.
The lost Golden Age of the Time Before the Cataclysm would continue as
if had never ended.

~~~
They were back in conference, back at the table in Demetrios’ sleeping
quarters, back to confusion and head-scratching and wonder.
“What is this Valley of Decision?” Heath wanted to know. “As the holos
did not record Atlantis, I am at a complete loss.”
“Evidently it’s a place where people can make different choices with their
lives,” Hermione explained. “According to the One Who Knows, it is the gift
that is offered to all that endure the long journey to Atlantis.”
“So you mean to tell me you can be twenty all over again?” asked Ron.
“Right, sounds like a plan.”
“No, it isn’t that simple. There’s apparently some sort of a Pensieve there,
an illusion, where you can see yourself making different choices, having
different memories. You’d still be thirty-two,” here Ron groaned, but Hermione
ignored him and continued, “but you’d be a different thirty-two.”
“What if we all make different choices?” Lenore asked. “Is the Dark One
going to go away? This isn’t exactly time travel, I know, it’s only an alternate-x
scenario, but what happens to everything we left just out there?”
“It wouldn’t matter to us,” Harry said thoughtfully. “For us, it wouldn’t
exist. I’m not entirely sure if our time would continue as we know it, but I’m not
even certain we would remember it.”
Lenore nodded. “That is the paradox that prevents our return home to
Sabera, to our time,” she said. “When we came back in time and began to
change things, the timestream from which we came wavered. Now our crew
cannot locate it at all. That is not to say that it will never be located, but...”
“That is why it’s called the Valley of Decision,” Hermione interrupted.

- 76 -
 11. Atlantis
“Certainly we could all disappear from this time, and we might not have the
memories, but nevertheless, this time would continue on without us.”
The room fell silent.
“So in effect, we would still be here?” asked Ron, scratching his head,
confused.
“Yes, at least one of our selves,” Heath said. “But it would not be the self
that made the decision to choose an alternate outcome. It would be the self who
chose to remain, although obviously that would not be the self that...”
“Ouch,” said Ron, putting his hands up to his temples. “You don’t actually
mean to say that you understand how all this works?”
“Yes,” said Heath, Lenore, and Zach together, as if Ron had asked them
what two plus two was.
“Just about,” Hermione said, a slight frown on her face. One could see her
drawing diagrams on the chalkboard in her head.
Harry looked over at her, then at Ron with a grin.
“Not at all,” he said comfortably. “Be interesting to see what comes of it all
tomorrow morning.”
Demetrios came in and caught the end of the conversation. “So you won’t
be traveling back with me, sounds like,” he said.
They all spoke at once. Asking “what?” Asking “why?”
“When you choose the Valley of Decision, you choose to step out of
Atlantis and into your new life. Or back into the old one, whatever that means
for you. Therefore, you will not have to worry about the journey back and do not
need a gatekeeper to lead the way.” He turned to Hermione. “That is the route
she chose, you know.”
“Only to have the prince follow close on her heels,” Hermione smiled.
“Atlantis changed her life forever, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did. I did not know your ancestress, Pidge, but I knew many who
did. She was a magnificent woman from all accounts.” Demetrios reached into
the rucksack that he carried, and placed something in front of Hermione on the
table with a clatter. “She, along with your mother and grandmother, along with
all the women of your line, are with you always.”
Hermione held up the first piece. The weight, the slight pliability of the
shining metal told her that it was made of solid gold. It was a chain-link
headdress, decorated with precious pearls and coinage. Along with it was a
bigger, more elaborate piece, a girdle that fastened around the waist.
The workmanship was exquisite, certainly too skilled to have been made
many thousands of years before. If a museum got hold of the pieces, Hermione
thought ruefully, they would spend the next century proving that they were a
recent hoax.
“Having fashioned them with his own hands, he gifted her with them on
her wedding day. They are yours now,” the gatekeeper told her. “It was too
painful for him to give them to you.”

- 77 -
Paradise Lost 3
“The One Who Knows?” she asked softly, awestruck by what she had been
given. “But why?”
“Because you remind him of her,” said Demetrios, repacking his rucksack
now that it had been relieved of its burden. “Because when he sees you, he
thinks of what might have been.”
He then looked at Harry.
“Some say that love grows old, that it wanes with the passing of time, that
it fades away like the dew of the morning. You never will hear an immortal say
that, twice-blessed. If anything, love, when it is true, grows deeper and more
enduring with each passing age. And when you lose the kind of love that I am
referring to, you do not forget it... even in ten thousand years. Please, keep my
Pidge safe.”
He broke Harry’s questioning gaze, then looked at all of the others.
“Well, the Council awaits at the gate to give me final instructions for my
journey back. I must return to my wife. Good luck to all of you, on the morrow
and for the rest of your lives. In five thousand years of leading the way to
Atlantis, I have never forgotten a single face, a single story. And yet this has
been the journey of a lifetime. I shall never forget you.”
Hermione stood up suddenly, impulsively, circling around the table to
embrace Demetrios Solon, to press her lips to his bald tonsure in a gesture of
goodwill. Partially, it was one of her girlhood habits, and yet partially...
“Thank you for your blessing, my lady,” he said, bowing gallantly before
her. “Inanna truly abides within you. My journey home will be safe indeed.”
She knew that if she shook her head in denial or opened her mouth in
protest, he would be hurt. Demetrios Solon, immortal Gatekeeper of Atlantis and
powerful Wizard in his own right, was born into a world where Wizard and
Muggle alike worshipped the gods of old. Hermione would not hurt him for all
the world.
“Go in peace,” she said softly, watching as he stepped out of the door of the
sleeping chamber into the glowing Atlantean night. She liked Solon well
enough, but talk of the Inanna made her uncomfortable. Now perhaps they could
discuss the Valley of Decision and the implications of their choices rationally...
But when she turned back to her husband and companions, her face shone
with a soft, otherworldly glow.

~~~
The new High Priestess of Ur was a childhood friend of the twins. Betsilim
and the other priestesses whirled before the assembled guests in a flurry of veils
and bells, to the sound of tambourines and flutes, to the beat of the drums.
Delilah, as she sat on the cushion between her new husband and father,
followed the dance along inside of her head. Twice she had done this dance

- 78 -
 11. Atlantis
herself for weddings in other of the Ten Cities. She knew this dance as well as
she knew the beating of her own heart...
And the beating of Enki’s.
There would be no mystery on this wedding night, no trembling maiden
modesty to contend with. Enki was not a mortal youth who was willing to wait
for something as silly as a wedding. The gods, when they were taken with a
mortal woman, simply took... and in the taking, very rarely found much
resistance.
After that first time on the bank of the Euphrates, they had lain together in
her bedchamber at the temple, in his palace in Atlantis, and other places besides.
They didn’t always wait for night, either... often night was too far away and
elusive for the lovers’ liking.
She never imagined that she could love any male, whether man or god, this
much. Delilah knew that above all men, Enki treasured her wisdom and her
insight, enjoyed their banter as much as he enjoyed being between her thighs.
He had rather infuriating newfangled ideas about women at times, but she knew
he saw her as his equal. His exact match...
“What are you thinking of?” he asked her, pressing his lips to the top of the
scented lilac veil that covered her dark curls. It was held in place by a lovely
headdress that he had fashioned himself. The headdress matched the girdle that
was swung low about her hips, and she thought only of his strong hands
removing it once they were excused from table.
“The dance,” she said. “Last year, I did that dance. Never did I think that
I would be sitting as observer.”
“Admit it. You came to Atlantis just to find me,” he said smugly.
She looked up at him innocently. The kohl lining her beautiful brown eyes
made them look luminous in the sunset that filtered into the palace courtyard.
“Truly, husband, I had no thought of you. I journeyed to your lands in search of
the wisdom of the gods.”
“Yes, I know, my wife. And truly you found the heart of one.” He bent his
head so that his mouth brushed her ear, just before giving her back her words.
“Very shortly, you shall know the power of this god, surging within you.”
She blushed red, turning quickly to face her father. Surely King Gilgamesh
hadn’t heard? Yet her father was not paying much attention, calling for more
wine, shouting his appreciation for the dancers. Delilah, with a flash of insight,
knew that upon occasions like this he missed her mother.
For at the next table sat King Nimrod and Queen Semiramis, feeding each
other dates and laughing over some shared private joke. It was whispered they
had found the secret of immortality, but not through the means of the gods. They
were a formidable pair, and yet Delilah liked them both. Semiramis had always
treated her as a daughter whenever she had occasion to visit Babel, and the
palace there seemed empty without Nimrod’s laughter ringing from the earthen
walls.

- 79 -
Paradise Lost 3
Sitting with them were Prince Dumuzi and her own sister. Prince Dumuzi
seemed to be trying to establish a connection with Nidaba, but was failing
utterly. Her sister’s usually beautiful face was streaked with dried tears, and
Delilah felt her heart wrench.
As long as she lived, she would never forget the sight of her beloved sister
after the meeting with their father, the One Who Knows, and Enki. Nidaba came
screaming into the temple as Delilah was performing the daily cleansing rites,
hands ready to wring her older-by-a-moment sister’s neck, ready to toss her
spent body upon the altar as a sacrifice to the Goddess. Only the intervention of
the other priestesses had stopped the attack.
Delilah prayed that the Great Mother would help Nidaba find peace in her
circumstances. Dumuzi was a fine youth. In other circumstances, Delilah would
have loved him. Yet her heart and mind were so filled with Enki that she could
not even consider... not with another man... not ever.
Perhaps someday, Nidaba would forgive the perceived wrong...
As if she could hear her twin sister’s thoughts, Nidaba’s dark eyes locked
with Delilah’s. They blazed with hatred and fury... and the promise of revenge.
Within her heart Delilah of Ur sorrowed.
She would never be forgiven.

~~~
The councilor who summoned the party to the Rotunda Gardens was an
ageless Atlantean beauty by the name of Rana. Overnight, they had been
provided with the clothing of their place and time, clothing that would fit within
any of the choices that they made. Therefore, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were
dressed in jeans, cotton shirts, and trainers while Heath, Lenore, and Zach were
wearing the nondescript long gray shirts and trousers that were the everyday
attire of Sabera. Unlike real Sabaean attire, which was invariably made of
synthetics, the Atlanteans had fashioned all of their clothing from cotton and
linen.
“Might as well give me jeans,” said Zach firmly. “I already know what
choice I’m going to make.”
Ron frowned at their young friend. “How can you be so sure, mate? You
haven’t even seen the Valley yet...”
“I will not go into any alt-x without Eva,” Zach said. “Since she is not here
to decide with me, then I return to her in Salvador.”
Heath frowned, Zach’s words obviously troubling him. Often, all
concerned forgot the fact, but Zach Canyon was his younger brother by a
decade. He did feel compassion for him, although he rarely showed it.
“There is nothing to decide, Heath. If you choose to go back, perhaps
another Zach will be waiting there in Sabera. Perhaps not.” He clapped his hand

- 80 -
 11. Atlantis
upon his brother’s broad forearm. “This Zach will not live in any timestream
where Eva de Souza does not.”
Rana waited patiently while the Sabaeans conversed. Then she said in a
quiet and melodious voice, a voice that reminded them all of Nephthys, “Follow
me to the Valley of Decision.”

~~~
Their women had been dismissed after the meal was served. It was the first
time that the twin princesses of Ur had been alone together since before their
marriages. Nidaba had gone to live with Dumuzi’s family in Babel, and Delilah
and Enki had returned to Atlantis.
Now they had returned to their homeland, here to care for an ailing father,
here to decide what would be done if the unthinkable happened.
“It is fitting that you and Dumuzi dwell in the verdant Land Between the
Rivers, my sister,” Delilah said practically. “You must take the throne of Ur and
unite it with the powerful house of Nimrod.”
“My son will be king of all Sumeria,” Nidaba said proudly, stroking the
cheek of the small boy who was nestled to her chest. Young Prince Tammuz
was but six moons old, but he was strong. “My son will be a mighty warrior,
with power over the sons of men.” She looked up at her sister, the surface of her
eyes innocent, the depths of them unreadable. “And what of the house of Enki?
Surely the gods have favored you fruitfully.”
“We have not yet been thus favored,” Delilah said quietly. Although
everyone said that it did not matter – her husband pointed out that as an
immortal, his lifespan undercut the urgency to treat her as brood mare instead of
co-regent – it mattered to Delilah more than she cared to admit to herself.
Watching her sister with baby Tammuz made her own arms feel quite
empty.
“Who are we to know the will of the gods?” said Nidaba in a too-sweet
voice. Her face betrayed nothing of her true feelings.
“Even so,” said Delilah, much more piously than she felt. She heard the
mocking note in her sister’s voice: Even those who lie down with a god through
trickery and deceit are not exempt.
Feeling strangely uneasy, and angry with herself that she should feel so –
for she would not have any other but Enki for all the world – she changed the
subject.
“Nidaba,” she said quietly. “About my marriage to Enki, I...”
Nidaba held up a hand grandly. “Mention it not. I was but a girl, weeping
over a dream. I am a woman now, and I am very happy with Dumuzi. I do not
envy you at all.” She smiled a secret smile. “The house of Babel holds secrets,
dear sister. If you seek the power and the knowledge of the gods, you look in the

- 81 -
Paradise Lost 3
wrong places.”
Delilah frowned. “Is it even so?”
“The mother of my husband once dwelled in the ancient and faraway land
of Khamit, a land of another mighty river. She was the daughter of the Queen of
the South, a great healer and wise in the Atlantean mysteries. You recall the
stories of her, do you not?”
“I do indeed,” replied Delilah, leaning forward eagerly.
“Semiramis is like the women of old. Her mother has taught her something
that is not the power of the gods, but the power of an ancient sisterhood, birthed
in Atlantis.”
“Power over the elements?” Delilah was on the edge of her cushion.
“Not so much as that,” said Nidaba. “Yet power all the same. Power that
had its Source in Atlantis, in a Valley that they dared not let us approach.
Although, as princess there, you will know all about it, won’t you, dear sister?”
Delilah sank back into her cushion. No, she hadn’t known.
“It is not fitting that your husband and his forefathers keep secrets of power
from you, sister. They do not wish for mortals to know the power of the gods.
They do not wish for mortals to hold the keys to life and death. And they wish to
subject women – the givers of life and truth – to eternal bondage.”
Her eyes seemed to hold real pity for her sister.
“Even a cage of precious bronze is a cage, Delilah. Once you were free and
without care. Once even the highest in Ur lowered their heads when you walked
by. Once you had the pride of a lioness. Come with me to Babel once our
father’s ghost walks beside the great river, and Semiramis and I will teach you.
And indeed, be taught by you.”
Delilah hesitated. She missed her husband truly and had hoped to return
home to him within the next few evenings. And Enki would not like it if she did
not return home soon after her duties were finished in Ur. He was a jealous
young god and a territorial husband. He did not like being without her presence
and attention for long...
Neither did she like being misled by the male gender.
“Come with me, sister. Shall it be said that the great Delilah of Ur forsook
the chance of such knowledge, after having traveled to the ends of the earth to
obtain it?”
Some of the old fire rekindled in Delilah’s eyes.
“It shall not be said thus, my sister. I go with you.”

~~~
They arrived at the Valley of Decision around mid-morning, after having
walked about twenty miles.
“Rest and eat,” said Rana, and with a wave of her hand, something that all

- 82 -
 11. Atlantis
of them recognized appeared on the ground before them.
“Great, elevenses,” said Ron, sitting down and reaching for a loaf of what
appeared to be bread out of the basket. “I’m so hungry that I don’t care if it’s
fruit or not.”
Rana sat down next to Hermione, looking as if she wanted to say
something, but keeping her own counsel. Hermione felt this, and addressed the
woman.
“We have enjoyed the hospitality here, Rana,” Hermione said. “Atlantis is
one of the most beautiful lands I have ever seen.”
“It was even more beautiful eleven thousand years ago, in the days before
the Cataclysm. Our land stretched from what you know today as South America
all the way to the Azores... those were the tops of our highest mountains, and the
great Western Forest teemed with life. The Atlantic Forest of what you now
know as Brazil was our westernmost boundary at that time.”
Rana continued with her story. All listened save for Hermione, who had
learned all about the history of Atlantis through her ancestral dreams. Instead
she gazed down into the valley, visible from the high hill where they sat. It was
a relatively non-descript place, with many small hillocks and natural depressions
that made it appear vaguely labyrinthine, like a map of the London
Underground, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from thinking.
In the valley, the eerie Atlantean light seemed to pool itself in strange
ways. Sometimes on the ground... sometimes on the side of a hillock...
sometimes suspended in the air. Hermione rubbed her eyes, but the illusion
remained.
She wondered if she was seeing something the others were not.
There is no illusion.
Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She was used to hearing voices in
her head and not fearing herself insane, but the only two voices that belonged
there were her own conscience... and Harry.
This voice was that of a woman. Yet the jolt she felt was one of surprise,
not fear. The voice was soothing, gentle, without a single harsh or threatening
note.
Yet over two decades’ training in witchcraft made Hermione anxious.
Hearing voices was a very bad sign...
Do not be afraid, little one. I have been sending you my thoughts for some
time now, have been guarding your mind against the foul intrusion of my sister.
Who are you? Hermione closed her eyes, cautious to guard her thoughts.
You know who I am, dear little one. I am your foremother.
Delilah.
Yes, little one. I have had many names, but I was born Delilah of Ur. Yet
I am also Helen of Minsk and Caroline Means Granger. I am four hundred
women who are within you, connecting me to you in an unbroken line since the
morning of the world. I am you, daughter, and I will be with you in your time of

- 83 -
Paradise Lost 3
great need.
She was not afraid at all. This wasn’t a trick of evil, of the Dark One, of the
Cabalistica. Tears sprang to her eyes, tears of anguish and relief at the same
time.
Hermione glanced over at Harry, but he was absorbed in Rana’s tales of the
past, as the rest were.
I have failed you, Delilah. I am not what you were. I am weak where you
are strong. I am mortal where you achieved immortality. You cared about
nothing but for the needs of your people. I cared about nothing save for my own
needs.
You are hard on yourself, daughter. You abode in me as a child in your
Wizarding school, in your young womanhood, in recent years. You abide in me
still. Through you, I have protected my people from certain destruction when
you were yet a girl. Through you, I have healed my people and restored their
hope to them. Through you, I will finish what I should have finished ten
thousand years before your time.
The Demon... I mean, your sister... she nearly killed me six weeks ago.
She could not kill you. Your grandmother made sure of that. And yet, your
grandmother brought this all to pass by giving you such a name as she did.
What is my true name?
But now Harry noticed that something was wrong with Hermione. Her eyes
were rolling to the back of her head as if she were going to faint, and that
strange glow was sitting upon her brow like a sheen of perspiration...
Before Delilah could answer Hermione’s question, her name... the name
that all knew her by... echoed through her mind, rang in her ears, and she felt the
presence of her ancestress dispel.
“Are you all right?” asked Harry, handing her a goblet of the magnificent
Source-water.
Hermione nodded and gulped. There had been a fleeting second where she
was irritated by his intrusion into her thoughts, but it went away quickly. She
had every faith that her ancestress would return to her, would once again
converse with her and tell her the things that she needed to know...
“She was quite a woman, Hermione.”
That was Rana, studying Hermione’s features calmly. When she saw that
Hermione’s water glass was drained, she touched the rim and it filled again...
“You’re from the house of Poseidon too, aren’t you?” said Hermione
incredulously, as the others stared at her, wondering what she was talking about.
“You can control the waters, just like...”
“Enki.” She smiled. “Yes, I am the daughter of Atlas and one of the
Nereids, and I am a naiad ruling over the waters of the Carpathian Mountains
whenever the Council here has no need of me. The One Who Knows is my older
half-brother. I was but a lass when your ancestress came to our land as my
brother’s bride... the fountains sang for joy on that day. I never thought... your

- 84 -
 11. Atlantis
foremother resides strong in you, perhaps strongest in all the line. Even so,
Helen named you most aptly.”
“Do you know who helped my grandmother take away my mother’s
magic?”
“It was my brother,” said Rana. “When your grandmother journeyed to
these lands more than sixty years ago your time – time as you know it moves
more slowly here – she appealed to the One Who Knows to save her daughter
from a fate worse than death. He did so.”
Hermione closed her eyes. She knew that her mother had led a happy life,
far less turbulent than her own thirty-two years had been. Still her grandmother
had interfered with what was natural...
“She was quite repentant when you were born a Witch in the darkest years
of Tom Riddle’s rise to power,” Rana said. “She sent word to us here, telling us
that Caroline had borne a magical child, that the line had not been broken. She
grieved over her mistake, asking if aught could be done for Caroline. Nothing
could, however... Caroline was older than you are now when you were born, and
it would have done much harm and little good to restore her magical ability that
late in life.
“We instead comforted her with the words of our oracle. No, not the
prophecy which you have come to hate,” here she indicated Harry and Ron as
well, “nothing of apocalypse and the end of days, but true words which gave her
comfort.”
“What was the word of the oracle?” Lenore asked.
“That the babe was better off in the world of men for the time. That Helen
had chosen wisely and well, for now not only was Caroline out of danger, living
her life free of the curse that a magical existence would have brought her, but so
was Caroline’s daughter.”
Rana took the cup from Hermione’s hand and set it down.
“The oracle told your grandmother that there was another child born in that
same year, only a few weeks before you were, a child who would destroy the
Dark Lord at the height of his power. The oracle told Helen that the child would
have great need of you... and that it was best that you were out of danger until
the time came for you to join him as companion and friend.
“Your grandmother was absolutely floored. Unbeknownst to her daughter,
she had kept a toe in the Wizarding world, and at that time there was very little
hope for the future. The words of the oracle cheered Helen a great deal. She was
determined that her granddaughter would be worthy to walk beside the one
when the time of his need came. Which is why she gave you the name that she
did.”
“Do you know my name?” asked Hermione.
“Yes, I do. All of Atlantis knows your name, descendant of my brother.
Atlantis knows its own... and so you know it. You do not need to be told such a
thing. You have always known it.”

- 85 -
Paradise Lost 3
And in that moment, she did.

~~~
A strong hand caressed her arm from shoulder to elbow, as softly as the
mist that was falling outside of the window. She shifted, thinking that she would
free herself of his presence, and succeeded only in drawing closer to him.
“Something is troubling you, my Delilah,” said Enki, a frown creasing his
pale brow. “I demand to know what it is.”
“You demand,” Delilah repeated.
“I could just extract it from your mind, you know.”
“And you will find your bed cold to you, if you do that.” Her voice was
firm.
He laughed, swinging her up into his arms. “You cannot resist me. Only
admit it.”
For the first time, she did not smile.
“Enki, I am not in the mood for further sport. Please release me and let me
sleep.”
He grinned at her. Despite her resolve, her heart thumped wildly. By the
Mother, this young prince had turned her inside out.
“I do not tire.”
“Well, I do. Your wife is mortal, Enki. I must sleep...”
“Delilah.” The teasing note was gone from his voice. In its place was the
compulsion and command of a god. “Tell me what you have done.”
She wanted to tell him of the time she had just spent in Babel, of meeting
with Semiramis and comparing knowledge to knowledge, of realizing that the
power of the gods was available to mortals if only they had the courage to act.
She wanted to tell him of the rebellion that was already fomenting in the Land
Between the Rivers, of Nimrod’s plan to trick all the gods with what seemed to
be his new tall tower...
Delilah wanted to tell him about how uneasy her sister Nidaba made her
feel these days. How her nephew Tammuz, only four years old, clung to her
before leaving with real fright in his eyes, weeping, begging her to take him with
her. How her brother-in-law Dumuzi’s eyes followed her around the palace of
Babel, undressing her, promising all manner of forbidden acts if she would only
yield to him...
Yet she guarded her mind well. Enki was not only her beloved, but a god of
growing might. If he knew what atrocities against the gods were being
committed in the house of Nimrod...
Besides, she had other news to share.
“It is not what I have done, dear husband,” she said, kissing the corner of
his mouth. “We have done it together.”

- 86 -
 11. Atlantis
He knew then, knew it as he looked deep into her shining dark eyes.
“Is it even so?”
“It is, Enki. We are going to have a child, you and I... are you pleased?”
Her voice broke into laughter as he spun her into his arms, spun them both
out of the open palace windows, spun them both into starlight and shimmer.

~~~
After the meal, they all descended into the Valley of Decision, the odd
shimmering patches brightening as they neared, glistening in the Source-light.
As they approached the boundary of the valley, which was marked by stones and
something that looked for all the world like a crop-circle line, Hermione felt her
insides clench, then tighten. The sack which held her foremother’s bridal
jewelry began to feel like a heavy load.
“Here is where I must depart, but I will give you final instructions,” said
Rana. “Do not be alarmed. Do not be troubled at heart. For the sojourn through
the Valley of Decision is one that all must take at some time in life. And yet here
you have the opportunity of a lifetime. Where most must choose their paths and
walk them forever, you will be able to turn around. To return to that fork in the
road. To choose again.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.
Heath, Zach, and Lenore looked everywhere but.
“When you step over the line before you, your current life will be only one
choice amongst many. These choices can be found in the multitude of mirrors
that you will see. You may peer into all possible pasts before you by putting
your head through the mirror, but remember to keep your feet firmly on the soil
of the valley until you choose. Only remember that you must consider your
choice well, for there is no return to the Valley of Decision.”
“Can we choose together?” asked Harry.
“No. Once you step over the line, you will be as in a world alone.” Rana
looked sympathetic. “Each must choose their own path. Each must decide for
themselves.”
There was no turning back now. Rana, with a last sympathetic glance,
dissolved into a fine water mist and was gone.
Zach waved at them all. “I’m going to find the mirror which leads back to
our current time,” he said. “I hope to see you there. If not...”
He stepped across the line, and vanished so suddenly that they gasped.
“Well, that’s how it’s done,” Lenore said finally. “Looks easy enough.”
And she stepped over the line and vanished, Heath following directly
behind after a quick glance at Hermione.
Ron stared from Hermione to Harry, then grinned to himself.
“Right, this is it, mates.”

- 87 -
Paradise Lost 3
“I suppose it is,” said Hermione, staring at the line. “It doesn’t seem as
bright of a prospect as it did last night. I wish we had more time to decide,
although who knows what time does once you step over that line.”
“Bit scary, yeah.” Ron looked from Harry to Hermione. “You going to try
to step over that line together?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Who knows, it might work. Perhaps it’s
never been tried.” Harry sounded doubtful.
“Right, makes sense,” said Ron. “Well, choose well, and whatever you
choose, I’ll be seeing you there...”
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Harry stepped forward and
caught Ron’s forearm just before he moved to cross the line.
“Ron,” he said. “We go together.”
And so they did.

~~~
Hogwarts wasn’t safe the Christmas of the Scourge. Everyone knew it. So
for the first year since they’d all begun Hogwarts, they all crowded into the
already packed Burrow for Christmas Eve – everyone from Bill and Fleur to the
four youngest of the brood – Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione.
It had been a most carefree day for them... snowball fights, decorating the
Burrow, rolling on the ground laughing their heads off as they watched – or
chased – Pigwidgeon around the backyard, with the hyperactive owl determined
to display a pair of Ron’s tighty-whities to the world. Looking back, Hermione
couldn’t believe they were acting that way at a time when their world was
inexorably falling into darkness...
But the truth was... they needed the distraction.
There had been very little to laugh about since the day they had returned to
Hogwarts. Voldemort was not only on the rise, he was on a rampage –
unleashing all the anger and resentment stored up through thirteen long years of
isolation, in a tidal wave of terror aimed at cowing the population... and taunting
The Boy-Who-Lived and his mentors, in an effort to draw them out of the
protection of the castle into certain death and disaster.
There was very little for Harry Potter to laugh about.
The summer after their fourth year had changed him... Hermione often felt
that the Harry beside her in class, at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, in
their Common Room or in the library was a total stranger. He acknowledged her
presence, oh yes! – but there was an odd air of formality and correctness about
his actions towards her. It was as if the Harry she had known for four years was
a Harry on the outside, and Percy on the inside... far too serious, entirely too
driven, all too often with a single-minded determination both to excel in his
classes – and to do it all alone.

- 88 -
 11. Atlantis
And he had constantly spurned her every effort to make him open up. It
was as if the Troll in the bathroom was an ancient nightmare, the moment she
had hugged him in the Potions challenge beneath the castle was but a dream, the
ride on Buckbeak an illusion... and she withdrew from him, wishing only to
respect his wish to be alone and (intellectually) sympathizing with the burden he
wished to carry by himself...
So it was with surprise and a lot of joy that she greeted the sound of his
laughter. It was a sign that the Harry she knew, the Harry who had been her best
friend through the most momentous days of her life, was still around...
somewhere...
But the carefree mood shifted when they went up to the attic and
discovered a box of old vinyl records which triggered off memories of his
mother and brought on an crushing wave of depression and sadness to her best
friend...
Hermione joined Ginny as the latter looked through the old cardboard
record jackets. “None of this stuff looks that recent, Harry,” Hermione said, “...
all these records seem really ancient. At least fifty years old... “
“Try this, Harry,” Ginny said, as she blew away the dust from a record
jacket, sending Harry into a fit of coughing as Hermione giggled... by the time
he’d turned back, Ginny had pulled the record out and was handing it to him.
Borrowing Ron’s wand (his was in Ron’s room), he tossed the vinyl disc into
the air and then uttered a charm – Vox Domini! – that set it to spinning.
The effect was immediate. Hermione marveled to hear the characteristic
faint scratching sound that heralded the start of any old record. And then the
song began:
 
I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small café, the park across the way
The children’s carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well
I’ll be seeing you in every lovely summer’s day
In everything that’s light and gay
I’ll always think of you that way

Time slowed... and a heavy, oppressive, nearly overpowering atmosphere

seemed to have crept into the already stuffy attic. For some inexplicable reason,
Hermione felt her eyes drawn to the emerald green eyes of her best friend... and
watched in uncomfortable silence as she saw tears forming in his eyes.
Unaccountably, she could feel her arm striving to rise of its own accord...
fighting against the cries of her brain to hold still... felt her palms growing
warmer and the tips of her fingers turn scalding hot as if she had placed them
against a boiling teapot... felt her brain trying, with every bit of resolve in her
body, to stop her from reaching out and brushing Harry’s tears away...
She could feel every tinge of ache and loss that her best friend possessed...
- 89 -
Paradise Lost 3
the loss of his parents, the absence of a normal home life and family, the denial
of the companionship and guidance of the godfather who was his father’s best
friend... and now, even in the bosom of a family who treated him as one of their
own, she could feel that ever-present sense of loss in him...
Instinctively, she tried – she wanted – to push back, to block off the waves
of sadness and despair that she was absorbing from her best friend... and in the
same instant, stopped herself. She knew, in some mysterious and unfathomable
way, that pushing back or blocking his pain and emotions was not the right thing
to do, for she could feel the darkness seeping into his soul... and she desperately
cast around for some thought, some word, some thing to say or do which would
help draw out the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him...
 
I’ll find you in the mornin’ sun
And when the night is new
I’ll be looking at the moon
But I’ll be seeing you

They’d been staring at each other as the mellow voice sung on... but as the
record swung into its instrumental bridge, she forced herself to look away from
him... and almost jumped out of her skin as she realized that somehow, in
whatever magical, mysterious way that she would never be able to remember,
she had found her way to him and was hugging him tightly... and felt his arms
wrapping around her.
They stood together in the stuffy attic, arms around each other, slowly
swaying in place to the song as the music continued... Hermione with her head
nestled against his chest... Harry with his head resting on her bushy crown of
hair... all she knew in that moment was that she needed to hold him... and she
could feel the cold and darkness that gripped him slowly giving way to a sense
of warmth... of comfort... and she could feel him relaxing...
There had been so very few really good memories that her best friend could
hold on to, she reflected, and she wished with all her heart that she could do
more. But as the thought formed, her mind shifted – and she realized that there
were a lot of good memories for her best friend. It was just that... most of these
“good” memories started when he first came to Hogwarts – and most of these
were the small, infinitesimal occurrences that were merely ordinary... the small
things that most people took for granted – and too often, in Harry’s case,
overshadowed by his adventures and, in her case, eclipsed by her studies and...
She pushed the thought away. At this moment, it was Harry who was
important... Harry who needed her... quiet, burdened Harry Potter who had
chosen to carry all the guilt that came from the death of Cedric, the resurrection
of Voldemort, and the terror-ridden days that followed that evil ascension... who
had pushed her away from him again and again, to the point that she had nearly
broken down several times on Ron’s broad shoulders...

- 90 -
 11. Atlantis
I’ll find you in the mornin’ sun
And when the night is new
I’ll be looking at the moon
But I’ll be seeing you

From a seemingly distant place, she could hear the song ending... the
characteristic sound of a needle scratching as a record ended, and felt him trying
to draw away... but she held on even more tightly to him, refusing to let him go
and break away from her... adamantly rejecting his effort to push her away from
him again.
She heard movement behind her but refused to turn around... at this
moment, nothing was more important than to keep holding on to Harry... to
make him feel and understand and know that she knew, and understood, and felt
the same thing that he did... that there was something between them, connecting
them with threads so gossamer thin as to be almost invisible, but binding them
together in a web formed in the misty shadows of time unmemorable... saying to
herself over and over again, “I’m sorry, Harry, I should have known...
I shouldn’t have let you alone... I’m sorry...”
And felt a thought suddenly blasting through her mind, a thought that came
from nowhere but coming in the hoarse voice of her best friend: “I’ve missed
you, Hermione... oh, Lord, how I missed you!”
She tried to step back, shaken on hearing his voice inside her head – and
saw his shocked eyes staring down at her... knew in that moment that it was a
thought that he had never wanted her to hear or learn, that it was something that
he would have done everything in his power to keep from her... because in doing
so, he was exposing his soul to her – and he would be inviting her into his world
of doom and gloom, a world that he would want to stop her from entering,
because it could very well taint her soul with his darkness... and destroy the one
thing that had helped him keep his soul safe through the years...
She felt his hands on her shoulders and she looked up into his eyes... and
felt his hoarse, emotional voice whispering in her head... “Thank you,
Hermione. Thank you for everything, Hermione.”
Before she could form a coherent thought or response, the moment was
broken by a rasping cough – and she turned around, surprised... She had
forgotten all about Ron – and felt a surge of cold dread and wintry fear course
through her at what had just happened between Harry and her – and her mind
raced, wondering how their volatile friend would react to that...
“Get a room, you two!”
She felt her mouth dropping at the amused tone in his voice – but found
herself locked in a stare with Ron’s blue eyes... somehow infinitely cold but
immeasurably warm, and sparkling with their own tears... she wondered whether
he knew or realized what had passed between Harry and her... and felt at once
that he did know, as her heightened senses caught a sense of a surprised, but

- 91 -
Paradise Lost 3
somehow expected revelation coupled with the shock of a painful resignation
roiling around within her other best friend.
“Ron...” she heard Harry’s roughened voice, as she saw Ginny turning
away from them with something suspiciously like tears in her eyes and a gentle
sniffle coming from her reddened nose – and snapped back to Ron as he said,
“Try this one, Harry.”
For a long moment, her two best friends stared at each other... and then
Harry broke away from Ron’s intent look and, with a wave of Ron’s wand,
muttered the charm once again...
The attic was filled with a song that was so hauntingly familiar that it
brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes:

It’s very clear

Our love is here to stay;
Not for a year
But ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone and the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies,
And in time may go.
But, oh my dear,
Our love is here to stay;
Together we’re going a long, long way.
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibraltar may tumble,
They’re only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
 
She suddenly felt long, strong, sinewy arms snaking around Harry and
her... hugging them... crushing them. Caught by surprise, she felt her breath
hissing out and struggled to break away... felt Ron loosening his grip, but felt his
arm around her, enveloping Harry and herself in a hug that was both light and
intense, warm and yet distant... and she embraced her best friends, arms snaking
around their waists and feeling their warmth seeping into her, slowly dispelling
the cold that she had absorbed from Harry as the song came to an end...

In time the Rockies may crumble,

Gibraltar may tumble,
They’re only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.

As the faint scratching of a magical needle sounded in the room, the three
stood together in that enfolding embrace... an understanding of their friendship
permeating their souls. There was no need for words, no need for verbal or
auditory emoting as Harry’s thoughts seemed to flow from her to Ron and
back... as their inner feelings and emotions ran from her to Harry and Ron and

- 92 -
 11. Atlantis
back...
“Is this a private party or can anyone join?”
They broke apart and turned to see Ginny, sitting on a dusty, shroud-
covered chair and holding on to her old rag doll, tears streaking her freckled
cheeks. Without a word, Harry immediately walked over and pulled her into
another bone-crushing hug...
“If you weren’t a brother to her, Harry, I’d be calling Bill and Charlie up
here to hex you to pieces!” Hermione swatted at his head as Ginny stuck out her
tongue at him... but seconds later, all four were in a tight group hug, neither one
of the four even bothering to wipe away the tears now flowing freely down their
cheeks.

~~~
Hermione withdrew her head from the memories that the first mirror held.
Tears were now flowing freely down her own cheeks. She felt rather as if she
were on sensory overload.
There was a lump in her throat. If only it had been that easy... if only they
had been more honest with each other even as children.
If only she had been more brave.
She walked alone through the valley, glancing into the mirrors at other
possible thirty-two year old selves. In another mirror, she glanced at herself,
fastening a cloak on a five year old girl with bushy red hair. Ron came up to the
mirror, pulled the little girl up into his arms, and kissed her forehead...
Hermione felt a heady mixture of sorrow, joy, and relief. She didn’t even
have to put her head through that mirror. She knew that road well and had
chosen otherwise.
But as she walked past, taking one last glance at the mirror, she wondered
idly if there was a Maury in that world at all.
A few mirrors down, she saw a scene that was almost exactly the same...
but the differences were significant.
In this scene, the small child had long black hair, pale ivory skin and green
eyes.
Harry came up behind her in the mirror. The child scrambled into his arms,
and he kissed her forehead...
There would be no children for her unless she chose differently here,
Hermione thought. The lure of the scene before her was almost unbearable. She
stepped forward, towards the little family, to plunge her head through the liquid
mirror and look into this alternate Hermione’s memories...

~~~
- 93 -
Paradise Lost 3
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Harry never felt a cliché – sexist as
it was - more fitting to describe his current situation. The situation being that he
had spent all of Ron and Hermione’s wedding reception so far sitting in a
secluded corner with only a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky for company. Of
course, if the looks he kept getting from passing women and the occasional
giggling teenaged girl were any indication, his problem wasn’t from lack of
suitors vying to become Mrs. Harry Potter. The problem was that the only
person he ever wanted to give that title to had just married his other best friend.
 Even from across the great lawn, Harry had no problem spotting
Hermione. She was sitting alone on one of the two gilded thrones on the dais, a
fake smile plastered on her face as she – no doubt – tried to keep her patience in
check while person-after-person stopped by to congratulate her on her marriage.
 Every so often she would look around and try to catch Ron’s eye, but his
back remained turned away from her as he was forced to play nice with the team
sponsors who’d taken him away from his new wife and the crowd of well-
wishers over an hour ago for a seemingly never-ending round of toasts in his
honor.
 Hermione must’ve felt Harry’s eyes on her because she suddenly turned to
him, her amber eyes meeting his effortlessly, despite the distance between them.
Once again he found himself struck anew by her beauty; his earlier comparison
of her with Guinevere just didn’t do her enough justice as she smiled at him in
that way he liked to think was reserved for him, making the breathtaking figure
before him in the gossamer white bridal robes illuminated softly by fluttering
fairy lights simply beyond words.
 Once he managed to have a coherent thought again, he closed his gaping
mouth and raised an eyebrow at her playfully, knowing full well what she
wanted but not being able to resist seeing her squirm. To his disappointment, she
merely answered his challenge with a raised eyebrow of her own as her smile
morphed to something akin to a smirk. They both knew that he could never deny
her anything.
 Harry stuck out his tongue at her, but stood up anyway to come and rescue
her from the sea of people threatening to engulf her with their praise. Without
breaking eye contact, he stood up and began walking towards the dais, the rest
of the world receding in the background as he made his way towards his very
own Aphrodite come to life.
 Harry was feeling so lightheaded with the combination of all the
firewhisky he’d downed over the past twenty-four hours and Hermione’s gaze
that he wasn’t sure how he even managed to place one foot in front of the other
successfully. Vaguely, he heard some of the children gleefully making their way
around the maypole, uttering protests as he got in their way, but they were
ignored and soon left behind as he stepped onto the crowded dance floor. He
managed to mutter apologies to the random waltzing couples before him
whether they deserved it or not, dimly felt the heat of the great bonfire and was

- 94 -
 11. Atlantis
even able to wave off random women glancing at him from beneath their
eyelashes and giggling about something-or-other.
 And suddenly there was precious little that stood between them.
 ”Hermione...” Harry murmured almost reverently as he approached the
dais, distantly aware of the crowd parting before him as he made his way up the
steps until the only thing separating them was the white head table.
 ”Hey, stranger, didn’t you promise to save me a spot on your dance card?”
She answered with that special smile yet again as she stood up and clasped his
hands between hers.
 It was Hermione’s touch that was his undoing. Ever since Avalon he had
avoided all bodily contact with her, not only for fear that she would find out how
he really felt about her through her hyperempathic abilities, but as much so that
he could convince himself that it wasn’t her touch he was missing. But holding
her like this, even if it was no more intimate than the contact between those of
friends, Harry knew he could never ever convince himself that the empty feeling
that he felt with other women wasn’t because they hadn’t reached the same level
of closeness in their relationship, but simply because they weren’t Hermione.
Harry nervously licked his lips, and broke their eye contact to look down at
their clasped hands. “I could do one better than that,” he whispered as he prayed
with all his might that his plan would work. It was like the dam that held his
feelings for her had burst, and he felt her hands around him tighten as she was
flooded with images of their time together in Avalon through his eyes. How
much he’d love finally having her in his arms. How much he loved her still.
 Harry watched through his lashes as Hermione withdrew her shaking
hands and wrapped her arms around herself, blankly staring out at the dancing
couples but not before he noticed the brief flash of recognition. “I... I don’t
know what to say.”
 Knowing it was now or never, Harry gathered whatever courage had left
and held her hands yet again. “Say you’ll give me a chance.” Since she had yet
to slap him, he gained confidence and added, “Run away with me,” followed by
him transfiguring the head table into a beautiful white stallion with wings.
Hermione was now staring at him wide eyed, gaping at him so openly that
it would’ve been funny if the moment hadn’t been so important to him. Dimly,
he felt the attention of the rest of the party also turn to the two of them – after
all, it wasn’t every day that the head table gets turned into a flying horse, even
among magical folk – but he was too intent on getting her to agree with him to
care.
Harry mounted the stallion and held his hand out toward Hermione in
invitation. She made no move to follow him and he felt the lump in his throat
increase. “Please,” he begged for the final time.
She finally nodded. Whether it was because he’d convinced her with his
love or because she simply felt sorry for him, he didn’t know. At the moment, he
didn’t care either. He would spend the rest of his life showing her how much he

- 95 -
Paradise Lost 3
loved her if it was the latter.
Hermione was up and behind him before Harry or the stunned crowd could
blink. She clung to him like one would a life preserver and fearing the sea of
angry people that was sure to follow once they recovered from their shock, he
swiftly nudged the stallion with his heels, and sent it and its two passengers
soaring into the night.

~~~
Harry stepped back from the mirror, breathless. Oh, he had been so stupid,
thinking that she would have rejected him if he’d told her the truth. Somehow
that world hadn’t fallen apart when for once he’d been selfish and ruined Ron
and Hermione’s wedding day... he’d saved them all years of heartache.
He stepped back at the mirror, looking at himself with the small girl, at
Hermione watching them together and beaming. As she stood up, he noticed that
her midriff was very slightly rounded. When his mirror self placed a hand over
it, and she swatted it away playfully, he knew that in the alternate scenario she
was pregnant again. Very likely with his son.
His teeth clenched as he stared at the mirror, considering it. All he had to
do was step through and the twelve wasted years of his life would exist no more.
All he had to do was step through this mirror and he would have the family and
the love that he’d always sought and longed for.
All he had to do was step out of Atlantis into that mirror world.
Harry almost did it. Yet something stopped him, something in the corner of
his eye...
The gleam of other mirrors.
And he began to wonder... if there were a future where he and Hermione
married in their very early twenties, had a marriage, children, and a home filled
with love and kindness...
Perhaps there was a future where James and Lily Potter lived.
He swallowed at the thought, as if he were hungry, although he had already
eaten. If he could find a mirror where not only he and Hermione were happy
together with their family, then he could find a mirror where his parents were
happy together with them... with their grandchildren!
With that thought, he forced himself to tear his attention away from the
mirror in front of him, and walked further down the valley.

~~~
Harry looked down at the blotchy red bundle in his arms, into a pair of
brilliant green eyes. Deep satisfaction washed over him. Yes, the newborn was
- 96 -
 11. Atlantis
definitely his son. Not that he had ever truly doubted; some things were just
meant to be.
He turned to the bed and deposited the baby at Hermione’s side, then
leaned down to drop a light kiss on her forehead. “He’s such a miracle,
beautiful.”
Hermione laughed weakly. “Oh Harry, all new parents think that.”
Harry only smiled and wrapped her hand in his. It’s twice as true this time,
he thought. The baby brought you back to me.
Within days of Hermione’s return from Avalon, she had told Ron she was
pregnant. She was puzzled....she and Ron had never forgotten to use
contraception above and beyond her regular potion, and how could she possibly
have messed up so simple a charm?....but for a hyperempath there was no doubt
about the changes inside her. She was carrying a child.
Ron accused her of cheating on him. Hermione threw his own infidelities
back at him, and Ron stormed off to Harry....whose heart jumped into his throat,
for he knew why Hermione had missed a contraceptive charm.
The last time they made love in Avalon, knowing Remus and Sirius would
soon arrive for the Memory Charm, ecstasy from their weeks together and
anguish for their future apart drove all practical thoughts from their minds.
Harry remembered an hour later – plenty of time for any usual circumstances –
but now it was too late. He could hardly tell her to charm herself because of a
tryst she no longer recalled.
Ron’s anger had been the opening Harry needed. He told Hermione of
Avalon, his love, his stupidity, his regrets. And he won her over, eventually.
Hermione and Harry looked up as the door opened. Ron paused at the
threshold while silent apology and forgiveness flew among the three. Nine
months had changed him, broadening his shoulders, deepening his tan, calming
the nervous energy he radiated.
Harry lifted his son and stepped forward. “Ron? Meet Ron,” he said.

~~~
Ron pulled his head out of the mirror. He looked at the scene before him.
Hermione and Maureen were sitting down in a park, talking and laughing
as they watched five children between them. Three of them were redheads; two
were brunettes.
Three of them were Potters. Only two were Weasleys.
Ron grinned. Ronald, the baby from the mirror, was now eleven years old
and starting Hogwarts. Although he was a Potter, he had dark red hair that set
him wondering at first if it were his child after all.
Yet Ronald’s eyes were green as his father’s... and he wasn’t freckled at all.
Ron looked at Hermione and Maureen in the mirror, chattering as if they

- 97 -
Paradise Lost 3
were old friends. But of course they were. In this alternate life, he hadn’t
committed adultery, for he and Hermione had never married. He’d buried
himself in Quidditch to get over the heartache he thought he’d felt... and met
Maureen four years after Harry and Hermione’s marriage.
Hermione had liked Maureen instantly. Upon their first introduction, they
had become the best of friends. She even told Ron that he had better marry the
girl, for she was his match. Ron knew; he’d come back to this mirror and seen
the memory.
In this mirror, Hermione and Maureen had kept their careers, utilizing the
Emerald City childcare option as many working Witches their age did. Ron
himself had helped with little Ronald while Hermione was finishing her medical
degrees and Harry worked at the Foundation. So had Mrs. Weasley, after she got
over her initial shock and anger.
And his Maureen... she hadn’t lost her career, because she was never
stigmatized...
Ron almost plunged through that mirror without thinking.
Almost.
For in the corner of his eye, he saw another scene.
A scene of him and Maureen, with Hermione standing in the background.
Watching them with their three children... Quinn had just been born, and
Hermione had brought the other two boys to see their mother and new baby
brother.
There was no Harry in sight.
Ron’s mouth dropped open. Intrigued, he stuck his head through the
mirror...

~~~
Music had just swollen to a crescendo as Maureen Ludlam stood on the
stage, singing to the bevy of men hanging on her every word. And this from the
woman who protested so vigilantly? Yet just as the song should have swelled to
its moving crescendo, Mo’s voice ended abruptly before the last word, and she
leapt off the stage and raced over to...
Hermione?
The crowd looked on, stunned, as Mo snatched the other woman’s glass of
champagne, and listened unabashedly to the vicious exchange that followed
between the two beautifully coiffed Witches. And, even as the tug of war ensued
over the little sliver of glass, hardly anyone paid attention to the liquid that went
flying... and nobody noticed the traces of blood-red liquid it left behind on those
who were unfortunate enough to get splashed.
Of course, everyone was fascinated, though some of the more
conscientious drew their wands as the words poison, fight it out, and enthrall

- 98 -
 11. Atlantis
were tossed around. Yet, nobody moved a muscle as the slight – ahem – tiff
escalated to epic proportions.
“I should quaff this just to irk you, shouldn’t I?”
“No, you shouldn’t. Put down the drink... we’ll go off somewhere and
argue this out... fight it out, if you deem it necessary. But not a single drop of
that will touch your lips.”
Hermione raised the glass up into the air. “To your comeuppance,” she said
scathingly.
Though Mo raised her wand, presumably to summon the glass, Hermione
was too quick. She had drained the glass in a heartbeat, and thrown it at Mo’s
feet. Hermione gave her a smug look of satisfaction, which did nothing at all to
the anguished Mo, who stood immobilized.
As Draco and Ginny’s guests watched with bated breath, the woman of the
hour pushed her way to the front of the crowds, smoothing her hair back and
hastily wiping her lips... which now bore no trace of lipstick.
“Hermione, look at your dress, it’s –” But Ginny was cut off by
Hermione’s sharp intake of breath. Something passed between Mo and
Hermione then; something that only the two could comprehend, though
observers noticed it in the slight widening of the latter’s eyes, and the tears that
misted over the former’s.
“You were right.”
With that declarative statement, Hermione collapsed and pandemonium
ensued. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter appeared out of nowhere. Hermione’s
loving husband ran to his wife, but stopped short and embraced... Mo?
Fortunately, nobody noticed this slight, as the stretcher bearers who had
promptly arrived on the scene were simultaneously blasted by Sirius and Dot
Lightfoot, who burst in on the scene, and were proved to be as human as anyone
at the party. Harry, who had gone ashen, raced to Hermione’s side as soon as
Sirius and Dot threw their curses.
“Hermione! Why didn’t you believe her?!” Harry knelt by the convulsing
woman, and stroked her forehead and face with hands that shook. His little-seen
tears mingled with the sweat that had broken out on Hermione’s forehead as she
used every ounce of hyperempathic ability to negate the horrifying effects.
“Because she’s a better person than I... because she’s everything I’m not...”
Hermione looked truly stunned by her response, and clapped a hand over her
own mouth. Inquiring eyes widened along with Hermione’s own.
“Hermione!” Harry’s voice cracked on the word. Hermione looked
terrified.
“Veritaserum...” she whispered. Harry drew back for unknown reasons, and
sharply glanced at the red-haired man who was gently patting Mo’s glossy hair
as tears cascaded down her face. At Hermione’s bare whisper, however, Ron
also snapped to attention.
“Veritaserum?” He echoed, looking either delighted or horrified, depending

- 99 -
Paradise Lost 3
on the observer. Hermione bit her lip, but moaned an affirmative answer before
she could help herself. She was panting from exhaustion, from trying to heal
herself.
Before Harry could say a word, he was thrown to the side by a wand blast
from Ron’s outstretched wand... where had that come from? Ron knelt by his
wife’s side, and shook her, none too gently. Tears streamed down Hermione’s
cheeks as Sirius and Mo both tried to detach Ron from the still-cramping
woman.
“Ron, no... Ron, don’t...You don’t know what you’re doing, mate...” Pleas
filled the air from those who understood what was happening. Which wasn’t
very many. But the impulsive, impervious Weasel forged ahead, the tense lines
in his face suggesting that he did know, very much, what he was doing.
“Hermione, are you in love with me? Were you ever?” Tears streamed
from Hermione’s eyes, and her eyes locked with her husband’s and a world of
communication passed between the two. She closed her eyes and allowed the
words to burst from her throat.
“You know I’m not... you know I wasn’t. But your heart doesn’t belong to
me, does it, husband?”
Audible gasps filled the tower; several silly Witches fainted. Ginny buried
her face in Draco’s chest, and Molly Weasley burst into tears. The rest of the
Weasley clan looked on stoically, somehow knowing instinctively that
somewhere, sometime, this event would arrive. For his part, Ron merely
stiffened and closed his eyes, but not before a wealth of pain flooded them. He
didn’t bother to deny it, but rather gently took the hand of the gypsy Witch who
had, moments before, been trying to pry him away from his wife.
“No, Hermione. Maureen has held it for so long it’s difficult to believe you
ever had a tight grasp on it.” Hermione flinched as another cramp passed
through her; or perhaps it was the effect of the confession. Nobody would ever
know. Guests filed out, feeling as though they had intruded on something
horrible. Only a few remained; Sirius and Dot, Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
Maureen had slipped out, weeping. Still silence reigned in the beautiful setting.
“Who does hold your heart then, Hermione?” Harry stood, slightly flushed,
his green eyes sweeping warily over Ron. Hermione stiffened yet again, but not
from the effects of the poison this time. She closed her eyes and seemed to be
struggling against opening her mouth. The famous trio stood in wait; their future
paths hanging in the balance.
“Nobody.” Chocolate eyes met green, and the air itself seemed to still.
Harry swallowed once, twice. Still they did not break eye contact. Tears
and confusion clouded Ron’s eyes as he gazed at his two best friends.
“Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?” Harry said hoarsely, pretending that his heart
hadn’t just been broken into a thousand pieces by naked, spell-induced truth.
Hermione trembled badly as he knelt to kiss her forehead. He straightened and
stared hard at Ron, who looked as though he wanted to say something but had

- 100 -
 11. Atlantis
no idea what that something should be.
His gaze shifted to his godfather and then to Dot Lightfoot. “Take care of
her,” he told them sadly.
Something broke inside of Hermione, and she closed her eyes against the
torrent of pain that flooded her being; not only her own, but Harry’s as well.
“Harry...”
But he was gone, disApparated. Where he had stood, there was only a
single white rose; a fitting tribute to the torn Queen of Camelot, who had just
broken her knight’s heart, and had sundered herself from her king.
Dot Lightfoot clucked her tongue and leaned over her charge, staring very
hard into Hermione’s eyes. Hermione shifted uncomfortably under Dot’s
piercing gaze and knowing hands. Just as Sirius was giving the orders to have
Hermione taken to a room inside the hotel, Dot leaned over to whisper into her
ear.
“You negated the Veritaserum when you expelled the poison.” It wasn’t a
question, but merely a statement of fact.
Hermione’s silence was her only assent. Dot Lightfoot looked at the
woman sadly and turned to leave.
“I sent him back,” came the belated reply. Dot turned in confusion.
Hermione opened tear-bright eyes to stare unseeingly. “Back to Avalon. He
deserves it.”
“Deserves what, child?”
“Paradise.”

- 101 -
Paradise Lost 3

- 102 -
 11. Atlantis

- 103 -