CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:

I was in a state of shock, only half aware of the fact that I was standing in what I'd dubbed Luna and Draco's bedroom at the Cullen's. Luna was speaking to Hermione, but I didn't hear what it was she was saying, not really.

It was Hermione who passed me the phial, who gently guided my hands to press it to my lips.

The artificial serenity of the Calming Potion brought the world around me back into sharp focus.

"Hermione?" I mumbled.

"Are you back with us, Bella?" she asked, and I nodded. She smiled. "I'm glad. You need to get changed into robes and clean up, and then I'm taking us both to the Ministry. Can you do that?"

"I can," I assured her. She smiled brightly and then shocked me by pulling me into a hug.

Hermione was taller then me, by about two or three inches, and her body was harder then mine, all lean muscle where I was either soft edges or pointed bone. She smelt like smoke and ozone and pine, and when she whispered in my ear, her voice was firm and fierce. "The Volturi just crossed the wrong witch!"

As Hermione took a step back and gave me another smile, this one as fierce in its passion as her voice, and just as firm in its resolve, I knew that she was almost right; the Volturi had crossed the wrong witch– but it wasn't me. 

I wait until Hermione's left the room before turning to Luna and asking, "when I grow up, can I be her?"

I'm only thirty percent joking.

-

The first thing I noticed about the Wizengamot chambers was that the place looked more like a dungeon from the Middle Ages then any kind of courtroom I'd ever seen. It didn't really seem very comfortable or professional. Possibly the designer had been one of the morbid, dramatic types who'd likely gone mad a few weeks after the room's construction.

The thought crossed my mind that, if Luna was here, she'd probably tell the Wizengamot to redecorate in purple and yellow in order to deter wrackspurts or some such thing, citing the importance of preserving a just court system, free from interference.

My inner Luna had a point (about the need for redecorating, not the wrackspurts). The dungeon-like setting of the courtroom probably predisposed wizards to assume that the suspect before them was guilty. And the heavy looking chair in the center of the room– was it seriously covered in chains?– certainly didn't help any.

"Oh I know," Hermione said, from my side, giving me a commiserating look. "Redesigning the Wizengamot chambers is third down on my list of things I plan to get done before returning to Hogwarts– first is redesigning the entire British wizarding justice system in general, its utterly archaic, but I'll make sure it's completed before the start of the next school year."

It's sort of terrifying that I believe her when she tells me that, but I'm much less afraid now of the Volturi, and their inevitable retaliation for what I did to She-Devil (aka Jane)– because if everything goes right, then there won't be any time for retaliation.

And after all 'the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting'.

Well, I won't be fighting– and neither will my family.

Hermione practically makes my case for me in front of the small panel of six members of the Wizengamot, without me having to say a word, laying my official claim that I'm being aggressively pursued/hunted by a coven of vampires. I only have to speak once, confirming what Hermione has been saying– most of it's true, too, so its not really a lie (even if it was, though, I doubt anyone dares to say a word against Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin First Class, Brains of the Golden Trio, Best Friend of Harry Potter– in fact, I'm fairly certain that it's this sort of bias in the court system that Hermione plans to minimise as much as possible, like the processes in the muggle court system, but I'm more then okay with just staying quiet right now and letting her work her magic).

"When it comes down to it," Hermione whispers to me, looking a bit guilty but not too much, while the members of the panel discuss my claim my claim amongst themselves, "the magical legal system has been unfairly used against us mudbloods," here she rolled her eyes, "on so many occasions that we deserve a few cheap shots of our own." I try not to laugh out loud, feeling that it would be inappropriate in the current setting and Hermione looks as satisfied as the cat with the cream.

When five of the six Wizengamot members file out of the courtroom, I'm terrified for a moment that they've rejected my claim, that the Volturi is going to be left alone– alone to kill my family for what I did.

But when the sixth member walks over to us and I can see the warm smile she exchanges with Hermione, and I relax as they trade familiar greetings. She's an older woman, with lines on her face and grey in her hair, and she has a brisk atmosphere about her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan," she says, managing to sound genuine. "Your claim has been approved, and missives are being sent to the Aurors' offices as we speak, where lines of communication will open with the Italian Ministry's Aurors, and a team will be put together to eliminate the coven. The Italian vampires have overstepped their boundaries, and we will not give them the option to do so again. Tell me, Ms. Swan, do you know how that specific coven came about?"

"Only the raw details." I admit. "Binns, my History professor, wasn't exactly thorough if it didn't involve giants or goblins, and Care of Magical Creatures and DADA only covered identifying and fighting them."

"I remember Binns," the witch says grimly, "vividly. Well, here's a brief history lesson for you, Miss Swan– once all vampires knew of wizards, and, in the Middle Ages especially, vampire hunting was rampant which led to the vampires learning to fear magic greatly. Three vampires, now self-named the Volturi, created a code among their kind which forbade attention of any sort that could bring them to the attention of Wizarding authority. Any vampire who came close to breaking the Statute of Secrecy was quickly and quietly dispatched by its own kind before the corresponding Ministry was forced to intervene. As time passed, this coven grew in power and decided that knowledge of witches and wizards was dangerous. To counter this, they destroyed any vampire who knew of our existence, and created a world in which it is now believed by their fellow vampires that they are the greatest authority. Obviously we have let this impression of theirs last far too long if they are starting to believe it themselves. I hold the opinion that it's time the vampire communities learn the true highest authority, and for the Volturi's reign to end."

I smile at her. "I really couldn't agree with you more, ma'am."

-

My return to Forks was one of victory. Hermione was staying in Britain, but she created me a Portkey that brought me directly to the living room of the Cullens' manor.

"Bella!" Edward literally sweeps me off my feet, knocking the air from me with his grip and speed unnaturally strong and fast, in a way he was usually more controlled then to slip up and use. He softens his grip with a look of apology, but I don't care. The amount of stress he must have spent the last hour under... I shiver slightly.

"It went well?" I heard Esme ask softly, and as Edward set me back down on my feet, I turned and saw that she, Rosalie, Alice and Emmett had all entered the room.

"It's over," I nod, unable to help my wide smile, or the bubble of almost hysteria building up in my chest. Because it's over, it's actually over, and I almost don't believe it.

Victoria is gone, the Volturi are going to be dealt with, and V-Voldemort's reign of terror has ended. For the first time in what seems like forever, there's actually nothing threatening my life, or the lives of those that I love.

"Sweet, holy mother of Merlin, it's all actually over!" I breathe, in actual amazement and Edward spins me around again to kiss me. He pulls me to him so that our bodies are pressed together so tight that it's almost painful, but it's a good sort of pain, and all I want is for him to hold me even tighter, in a silent, unspoken promise that he'll never let me go.

When I finally have to push him back slightly, dizzy from lack of oxygen, and turn back to face the room, I can see Esme's warm smile, and the amusement clear on both Rosalie and Alice's beautiful faces.

Guilt twists in my lower stomach as I notice the stress that has lifted from them– stress that I was responsible for, stress and fear.

"I–" I clear my throat, and Esme's face creases in concern at my abrupt change, from joyful to... this. I look down at my hands, and I can feel the burning shame. "I'm so sorry." I whisper, unable to look up and face her, face them. "I'm so sorry for the danger I put us all in."

"Bella, sweetheart," Esme's voice is gentle, and so are her words. "We're not angry at you, darling."

"No, you should be!" Hot tears prick at my eyes, and I wipe them away, angrily. "I– I never meant to put us in danger, I would never want to risk that, risk any of you! I just... there's three curses in the wizarding world, Dark curses, that are labeled Unforgiveable." I shudder slightly. "Using an Unforgiveable curse can earn you a life sentence in Azkaban– our prison. They're considered three of the most powerful and sinister spells known to wizardkind. One of them kills– instant death. One of them puts a victim completely under the castor's control– they can make their victim do anything; jump out a window, drown themselves... and then there's the Cruciatus curse– the torture curse."

Edward makes a low, snarling noise, while Alice lets out a furious hiss. I remember, back when Alice came to check on me during the time the Cullens had left, after she had a vision of what appeared to be my death, that I told her about the bare details of the Cruciatus curse– and my experience suffering under it.

"The Cruciatus curse stimulates every pain receptor in the body." I whisper, closing my eyes. "It's pain so intense, so all-consuming, that it can damage the mind and body beyond repair. Luna was tortured with it, while she was being held captive, and... when I had my altercation with Snatchers, they used it on me. Jane's Gift is–was– too similar. I couldn't think properly. I know it's not an excuse, but it wasn't really Jane I was seeing when I destroyed her."

My eyes are still closed so I'm startled when slender arms are suddenly wrapped around me, hugging me tenderly. I'm even more startled when I open my eyes and see who those arms belong to.

Rosalie was not my biggest fan, not at the beginning, anyway. Not for a while really. It wasn't until after the Italy disaster that she actually began to speak to me, though that was mostly due to Luna who Rosalie had mothered through every step of her physical recovery– and then after it. Rosalie was very maternal, I'd discovered, and Luna hadn't had a mother, not for a very long time.

Still, despite her love for Luna, Rosalie and I had never exactly... well, shared any sort of physical affection– I actually wasn't sure that we'd ever even had any bodily contact before. So the fact she was hugging me now successfully shocked me to no end, but I still relaxed into the embrace, a good part of that due to the relief that she didn't seem to be holding my actions against me.

And it made me hopeful that I hadn't messed this up, messed up the bonds that I was forging with my new vampire family beyond what was salvageable.

Or maybe, I thought, as Alice and Esme came forward to hug me too, maybe I hadn't messed up the bonds at all.

Because family– both the family you chose, and the family you were born into, they forgave you for all your faults. And they stood by you, when you made mistakes. And they didn't stop loving you– they never stopped loving you.

-

Edward drives me back to my house, having been firm about no apparating when I'm this tired. And I am tired, I'm exhausted to be frank, but I just don't care, I'm too exhilarated. Oh I'm fully aware that when I finally hit my bed I'm going to crash and probably pass out for the next fifteen hours, but not yet.

"Bells!" Charlie is practically standing right at the door to pull me a quick hug when I enter the house, and I laugh, and hug him back. "So," he says, taking a step back to look me up and down, carefully checking for any signs of injury, "should I be calling you Bella the Vampire Slayer now?"

"Does that make me Angel or Spike?" Edward asks, while I look at my father, horrified.

"Neither! Because dad is absolutely never, ever going to ever call me that again!"

"Angel, I'd say." Charlie answers Edward, completely ignoring my angry exclamation.

"He would absolutely be Spike!" I argue back, unable to help it.

"Angel left to give Buffy a chance at a normal life," Charlie counters, "and he was her first love!"

"But Spike was the one who loved her even when he didn't have a soul– not like Angel, which meant that his love was even greater," I shake my head, and then add on, "plus Spike totally kicked butt. He was obviously more awesome then Angel."

"Yeah, he was," Charlie concedes to my point with good grace, and we share a reminiscent smile.

When I was younger, before I'd learnt about being witch, I'd spend an obligatory few weeks with Charlie during the summer, as part of the custody agreement. When I was ten, Rebecca Black, one of Jacob's sisters, gave Charlie the first four seasons of Buffy and we sat down together and watched them. Maybe Charlie wouldn't win father of the year for letting a ten-year-old watch a thirteen and over show, but it was a good memory that we shared, and I made a mental note to dig the disks out from wherever they'd ended up and sit down with Luna to watch them again.

Speaking of which– "Where's Luna?" I ask.

"Ah, well, after you left, Qiang managed to stabilize Dra-Malfoy enough to transport him to St Circe's– apparently it's the American equivalent to St Mungo's? Luna said you'd understand what that meant." Edward tells me.

"You can call him Draco," I tell Edward, with a sigh. "He's going to be sticking around."

"I was wondering how long that would take. You don't hold grudges well." Edward said, with a crooked smile.

"I do too hold grudges," I tell him, feeling indignant.

"It's a compliment, love," he says, looking annoyingly amused now. I scowl.

"I can to hold a grudge." I repeat with a grumble, before frowning. St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is Britain's wizarding hospital. That Draco had to be taken to America's equivalent of it when Qiang is already a trained medi-witch... "Did she say what was wrong?" I ask, apprehensive. "I think she mentioned internal bleeding, back in the clearing, and broken ribs."

"He sustained significant damage to his chest," Edward says, his expression going from amused to serious. "His lung collapsed, his ribs were badly fractured and Qiang suspected that his spleen was lacerated." I cringed in sympathy.

"What happened to the kid?" Charlie asked, looking a mix of pitying and grim.

"Victoria– the vampire– hit him in the chest." I explain to my father. "Or, rather, she batted him away with the back of her hand. With enough force to send him flying across several meters into the equivalent of a brick wall."

"Cripes, poor kid," Charlie shook his head, before examining me again, this time more carefully. "Are you hurt anywhere? Don't even think of lying to me, Bells."

"I'm exhausted like I haven't slept in a week, sore like I've just run a marathon, and am currently under the effect of a Calming Potion." I inform him. "And the only real injury I got during the fight was a cut on my hip and Hermione healed that."

"Sensible girl, that Hermione." Charlie nods in approval, "Clever too."

"Brains of the Golden Trio." I smile. Charlie looks confused, but Edward smiles at me. Charlie just lets it go 

"Billy sent me home with some casserole Sue cooked up," he says, "so don't you worry about dinner tonight. Just come down and heat some up when you're hungry."

"Billy and Sue, huh?" I wiggle my eyebrows the best I can– eyebrow wiggling is not exactly a talent of mine– and Charlie snorts.

"We'll see."

I head up to my room, Edward a step behind me, and almost as soon as I close my bedroom door, he is kissing me. I gasp, surprised, and then let out a meep as he lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his waist, and we're plastered together, my breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest.

We kiss until my head is spinning and when Edward pulls back to let me suck in several deep breaths while cursing my inconvenient need for air, his liquid topaz eyes are shining, he looks so happy. He's so gloriously beautiful that I decide oxygen is for the weak and tangle my hands in his bronze hair, pulling his mouth back to mine.

I'm not exactly sure when I ended up on the bed, on my back with Edward on top of me, his weight carefully rested on his forearms, but I certainly wasn't complaining. His lips moved along my jaw, up to my ear as I panted, trembled slightly. "I want to eat you out," he breathed, licking my earlobe. I squeaked, going red.

"I– yeah. Yes. I agree with this plan." I manage to stammer out, before my brain pretty much just short-circuited.

I remember reading in my dreaded Biology textbook that after an orgasm, a male will become sleepy due to the release of the hormone prolactin. Edward would never fall asleep after a heavy make-out session and mutual exchange of orgasms, but I seemed to be doing a pretty good job filling the job myself. We'd barely started cuddling after Edward had followed through with his statement (very, very thoroughly followed through), when I dozed off into a deep, much needed sleep.