Heartbreaker

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This story is loosely based on Julie Garwood's thriller, Heartbreaker. Though the prologue is almost entirely from the book, it's not going to follow the book exactly. The book was amazing, and I wanted to try something different from TOUCH. So… as I don't have a beta for this one yet, please enjoy and review.

Prologue

It was hotter than hell inside the office than outside. The small, cramped room had only one tiny window, just barely covered by a set of green blinds. All over the desk were mountain-high piles of files. And most importantly of all, the cooling system wasn't working at all. Why he offered to man things for his brother, he was ready to hit his head against the wall. But then again, there were so many cracks; probably not that great of an idea.

It was worse than being stuffed into a broom closet by his twin brothers and Ron Weasley was just glad that he wasn't claustrophobic. He was getting more miserable by the second, however. The air was humid and thick with mildew; all he could think about was those days when he and his best mate Harry had raced their brooms over the Quidditch pitch back in Hogwarts, breathing in the fresh cool air as the breeze caressed their faces. But then again, it wasn't that big of a deal, since he DID owe his older brother Charlie one for putting up with him for the entire week while he was in town for his yearly check-up.

No, his brother's colleagues would say just put up with it for the sake of the kids. After all, the Foundation for Troubled Wizards really didn't get much income to fund their operations, and it wasn't one of those things you could just close down just because there wasn't a proper circulation system running. The point of being a counselor wasn't to wallow up in luxury, as Charlie would say. Ron didn't know what any good could come out of that, except that he'd die of dehydration sooner or later.

Even for ruddy ol' Bristol, it was burning for a summer day. The temperature had risen so much over the past few days, surely a draught or two had sprung up somewhere in the country. The pond just outside the building had begun to drop in water level, and Ron swore he could see the top fins of the goldfish that Charlie liked keeping there.

How the Foundation had ever chosen an old church building for their office, Ron would never know. The building itself wasn't at all in bad shape, but it certainly wasn't built for practicalities. Charlie's office was hidden away behind the auditorium, but even there, the windows had been sealed off to avoid break-ins. The other two windows served merely as ornamentation, the last signs of its former glory.

Ron wasn't what one would consider a big man, but he was tall, rising almost over 2 meters tall, not overbearing, but muscular and strong. Though he was blessed with a nicely chiseled face and cornflower blue eyes, he was also cursed with baby sensitive skin. He felt like his face was burning from steam rising from boiling water. Even with board shorts and a Chudley Cannons T-shirt, matched up with flip-flops on his feet, Purgatory couldn't be as hot as he felt now.

So, after popping a bubblegum into his mouth, he decided to venture out to the auditorium. The Foundation didn't really do much to renovate the building. All the stained glass remained as they were, and a cross still hung behind the pupil. The wooden pew seats served well for a lecture hall. Most curious of all, no one bothered to remove the confessional. Ron remembered that Hermione Granger, one of his best friends from school, that many believers would visit the confessional and confess their deepest and darkest sins to a priest. It was a very private moment between the believer and God's representative. But who would want to do that? Tell a stranger that you once had wicked dreams of shagging your best friend? He shuddered at the thought. What if the person sitting on the other side just happened to be someone you knew?

But this isn't a church anymore. So, what harm could there be, to sit in the confessional for a few minutes? Even though it was hot out, he couldn't help his curiosity. He plopped down on the seat. Bloody, it was cramped, almost like a coffin propped upright! He wondered why the Foundation never got rid of this old thing. It certainly didn't serve them any purpose.

He decided that he had enough fun in the confessional and returned to Charlie's office, but not before stopping by the kitchen to grab a cold drink. He took a slug out of the can as he walked back to the office. It was a shame he couldn't just leave at the moment. Even though he wasn't exactly a counselor like his brother was, he was currently a teacher at Hogwarts and had dealt with many kids in the three years that he had been the flight instructor. Of course, when he offered to take the shift today for his brother so that Charlie could take some time to run his errands, he didn't think it'd be a big brainer. After all, there wasn't any one in the world more messed up than Voldemort, and he's been vanquished, hadn't he?

When he reached the office once again, he leaned back in Charlie's seat, propped his foot on top of the files, and opened up today's edition of the Quibbler. He didn't really care much for reading the news, but he did it faithfully for his fiancée, Luna Lovegood, who was assistant editor-in-chief. Granted, over the years after reading Daily Prophet trash, the Quibbler had a better accuracy rate on its reportings, including Snorkack findings. So Cornelius Fudge had a heart attack; the price of frog liver went up five knuts. Lavender Brown acclaimed as the hottest astrologer of the year. Blah blah blah. He flipped the pages quickly to the sports page and groaned. The Cannons lost once again to Puddlemere United! Another quid lost to best mate Harry.

The wizard community in London wasn't actually small. Even though Ron finally got a mortgage for a small cottage on the outskirts of London, he was still surprised at the number of wizards and witches that do live there. Despite the size of population, he always found it a feat that gossip could still spread around easily. The gossip column, written by the one and only Parvati Patil, managed to cover all the latest flings, newest breakups, flashiest trends… how Parvati was able to dig these up, Ron never knew. But every time his best gal pal and best mate made it on the gossip column, he was never short of a laugh. Apparently, every one still hadn't given up the rumors of them being together.

Placing the paper down on the desk, he glanced at the wall clock. Only about an hour more and Charlie would be back. Well, it was now or never. Might as well take a kip since no one has dropped by for counseling. He placed his head over his arms on the desk and closed his eyes and drifted off into slumber land.

He was dreaming. There was actually a cooling system installed in the office, and Luna was wearing his favorite outfit, a little black dress that fitted her body. She was sitting on his lap, holding two champagne flutes in her hand as she caressed his chest. Then she took a sip of champagne and fed him with her mouth. He stirred in his sleep with a smile. Just before her lips touched his, he thought he could smell Calvin Klein Obsession. Hermione had given him a bottle last Christmas because he didn't smell that great all the time, and though he didn't appreciate her pointing out that he had body odor, Luna loved the scent very much. It was a habit to spray a tad bit before going out with Luna. It was odd that Luna would spray his cologne, but it was his dream.... Just a little bit of the cologne was strong enough, but his nose was slightly irritated with the intense smell. Wow! Luna really did like the cologne! He should ask Hermione where she bought it.

“Forgive me for I will sin,” he heard a soft deep voice as he continued to sleep. “I have been searching for absolution for a year, and I hope to receive it from you, Father.”

All of a sudden, Luna disappeared from his lap, and he was inside the confessional. It was suddenly warm again. He looked down at his clothes, and instead of the Cannons shirt, he was wearing a black cassock. “But I'm not a priest,” he protested.

Yet the voice on the other side of the grate just snickered as he continued. “Please here my confession, and tell if I may obtain absolution, Father.”

Ron shook his head with confusion. “Uh, so… what is it that you wanted to confess again?”

“Forgive me, Father, for I will sin.”

“Wait a minute. Are you trying to confess a sin that you haven't committed yet?”

Another snicker. “Are you annoyed yet, Father? Angry?”

“No, not really. Just confused. You're asking for absolution, but how can you ask for forgiveness for something you haven't done yet?”

“Ah, but I haven't named my sins yet, Father.”

“So, why are you asking again?”

“I went to another priest a year ago, and he refused me absolution. All I could say that he shouldn't have made that mistake. And you shouldn't do the same thing either”

Ron felt goosebumps on his skin, even though it wasn't cold, just eerie. “And why is that?”

“Because I'm not lying at all, Father. He could have stopped me. I was only… practicing. It was all so new to me, and he could have found an easy way to stop me. But he didn't. So, God can't blame me. Now, it won't be that easy. I got it perfected now.”

Ron was really confused now. What was it that he perfected?

A small sigh before he continued. “I thought I could control it.”

“Control what?”

“The craving”

“So what was the sin that you confessed?”

“Her name was Narcissa. A nice, pretty, and confident name, isn't it? Her friends called her Cissa, but I didn't. I preferred Narcissa, like the god Narcissus. Of course, I wasn't really what you would call her friend.

A burst of laughter pierced the dead air. Ron could feel perspiration beading down his forehead, but he felt cold. This felt too real to be a dream, but it was one, was it? He dreaded to find out more, but he was compelled to ask.

“What happened to Narcissa?”

“I broke her heart.”

“I don't understand….I thought she was…”

“What do you think happened to her?” the voice demanded, clearly showing his impatience. “I killed her. It was my first, and it was messy. There was blood everywhere, all over me. I was terribly inexperienced then. I hadn't perfected the technique. When I went to confession, I hadn't killed her yet. I was still in the planning stage, and the priest could have stopped me, but he couldn't. I told him what I was going to do.”

“Prayer,” he replied, a shrug in his voice. “I told him to pray for me, but apparently he didn't pray hard enough. I killed her, didn't I? It's a pity, really. She was such a delicate little thing, so beautiful and delicate…..more so than others…”

Oh God, there were more???

“How many crimes are we talking about---“

The voice interrupted him. “Sins, Father. I committed sins, but I might have been able to resist the urge had the priest helped me. He wouldn't give me what I really needed.”

“And that was?”

“Absolution and acceptance. I was denied both.”

Ron jumped when the stranger slammed his fist against the grille suddenly. Rage that must have been simmering just below the surface now erupted full force as he spewed out the grotesque detail of exactly what he had done to poor innocent Narcissa.

He was overwhelmed and grossed out by the horror of it all. Dear God, he wanted out of this dream! Even after Voldemort's destruction, he felt that nothing could have been more grotesque than that night, the Death-Eaters shedding so much innocent blood. But this was something that he apparently couldn't stomach.

“I've developed a real taste for it,” the man whispered.

“How many women have you killed?”

“Narcissa was only the first. There were other infatuations, and when they disappointed me, I had to hurt them, but I didn't kill them. After I met Narcissa, everything changed. I watched her for such a long time, and everything about her was… perfect… that is until she betrayed me.” His voice turned into a snarl at this point. “She thought she could fool me with her games, but I'm so much smarter than that. It wasn't any fun letting her torment me with her games. So I had to punish her.”

“By killing her?” Ron's voice squeaked.

“No one will ever find her. There is no evidence left of her body. Naturally, I have my ways. But it was perfect. It was thrilling. Hearing her squeal like a pig under me. Oh, how I loved that sound! Made my blood boil with excitement! So much more exciting than sex. So of course, I had to make it even more exciting. Until she couldn't bear it any more.

Ron couldn't find his voice to speak. This was a little too much for him, even if it seemed surreal.

“So, Father, are you going to ask if I am sorry?”

“No. You don't sound like it.”

The voice turned into a hiss. “The craving's back.”

Ron shuddered. “But you could get people to help. There are people… the Foundation…”

“What, lock me up?” the man laughed sinisterly. “No, I only punish those who hurt me. I'm inculpable. You must think I'm sick, don't you, Father? And don't lie, because you're only suppose to tell the truth.”

“Yes, you are definitely nutters.” Ron cringed.

“I don't think so. I'm just dedicated.”

“You really need help.”

“I found a new client.”

“Another woman?”

“But of course. I only take women for my clients.” The man sighed. “She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on. I've been watching her. Her soft scent warms me, and her voice is so sweet. Oh, and her body… hmm…does marvelous things to mine…. I watch her every night when she sleeps, listen to her quiet sounds of breath… she's not yet perfect, but she will be, soon. And I want her all to myself.”

“You've got to be kidding…”

“And don't you want to know who she is?” the man laughed again. “If I tell you, you'd probably tell, wouldn't you? But you can't! We're in a confessional!” He laughed harshly again. “But it's all right. I'm changing the rules for you. You can tell anyone you want. Sure, it's all in your hands. In fact, I've already sent a letter to the officials. They'll receive it by the end of the day. But do you want to know who she is?”

“Why would you want me to tell?”

He snickered. “Makes the game even more interesting, don't you think? It will help me to go beyond perfection. Who are you thinking of telling, dear Father? Want me to tell you who's on your mind right now?”

“No.”

He snorted. “Doesn't matter. I know exactly who you have in mind, Father. You have a friend who works as an investigator. One of the best in the entire bureau. Your friend with the black hair and green eyes, and that scar. Yes, I know who your friend is.” He laughed sadistically as he heard Ron gasped. “And I know who you are, Ronald Weasley. Yes. Tell Harry Potter about this. It's not just a dream, you know.”

The man pulled the curtains apart from the confessional before he whispered. “Tell her that I'll be waiting for her to reach perfection.”

Ron sat up in shock. He looked around him, and sighed when he realized that he was still in the office. He looked down at his clothes. No cassock. The clock showed that Charlie should be due back any minute. Even though the thermometer showed that it was burning, he couldn't help but shudder with a chill in his bones. What a dream he had! Another shiver shot through his back. No way he'll ever want to go through that again.

He heard Charlie Apparating in the auditorium and sighed with relief. It was about time that he was back! He pulled himself off the chair, and while bending over to tie his shoe laces, he accidentally bumped into a pile of folders. Quickly, he picked up the folders, but to his surprise, there was a manila folder with his name on it, hiding underneath his chair. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out a folded sheet of white paper and a Muggle tape. He read it quickly, and his face whitened as Charlie walked into the office.

“Hey, Ron, thanks for sitting in for me!” Charlie called out good-naturedly. He paused in his steps as Ron stared back at him. “What's the matter there? What's that you got in your hands?” He quickly reached over and took the paper from Ron. “Oh, my God…..” he whispered as he let the paper drop to the floor.

Hermione Granger… Almost perfect… Almost mine… written in blood.

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Chapter One

Harry Potter was just about to begin a well-deserved vacation. Three years of non-stop work was finally showing in his attitude, as his boss, Remus Lupin had been pointing out blatantly for the past few months. He was also telling Harry that he'd become too detached from his work and too cynical for his own good. Harry had shrugged it off the first time Remus had mentioned a vacation to him. But after cracking the last case, Remus had practically ordered him to take the next three months off to re-tune with his soul again. He was probably right. It's been a while since he saw his two best friends.

Remus never buttered things up. He told facts, and for that much, Harry respected him. If there was ever a man who could handle cases that other agents couldn't find a breakthrough and not shed a cold sweat, it was Remus. Remus was definitely one of the most together person Harry's ever seen.

The twelve agents that work under Remus had wondered if he was under Prozac. Of course, it was known that Remus was a werewolf. It was said that Remus had a good laugh at the rumor, which was probably one of the reasons why the group respected their leader—a sense of humor AND brains was a very good combination, in their minds. Not to mention that the man had a very mild temperament. No one, had ever heard Remus yell it off at an agent for messing up. They probably would feel better that way, but just a few quiet words from the boss man, and no one would ever make the same mistake twice.

One thing was for certain. After Cornelius Fudge was dumped out of the Minister of Magic seathold, Arthur Weasley, the new Minister was smart enough to see gold when he saw it. He re-hired Remus into the Auror division, and soon enough, he was promoted enough times to award him with a gold laureate. Even after Voldemort was gone, various cases had sprung up, magical or muggle that had been brought to Remus's attention, namely those of missing people. It was well-known that Remus's nose was a gold digger for information, and after a few months of arguing and debating, the Minister relented to him forming a special division in the Auror department.

So Remus handpicked his agents himself. Harry was one of his first choices, as was Ron, but Ron had enough of chasing the bad guys game. A group of other people were chosen, and after six months of intense training in the auror program, they spent another two months with Remus in what he liked to call special training. The training was nerve-wracking, and only those who persevered to the end had passed. And thus was the beginnings of Remus's special bureau of investigation. Then, after another month of Muggle training, they began cracking the cases. After a year of the bureau's formation, Remus proved to have spotted gold. Within a year, they recovered more cases than the entire auror division had in ten years.

The sheer stress from this job would have sent any ordinary man to the mental institute, but these twelve men were hardly ordinary. Though no one's actually recalled the events of Remus's special training, Harry had always thought that Remus dug into their minds, implanted his ideals inside, and then brainwashed them so they wouldn't know the difference. Well, it turned out that it worked, because even though they don't know how, their responses and reflexes to situations were almost entirely instinct. It was scary to think how Remus had bore into their minds, but most of the agents weren't that bothered with it. They liked him for the ordinary, modest boss that he was.

Perhaps it was that Remus got along so well with his agents that he liked to have heart-to-heart chats with his men. Most people probably didn't know it, but Remus had spent enough time away from the wizarding community to study psychiatry in a Muggle university. Harry, of course, being the Boy Who Lived and the Man to Tell the Tale Alive, not to mention the son of Remus' best friend, had been subjected to these chats quite a few times.

He was in the mood to talk about the Mallory case now. Remus had been in Paris for some meetings and had flew all the way to Washington, D.C., where Harry had just finished a seminar. He didn't really want to talk about the case—it was still a disturbing incidence, but that didn't matter. Remus wanted him to talk, and he's going to make him talk.

He waited in the sitting area of Remus' hotel suite, then Remus called him in. While Remus reviewed the bizarre details of the case, Harry listened quietly and managed to keep himself calm. Only until Remus said that the Ministry was going to give him an award in commemoration of his work did he almost lose it, but he quickly recovered and hoped that Remus didn't see him falter there. For someone who's known him since his teenage years, it wasn't very easy to mask his emotions. Over the years, he had plenty of practice. Being in the limelight for his entire life had taught him well.

Remus closed the file and stared into Harry's piercing green eyes. Silence filled the void in the room. “So, Harry, how did you feel when you shot her?”

Damn the psychiatry. “Do we have to go over this? It's been over a month already, and I'm sure it's irrelevant to my report.”

Remus smirked, amused. “This isn't a formal meeting, Harry. You don't even have to call me sir. I think it's necessary. So tell me how you feel.”

And still Harry hedged. Like a squirming boy under the scrutiny of a strict teacher, he lashed back, “What do you mean how do I feel? What are you trying to get at?”

“Just answer the question, Harry.”

Again, that calm stare that was so unnerving. Harry knew he didn't have a way out. Even though Harry had the urge to lie, that he didn't feel anything, he knew that Remus would still manage to squeeze the truth from him. So, there wasn't any point but to state things bluntly. “I feel great, euphoric. Nothing in the world felt like it. To know that had I been 30 seconds late in running back inside the house, had I hesitated even for a second to pull out my gun, a little kid's life would have been taken. I cut in too close… he almost died…” He whispered the last sentence.

Remus nodded. “But you did manage to get the child out safely.”

“All the papers had said that she was crazy. Yeah, what kind of person would be that sadistic? But when she held the knife against the boy's carotid, the gleam in her eyes told me that she was anything but crazy. No one else saw it. They wouldn't know what evil looked like in front of them, and that was what she was, damn. Pure evil.”

“Yeah, I saw it in the papers, and I think I can understand,” Remus said. “And I'm sure you do too, don't you?” He continued as he watched Harry nod his head. “It's just a way people cope with issues as heinous as this one. No one likes to believe that anyone had it in them to do such crazy things. I believe I heard the other agents say that she was being forced by her boyfriend, who remains unidentified, that correct?”

Harry snorted. “I don't think so. She was one sick woman. Those porn tapes had her fingerprints all over them. And she was definitely a willing participant. Not just her too. Her boyfriend as well. Except that the tapes never showed his head. I think she must have started to go nuts though. For the two years we've been tracking them, they've never gone after children before.”

“But honestly, Remus. She knew what I was there for. She held the boy in her arms, and all the while, she was smiling at me. The boy was still alive; I could see his breathing. But she knew that I wasn't just a normal investigator. Somehow, she had erected a wall that I couldn't penetrate with my strongest stunning curses. That was when I just pulled out my gun, took a quick aim and shot her.”

“Your mind accessed and analyzed the situation rather quickly.”

“But I feel like I'm losing it! I'm sure that had I thought about it, I could have tore down the barrier easily. But I couldn't. All I saw was the boy in her arms, the knife on his neck, and I wanted to kill her. After Voldemort, I never thought I'd kill another human being. But, you know? I think she wanted me to watch her kill the boy… and when that registered in my mind, it felt good to kill her.” He paused for a second. “But too bad the boyfriend wasn't there. The sick things the bastard does, it'd be good to blow his brains as well. Does you have any leads?”

“As far as I know, no one has been able to trace his fingerprints or match up his description. He must have been using a masking charm.”

“I still think you should put Seamus on his track.”

Remus scoffed. “The aurors want to bring him in for interrogating. If he gave them any trouble, Seamus wouldn't have hesitated to reach for his gun.”

“You kill cockroaches. You don't domesticate them, Remus.” He stretched his arms out and yawned. “I think I need to go on a retreat. Do you think I'm burning out?”

Remus laughed. “No. Just fatigued. But that's my fault. You've been on this case for over two years, and you deserve a break. We can make do without you for the next three months. Go home. Ginny's planning a wedding, isn't she?”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “To that bloody prat Malfoy. What she sees in him we'll never know. But yeah, it would be nice to see the Weasleys again.”

“You do keep in touch with them don't you? And of course Sirius?”

“Of course. They owl me often, the Weasleys do, and Sirius sends me plenty of emails. He and Laura had been bugging me to go visit for a while.”

Nod nod. “And Ron and Hermione? How's Ron been doing? Heard about his engagement to Luna.”

“Finally asked the girl to marry him. Yeah, he's been doing much better. Hermione's moved to his neighborhood so she could keep a better eye on him. After all, she's been the one that's been taking care of his treatments.”

“Must have been tough for him.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Remus, do you think I'm losing my instincts?”

Remus grimaced. “Your instincts couldn't have been better. Everyone didn't think anything was wrong with the woman. She fooled them all, except for you.” He opened the folder once again. “I'm sure, given time, the local officials would have figured it out. But it would have been too late. The boy would have been long dead and buried. And once this happened, she most likely would have started a chain of murders. No. I think your instincts are still sharp.” He tapped the folder. “I read all the interviews, Harry. Before the Americans called us in for support, they didn't have a clue to what's going on. She was telling the investigators here how she was sitting by her poor mother's sick bed, keeping wait. Oh, and how it broke her heart to see her mother so sickly. She fooled everyone. And she was one of the most recognized church goers.”

“But the investigators talked to everyone in the church group,” Harry shook his head. “How could they miss anything?”

Remus shook his head. “I don't know, but it was a good thing they didn't hesitate to call us in for help.”

Harry's eyes drifted to the window as he gazed at the tops of the skyscrapers outside. “You know, they had dispatched a group from Cincinatti. They were on their way. They would have figured it out in a matter of moments.”

“So what tipped you off?”

Harry shook his head. “I was sitting at her kitchen counter. She looked like a very kind lady and had offered me tea and cookies. I glanced around the room, and I noticed her dog acting peculiarly.”

“Hmm…”

Harry continued. “You'd think the dog would be jumpy and excited, but it wasn't. It lay in a corner, its eyes fixed on her every move; it was afraid of her. I offered the dog a piece of the cookie, but it kept looking at her, even though it was drooling. And I just didn't feel comfortable enough to be swallowing whatever she'd offered me. It just didn't feel right.”

“What's the house like?”

“Almost reminded me of the Dursleys'. Immaculate. Oh, it had the usual easy chairs, sofa, coffee table and telly. All the furniture was covered with plastic, like they had just moved in. But not one peck of dirt. Everything was arranged in an anal way only Hermione could manage. But it was the smell that irked me the most. I still haven't figured out why it bothered me so much.”

“And it was?”

“Ammonia, mixed in with vinegar. I figured that she must have been a compulsive cleaner. Anyway, after she walked me outside, I couldn't help myself. Something just didn't feel right. I couldn't wait for backup to come. She had already returned into the house and locked the door. I pulled my wand and unlocked it. She was in the living room waiting for me with the boy.”

Remus nodded once again. “That was pure instinct. You did a good job there.”

Harry shook his head. “I don't think so. Just got lucky.”

“You know why I asked you to join the group?”

“Not because of the Snitch again?” he groaned.

Remus chuckled. “Couldn't have been more impressed by anyone else.” He stood up and tucked the folder underneath his arm as he shook hands with Harry. “How are you getting home, Harry?”

Harry groaned. “By plane. I don't understand why we can't Floo.”

“Regulations, you know. Overseas assignment, lay low.”

“You just like to see me have another phobia attack,” Harry retorted. “Seriously, most psychiatrists would like to help me overcome my phobia. You take pleasure in my fear.”

Again, Remus laughed. “And England's star seeker afraid of flying. What would your adoring fans say if they know?”

“Not funny, you know.”

“You need to relax. No… when was the last time you got laid? Haven't heard any rumors lately, hmm? Must be going through a dry spell.”

“And Sirius is shagging your wife.” He gave Remus a dirty look. “Just not looking for someone.”

“Maybe you should.”

Harry held out his hands out in surrender. “Okay, you win, Remus. I'm getting tired of the get under Harry Potter's skin psychology.”

Remus grinned, highly amused. “So, I'll see in the end of three months. Not a day early, all right?”

Harry smiled. “All right. See you later, Remus.” He opened the door to leave.

“Oh, and don't grip the arms to your seat too hard.” Harry scowled as he heard Remus bark with laughter.

He took the elevator down to the lobby. After donning on his coat, he walked briskly to the entrance and hailed a taxi. As the driver headed toward the airport, he thought about the next three months. It was going to be great to be able to see Ron again. The two of them haven't hung out much since he was pulled into the bureau. It had been almost three years since they saw each other. The bureau kept him busy, traveling around the world, chasing down after kidnappers.

The two of them, along with Hermione Granger, had gone through thick and thin together, since they first met on the Hogwarts Express on their way to school. They've had their share of fun and adventures, dangers and scrapes. He couldn't ask for any better friends. They were the two most loyal people to him, especially when he stood up to Voldemort in their last battle.

After they had graduated, Hermione returned to the Muggle world to begin training as a medical doctor. Ron and Harry were scouted to play professional Quidditch as reserve keeper and starting seeker on opposing teams, the Chudley Cannons and Puddlemere United. But their Quidditch careers were short-lived when Ron was diagnosed with cancer. Even though Ron had told Harry that he didn't need to quit because of him, Harry didn't care. He'd give Ron an arm if it could help lessen the pain he'd undergone from rigorous treatment regimen.

He could hardly wait to see his surrogate brother. Lupin had causually mentioned a promotion a few weeks back, in a different department. He was counting on Ron to help him reach a decision. Ron would play the devil's advocate, and they would weigh out the pros and cons before making a final decision. And maybe, he could convince Luna to let Ron go free for a night and they would go down to the Leaky Cauldron and get drunk like they used to when they were flatmates. Somehow, she'd kept him on a shorter leash after they began dating.

But most importantly of all, he get to see Hermione again. Even though he was close to Ron, his relationship with Hermione had always been a special one. She was always bossy, as Ron said all the time, but both of them know that they couldn't have survived school without her constant nagging and pushing. Aside from school, she was truly a warm and loving person. And Harry had always appreciated her. However close they were, there was some type of tension that existed between them. The Daily Prophet and Parvati Patil liked to post articles speculating their relationship. Ever since Rita Skeeter had written the articles back in fourth year at Hogwarts, the entire wizarding community never gave up that story. There were plenty of times when a stranger in the Hogs Head or the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade or the Leaky Cauldron would clap his hand on Harry's back and congratulate him for having such a marvelous girlfriend.

Though he hated the rumors, he had to admit, Hermione WAS quite incredible. Any bloke would be lucky to have her as his girlfriend. Not only was she brilliant, witty, and diligent, she was also sweet, kind, gentle… and she was beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl. Harry still wondered how Rita Skeeter could have called Hermione “mousy” when she had the biggest and most beautiful heart in the entire world. Hermione had always been one to stick to the rules… but then years of hanging around with Harry and Ron, well, she could give them a run for their money.

The taxi pulled up in front of the airport. Harry pulled out some bills from his wallet and handed them to the driver. He pulled his bags out and headed for the check-in counter. The lady winked at him a few times as he pulled out his passport and ticket. Then he stopped by the coffee stand for a latte. Quickly, he passed through immigration. By the time he reached his gate, boarding was announced. As much as he hated flying, as least the bureau was generous with expenses. He was flying back to Heathrow in business class seats, but even with the padded leather seats, his phobia still overtook him when the plane left contact with the earth.

He boarded quickly and took an aisle seat in his row. It didn't matter to him that his ticket was issued for a window seat. Whoever sat next to him would have to settle for the window. He liked to be on the aisle, where he could watch people moving up and down. He adjusted his pillow on the small of the back, belted up, folded his hands on his lap, and closed his eyes, trying to imagine a prayer that the take off would be smooth.

Sometimes he wished he wasn't such a control freak. He had never been one before, but after living 18 years under the shadow of a Dark Lord, he relished in that he was able to take charge of his own life. But paranoia seemed to strike him as hard as Mad-Eye Moody. Remus had tried to get him to relax before. During training, he had taught the group relaxation techniques, but Harry had a difficult time recalling them. It was one of the terms. Remus had asked them to trust him with the techniques he was going to teach them, but they might not remember what had happened. For Harry, trusting Remus was never an issue; Remus wasn't his father's best friend for nothing.

Sometimes a faint scent or a peculiar sound was enough to send him off. His gun rested in a holster that was strapped to his left shoulder, and his wand was hidden under his sleeve on his right forearm. Though he had the clearance of carrying a weapon on a plane, he was sure that the other people on the flight wouldn't want to see it. Therefore, he kept his suit jacket on, even though he was feeling a little warm.

As the flight attendants began to demonstrate the emergency procedures, Harry could feel the plane moving. He sucked in a breath as he gripped the armrests. A few moments later, the plane began to accelerate as it sped into the air. He tried concentrating on his happy place, and he could feel himself relax a little bit, but he wouldn't release the arm rests until he was sure that the plane was flying smoothly.

It was a seven-hour flight. Even though he had reports to type, he decided against working. It was indeed time for a vacation. Harry popped a valium into his mouth, took a gulp of water, and closed his eyes, hoping with all his fingers crossed that the plane would land on the other side of the ocean safely.

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By the time Harry reached his flat in Kensington, he was exhausted. He fumbled for the key in his pocket, and after unlocking the door, he dropped his bags in the vestibule. Reaching for the light switch, he groaned as he saw the light to his answering machine blinking. He touched the play button on the machine as he took off his coat and loosened the tie. Five of the messages were from Ginny about the wedding. “Don't forget, Harry, the wedding's in a month. You'd better not be flying off on another case, or I'll bat bogey hex you to the next century!” Harry cringed. Watching Draco Malfoy marrying Ginny wasn't exactly the highlight of his vacation.

He cleaned out his bags as he listened to the next few messages, mostly from random people. He smiled when he heard Hermione's voice. “Harry, when will you be back in town? It's been a long time since you've been free. Ron's just left for Bristol and he's coming back the end of the week. If you're in town and you're free, Luna wants us to go over to their house and have dinner. Call me and miss you!”

A few more boring messages as Harry proceeded to the kitchen to make himself a light sandwich. He finished spreading peanut butter over strawberry jelly onto the two slices of bread and was just about to take a bite, when he heard Ron's frantic voice over the machine.

“Harry, it's Ron. I hope you're home…. I'm in real trouble, man. It's three-thirty now, and I'm in Bristol, at the Foundation. Call me as soon as you get this. I'm also going to call Remus. And do you know where Hermione is? I've tried calling her for hours, but I can't find her! I know I'm rambling, but I'm dead serious. Please, just call me… what time doesn't matter.”

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Chapter Two

Someone killed Sugar, and Nancy Lammeter aimed to find the culprit. Everyone said it was probably old age, but Nancy knew better. Sugar was as fine as she could ever be, until the day she turned and keeled over. She had tied the dog outside in the garden as she did every morning. No, this was a plain murder case, and Nancy was going to prove it.

You'd think people would be more sympathetic about the situation. Not a single soul cared for the life of Sugar. Especially not Sheriff Marshall. Just because Sugar had a good grip of his bottom few years back didn't mean he didn't have to show respect for the dead. None of the other neighbors had bothered either. Except for the new lady that just moved in next door, with her fancy Shakespeare name, Hermione. Nancy had told Sister that the new neighbor was probably a snotty rich girl who thought she was better than the rest of the neighborhood. And usually, once an opinion formed in her head, she NEVER changed her mind. Well, maybe in Hermione's case, she'd just do it this one time, as long as other people didn't know.

The same day Nancy found poor Sugar lying lifeless in the garden, she screamed so loudly that the entire neighborhood was sure to hear. No one came running, except for Hermione, who had just parked her car in front of her house. She quickly ran over to Nancy's garden. The instant she saw Sugar, she picked up Sugar, she helped Nancy into her car and ran back to where Sugar was. Gently, she placed Sugar in the trunk, and drove to the nearest vet. Without further due, she carried Sugar inside the clinic and demanded a consultation immediately. The vet, a man with blond hair that hadn't been combed in years, was actually scared of the girl! He quickly led them into the examination room, and after a quick physical, he carried the dog into another room in the back and slid him inside the freezer. It was definite. Sugar was gone.

The vet said that it was probably heart failure. Sugar wasn't exactly a young thing anyway. The entire town knew that. But Nancy wouldn't hear a word of it. She believed that it was poison. Who the hell would want to poison such a sweet little dear, she didn't know. Especially when Sugar was half the daughter she never had. So the vet was almost scared into perform an autopsy.

Hermione placed an arm around Nancy's shoulder and led her back to the car. When she parked in her driveway again, she escorted Nancy back, and gave her a comforting smile before returning to her own house. Later, Nancy called up Sister in York, telling her that she'd better come back down because she was going to start an investigation. Sister had only retorted saying that her well-aged eyes could barely put two and two together, let alone squint and find a murderer. Besides, Sugar was already good to go already. Nancy didn't care and had ordered Sister to take the train back down home.

Nancy was one to stick with her own ideas, and normally she was right. Except with the case with Hermione. It had been rumored that her new neighbor was a Cambridge-trained doctor. No one knew the reason for her moving to a small town like theirs, except that she wanted to be near her best friend who was sick for almost three years. Even though most of the townspeople didn't think the doctor was much to look at, Nancy thought she was classy indeed. Of course, the doctor usually dressed in a pullover with a Cambridge logo and a pair of old jeans, with her rich brown curls tied up in a loose pony tail. But the day she helped out with Sugar, she was in a black linen power suit with a pale blue blouse. The woman was a looker, and the younger men in the town were stupid to not see that. More importantly, she was really thoughtful and kind, even though she did seem a bit queer. But Nancy thought, it wouldn't hurt to have peculiar friends, wouldn't it?

Anyway, so Sister came back to town. It had been over a month already, and still no clues had turned up on the Sugar case. Nancy had made it part of her duty to write a letter to the bureau of investigators, told them the situation about Sugar, and had requested a dispatch of investigators. She had waited patiently every day for the arrival of an agent, but it seemed that they hadn't received her letter, or it must have been overlooked by their swarms of paperwork. In her head, she decided to give them a few more days before she took the next course.

While Sister was cleaning the house while Nancy sat out in the front porch eyeing all passerbyers with keen suspicion. Mentally, she made a small list of possible suspects. Of course, dear Hermione was already off the list, but the mayor sure wasn't. Ever since Hermione moved to town, the mayor couldn't keep his eyes off the woman. Viktor Krum had been telling all his drinking buddies at the local pub that Hermione Granger was his woman, and that no one else could lay a finger on her. Of course, it was also rumored that when Dr. Granger had heard this, she had scoffed and continued to ignore him like she did the first day they had met a year ago.

Sister had thought that they should put the misery over Sugar's death behind them and suggested that they cook up a mince meat pie for Hermione. Nancy snorted at Sister's forgetfulness and reminded her that Hermione had gone to Paris for the week to one of those medical conferences. In the meantime, she was going to sit on her lounge chair on the porch and watch the townspeople, hopefully be able to catch a guilty look on any person's face.

Then maybe tomorrow, she'll write another letter to the investigators. A letter with no reply in over a month meant red tape. She had waited patiently enough. This time, she'll address the letter to the chief. Maybe then it should be important enough for her to get her answer.

Thank you all for reading. I hope you're enjoying this story. Before you leave though, please, please leave a feedback. It really does make a difference and gives a lot of motivation to whip up the next chapter.

One more thing, I'm not taking the time to do research about British things, so if I make any mistakes, let me apologize beforehand. I'm just writing for the heck of it, so … yeah, I'll leave it at that.

Anyway, please review!

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Chapter Three

Hermione was livid. The first thing she had planned on doing when she arrived back at her cottage was to fall onto her bed and sleep until morning. But then she noticed the two owls that had been sitting by her window, pecking the glass incessantly; she was surprised that the glass hadn't cracked. Quickly, she let them into the house. Both Pigwidgeon and Hedwig had letters tied to their feet. She thought the boys knew better than to send owls to her on such a sunny day, especially when she had owled both of them telling them that she'd be gone for a week. Well, she had come home early, because her colleague, Dennis Hampton, couldn't keep his hands off her thigh the entire time. She had used up all the different games in the book to keep him away, yet, he was so persistent and kept coming back!

There were messages flashing on her answering machine as well. Most of them were probably from her parents, telling her to move back to the city. She pressed the play button and listened to the messages while she made herself a cup of tea. But when she heard Ron's frantic voice over the machine, she paused in her movements. What could he want? And telling her to go down to Bristol as soon as she heard this message? What the hell was the git thinking? She had to work a night shift later in the evening. And she was knackered from five straight days of all-day meetings.

After sitting down in the living room with a can of diet soda in hand, she finally opened up the letters. She read the first one, in Ron's messy scrawl, repeating the message that she had heard over the machine. It wasn't common that her best friend would go through so much to reach her. She prayed that it wasn't the routine test results. Ron had gone through so much to be able to control the cancer. A year ago, Ron had gone through surgery to remove the metastasis in his liver. Then, after a strict regimen of chemotherapy and radiotherapy, the cancer was finally gone. Of course, during the entire treatment period, she had been brewing him healing potions along the way. The oncologist specialist Ron had been seeing from Bristol had said that Ron was good to go, but she knew that the danger of recurrence always loomed over Ron's head. Since then, Ron had been visiting Bristol every three months to have routine lab tests done.

Ever since Remus Lupin had inducted Harry into his special bureau, Hermione had taken it upon her shoulders to be the one to care for Ron. She knew that the only reason Harry had agreed to join Remus' team was because she had promised to stay by Ron's side during the entire period he was sick. It had been very difficult at first, because after Ron's diagnosis, he had moved to Holy Oaks, a tiny suburban town just out of the boundaries of London, and she had been trying to finish medical school. A year ago, after she had received her license and was accepted into a residency program in the medical center, she moved to the town, found a small cottage right in the corner where the Muggle and wizard streets met, and moved into it within a week. Even though she was kept busy most of the time, at least she was close enough to Ron and Luna that she could keep an eye out for him.

Concern was written all over her brow as she quickly opened the letter from Harry. Most of Harry's letters had all been perfunctory. Due to the nature of his work, Harry was not free to discuss much in his letters. Hermione understood that. She was surprised, however, to see Harry's slightly messy scrawl take up almost an entire foot of parchment, especially after three years of receiving two to three lined messages. For the most part, she was glad to be able to hear from Harry from time to time. He spent most of his time outside of the country, tracing after missing people. The time he had spent inside the country during the past three years didn't even add up to a month. Overall, she missed him very much, and sometimes wished that he would stay in town more often than flying all over the world chasing after bad guys and trying to play the hero that everyone made him to be.

When she finished his letter, she quickly grabbed her overnight back into her room and dumped its content onto the floor. Going through her closet, she pulled out two more outfits and dumped her toiletries on top. Then grabbing her purse and keys, she headed out again. Hermione knew better. Something was definitely wrong, and both Harry and Ron wouldn't tell her unless they saw her.

Three hours of driving the highway down to Bristol was enough to rack her nerves. She had already gone through the many possibilities of what could have gone wrong with Ron's lab results. Oh, how she hoped that the cancer stayed away. Ron and Luna had gone through so much already! And not to mention Ginny's wedding and their own wedding coming up next year.

Hermione sighed in relief as she made the turn to exit the highway. Maneuvering the steering wheel deftly, she drove her way through the city, trying to recall the path to the Foundation. The last time she had been in Bristol was a year ago, when she, Ron, and Luna came to visit the specialist that Ron had decided to ask for treatment. Bristol itself wasn't very big, but Hermione liked it very much. The streets were clean, the buildings were kept nicely, and most of all she loved the trees. All kinds of trees dotted the city center. It was very relaxing. No wonder the Foundation had chosen Bristol to be their home.

When she finally pulled up in front of the Foundation, she noted that there were a few Ministry cars parked along the sidewalk. Harry's car was also sitting in the driveway. Outside the old church building, a few aurors were surveying the exterior. Hermione felt her heart pounding. Something was definitely not right. She jogged up the path to the church building, asked one of the aurors where Ron and Harry were. Then she pushed her way into the building, where she saw Ron, Harry, and Charlie talking to Tonks and Arthur Weasley.

“Ron!” she cried out. “What do you think you were doing telling me to come to Bristol without saying as much what was wrong? You have no idea how worried I was! Was it your test results? Please don't tell me that the cancer has come back!”

Ron turned around at her voice, his face dark and grave, as he gave her a quick hug. “No, Herms, they messed up with my tests. So I still have to go back for another blood test. But, it's good to see you. I'm glad that you made it. You had no idea how worried I was when I couldn't contact you.”

Hermione pulled away from his arms and glared at him. “Of course, you git. I was in Paris for the week, remember?” She turned her attention to the other people in the room. When she saw Harry, she walked toward him and gave him a hug as well. “Harry, what are you doing here? I got your message as well. But you didn't make any more sense than Ron here.”

Harry bent down to kiss her cheek. “It's good to see you too, Hermione. We'll talk about this in a bit. Why don't you go with Charlie and get a drink first?”

Hermione stared at him. “Just tell me what's going on first! I didn't come down to Bristol for nothing! And I want an explanation.”

Harry turned to Charlie, pleading for help. Charlie nodded as he gently placed his hand under Hermione's arm and led her to the kitchen. “You'll find out in a bit. Let's go to the kitchen first and get a drink.”

Hermione bit her lower lip as she followed Charlie. There was something going on, and from the serious looks on both Ron and Harry's face, she really wondered what could be bothering them. Charlie wasn't any much help either. He sat her down at the counter and poured her a glass of lemonade from the refrigerator. Then he sat with her for a few minutes, until Harry came in to talk to her.

He moved quietly around the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, he poured himself a glass of water and sat down next to Hermione. Without saying anything, he sipped his water, his eyes fixed in a point ahead, as if he was deep in thought.

Hermione had always appreciated the gentle movements that had always defined Harry. Even though he was tall and well built, years of starvation and suffering at the Dursleys still shadowed in his build. The first time she had met him, she remembered him as a scrawny boy dressed in oversized rags behind glasses. Seven years at Hogwarts had been good for him. By sixth year, he began to fill out, and Quidditch helped him stay in shape. She looked at his profile. Signs of fatigue showed on his face. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, his cheek bones stood out more prominently than the last time she saw her. What bothered her most was the haunting look in his eyes, and a glance at his shaking hands told her that he was nervous.

“You know, Harry,” she began, breaking the silence between them. “You could at least tell me how you've been. It's been three years since we've seen each other.”

Harry turned at her, smiling apologetically. “I know. Sorry, Herm. Remus does keep us busy. Never thought that he'd be a slave-driver that he is.”

Hermione's face softened with a small smile. “I read in the Daily Prophet on my way back to England that you finally cracked that case you were so hush hush about. You must be relieved, aren't you?”

Harry's face darkened again. “Yeah, I suppose. But it's something that I don't like to talk about. It's a closed case, after all.”

Hermione nodded. “But what are you doing here? The last time I heard from Cathy, she told me that Remus was releasing you on break. I figured that you'd be in your flat or might be in town to visit us.” Cathy was Remus' wife.

“I am on holiday. For three months. Remus was very kind. But I'm sure he'll have a cauldron full of cases for me as soon as I go back.” He grinned at her suddenly. “You know, you look quite good for yourself. What did you do? Go and get an entire makeover in Paris?”

Hermione laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder. “Yeah, and I quit my job and took up modeling for Vogue. Really, Harry, I still look the same.”

“Of course you do. Still beautiful as always,” Harry whispered.

Hermione blushed a little and turned her face to hide her embarrassment. “You don't look half so bad yourself.”

Silence veiled them for a while. For the first time, Hermione wondered with a silent jealousy whether or not Harry had a girlfriend. He never divulged in his private life during the time he was gone. Though she knew that he had been too busy for any kind of social life, she still wondered.

By the time they both finished their drinks, Ron came in, still looking deadly serious. He pulled a stool across the counter from the two of them and sat down. Hermione reached for another glass and poured him some juice. He looked at them, one after the other, and said, “We have something to tell you, Herm.”

Hermione nodded. “That's what I have deduced, from your voice messages and letter. So what went wrong with the tests? I'm surprised that the lab techies messed up. They usually are good with these things.”

Ron shook his head. “I don't know. Doc called up and said that they had to re-do the lab work. I'm supposed to go back for another blood test. And I'm also going in for another MRI.”

Hermione frowned. “Well, I hope it's nothing too serious. You should have told me nonetheless. So, if that's not the case, then what's the problem?”

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, communicating silently. In the end, Harry nodded as Ron began. “Herm, you know how I usually help out with the counseling when I'm in town, right?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course. It's very mature of you to do so. Though I hope you do give sound advice and not tell kids to skive off school and watch Quidditch.”

Harry stifled a laugh as Ron stuck his tongue out at her. “Well, for your information, I actually do tell them to watch Quidditch, just after school. But anyway, that's not the point. Yesterday, I was helping out again while Charlie took care of some errands. It was hot, and no one had come in for anything. I fell asleep. But it didn't feel like I was sleeping. All of a sudden, I was in the confessional.”

“What were you doing in a confessional? You're not Catholic, and you definitely don't look like a priest.”

“Yeah, that's the odd part. I was actually the priest. Or at least the man in the confessional thought I was.”

“Didn't you set it straight with him though? You know you're not supposed to do things like that. Leave it to you to something like this. Honestly!” Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently.

“Of course I know! But the guy wouldn't give me a chance at all. He started saying that he needs absolution, and that he wanted to confess a sin that he was going to commit, but it didn't sound like he was really sorry at all,” Ron explained.

Hermione's brows wrinkled. “Hold on a sec! He wanted to confess a sin that he was going to commit?”

Ron nodded. Then he proceeded to tell them the rest of his dream. Hermione started feeling light and dizzy from the story. Harry sensed Hermione's feelings and placed an arm around her shoulder to steady her. By the time Ron finished, Hermione was clutching Harry's other hand with both of hers.

“But this is just a dream, isn't it?” Hermione asked in a shaky voice.

Harry patted her shoulder as he said, “I'm afraid it's not just a dream, Herm. It was quite real.”

“But, I don't think so. What's a big deal about this dream? It just sounds like a really scary nightmare to me.” But somehow she knew that it was more than that.

Ron gazed at her for the longest time. He sucked in a few breaths, not sure how to put it. Closing his eyes, he thought back to his initial reaction to the entire incident. He knew that Hermione was waiting for an answer, but how could he tell her, when it was all confusing to himself?

Hermione sighed as she waited for Ron to continue talking. She didn't notice that Harry had an arm around her shoulder until he got up to leave quietly, at the sound of Tonks' beckoning. Standing up behind her red-haired friend, she gently hugged him, trying to comfort him, even though she was trying to convince herself that it was just a dream.

The two of them stayed in this position for the entire time Harry was outside. Hermione began to flip through the memory banks in her mind, searching for any recollection on the kind of dream that Ron had. If what Ron had said was true, then, whoever had been sick enough to play such a cruel joke wasn't a practical joker then. Worse, this character was messing with dark arts. She shuddered at the thought. Seven years of calm after Voldemort threatened to crumble right under their noses. A cloak of security had veiled many dark activities, but now?

Harry returned to the kitchen a good fifteen minutes later. Hermione released her hold on Ron and went up to him. He looked at her with an expression that worried her. Quietly, he held out an opened envelope that Ron had found in his office after his dream. She looked at him questioningly, but Ron explained what it was.

“That's what I found when Charlie came back. The entire conversation in the confessional was recorded. I don't know how he did it, but that's what it is. Hermione, you need to listen to it. Then you'll understand,” Ron said.

Hermione nodded. “All right. Does Charlie have a tape player anywhere?”

“In his office. If you don't mind, I think I want to sit out on hearing this again.” Ron shuddered.

Harry led Hermione to Charlie's office. They found the player and inserted the tape. Hermione sat down as she pressed play. Her eyes widened at each horrific statement, all the while Harry clenched his fist in silent anger. By the end of the recording, she was pale and stiff, unable to make any sound come out of her mouth. Harry squatted down next to Hermione and held her hands in his.

“You understand, don't you?” he asked quietly.

Hermione nodded. “He wants me, doesn't he?”

Harry closed his eyes, wishing for all of this to go away. When he opened them again, he saw Hermione's frightened eyes fixed on him. He squeezed her hands tightly as he whispered, “Yes.”

All right, this definitely isn't my greatest chapter. Hopefully it makes sense… but just to clarify a few items that many of you have concerning the story:

1. Ron was sick. He was diagnosed with cancer, but Hermione, Luna, and he had found an oncologist who was able to manage Ron's cancer. Thus, he's better, but just needs to do routine lab work.

2. Hermione is a Muggle doctor. No questions about it. Well, she IS still a witch too. That didn't change.

3. Sister is Nancy Lammeter's sister. The name Nancy Lammeter was originally from George Eliot's Silas Marner, and even though this Nancy is a far cry from the one in the book, I just like the name.

I think that's about it. Thank you all for reading and hope you enjoy this chapter. More Harry, Ron, and Hermione coming up next.

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Four

Hermione couldn't believe the tape itself at first. Harry had called Ron into the room after they stopped the tape, and Ron began to recount the conversation once again. In a way, she was glad that Ron wasn't the target; she didn't want him to go through more than he had already been going through. But she couldn't help but feel a little nervous that someone was crazy enough to be tracking her.

“You're taking this really well, you know, better than I thought you would.”

Ron had made the remark in an unbelieving, almost accusatory tone of voice. He and Harry were waiting for her to rethink the information and reorganize her thoughts, their gazes on her intent as though she was a butterfly trapped in a glass container.

“To tell you the truth, I'm still having a difficult time believing that this all happened, and in a dream nonetheless,” she responded. “I don't really want to believe that all this was true.”

“Well, you'd better believe it. This is something that we aren't going to take lightly,” Harry replied cautiously.

“What about that woman Narcissa? I'd hate to believe that what he did to her was true. He's not making this up, isn't he?” she asked.

“He was fuckin' bragging about it!” Ron nearly shouted. Harry glared at him as he muttered sorry under his breath.

“But is there any evidence? It's still so unbelievable,” she shuddered.

Harry replied, “We've run the name through our databases for a match up, but so far, nothing came out. The auror database carries information of all homicides and dark activity. Hopefully, something will come up.”

“I believe what he said, Hermione. Don't ask me why, but it just felt like he was telling the truth.”

“And you probably didn't get a glimpse of his face, did you?”

“That's a really bright question from you. It was all in a dream, you forgot?”

Hermione shot Ron a dirty look; then she hung her head low, thinking once again. “I'm actually surprised, you know. About this.”

“You are?”

“Legilimency.”

Harry nodded. “I agree.”

“He's not stupid. He covered his voice well. I couldn't recognize his voice when I listened to the tape.”

“I still can't stop thinking about him.”

Ron was frightened. Hermione could tell that her dear friend was shaken by this incident. Even though he was trying to remain calm for her sake, she knew that his hands were sweaty from nervousness and fear. She could see it in his eyes and in his voice when he spoke again.

“Nothing's going to happen to you, Hermione,” he said fervently, receiving a nod from Harry. “We're going to protect you, isn't that right, Harry?”

Hermione didn't say anything for a long while but instead stared at the patterned tiles on the floor. She was feeling dizzy with this entire situation.

“Why are you so blasé about this?” Ron demanded.

Hermione looked up at him. “I'm not. And you know that I'm more than capable of protecting myself too.”

“Why are so calm?”

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands as she bowed into her lap. Calm? No, she was definitely not calm. Sure, she had always been a master at hiding her emotions. Though Harry and Ron probably knew her better than anyone else, she had always kept her emotions behind a veil. She'd done it for years, and she was surprised that neither of them could see through it. Truth is, she felt like a grenade, that was on the verge of exploding. She was anything but calm.

“What do you suggest I do then, Ron?”

“Leave Holy Oaks, Herm. I don't care where you go, just don't stay in that stupid town. Get as far away as you can. Move to America, or Iceland, or Afghanistan. Just don't stay in town anymore,” Ron answered, arms flinging dramatically. “You can't stay in town until Harry's caught the bastard.”

“You know very well that I can't leave, Ronald Weasley. And I'm not about to let a psychopath ruin my life. Ginny's wedding is coming up soon, you do realize that too? And she's already asked me to be her maid of honor. I can't bail out on her like this. Then, there's the hospital. I have my duties to my patients. You can't tell me to leave them like this.”

“It's just temporarily, Herm. Just until they catch him,” Ron pleaded.

She pushed past Harry and Ron and walked quickly to the kitchen. She couldn't stand it anymore.

Ron called out after her, “Where are you going?”

“Just going to make myself hot chocolate.”

He gawked. “With this weather? You got to be bloody kidding me!” But he proceeded to show her where the supplies were kept.

Harry watched Hermione as she poured milk into a saucer and heated it on an oven. After she dumped a few spoonful of cocoa powder into a large mug, she rested her hip against the counter and stared at Ron carefully. “I have to really think about this.”

“Herm, you're not staying in town and that's that,” Ron stated firmly once again. “I won't have my best friend who's almost my sister be in danger.”

“Maybe you should ring up the local sheriff?” Harry suggested.

Ron snorted. “Sheriff Marshall? Hmm, maybe you're right.” He'd forgotten about the sheriff until Harry had reminded him. “So, while I'm gone, Harry, you convince her. Tell her to pack and leave town.” He added with a frown to Hermione. “She can't be so stubborn about this. She has to understand the situation.”

“I'm not being difficult,” she argued. “I just need to think things through, that's all.”

Ron shrugged his shoulders as he left the two of them alone in the kitchen once more. Harry pulled out his mobile and called Remus. While he was talking to his superior, Hermione made her hot chocolate and carried it to the table by which Harry was sitting.

“You do have one of these, don't you?” Harry asked when he finally finished his conversation with Remus.

Hermione nodded. “The hospital requires us to carry one, as well as a pager. But other than when I'm on call, I don't usually turn it on. Holy Oaks is a really small town. Everyone knows each other. There really isn't a need for one, except for the hospital.”

“And you had it turned off while you were in Paris,” Harry stated. “That was why Ron was popping an artery when he couldn't find you. And no one in your town knew where you were. Ron was ready to call the authorities had you not come when you did.”

“I've told him and Luna that I would be gone. It's not my fault that he doesn't listen to what I say. And my neighbors knew where I was going.”

She picked up the parchment on which Harry had scribbled a few notes from the recording and scanned through it. “I'd like to listen to that tape again.”

Harry nodded as he went into the office again for the tape player. After setting it up on the table, he glanced at Hermione and asked. “Ready?” He pressed button as she nodded.

Hermione's reaction to the recording wasn't as shocked as it had been the first time she heard it, but she was still alarmed. However, hearing the voice once again only made the horror seem even more real to her, and she couldn't help but shudder at the thought that some maniac was after her. By the time the recording ended, she felt slightly nauseated.

“My God,” she whispered.

“Did you recognize the voice this time?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. He was smart to keep it to a raspy whisper. I could just barely hear him. But my God… I should listen to it again, just to see if I can pick up any more clues, but not right now… but….”

“Some of what he said was deliberate,” Harry said. “He planned to spook Ron. Very meticulous, very calculating. Everything he said was planned, at least that's what I've been thinking.”

“And he succeeded. I don't think Ron's been afraid of many things. This man clearly got to his bones. Well, of course, other than spiders.” She couldn't resist a smile at this thought. “Anyway, this isn't good for him.”

“You got to be more realistic, Herm,” Harry said sharply. “Of course Ron'll be worried. Hell, I want to lock you up in a safe house just to be sure that this killer doesn't get near you!”

“I know, but it…”

“Then what?”

“Ron's gone through enough. This is too stressful for him. He's been fine for the past few months, and he's been building back his strength, but….”

Harry noticed that Hermione was chattering again. For all the years that he'd known her, she was usually calm and collected. Oh, occasionally she would go crazy and obsessive, but she had always managed to keep her emotions behind a façade. Not many people noticed, but he knew that when Hermione was nervous or anxious, she would start chattering non stop.

“Why me?” she asked. “Why me? Of all people! I'm such a boring person. I wake up, get dressed, go to work, and if I don't have to work late shifts, I come home, read, and go to bed. Who would pay attention to me? It's not like I'm Claudia Schiffer or ….”

“A lot of maniacs don't make sense,” Harry interrupted. “There was a case. This bastard did six women before he was finally caught. You know what he told them when they asked him how and where he usually pick his choices?”

Hermione shook her head.

“At a grocery store. He'd stand out in the front and smile at women who walked passed him. And the first one that smiled back at him, that's the one he wanted. Ordinary women, Herm. Very ordinary women. You can't reason what's in the minds for them, or try to figure them out. Leave that to the experts.”

“Do you think the man is a serial killer?”

“Maybe,” Harry replied. “And maybe not. He could be just a beginner. The profilers would have to take a look into the tape. They'll try to run a match.”

“What do you think?”

“I'm not too sure. There are a lot of inconsistencies.”

“Like what?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, for one, the woman he'd said he had done. He told Ron that it had been a year ago.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Well, then he said that he's developed a taste for it. The torturing and the killing. If that was the case, then what he said about the first woman wouldn't be true. He would have had done her more recently than one year ago.”

“Harry, he also mentioned that he's already notified the authorities.”

“Well, if he had done so, it would be difficult to trace, since he didn't tell us how he did it. If he were to drop a note, then, yes. They could probably run a fingerprint check, but I doubt they'd be able to find anything.”

“What about the tape?”

“Actually, there was a print, but not our man's. It was from the kid who sold the tape. The only reason we found out so quickly was because the kid had only started this job because of his probation officer.” Harry explained.

“I doubt he'd remember who bought the tape then. They usually go through about a couple hundred customers a day.”

“Right. And it was a cash only register. There was no way we could have found him through a credit card registry.”

“He's very smart, isn't he?”

“Yeah, and they're usually not as smart as they make themselves be.” He gave her a crooked smile. “And besides, you're much smarter.”

“I guess that's what we have to do then, right?”

“What?”

Her expression was grim. “We're going to be smarter.”

This story, is being based more on the book as I thought. But I still have my twists and turns planned . I apologize beforehand if this is yet another boring chapter. You'll see a few more of these coming.

Anyhow, thank you for reading! And again, please don't forget to review and let me know what you think!

Take care and have a good weekend.

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Chapter Five

Harry radiated with confidence, not a single bit of doubt crossed his face. Hermione knew that her best friend, with all his experiences in the past and with his specialized work, was trained to deal with situations like the one right before their eyes.

Still, she did wish that he cracked a little bit. She probably would feel better, but then again, she had always been used to, to the point of relied on Harry's confidence.

“I should know better, but I really have to ask you… does this rile you?” she asked.

“Oh yes.”

“This is serious, isn't it? He's really going to come after me?”

“Hermione, it doesn't matter how many times you ask yourself and ask me this question. Yes, I do believe this man is serious,” he said calmly. “Otherwise, he wouldn't have gone through all this trouble, work his way into Ron's dream, do whatever he did to get this all on recording, and scare the hell out of Ron. And he did it, didn't he? This guy's done his research all right. And it doesn't stop here either.”

She could feel her control slipping and clenched her hands. “Did you hear what he said?” she whispered. “What he did to that woman? He tortured her…. Then he…”

Harry grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Hermione, calm down. Take a deep breath.”

She did as he told, but it didn't help at all. The impact of the situation was finally sinking into her. Suddenly, she felt goose bumps rising from her skin and began shivering. Harry felt her shaking and took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulder. “Better?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, as to give her a little bit of confidence and warmth. “Are you feeling all right?” He had noticed that she didn't touch her hot chocolate, which was already cold. He watched her after she pulled away from him as she fixed herself another cup.

As she began circling the spoon in her mug, she looked at him, her eyes brimmed with tears. Harry knew that it was beyond her shoulders. His Hermione, always so strong, so brave, so confident, was scared beyond any means. He suddenly had an urge to pull her into his arms and hold her so tightly, to whisper into her ear and to comfort her.

“Would you like one too?” she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. He nodded and watched her move about once again in the kitchen. When she placed the heated mug in front of him, he thanked her quietly. Waiting for her to sit down, he asked, “I was wondering how you're going to hold up.”

She gave him a tiny, but forced smile. “I think I'll be fine. It's just, well, surprising.” He nodded as she continued. “We've faced Voldemort as teenagers, and here I am, getting all worked up because a psycho decided that he wanted to kill me!” She dropped her spoon on the table and clenched her fist. “I'm just so bloody mad at myself!”

Harry reached out his hand to cover her tightened fist. Slowly, he could feel her relax under his touch. He gave her a quirky smile. “Hey, we're going to deal with this together, all right? You, me, and Ron. And of course, you have the rest of the investigators behind this.”

“I want to scream so badly; it's shaking me up inside,” she said as she closed her eyes tightly.

Harry smirked. “Well, why don't you?”

“Why don't I what?”

“Scream.”

Hermione smiled genuinely, so silly was the notion. “And scare Ron? Ha ha ..”

“Well, at least try to calm down while we're at it.”

“How do you propose I do that then?”

Harry thought for a moment. “Maybe we could talk about something else.”

“Well, since you said it, you haven't been around much for these past few years. We missed seeing you.”

“Yeah, the bureau kept us really busy. It's scary to think that there are that many missing people. Mostly missing children.”

They both took a sip of chocolate.

“How did the conference go?”

“Wonderfully,” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “My colleague wouldn't keep his hands off me.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do give the juicy details.”

Hermione laughed as she hit him playfully in the arm. “I don't know how the heck Dennis could ever think that a conference in a cheap lecture hall could be romantic. We sat together, naturally. I was actually quite interested in the topics this time. One of the keynote speakers, Dr. Russell Greene, is quite well known for his studies on acupunctural therapy in neurology. He actually discovered the physiology behind acupuncture. And knowing how the needle, when it penetrates the….”

Harry coughed briefly, though his eyes were laughing. He had succeeded in distracting Hermione; she was beginning to chatter.

She blinked at him irritably. “Sorry. Well, somehow, his hand always ended up on my thigh. Even though I usually don't wear skirts to work or conferences such as these, it was still very un-gentlemanly of anyone to try to feel me up, especially in a professional setting.”

“Did you give him a go right there?” Harry grinned.

“Not right there, exactly. But yeah,” she shrugged. “He wouldn't stop after I warned him many times. The last time, which was actually, hmm, early this morning, I dragged him outside of the lecture hall, slapped him, and told him that if he ever touch me again…”

“What, that you'd shrink his balls and turn him into a ferret?” he gave her a comical grin.

“Well, close enough.” She laughed. “But that was why I came back today. I couldn't stand any more of it. And the conference was going to go through the weekend.”

Harry nodded again. “So I take it that you haven't been dating then?”

Hermione shook her head. “Oh, gosh, hell no! The hospital's been keeping us so busy, and with helping out with Ron, I haven't had time for a social life.”

“That's quite surprising, you know. You never lacked one.”

“You neither. I was surprised the Monica the Model broke it off with you.”

“She was getting on my nerves.”

“Or she didn't get what she wanted?”

“Oh, she got what she wanted.”

“Then what was it then? Did she find out about your secret fetish with spandex and whips?”

“No, not that one. But she did have a fetish with exchanging vials of blood. That did it for me.”

“Disgusting. Vile. No wonder you haven't been getting any. So how long has it been?”

“Three years… hell, Remus was right. I do need a good shag.”

“Going through a dry spell?”

“Har har, that's what Remus had said. But no. More like storing my stamina to the rim.”

“Which, you know, isn't medically true.”

Harry smiled goofily at her. “God, I missed this. We haven't had a good banter in so long.”

Hermione returned his smile briefly, but her expression fell again. Harry knew that the interlude had ended. He held her hand tightly in his. “We're going to be inseparable.”

She looked at him strangely. “Inseparable how?”

“We'll be together everywhere.”

She pulled her hand away from his to brush back a loose strand of hair that fell across her forehead. “So, do you mean that the first thing I see after I wake up and get dressed for work is you sitting in the kitchen with a full course breakfast waiting for me?”

“No. I'll be waking up and getting dressed with you. What side of the bed do you usually sleep on?”

“The right?”

“Then I'll be on your left.”

Hermione's eyes widened. “You're kidding me, right?”

Harry winked at her. “About the bed? Yeah, I was. But I wasn't kidding at all about us being together twenty-four seven. You're not going to be alone at any given moment, and I don't intend to leave your side as long as this goes on.”

“What if I'm in the shower?”

“Then I'll be handing you the soap. Or, perhaps, I'll be scrubbing your back.” He mentally scolded himself for being flirtatious with her, his best friend! But somehow, it felt right.

Hermione smiled. “Okay, now you're just playing around with me. I get your point though. We're going to be two peas in a pod.”

“As long as you understand the need. I'm going to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you look at before you close your eyes to sleep. Wherever you go, I go. Wherever I run, you run. That's how it's gotta be. We're going to take this game seriously.”

“But if you're going to be with me, then who's going to crack this case?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, Remus runs a pretty strong show with our division, and the auror department itself is already a very strong organization, ever since Arthur's let Moody run the department. They've already started the works. Leave it to them to do the investigating.

“What about the hospital? I can't have you playing tag-along at work. It'll be a breach on patient confidentiality.”

“Well, what they don't know and can't see won't hurt them. We'll figure it out when we cross the bridge.”

She rested her hands on the table, gazing at her fingers. She didn't say a word for a long moment. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were determined.

“I'm not going to let him scare me,” she said forcefully. “I've not been afraid of many things all of my life. This isn't going to scare the hell out of me. Right now, I feel like I'm going to burst. This is all so infuriating. What I really need is a good dummy so I could pound him with my fists.”

Harry hid a smile. “It's normal to be scared. You got someone hot on your trail. It'll keep you focused, alert, more careful.”

“He's a monster,” she said. “This monster, he forces himself into Ron's dream. Then tells him infuriating news and scares him with details of how he had tortured a poor innocent woman. And now he's using my best friend to get to me, all because he wants to kill me.”

“Don't worry about Ron. We're getting someone to protect him too,” Harry assured.

“Night and day. And don't forget Luna too. She's almost as far deep into this as all of us are.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

She sighed. “Doesn't it seem to you that this man's trying to call the shots? He's told Ron to notify you, probably so you could take me away and hide me, and then maybe he won't follow. And I already know for sure that that's what Ron wants me to do. Run away and hide. But he's not going to stop there. I know it.”

“Of course Ron would want you to hide. I do too. And I'm going to take you away as far from Holy Oaks as possible.”

She nodded. “I know. I'd react the same way with either of you.”

“But?”

She sighed again. “He's not going to sit around. He kept on saying that it keeps coming back to him. This thirst. I have a very bad feeling that he's going to find someone else. While we play hide-and-seek with him. So while I'm running away with full warning beforehand, this poor woman probably wouldn't know what's going to happen to her.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, and you're going to keep yourself protected….and…”

“It's unfair to this other woman. And it'll look like I'm scared. That's what he wants me to do, isn't it? Run, so he can chase after me and find me. It's all a game to him. I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction either.”

Harry held out his hands in silent defeat. “We'll talk about this more once Remus gets here. He's flying in from D.C.”

He reached out to take the tape out of the player, but Hermione's hand stopped him halfway. She looked at him straight in the eye as she quietly said, “Look, I know that I should wait for Remus to get here and listen to what he has to say, but I want to know what you think. Please, Harry, let me know what ideas you may have so I can better prepare myself.”

Harry stared back at her, seeing her unfaltering will, and nodded. “All right, I'll tell you what I know. Remus has already listened to this tape. We expressed it to him as soon as I got here. He's a psychiatrist, and had probably already gotten through this guy's mind. Mind you, he's probably only heard it once.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. Let's talk about detail now. The most important fact is that you're not random. He chose you specifically.”

“He knows my name. But why?”

“Right. And he's done a lot of research on you too, more so than you'd think. As for why… well, he's dedicated to you.”

“I'm not too sure if I understand how he could be dedicated to me…”

“Well, in layman's terms, you got yourself a new member to your fan club.”

“Uh, I think I could do without this one. But really…me? Mousy ol' Hermione Granger? ”

“Really, Herm. You deserve much more credit than what Pansy Parkinson gives you on the Daily Prophet. Just look in the mirror. You have beautiful eyes in the most spectacular shade of brown. And the rest of you, you're beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful.” He hurried on before they could feel embarrassed by his statement. “And most of the time these guys select low-profile people. You fit the picture perfectly.”

She sucked in a breath. “Go on. Don't leave out anything. I need to hear all of this in order to be prepared. I'm not going to get scared by this that easily.”

“Okay. He's already told us that he's been watching you for a while. Now, this probably means that he's made it his job to know all about you. What kind of food you like to eat, what shows on telly you watch, what books you read, what kind of sex life you have, what normal things you do every day. He's probably already been into your house. He told us that he wrapped himself in your scent. Look through your clothes or try to think back when you couldn't find a piece of clothing after taking out your laundry, or when you last misplaced a bra or knickers. He's gone through your clothing and has taken something personal. Something that touches your skin really close.”

“That's disgusting.”

“Yes, but also because it has your scent. Yes, exactly like that. And he also watches you while you sleep, when you least would detect his presence.”

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. “No!”

He pointed to the tape. “It's all there. He's said it.”

“What if I had opened my eyes and saw him?”

“Well, that's what he wants eventually, just not right now. You'd be pushing his agenda. He doesn't want to hurt you just yet.”

Hermione took a deep swallow as she wrung her fingers. “Go on.”

“That's just what he's mentioned on the tape. Here's my theory. He lives in Holy Oaks, and he's been in contact with you. Maybe not someone you see regularly, but know you fairly well. You're very friendly to him, and he's developed a huge crush on you. Remus would say that he's in this adoration stage. Right now, all he can think of is cute things about you. How you smell, how you look, how you sleep. All of that's all he could think about. If he really likes you, then he probably won't hurt you, but his controversy is that he'll have to, because you'll end up disappointing him. In his crooked mind, there's no way you could meet up to his expectations. He'll make sure of that.”

“Okay, so he's obsessed with me right now. When's that going to change?”

Harry shook his head. “I can't tell you that right now. We need to know more about this man before we can hypothesize that. But, my guess is that it won't be too long. The longer the silver is exposed, the quicker it becomes tarnished. He won't be waiting too long. He doesn't want to chase after you if you run, but then he's brilliant that he'd do it anyway, figure out where you are. He's mentioned that too.”

“I hope he'll get out of this stupid obsession,” she wished.

“I doubt it.” Harry's voice now carried an edge. “He's already too deep in this fantasy of his. He can't stop because the urge is catching up to him. He has to do it again. And he won't stop. If you run, he'll follow you. If you hide, he'll search you out. It's a cat-and-mouse game. He likes it to be challenging. You're in this as deep as he is. And it's not going to end happily.”

She leaned against her chair and hung her neck back. As she stared at the ceiling, she couldn't help but start to feel scared.

***

What a delight it had been to toy with the red-headed fool. He hadn't expected this to be so much fun. And now, he can't stop cackling over it, because something like this, a build-up, a plan started from scratch, could work wonders if all the details were worked out beforehand, just as he had done. And he knew that with patience, the end reward would be just as gratifying. He remembered how satisfying it had been when he built his first snow fort in the backyard of his house. The joy of anticipating the times when he was cocooned inside, off in his own universe. Right now, the feeling escalated once more. As he sharpened his assortment of knives- he had quite a collection, from surgical knives to kitchen knives, he played through his game plan once again. At each stop, he couldn't help but snicker. Oh, it was good. So good to be a brilliant mind master that he was.

It was a pity that he had left Ron so quickly. The Weasel was truly disgusting, with drool dripping from the corner of his mouth while he slept. He really didn't have a clue. But Ron didn't know that he was a master, did he? No. He was very skilled. Meticulous care and practice to master the art of Legilimency as he had, even Voldemort was a rookie compared to him! How he wanted to see the look on the Weasel's face, and Harry Potter's reaction. He felt smug and proud.

Ron had reeacted differently than he had thought. He half-expected Ron to ignore the dream, but now, he was glad that Ron didn't stick to his rules. But then, he had already saw this as well. Because he was already prepared for it. He didn't want to share this memory with anyone yet, not quite yet. Narcissa's tape was getting worn out. Most insomniacs listened to soothing music while they sleep; he listened to Narcissa's beautiful voice. While most wankers watched porno tapes to masturbate, Narcissa was enough to turn him on.

But it wouldn't have been much of a challenge then. And a challenge is complimentary for a perfectionist. So he decided to share the dream with the aurors and sent a copy to Ron. Beautiful, sweet Hermione would probably already have heard it too. He wished he could catch a glimpse of her dear face as it contorted into perfect agony. Yes. Her training was almost complete. She was almost perfect. So beautiful, so sweet, so…his.

Everything was right on schedule. His plans were working around the clock, and no one was going to be able to interfere with him. That's why he always thought ahead and created back-up plans. Just in case something went wrong. Anticipate the worst, he had always said to himself.

It was going to be explosive, all right. Just like the fireworks on New Year's Eve. He could hardly wait to begin his own version of the festivities. And everyone would be admiring his handiwork.

Right now, he was sitting in front of his computer at home. Yes, those Muggle fools created a wonderful thing, the computer. The Internet was now his best friend. He found pages on how to create the perfect explosive. Step by step instructions that even a child of below average intelligence could follow. That simple. Not a nuclear bomb, though he probably could find the materials easily. Just know where to click. But what he had planned was perfect already. Tomorrow, he'd be connecting with the dealers in America. His friends had given him the list and he already knew what he wanted to get.

He pulled her knickers from out of his pocket and rubbed it over his face, inhaling her sweet scent. Hmm… every time he thought of her, smelled her, he couldn't help it. He unbuttoned his jeans and began to rub his hand against his hardness, all the while thinking of his love. His eyes closed, he rubbed himself as he pictured the groans coming from her perfectly shaped mouth, the deafening screams. Oh, he was getting hotter just thinking about the tortuous sounds he could elicit from her.

He reached his release quickly, and he smirked with slight dissatisfaction. But that was all right, for now. Soon, she'll be his. And he'd be having the time of his life. He tossed his head back as he laughed hysterically.

“Are we having fun yet?” he shouted into the room. He continued to laugh hysterically. “Oh yes,” he said with a chuckle. “We're having sooooo much fun.”

~~~

And thus the rated-R for this story. I wonder if any of you have figured out who the killer is yet…… haha …. A bag of galleons to whoever guessed correctly

Anyhow, thanks for reading again. And please don't forget to review.

Have a good end of the week! ~merletto

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