SPECIAL THANKS to my beta reader Aurabolt!
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter Seven - Marauding the Ministry
In which Harry goes to work and deals with the good, the bad and the hopelessly incomprehensible.
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Harry rather liked going to work with Hermione walking briskly beside him. He took every opportunity he could to usher her through doors, make her step first into elevators and hold her hand through the rush hour crowds. She didn't seem to think any of it out of the ordinary, anyway, and while apparating or flooing would have been easier for both of them, he liked his early morning routine, just as she liked hers. Apparently, her trips to the Ministry for her S.P.E.W. proposals took a route similar to his: Apparate to the city, walk through the cross-buildings and weave through the crowds. The normalcy of it, it seemed, soothed them both.
When they finally arrived in the Ministry, Harry proudly walked her to her office, but he was more than a little surprised when Hermione pointed to a hole in the wall and said, "Well, this is my stop. I'll see you at lunch?"
He was a bit confused. "I'll-er-come by to pick you up…"
She grinned. "Yes, please. I'd really like to show you what's inside this hole in the wall."
He had no doubt it would be interesting.
She ducked through the wall and he left to head for the Auror Department.
Telling Remus, Tonks and especially Shaklebolt that Hermione was the new Assistant Interrogator to the WizCOF was quite the experience. They were ecstatic, instantly assured that there could be no better person to fill the Interrogator job than Hermione. Harry could tell there was an underlying "If she carries on in her Interrogating duties as stubbornly as she does her S.P.E.W. proposals we can rest easy" tone, but he couldn't blame them for it. He and Ron adored her, but they still thought her S.P.E.W. convictions a wee-bit bothersome. If he had to knit another elf-hat one more time…
Mad-Eyed Moody was livid at the news, insisting straight away that "Ms. Granger" needed a bodyguard since many a suspected Death Eater would be "thinking worth a lick" if they did her in for her competence alone.
Harry had to admit that the prospect alarmed him. He hadn't thought about that angle until Mad-Eye mentioned it and his panic must have been showing on his face because Remus patted his shoulder and said, "If anyone's going to off Hermione, they'd have to go through you first, now won't they?"
It implied, mostly, that Hermione already had a bodyguard.
Still, it was unsettling. Mad-Eye's paranoia was contagious, and it didn't help either that he was having problems with certain recent acquaintances of hers.
Gail's arrival helped a bit in making him forget his worries. She almost never failed to make him laugh. Flirt as she was, it was mainly because she was comfortable with everyone, and she had no notions of going too far, as she made no secret about her being attached. He wasn't sure if she ever cared to be serious about anything, but the woman certainly showed a keen sensitivity to everyone around her, particularly when it came to dealing with Shacklebolt. She knew just how to put him in a better mood and just when to leave him alone; at least most of the time. It benefited her and Harry a lot of times.
She was happily chatting him up about various little things when she paused and widened her eyes. "Ooh, I almost forgot! There's a rumor circulating that Lysander Athanasius and Hermione Granger are a pair, to Viktor Krum's consternation! Is that true?"
Harry frowned. "Where did you hear that?"
"The Daily Prophet's gossip section. Athanasius and Hermione were seen in a muggle club last Saturday. Salsa night, no less. They were apparently very hot on the dance floor."
Harry simmered. Oh, were they? "They did go out last Saturday, but they are not a pair; at least, not as of yesterday. And Krum had absolutely nothing to do with any of it."
Gail grinned, poking him with the tip of her quill. "Did you know that your eye twitches whenever I mention Hermione and other men?"
He reddened. "My eye does not do that."
"Oh, yes it does! And I don't even want to think why. God knows it's none of my business. Just thought you should know I noticed, is all."
Harry suddenly decided that Gail wasn't so funny anymore. He focused on his paper work, getting his reports done before lunch.
When noon struck, Gail said she would be joining Tonks and Remus at the Leaky Cauldron. She winked before she left him and he tried not to think about what that wink was for.
He hurried to the WizCOF, running his hands through his unruly hair. It was a lost cause, his hair, and he knew it, but it was somewhat of a nervous tick.
He didn't even know why he bothered to try to tidy up. Hermione had already seen him at his worse, which was torn-white undershirt and snitch-print boxers, but still…
She looks so good in her Chinese-inspired business robes. I almost felt like a pageboy walking next to her. "Almost" was the operative word. He was Harry Potter, after all. Offing the great Voldemort had quite naturally done a number on his confidence.
He turned the corner to the hole in the wall and was stopped short at the sight of a perfectly dressed man in a muggle business suit. He was peering into the hole in the wall, an amused smirk on his face. He was touching the hard surface surrounding the wall, as if he were checking for something. In his other hand he held a bouquet of flowers.
Harry glared at him as he approached and Lysander only looked up to meet his gaze when they were near enough to talk.
Lysander's smile was magnetic. "Why, Mr. Harry Potter, I presume?"
Harry was not fooled, nor was he in the mood to be polite, but he wasn't about to lose his cool in the face of Lysander, either. "Fancy that. It seems our reputations precede us both. Athanasius, I think you're a bit lost. The Improper Use of Magic Office is at the other side of the level." He had deliberately used Lysander's last name without an honorific, much the same way he said "Malfoy" or "Crabbe and Goyle".
The smile from Lysander's face faded just a bit as he appraised Harry anew. Clearly, niceties were not welcome in this conversation and he probably knew just what the problem was. "I'm not that lost, Mr. Potter. I am merely contemplating the charm of this… WizCOF door before I go in and see Hermione."
Harry's gaze on him did not waver in the least. He was in his element; facing enemies in the heat of battle. "I don't think she's keen on seeing you right now. Best you go on home and give her some space. Nice flowers, those. I can give them to her. Can't promise I'd tell her they're from you, though. It would be a shame if she threw them out." He didn't mind exaggerating a bit about Hermione's feelings. He wasn't sure if she was angry, but at least he knew Lysander wasn't on her favorites list now.
Lysander's amused facial expression remained, but the luster drained from it. Now his smile seemed frozen; his eyes gone flat. The lines were clear: Harry didn't want him there and Harry didn't want him near Hermione.
It took a moment, but Lysander did speak again. "I seemed to have gravely offended Ms. Granger and have come to apologize in person, as any gentleman would in this situation. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe Ms. Granger would appreciate the propriety of-"
"You know nothing about her. You already proved that by what you did yesterday."
"I have every intention of righting that wrong, Mr. Potter."
"And what exactly were you expecting from that little stunt, anyway? Did you think she was that easy? I ought to shove that two thousand pound bag up your arse, see if I can get it far up enough for you to taste it."
Lysander smirked. "So, this is why she never mentions you during our conversations, Mr. Potter. Everything about you is too crude to insert into intelligent discussion."
Harry wasn't the least bit bothered. "Say what you like, Athanasius, but I'm the one she likes living with and I'm the one she's been best friends with for almost a decade, so don't even try to make me think I'm not important to her." He practically pushed Lysander aside to get into the WizCOF waiting room.
Point for Harry. Lysander was frowning by the time he decided to follow into the office.
Damn, I thought that was enough to send him away.
Apparently recovering quickly, Lysander had that charming smile back on his face. "Swept her off her feet, lately?"
Harry glared at him.
Lysander gave a satisfied nod. "I thought not. Now let's see… my, a knocker! How delightfully archaic." He rapped twice before Harry could beat him to it.
Before they could resume their acidic banter, a slot slid open at the top.
"Yes?" came a croak.
"Hermione Granger, please," they said in unison.
Harry turned to glare at him but Lysander merely arched an eyebrow.
The silver brows sitting atop dark brown eyes knitted in annoyance. "I am most certainly not Hermione Granger! She's in her office right now and I've spoken to her several times today! I am sure I am not and do not even look like her! Who are you both trying to fool?"
Lysander's forehead pinched, irritated.
Harry was more prepared, remembering Hermione's story of her first meeting with the toad-voiced Thane Archibald and the crotchety Winston Heartcomb. "Mr. Archibald, my name is Harry Potter. I would like to speak to the Assistant Interrogator, please?"
"Harry Potter? I think she mentioned you before. You're that chap who slew that Antipodean Opaleye! Well, come in, then!"
Harry wasn't sure about any of it, but if he was going to be admitted inside, he was certain Hermione wouldn't be too disapproving of his taking advantage of the situation.
The door was opened and Harry stepped in. Lysander tried to follow behind him and was stopped by Archibald.
"And where do you think you are going?"
"My name is Lysander Athanasius. I am here to speak to Ms. Hermione Granger and give her these." He showed the flowers.
"She didn't say she was expecting anyone to bring her flowers."
Harry mostly succeeded in suppressing his smirk.
"It's a surprise," said Lysander smoothly.
"Well then if I tell her you're here, it's not a surprise anymore, is it? You'll have to stay in the waiting room, it seems, if you bloody want this surprise to work. Watch your shoes!"
Lysander Athanasius was promptly pushed back while Archibald laboriously began to close the door.
Harry waved to Lysander just before he was completely shut out.
With Lysander temporarily out of the way, Harry took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The place looked like a library on steroids and there was no sign of Hermione.
A head popped out from behind an office stall, scowling while his multi-shaded hair waved almost like it had a life of its own. "Egad, Thane! What is all this racket?"
"Mr. Planter's here to see Hermione."
Harry did not aspire to correct him.
"Planter? That lad who got rid of that chap who doesn't want to be named?"
"No, no! That's the Potter boy. This one slew the Antipodean Opaleye."
"Good gracious! And he wants to see Granger? Whatever does a child like her have to do with six-foot dragon slaying thug, hmm? Keep her company, Thane. Don't leave her alone with him." He shot a glare at Harry. "I don't trust you, Planter. I don't trust you one bit."
Harry fidgeted. "Erm… yes, sir." He supposed he should be grateful that these two oddballs were being so protective of Hermione in their strange, distorted way.
"Well, come along, Planter," said Archibald, marching ahead of him. "I haven't got all day!"
Harry followed the tall, nearly hairless man down the aisle of shelves, maneuvering briefly to avoid a long wooden table stacked with what Harry could only assume was physical evidence. Books flew across their path on occasion, flapping and screaming as they plunged to the floor with a papery splat. Harry had to avoid stepping on a few that were scurrying to get back on their shelves, and when Harry tried to help a particularly small tome cope, Archibald barked at him to leave it alone.
"If you pick the damn thing up, they'll never learn to go back by themselves! And Winston, Hermione and I will be stuck having to put them back to their proper shelves one by one every cursed day."
Harry obediently left the book to fend for itself.
The aisle was a long walk, and when Harry looked over his shoulder, he could barely make out the details of the front door.
When the man with the colorful hair (whom Harry could only assume to be Winston Heartcomb) called to his friend from behind them in his desk, he had to yell as loud as he could.
"Be a good chap, Thane, and fetch me Magical Faults and Foibles, Edition 4th, by May A. Culpa!"
Archibald cleared his throat before replying in a yell of equal magnitude. "Very well, Winston! Just hold on to your unicorns!"
When finally, they reached the last shelf, they turned a corner and there, buried behind tall stacks of books, was the top of Hermione's bushy brown head. Harry could hear the diligent scratching sound of quill to parchment.
Archibald cleared his throat and Harry could tell that she froze at the sound. "Hermione, there is a gentleman here to see you. One Mr. Planter. Do you know him?"
Hermione's eyes popped up from behind the books inquisitively. Harry thought it absolutely adorable and he grinned.
"Hi, Hermione."
Her eyes crinkled pleasantly. She was smiling behind the books. "Harry! Is it lunch already? Oh, my! Time did go fast!"
"You know this Planter-person?" asked Archibald with a stern frown.
Hermione rose from behind her pile of books, gingerly sliding around her huge desk as she smoothed down her robes. "Mr. Archibald, he is not Planter-person."
She approached them and with perfect dignity gestured to Harry. "This is Harry Potter, the one who destroyed the chap who doesn't want to be named."
Harry blinked back some of his confusion at how Hermione described Voldemort but managed to passably cock Archibald a smile.
The old Interrogator frowned. "Nooo, this is Planter, the one who slew the Antipodean Opaleye."
"That was Gardener," said Hermione, to Harry's utter confusion.
Archibald frowned. "So what did Planter do?"
"He potted plants."
"Planter pots plants! Ingenious!" He smiled, as if everything made perfect sense. He turned to Harry, extending a hand. "How do you do, Mr. Potter?"
Harry, thinking that it was best if he didn't try to figure out what just happened, shook Archibald's hand. "Fine, thank you, Mr. Archibald."
"Good! Now, then! What can you tell me about this chap who doesn't want to be named? What drove his eponymous phobia? Was he a very bad fellow?"
Harry looked at Hermione and she smiled, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes compelling him to glare at her, though rather fondly, because he smiled back in spite of himself.
Little minx is going to let me answer that, isn't she? he thought as he stifled a laugh. Well, then…
He cleared his throat and replied. "He was a very bad fellow. Nasty, actually, and the Wizarding World's better off without him. As for his name, he did have a certain phobia for his given name, so he changed it from Tom Marvolo Riddle to Lord Voldemort. People were so afraid of this man that they called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and I think he rather liked it that way."
Archibald scowled. "Egad! As Winston would say: All that kerfuffle for a name? Why doesn't everybody just call him Tom and get it over with? Certainly easier to say than Lord Marvolderiddle!"
"I quite agree."
"And so you've destroyed this chap, yes?"
"I did, and Hermione helped. Did she tell you that?"
Archibald looked scandalized. "Look here, Hermione, what is the meaning of this? I don't think you should go spreading such fearful things about yourself! Little girls like you ought to stay away from destroying nasty chaps and slaying dragons!"
Hermione nodded sagely. "Wise, as always, Mr. Archibald."
Archibald nodded. "Thank you. Well then, I shall leave the two of you to talk, though I dare say Winston will not be pleased I left little Hermione alone; but then again, you're not Gardener, so I think she'll be alright with you."
"She's perfectly safe with me, sir," said Harry.
They watched him walk away. He had a long walk ahead of him.
Harry turned to Hermione and appreciated the glow on her cheeks. It seemed her first day at work was going really well. "Like it here, little Hermione?"
She laughed. "Yes! It's wonderful! This place is a pit of knowledge and jurisprudential history! First day, I've learned so much, and I can hardly wait to get started on the Death Eater cases. Archibald and Heartcomb are still working on the preliminaries for those, but I think they're coming along fine-"
"You think so?" Harry meant to ask her if she should trust those two at all on the matter of putting away Deatheaters, but he didn't want to be too crass about it. They were nice enough to take care of Hermione, after all.
Hermione smiled knowingly. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking they're a couple of fools who cann't get anything done if they tried."
He gave a noncommittal shrug.
"Well, I thought so too, in the beginning, but Harry… you should read their briefs and pleadings! Awesome, brilliant work! They're so disciplined and focused on their work that they're literally holed up in here. That thing they do: confusing everyone? I seriously think they're doing that on purpose. Makes their enemies think they're incompetent." She beamed. "This morning, I thought I was going to hang myself trying to make sense of it, but then I went with it and began to talk like them, and before I knew it, I was having conversations with them about absolutely nothing, and it was rather fun! I think they approved. In the meantime, they managed to give me all that work back there and it's sensible work, Harry. Important work, that trains me, too. I'm going to absolutely love this job; I just know it!"
Harry watched her animated features. She was in her element; gorgeous in her sea of books and disciplined thinking. She was going to shine so brightly on this job that he was afraid Mad-Eye's paranoia had merit.
"Mad-Eye thinks you need a bodyguard," he said.
She frowned. "Alastor is being as paranoid as always."
"Alastor is right. A lot of Death Eaters aren't going to be happy that you're putting them away. D'you think they'll believe Heartcomb and Archibald are the brains behind this operation?"
"I already told you-"
"No one but you knows that. Face it, Hermione. The entire Wizarding World knows how brilliant you are. You can't pretend to be incompetent like your bosses do so convincingly. Mad-Eye said that if the Death Eaters had any brains at all, they'd go after you, and you know they're not all like Crabbe and Goyle."
She sighed and smiled up at him. "Then you'll be my bodyguard, Harry. What's better than living with an auror?"
"Or two."
Finally, she rolled her eyes and began to gather some things from her desk. "Harry, I promise you, the moment I get a death threat, I'll let you know, and only after we're sure the threat is real will I even consider this bodyguard thing. Really, it's ridiculous! First day at work and I'm getting 'Constant vigilance!' from Alastor. He's relentless! And so are you, come to that."
Harry sighed. He knew she would react this way and he let the subject drop. He'll bring it up again some other time. He had other more important things to deal with right now, like Lysander waiting outside the office.
She had looked so misplaced the previous day when she received the bag, and he wasn't sure if she'd gotten over her feelings of embarrassment. He had to at least warn her, and if she didn't feel like dealing with Lysander herself, he'd be more than happy to dispose Lysander for her.
Harry was just about to bring it up when Heartcomb suddenly said, "Granger, there's a dandy chap waiting for you outside. I think he brought flowers. He wanted to come in with Planter but Thane wouldn't let him ruin his surprise."
Hermione stopped in her tracks and winced, looking exasperatedly at Harry.
"I was going to tell you!" he said. "And for the record, I told him you didn't want to see him. Do you want me to… tell him off more forcefully?" He actually felt a tingling in his knuckles. Won't that be satisfying? Land one on Lysander's kisser.
She sighed and shook her head. "I can handle him fine." She seemed sure enough as she made her way to the door.
Harry opened it for them both and they found Lysander gazing out of the window with curious fascination.
Lysander turned when they emerged and his eyes were immediately fixed on Hermione. Her gaze was more frigid than Harry had ever seen it.
"Hermione-"
"That's Ms. Granger to you, Mr. Athanasius," she said with chilling calm. "I must say that I have never, in my life, been so mortified." She wasn't yelling. In fact, she was speaking in a somewhat lowered tone, but it was definitely effective.
Harry smirked and dealt Lysander a look of mock-pity.
The man looked flustered for about a second before he regained perfect poise. "I cannot express how sorry I am about the entire misunderstanding."
"That's tragic," she said, walking past him.
Harry followed, trying to block Lysander from her.
Lysander persisted, much to Harry's consternation.
Bloke doesn't know when to give up!
"I should have known I was going too far with the bag," said Lysander as he walked with them. "I had a feeling-"
Hermione did not slowing her pace in the least. "Oh, did you? Too bad you didn't listen to it."
Lysander managed to swing himself in front of her. "I did. The Crystal Elf worked because it was novel, not expensive. You liked salsa for the dancing, not the fancy club and you thought 'Riding the Dragon' was fascinating because of its brilliance, not its price. I made a mistake; I wanted to please you; your pleasure intoxicates me, Hermione Jane Granger." He offered her the flowers.
Harry's eyes flashed. Where does this git get off spewing romance novel hogwash, thinking she'd be impressed by it?
She frowned, ignoring the flowers as she walked past him. Harry glared at him over his shoulder, draping an arm over Hermione as they walked away.
Lysander glared at him with unveiled hate and rushed to catch up with them. He took Hermione by the arm to stop her in her tracks.
It looked like she was going to shake his hand off, but then she gasped as his eyes caught hers, mouth agape as if shocked by the intensity of his gaze.
Harry felt his anger threaten to burst at the seams. Perhaps it wasn't so much that he grabbed her. It did, after all, seem that Lysander's hold was not the least bit rough, but it was that Lysander could affect her so much. He had seen it happen in the gallery, and he was seeing it happen again. The way her breath caught, and how she seemed frozen, then pliable. It provoked his instincts. He didn't care if his anger had reason or if he was acting out of jealousy. He just needed to do something, so he whipped out his wand, practically shoving it at Lysander's throat. The man didn't look particularly threatened, but he did lean back a bit.
"Let her go and back the fuck off," Harry hissed in a menacing whisper, pulling Hermione closer against him.
She gasped, jolted to awareness and no doubt alarmed by the suddenly escalating situation. They were a tight group, but they were getting suspicious stares from the people surrounding them. She certainly wouldn't want him getting in trouble; not even for her. "What are you-put the wand away, Harry!"
"Not until he lets go."
"Harry!"
Lysander released her, raising his hands as if to show he had nothing up his sleeves. He stepped back and only then did Harry lower his wand.
Harry was just about to issue a grave warning when Lysander began to speak in her ear. His tone was soft and whispered so that only she could hear. Hermione's eyes widened, as if Lysander had gotten through to her somehow.
Harry had a raging urge to punch his face in.
"Ms. Granger?"
The voice was pleasant; accommodating, so detached from the mini-drama they were having. It forced all three of them to look to the source.
A pleasant looking witch was smiling at them, her gaze focusing on Hermione. "Hello there, Ms. Granger! My name is Cecily Ackwater, from the Legislative Committee's Office. I've been meaning to speak to you for such a long time now regarding your proposals, and I was wondering if I can have a few moments of your time. It won't take long. A minute or two?" Her gaze traveled between Harry and Lysander. "Is-umm-this a bad time?"
Hermione stared at her, as if trying to come to grips with what was happening with Lysander and then sorting out the mundanity of Ms. Ackwater. Finally, Hermione breathed and said, "Of course not, Ms. Ackwater. Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I shall only be a minute."
She shot Harry a warning look before gliding out of his embrace and going to Ms. Ackwater.
Harry took heed, putting his wand away but stepping close to Lysander, practically getting in his face. "Lysander Athanasius, I'm watching you. Hermione may think you're harmless, but that's only because she doesn't make it a habit to think the worse of people. I'm not quite so generous in my judgments when it comes to looking out for her safety. I've known the worse of them, you know. And I've destroyed the worse of them." He didn't usually go around scaring people with what he had done and what he can do, but for Hermione's sake, he was willing to pull all the stops. There was something more than jealousy dogging his antagonism and he was going to find out what it was.
Lysander merely smiled, "Voldemort never scared me, you know. He meant nothing to me and his Death Eaters were a nuisance. And unlike other people, he couldn't threaten me to do his bidding. But that's all beside the point, isn't it? The fact of the matter is, I can give her what she wants, Potter. And she's going to want it. She already does. Can you give her what she wants? What she really wants?"
Harry glared at him, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to grab Lysander by the collar of his suit and throw him down for an all-out brawl. If he did that, Hermione would be furious, and he didn't want getting on Hermione's bad side, especially not right now. At any rate, it rattled him that Lysander had hit a nerve with him.
"Stay away from her, Athanasius," he said with a surprisingly steady voice wrought with conviction.
Lysander straightened his stance, smoothing the front of his already pristine suit. "Only if she wants me to, Potter."
Hermione returned, looking just as flushed as when she left them. Clearly, she had rushed her conversation with Ms. Ackwater, distracted by the potentially explosive situation between them.
He felt her hand in his and he instantly felt the calming warmth she always managed to give him.
"Harry, let's go, now." She didn't sound impatient, but the word "now" was telling enough of her subliminal urgency.
"Ms. Granger," said Lysander. "I feel nothing but the deepest regret for any offense I have caused. Please believe me when I say that I have nothing but respect for you, and perhaps if you would extend your kindness to me one last time, I can prove to you that I have learned my lesson well. Please… I am humbled."
Harry wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, but Hermione looked troubled enough. She just wanted to get out of this situation without any more hostility.
"Mr. Athanasius, your apology is noted. But perhaps we should talk about this some other time."
What! She's still going to talk to him!
He bristled at her forgiving nature as if that very nature of hers hadn't been directed at him a countless number of times.
If Harry weren't so aware of Lysander's own determination on the matter, Harry wouldn't have been able to decipher the triumphant look Lysander shot him. Harry would've found great pleasure in hexing Lysander with a slug-retching charm. Seeing the manicured, perfectly groomed, Armani suited mogul barf slimy slugs would be worth all the scolding Hermione would give him, but he would never risk the spell being repelled and hitting Hermione.
He endured as Lysander smiled ever so faintly.
"Of course, Ms. Granger. I'm sorry. I should have owled, or flooed." He reached into his pocket. "At your convenience; when you see it fit to hear a bit more about how sorry I am, go to the Leabharlann Ársa Runa and cast a summoning charm on this key. It is the key to the library and you may use it anytime you want, whether or not you wish to summon me; midnight, two in the morning… your convenience. I am at your mercy."
Hermione's eyes widened momentarily as Lysander slipped the ancient-looking key in her hand. "The Leabharlann Ársa Runa…"
Harry couldn't even pronounce it, much less know what it meant. If he was ever as prone as Dudley was to throw a tantrum, he might have done just that, but Lysander had managed to make a come-back just when Harry thought he was sunk, and there was really nothing left to do but be dignified about it.
"Come on, Hermione," he said, tugging at her hand.
He saw her swallow before she nodded and looked at Lysander coolly. "The key is unnecessary." She held it out to Lysander, waiting for him to take it.
Unfazed, Lysander did. Holding her gaze, he slipped the key back into his pocket.
Harry could see her eyes following the key and he tugged at her hand again, almost desperately.
He heard her faintly spoken, "Goodbye, Mr. Athanasius," before he let their footsteps drown out everything else.
Harry recalled Lysander's whispered words to him. They were bothersome, akin to what troubled him so much about Lysander in the first place. The man had spoken about Voldemort, and the war, as if he were separate from it all; as if he had been watching it from some place else, but most disturbing of all were the words: "I can give her what she wants."
He looked at her as they walked to a fireplace. She was frowning; thinking. It was that kind of look on her face. He wondered if their thoughts were the same.
No, it couldn't be. She didn't hear what Lysander said to me. Whatever she's thinking, it's something else.
"Hermione, what do you want?" he asked on impulse.
She blinked, looking up at him in surprise. "What?"
He was going to ask again, but thought better of it all of a sudden. He smiled, squeezing her hand affectionately. "What do you want for lunch? Leaky Cauldron? Or maybe you want to go muggle today?"
She blinked, and her smile came in stages. "Muggle, I think. Italian?"
He nodded. "Italian, it is."
00000000000000000000000
Lunch wasn't that much enjoyable. While both parties made an effort to pretend that the skirmish in the Ministry didn't happen, any conversation they came up with was weighted.
There were pregnant pauses, too, usually because Hermione was lost in thought.
Harry wanted to set down his fork and say, "Fuck it! You want to talk about Lysander, then fine!" But every time he got the urge, Hermione would snap out of her musings, smile and say something cheerful.
It only occurred to him after they separated at the Ministry that the very idea of Lysander was driving him and Hermione apart, and that did it. He was going to find out everything he could about the man, and if necessary, drag him out of their lives.
A page right out of Granger's book of "Fighting Very Bad People": Assess the situation, do research, plan then strike.
Of course, the last time Harry had to fight a very bad person, Hermione did all the researching while he and Ron practiced out on the Quidditch pitch.
Good Merlin, Hermione must've thought we were complete prats.
So it was no wonder that when Harry got down to doing what he had to do about Lysander, he got other people to do most of the research for him.
First, he looked for references and cross references in the Ministry archives. And while he knew where to look, a bunch of other people prepared the files. It was an auror-perk, at any rate. When an auror asked for information, everyone had no choice but to give it to him, and it helped quite a bit that he was Harry Bloody Potter.
He supposed he had most of the Ministry between level two to eight processing the data he required, but he was on a mission, and somehow, it felt liberating that this time, he didn't have to be sneaking through hallways in the dead of night under his invisibility cloak to do it.
It certainly gave him more time to make personal inquiries. He turned to his partner whom he was sure he could rely on in this matter.
"Gail, tell me what you know about Lysander Athanasius," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
Without even asking him why, she launched into a tirade, rattling off things she learned from gossip columns and listing off quite a few wizarding magazines that he frequented.
Harry took notes, and he marveled at the fact that while Gail's eyebrow arched each time he made use of his quill, she said nothing of it.
Only after she'd exhausted all she knew at the moment did she comment.
"Checking up on Hermione's boyfriend?"
Harry found this extremely aggravating. "He is not her boyfriend. Not if I can help it."
Gail sniffed. The disapproval in it was palpable. "You can't keep her away from other men forever, Harry. It's either you put yourself out of your misery and tell her how you feel or you let her have a life."
Harry scowled. Gail may be his partner, but they weren't that close yet. He rose to his feet, rolling his parchment up and tossing it in the air muttering "Repositum!" as he did so. The scroll spun and disappeared into thin air.
Gail gaped at the display. Harry didn't often flaunt his ability to do magic without a wand and usually reserved this particular skill for only Hermione and Ron to see, mainly because they'd gotten used to it, but sometimes, he found the wandless magic handy for shutting people up without being outwardly rude.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Gail," he said snappishly as he left her at their joined desks.
He nodded at Remus who merely arched an eyebrow in response. Harry imagined he had quite the storm cloud above his head as he made his way to the fireplaces.
He was in the atrium in seconds and he took the phone booth to Muggle London. Once outside the magical wards of the Ministry, he whipped out his mobile and contacted Ron, hoping he was somewhere the mobile could reach.
Ron answered, sighing. "Yes, Hermione, I made it to work, and yes, my boss hasn't fired me…"
"It's not Hermione. Honestly, Ron, don't you even know how to look at your caller ID? And try not to sound so exasperated when you're talking to her. You know she only nags you because you need to be nagged."
"Not Hermione, you say? You sure sound like her, if a bit hoarse in the voice."
Harry ignored the cheek. "I need you to find out all you can about Lysander Athanasius."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"And how the hell am I supposed to do that? Put on your invisibility cloak and break into his home?"
"That's not a bad idea, Weasley."
"Are you serious?"
"No, I'm Harry. Sirius was my Godfather."
"Not funny!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, if you're going to be any good at your job, you're going to have to know your enemy. Lysander Athanasius is the owner of the Kenmare Kestrals, so if you want the Cannons to break the Kestrals' winning streak, you're going to have to find out all you can about their team."
Ron was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "You bastard. You planned this."
"Naturally."
"Are you sure you're not Hermione?"
"Quite. Oh, and by the way, Lysander came here this morning to apologize to Hermione because he offended her by sending her an expensive, designer purse worth six hundred galleons."
"WHAT!"
Harry grinned, pleased with Ron's reaction.
Ron began to rant. "That bloody bastard wants to get in her knickers! Why I ought to hex the git to oblivion! Hermione must've been furious! Well, I wouldn't expect less from a proper witch like her. Came to apologize, you say? Did she accept his apology? Never mind, it doesn't matter. I'll get the dirt on him before you can say 'We shall conquer!'"
There was a beep and the line went dead.
Harry snapped his phone shut, thinking that Ron's Cannon-inspired motto was appropriately followed by its brother: "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best."
Nevertheless, Harry smiled as he walked back to the Ministry. "Mischief managed."