SPECIAL THANKS to my beta reader Aurabolt!
There aren't that much H+Hr moments in this chapter and the next, for that matter, which is why I've released them at the same time, but I do hope that the ones I put forth in these chapters are worth the scarcity. Lol! Okay, so maybe I'm trying to sell it! BUT, for those of you diligent enough to give this author's note a read, I promise that in the next release… are you ready for this? IT WILL BE GOOD. Haha!
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter Eight - Uncover the Enigma
In which Lysander Athanasius becomes a matter for serious thought.
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Hermione had a feeling that something was afoot.
She wasn't a witch that paid particular attention to anything that pertained to "hunches" or "feelings" or (Good Lord!) "Divination", but she couldn't help but think there was something odd in the scheme of things.
The day previous, Lysander had come to the ministry to beg for her forgiveness. And on that same day, Harry's protective tendencies seemed to have reached unreasonable heights.
Harry had to flash his wand, in the Ministry, no less! Not like he needed it to cast basic spells or anything. Obviously, the wand had been no more than a prop, whipped out to emphasize some kind of point, unless Harry had been planning to use worse hexes than the usual schoolyard jinxes... Lysander had taken him seriously, at any rate.
What was Harry so riled up about that he would threaten someone with a wand?
She frowned as she walked down the WizCOF aisle to get to her work station.
I mean, really…
Lysander was just being insistent, and he didn't even hurt her. He was giving her flowers, for goodness sake, and apologizing. There was nothing remotely inappropriate about any of it. If anything, she acted quite the bitch, but then she had been careful not to cross any sort of line.
Then he touched me, and it was the oddest thing…
She had looked into Lysander's eyes and understood just how apologetic he was; how he had made a mistake; how utterly and madly regretful he was that he had been such a fool.
Of course, he hadn't said anything, but those eyes; those eyes! As brilliant then as the first day she gazed upon them.
And there, where his hand touched his shoulder, she had felt such warmth and longing. She wanted to fall right into his arms and tell him he had no need to apologize, that he was forgiven beyond reasonable doubt.
He said words in her ear that alleviated the loneliness in her heart because he knew what she was going through: "The silence in an empty house is the worse, isn't it?" he had asked cryptically. "When there's no one to talk to, you turn on the television and it doesn't change the silence at all. Sometimes it just nails the idea even deeper, that you're quite alone. And you have this urge to look for some form of life. Unfortunately, when you find your cat or dog, they become ill replacements. There is no replacement for human company. But when you do find it; find one who understands, isn't it a relief? Isn't it a great relief?"
But then Harry was there, wrenching her free from that moment of bliss.
When Lysander's hand left her, she felt confused; disjointed, but with that isolation, she had managed to understand that her loyalties were unconditionally with Harry, and that giving in to Lysander would almost seem…
Like betrayal.
Almost, but not quite. Goodness, it's not like Lysander's some kind of Death Eater. He's just a regular bloke, for Merlin's sake… alright, maybe not regular, but just a bloke nonetheless…
Lysander had given the key to the Leabharlann Ársa Runa: Library of Ancient Runes. At the bottom of the engraved, bronze sign was the symbol "<". It was read as "ken" and it meant "to know". The library admitted very few muggles into its walls, wizards fewer still. There was some kind of secret criteria, and try as she might to find out in the past what this criteria was so she could meet it, she had found no success.
Now, Lysadner Athanasius had offered the key to the library and only by sheer will, strengthened by the loyalty she had for Harry, was she able to give the key back.
But he had you, didn't he? And he knew it! Now you have to ask yourself: If Harry hadn't been there, watching, would you have accepted that key?
She scowled. "You're awful Hermione," she whispered. "Some friend you've turned out to be. Exchange your loyalties to your best friend in the whole world for a bunch of smelly books and scrolls, will you? You're awful!"
When she and Harry had left work for home last night, she prayed he wouldn't bring their meeting with Lysander up. She could tell he was trying to bring it up, but maybe he had read the reluctance in her eyes, so he didn't. Going home, she was afraid he would get on with the asking. He didn't do it then, either. He was, in fact, quite amicable talking about other things. There were several times during their trip home that his brows would knot. She was sure, during those times, that he was going to talk about Lysander, but then his brows smoothed over and he would quirk his smile. She breathed a little easier each time. When she arrived at Grimmauld Place, she and Harry had made a quick dinner and retired to their respective work spaces to finish work they brought home from the Ministry. She had worked late, and she even heard Ron arriving. He dropped by the library to give her a quick hi and goodnight. He wasn't drunk; he had come from work, and he seemed exhausted.
Hermione felt so proud of him then that she had given her goodnight with an affectionate kiss on his cheek. He showed only mild surprise, and then he was grinning, pointing to his other cheek and saying, "How 'bout you even things up a little, eh?"
She didn't, but only because doing so would spoil him. It was then she knew with absolute certainty that she and Ron would be friends forever, never lovers, and that she was unspeakably happy that they would stay that way. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, he was thinking exactly the same thing.
She sent him off to bed sternly, but she committed the sound of his laughter to memory long after he retired into his room.
She didn't see Harry again until the morning, and it seemed he was in a hurry to get to his office.
And now she was back in WizCOF for another judicious day.
Reaching her work station, she began to unload the contents of her briefcase on her pristine desk. In a few minutes, she would have the desk stacked high with books.
She was arranging her quills when she found a tiny box, the kind that looked like it held jewelry. There was a tasteful ribbon wrapped around it, and she knew instantly who had sent it.
Hermione stared at the box warily.
Does it contain what I think it contains?
She breathed slowly, cursing her heart for beating so frantically.
Though ashamed of herself, she used her wand to levitate the box and open it. There sat the key. There was no accompanying note; no explanation; just the key, because the key spoke for itself.
She slammed the box shut and opened one of the many pigeon holes lining the walls of her workstation. She dropped the box inside and shut the tiny door.
Maybe I should obliviate myself and forget where I put it, so that even if I go looking for it, I wouldn't find it.
It wasn't advisable to obliviate one's self, of course, so she scrapped that idea and just left the key where it was, hoping that losing sight of it would be enough to make her forget it entirely.
That didn't work, of course. She wasn't the brightest witch of her age for being forgetful.
Hermione then decided she would dedicate herself entirely to her work that day. There was much to be done, after all.
She found herself so busy that she forgot entirely about lunch until she heard a familiar voice calling to her from the small fireplace behind her.
Turning, she saw Harry's face smiling at her from the flames.
She smiled back, thankful that her conscience was clean… mostly. She knelt on the floor. "Hello, Harry. What's up?"
He grinned. "Lunch is up, but I don't think I'll be able to make it today."
Oh yes, lunch! she thought. "Oh, well, that's alright, Harry. I can grab something in the ministry concession stand. I'm a bit too busy to go out, anyway. Shacklebolt keeping you?"
He nodded. "We're heading off to Hogsmeade. Death Eater sighting."
All of Hermione's other concerns disappeared in the face of her worry at this new piece of information. The old fear of Death Eaters past clenched in her stomach. "Oh! Harry, be careful! Don't go anywhere alone, alright? Have Gail with you at all times! If there's any problem at all, floo me! I'll be right here. Or messenger spell me if you can manage the distance. Use our safe-word. You do remember what it is, don't you? It's 'Hogwarts, A History.' You don't need to say anything else. I'll know you flooed or messaged and that you need my help, so I'll apparate on over there-"
"Hermione, relax. I defeated the great Voldemort, remember? A silly Death Eater is child's play."
She scowled. Even through the fire she could see the twinkle in his eyes. "Harry Potter, swear to me you'll let Gail watch your back! Swear it!"
He sighed before he gave her a faint smile. "I swear it."
She breathed a little easier. "And I promise you, Potter, if you don't come back to me in one piece…"
She blushed a bit at the possessive quality of her statement.
Come back to ME? That's just perfect. Why don't you just put a stamp on his forehead that says "Property of Hermione Granger"?
He chuckled and didn't seem to think anything was amiss. "You'll kill me yourself?"
She was mostly relieved he didn't notice. "Of course not, but I'll be so angry you'll wish you were dead."
"Warning noted, Hermione. Want anything from Hogsmeade?"
Her scowl deepened. "You're not there to shop!"
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, then. I'll surprise you. I'll see you at home, alright? Give my love to Heartcomb and Archibald."
He cut the transmission and she fumed just a bit. She did, of course, have every reason to believe that Harry would be completely fine, but Harry wasn't invincible. The greatest wizards of all had perished just like everybody else.
She remembered Dumbledore and Voldemort and did a double take.
Well, maybe not LIKE everybody else, but they had succumbed to mortality, just the same.
Hermione went back to work and found her thoughts divided between the brief she was writing, Harry in Hogsmeade looking for Death Eaters and the key stuffed into one of the pigeonholes on her walls.
After staring at her parchment for several minutes and making no developments on it whatsoever, she decided to go on out and grab lunch by herself.
She grabbed her coin purse and went down the long aisle to the front of the office.
"I'm going out to grab a sandwich," she said to her bosses. "D'you want me to get you anything?"
"Grabbing is rude, Granger," said Heartcomb without lifting his face from the book he was reading.
"Hermione, mind your manners!" said Archibald.
I guess they're not hungry. She nodded. "Very well then, I'll head on out and be back as soon as I can, hopefully with my manners minded."
Heartcomb bobbed his head in approval. "You do that."
"Oh, and watch where you step," said Archibald. "Himalayan Yeti: Rights, Privileges and Snow got away from its shelf and is spitting frostbite at anything that touches it."
Hermione nodded, thinking that there had to be a way of disciplining the books around this place. She had suggested corporal punishment, but Archibald said that short of ripping their pages off, books were immune to behavioral conditioning.
She gingerly made her way out of the WizCOF, easily avoiding stepping on the scattered books.
The concession stand was not very far from the WizCOF and she was soon on her way back to the hole in the wall when her eyes fell on the Legislative Committee's Office.
She remembered her chat with Cecily Ackwater the previous day and smiled slightly. Though Hermione had been rather preoccupied at the time, she nevertheless felt immensely glad to know that the rumors about Cecily Ackwater were true, and that Ms. Ackwater supported her cause.
Cecily had asked for a meeting with her regarding her proposals. Cecily wanted a better understanding of the matter so that she could better express her support of it during the LegCom general meetings.
Hermione would be receiving Cecily in the WizCOF a bit after lunch. She hoped Heartcomb and Archibald would go easy on the meek and friendly Legislative Committee member.
Her bosses didn't think much of the Legislative Committee. While the two wizards had an almost unnatural commitment to the letter of the Wizarding Law, they had little to no affection for those who sought to change it. Hermione could barely get away with her Elf Rights convictions in their presence, and she imagined Cecily would get worse flack for having access to changing any law in existence.
Hermione was soon back in the WizCOF exchanging nonsensical dialogue with Heartcomb and Archibald, after which she returned to her workstation and munched on her sandwich, washing it down with pumpkin juice. She worked as she ate, finding focus on her parchment and only occasionally letting her eyes rove to the pigeonhole with the key.
Hermione managed fine for an hour before there was a "kerfuffle" from down the aisle. She looked at the time and figured Cecily had arrived. She considered going on over to the front to rescue Ms. Ackwater but just thinking of the long walk wearied her.
She was glad to hear, moments later, two sets of footsteps. One of them sounded pert enough to belong to the tread of a woman.
Cecily Ackwater appeared alongside the disgruntled Heartcomb. He was glaring at Cecily who merely smiled back in an immensely disarming manner.
Hermione stifled a smile. It seemed that between Archibald and Heartcomb, Heartcomb was more prone to giving in to "pretty young girls". Of course, Cecily was in no way young, but she was very pleasing to the eyes. Not beautiful, in the usual sense, but more regal than anything else. She was tall, slender and her hair was a shiny, flaxen blonde. Her golden eyes only added to her appeal.
Heartcomb left them after he warned them not to do anything funny. He had probably decided that two women who both had a penchant for changing the law could never be up to any good, but he had no choice in the matter, as it was their Divine Right to speak freely of any matter, whenever, wherever and however.
Hermione rose from her desk and magically cleared a path through her stack of books. She waved her wand and summoned a chair for Cecily and Cecily thanked her with whispered words.
Cecily's eyes roved for a moment as they sat. "Well, this is an interesting place, now isn't it?"
Hermione smiled, amused by the expression of wonder in Cecily's face. "First time?"
"Yes."
"Would you care for some tea, Ms. Ackwater?"
"Oh, please call me Cecily, and no thank you for the tea. I'm fine. I'd like to make the most of our time, anyway. There's never a shortage of work in the Ministry. Whether that's good or bad, Ms. Granger, I don't know."
Hermione smiled. "You must call me Hermione… well, then, what can I do for you, Cecily?"
Cecily smiled back. "The question, Hermione, is What can I do for you? You have been actively pursuing the rights of elves for several years now, haven't you?"
"Since my fourth year in Hogwarts," said Hermione proudly.
"Indeed, and it would be insulting of me to ask you at this time whether you are serious about all this or not. Obviously, you are. I understand you have an organization."
"Yes. The Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."
"You have many members?"
Hermione steeled her features. "Two, aside from myself: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley." Of course, to call them "members" was somewhat laughable. Aside from Harry "helping" her with the hats, neither of them had done anything since.
Cecily chuckled. "That's a rather exclusive society, isn't it?"
Hermione reddened.
"But that's beside the point," said Cecily hastily, probably seeing the embarrassment on Hermione's face. "I came here specifically to make suggestions about improving your… support base."
Hermione's eyebrow arched, the prospect of a new hope getting ahead of her. "Really? I mean-err-is that so? How?"
"Money, Muscle and Media."
Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit of sarcasm creeping out of her. "Oh, is that all, then?"
Cecily laughed, and it was a melodic sound. "Easier said than done, I know, but see, you seemed to have unwittingly gained favor with someone who has the means to help you in all three aspects."
For some reason, Hermione's gaze fell upon the pigeonhole once more then she snatched them back to rest on Cecily. She knew exactly what Cecily meant and Hermione didn't see the need to play dumb, so instead of pretending she didn't know what Cecily was trying to say, she asked the next most obvious question. "And how do you know that I have gained favor with this… someone?"
Cecily's eyes twinkled. "Because every Friday, for several months now, Lysander Athanasius has sent an owl to get him a copy of your latest proposals and accompanying theses. He seems to be immensely interested in your cause, Hermione, and I dare say if you ask him-ahem-nicely, he might take his interest to the next level. Lysander Athanasius might not be a politician, but his connections and his money could get you as far as a hearing in Higher Legislation. And with him publicly behind you, you'd have at least one-third support from the Enactment Committee."
Hermione managed to calm herself at this revelation. One-third support! Even if that wasn't enough, that was infinitely more than she ever dreamed of! She pushed her excitement aside and forced herself to be rational. "Every law needs more than a two-thirds vote to be approved for Final Formulation, Cecily. There are a hundred members in the Enactment Committee. Even if I'm assured thirty-three votes, how can I get thirty-four more wizards to see it my way when I can't even endear myself to your fourteen colleagues at the L.C.O.?"
Cecily shook her head. "You're thinking of Legislators as individuals, Hermione. You have to remember that we are a body, that while we have individual minds, we don't ever act alone. How do you think laws are passed at all? We influence each other. We listen to one another. If you get one-third support from the EnCom, it's not just thirty-three votes, it's thirty-three supporters. If they have enough motivation from the right… person, they can get the other thirty-four votes for you and elevate your proposals for Final Formulation. Of course, I don't need to tell you that I'll take care of the majority vote in the L.C.O…"
Hermione stared at Cecily. Her mind was spinning. Was it that easy?
Well, of course it's NOT easy, but the potential for SOMETHING worthwhile is there.
Never had the path to Elf Rights been made so reachable. In all her years, pushing and prodding to make others understand, she had never really looked at it from this angle before. Oh, she had considered getting the support of influential wizards, but most of them were Elf Owners in themselves, possibly even purebloods who wouldn't have anything to do with a muggle-born like her. The few letters she sent out soliciting support for her cause had resulted in pert, unrelenting refusals, with the subtle undertones of "Don't try to owl us again." The only person who might have been willing to offer influential support had gone and died on her. Of course, that hadn't been Dumbledore's fault…
Hermione looked at the pigeonhole again. She blinked, tearing her eyes from it. She looked at Cecily who was waiting for a response.
"So Lysander Athanasius seems interested," said Hermione. "But that doesn't mean he would be willing to rally his support all-out. It doesn't mean he would be willing to pull favors for the cause. I mean goodness, why would he care about house elves? He probably has hundreds of them in his household!"
"Do his reasons matter?"
"Of course they do! What's in it for him? What will he get out of all of it? Why should he give it the time of day?"
"Then I suppose you'll have to bring that up when you talk to him about it."
Hermione frowned. "I don't know if I'll talk to him about it."
Cecily seemed genuinely surprised. "Why not?"
And indeed, why not? Hermione was supposed to be committed to this cause, wasn't she? While things got a bit shaky yesterday between her and Lysander, it wasn't as if they had become enemies, or anything like that. Besides, if she did approach Lysander on the matter of Elf Rights, it should be strictly business. She had been given the means; it would be folly for her to ignore it just because she had some silly, issues about men and shopping…
"You're right," Hermione muttered. "I should speak to him about it…"
Cecily smiled. "A wise decision. I can help you set up an appointment with him, if you wish. Make it seem more official. That way, you don't have to compromise your… relationship-"
"We have no relationship," said Hermione hastily. "Regardless of what the Daily Prophet has told the world."
Cecily reddened. "Sorry. I didn't mean-"
"Of course, you didn't. And I apologize for being snappish. I'm just a bit flustered by this new… opportunity."
Cecily nodded. "I'd imagine you'd be. The road to change is never easy, Hermione. But considering the things you've been through, I suppose you can do anything you put your mind to. So, shall I set an appointment for you? His owl will surely be by on Friday."
Hermione shook her head. "No. That's unnecessary. I have the means to communicate with him. You have helped so much already."
"I'm glad, then. It's about time someone spoke up for the rights of elves. Fortunately, we have you on the helm for that."
Hermione smiled appreciatively.
Cecily rose and Hermione rose with her. They shook hands across the desk, Cecily's smile brilliant and kind.
Hermione felt the sudden pressure of Cecily's grip. It was a gentle hold, but she looked up, surprised.
Cecily's serene gaze met hers. "Some of us would do things for the sake of its own virtues, Hermione. Not everyone has to do it for something."
Hermione blushed. "I know. I'm sorry. Just that sometimes-"
"Yes, I know. But take heart. Today, you've gained a third supporter. There's hope, yes? I'd expect my-ahem-spew button to be in my In-tray tomorrow."
Hermione smiled. She didn't at all feel the need to correct Cecily about S.P.E.W. She reached into her purse for her own button. "Here, take mine. And yes, there's hope. Thank you."
Cecily smiled as she took the badge. They parted, Cecily insisting that she'd see herself to the door.
When Hermione sat back on her desk, she fell to thinking, allowing her gaze to rest on the key's hiding place. So Lysander Athanasius might be able to help her. She should have thought of that before Cecily spoke to her about it, but she had been caught up in the enigma of Lysander that she never thought of him as anything else but a dashing bachelor who fancied her.
Alright, officially, you've become a complete and utter air-head. McGonagall would be ashamed of you!
Thoughts of her professor reminded her of the owl she sent the good Headmistress. Hermione had requested an appointment and she was yet to receive a response. She'd likely get it in the mail, later.
In the meantime, she had work to do, and perhaps after office hours, she could do a bit of research on Lysander. It was high time she found out more about the magnetic billionaire.
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Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the Auror department to the bad mood of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Tonks, I swear to all the realms that if you weren't so good at your job most of the time, I'd have you sacked!" cried Shacklebolt.
Tonks stood before him, sheepish beneath her pink hair. "Well, seriously Kingsley… Harry and I didn't have much of a choice, now did we?"
"Harry had him immobilized! You didn't have to go blow the roof off Madame Puddifoot's."
"Those cupids were getting in the way! I had to get rid of them and blowing off the roof was the only way."
Shacklebolt groaned. "The Ministry will have my head when I file for collateral damage. I'm half-certain they'd find a way to take it out of my pay. Tonks, you're a menace."
Harry exchanged looks with Tonks who shrugged at him helplessly.
"Twas rather funny, though, wasn't it?" whispered Gail beside him. "All those cupids screaming and scattering hearts everywhere… "
"Hush. Don't let Shacklebolt hear you. He's in the perfect mood for chewing out auror trainees."
Gail rolled her eyes. "Like you didn't think it was hilarious."
"Well, yes, but I've been in Shacklebolt's good graces all day, so I'd rather not ruin it."
"Oh, yes. Good job on that, Potter. Casting Incarcerous without a wand!"
Harry noted the sarcasm. "Do you have a problem with that?"
Gail frowned. "No, but it seems to me you've been casting wandless magic forever. I should think that being your partner, it would have been nice of you to teach me how to do it!"
He sighed as they walked to their desks. "Look, Gail, I'd teach you if I could, but I'm not quite sure how I do it, myself. And it's not wandless wandless. I still need my wand to be within a certain proximity of me. Hermione explained it to me before, but… I forget the details. Anyway, she said she couldn't do it and I had to sort of learn it by myself, so I learned it while fighting Voldemort, out of sheer necessity, it seemed. If I can find a Dark Lord sitting around doing nothing, maybe I can ask him if he would be nice enough to help me train you."
Gail pouted. "You are so mean sometimes."
Harry didn't have to worry about Gail getting angry at him. She always pouted when she didn't get her way with anyone.
Turning to his desk, thoughts of panicked cupids and pouting partners diminished. There was a tall stack of documents on his table, and he knew that all the information he requested from the different ministry departments the previous day had just been delivered. It was a thick pile; more than a hand-span, and he couldn't believe there was so much to say about a single person. Of course, it completely escaped him that he was Harry Potter and that he had a section of books all about him in Flourish and Blotts.
He sat at his desk and sifted through the pile. There were parchments and folders about Lysander Athanasius's dealings in the Ministry, but there was also a handy Clipping Keeper, an enchanted scrapbook containing all the articles ever written about him from different magazines and periodicals in the last fifteen years.
Putting off his Auror paperwork, he concentrated on processing all the new information. With any luck, he would be one step closer to figuring out just what he was up against.
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Hermione flipped over to the next magazine and looked up briefly from her table in the ministry library.
She realized, much to her surprise, that other than one wizard scanning the shelves, she was the only one left.
What time is it?
It was half past ten.
Goodness, have I been reading that long?
As if in reply, something akin to a headache nudged through her temples.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, rubbing the pain gently with her fingers.
She had entered the library just shortly after she left work, which was seven in the evening. She purported to find as much material about Lysander Athanasius as she could, hoping that if and when she decided to speak to him about Elf Rights, she would have the right information to convince him that her cause was worthy.
And while right now, she knew a lot more about Lysander than she was probably supposed to, she wasn't sure what information would be useful to convince him that her proposals were more than just interesting reading.
So far, the information she had of him was basic.
The Athanasius line was of Greek origin, dating back as far as seven hundred years. They were originally a line born of warriors and smiths answering to several masters and land-owners. It was only around five hundred years ago, when they moved to Ireland, that they came to a sizeable plot of land. They took to the enterprise of landowning and found that they thrived in it, specializing in the development of fertile enchanted grounds.
Most of their businesses today were less about land and more about merchandise, but real estate was still their biggest earner, and it would ensure the prosperity of their line for a long time.
On the more personal side of the family biography, it was well-known that they were captivating individuals. Aside from being heartbreakingly beautiful, they possessed an almost unearthly charisma that immediately won them the friends they wanted. It was almost disturbing just how well they chose their associates. They kept many business relationships and had only the most worthy enemies, but most interesting was that they had the most intriguing, fascinating, intelligent and brilliant friends. There were celebrated authors, talented artists, brilliant scientists, heroes, musicians, adventurers… none of them ordinary in the least. Their wives and husbands, too, presented a fairly impressive roster. The Athanasius clan chose their significant others with almost academic precision.
Hermione had blushed briefly at the relation of this ideology to her but immediately decided she didn't want to delve on it. It felt rather too much like she was full of herself.
Refocusing her thoughts, she had continued with her research:
When the clan members weren't "collecting" these friends, they were collecting beautiful, rare objects. Not unusual for rich people, but their tastes were very particular. Nothing to do with something's popularity; in fact, a lot of their collectibles seemed rather obscure.
Hermione managed to find a kind of Athanasius Clan family tree. It was a long tree, but rather narrow: Very few children each generation. Some couples would have one, or two, others none at all. It seemed they wanted to keep the family riches tight.
At present, Lysander was the family patriarch. His mother and father were diseased.
Humph. I knew he was lying about his mum.
Still, she didn't think Mrs. Athanasius was dead.
How morbid. Using a dead mother as an excuse.
Then again, she and Harry had that running joke about Sirius.
She decided not to judge him on that particular aspect.
Upon further research, Hermione discovered that Lysander's cousins had very little say on the matter of the family fortunes, which didn't seem to be much of an issue, considering his cousins were pretty comfortably placed on their own.
No kin feuds, she had thought.
But interesting as it all seemed, there was nothing in their known family history that could be handy for the rights of House Elves. Like Hermione supposed, she had every reason to believe their clan had been keeping elves for generations, and Merlin knew how their house elves were treated.
She could hardly assume the Proud and Noble House of Athanasius would give up their battalion of House Elves just because Lysander was enamored of her.
Enamored.
How very conceited of you, Hermione.
But that was the point, wasn't it? It seemed that right now, the only thing she had going for her was his fancy little crush on her. That was the sad part, because there was no way in hell she was going to use that particular aspect to get his support. That would be just like the Kelly bag, except it didn't come in red.
Her head throbbed briefly and she closed her eyes for a moment.
She sighed and began to gather her things, ready to give up for the night. It was then her eyes fell on a particularly interesting piece of symbolism among the texts. It was a rather random image, actually, but it tickled something in her brain: It was a silver snake.
School. She suddenly felt compelled to find out where the Athanasius children were educated.
She flipped through her materials, checking for their educational backgrounds. It was frustrating to find that the lot of them were home-schooled. "Tutored by the best" it said. Lysander himself never knew the joys of boarding school. Fortunately, it didn't mean nobody in the clan tried it.
Lysander's grandfather, Danaides, went to Hogwarts.
Danaides was Ravenclaw.
Interesting.
She smiled faintly. Interesting, but not particularly useful.
It was time to call it a night. If she had found anything at all, her tired brain was not keen on processing it.
Gathering her things, she brought out her wand and shrunk her possessions for the trip home.
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Harry heard Ron apparating in the living room. It was twenty past ten in the evening.
He frowned slightly. Where was Hermione? He looked at the Whereabouts Clock.
Ron's hand clicked beside Harry's on "home". Hermione's was still at "work".
Harry wondered where at work she was. He had passed by her office two hours ago, before he set off for home, and she hadn't been at the WizCOF.
He immediately assumed she had left for home earlier than he did, but when he got to Grimmauld place, she wasn't in. The clock had said she was still at work and it hadn't changed since.
The clock was vague, but dependable enough. So long as none of them were pointing at lost, hospital, prison or mortal peril, it meant they were all relatively safe. Still, he could worry. If someone locked Hermione in some broom closet in the Ministry, the clock would still say "work" if she wasn't actually in mortal peril.
He wondered if there were clocks with a second hand that had a kind of Danger Meter; that having it cross a certain point meant the danger was considerable.
"Hullo, mate," said Ron. "Hermione home?"
"Nope."
Ron checked the clock and snorted. "Typical. Anyway, it's good she's out for the meantime."
"That's rather sweet of you, innit?" said Harry dryly.
Rolling his eyes, Ron grabbed a butterbeer and sat on the chair across from Harry. "That's not what I meant. You asked me yesterday to get some dirt on Lysander Athanasius."
Harry was instantly interested. "Oh? You got some information already?"
Ron shrugged. "Just a bit. Don't even know if it's useful, but you'll be surprised how ready secretaries and receptionists are with information when you ask them just right."
Harry didn't even want to know how "right" Ron's methods were. "What'd they tell you?"
"That Athanasius is no Quidditch fan."
Harry didn't think much about that, but he let Ron speak.
"His interest in Quidditch is purely financial. Tax cuts, profits, commercial exposure. It's a business venture, not a hobby. Doesn't mean the Kenmare Kestrals aren't well taken-cared of, though. The bunch of them earn a pile of galleons just for showing up at practice, much more for games and winning them. Interesting thing about this Four Leaf Shamrock of theirs, though…"
Harry nodded at that. "I checked that out in the Ministry. The Shamrock's non-magical. It doesn't bring luck to the team at all. The Kestrals are just really good at what they do. The Ministry had to return the Shamrock to Athanasius when he came to get it back. He pulled muscle, though. Accounts for why he had to come over himself. It's never easy to recover a Ministry confiscated item, whether the item is being misused or not. Bothered me why he wanted it back so badly if it didn't have any magical properties."
Ron grinned. "Two reasons. First reason: It's because the Kestrals are as superstitious as hell. Athanasius probably knows the Shamrock's non-magical, but it doesn't matter what he thinks; he's not the one playing on the pitch. If the Kestrals believe that the Shamrock gives them luck, then they're as likely to believe that the loss of it would bring them bad luck. Athanasius recovered the Shamrock so that the Kestrals would feel lucky, and probably win the game. Apparently, the profit margin is considerable enough between won games and lost ones for Athanasius to use his weight to get the Shamrock back."
"So he's an accommodating team owner. Big deal."
"Well, see, this is the interesting part: Reason number two. There's a rumor."
"There's always a rumor."
"This rumor involves Hermione."
"Again, there's always a-"
"The git's been sending owls in the last few months to the Ministry to pick up copies of Hermione's spew proposals. The bloke's been paying a lot of attention to what Hermione has to say, and he knows the proposals get in on Friday mornings and be available for public access in the afternoon."
Harry was listening now. "How do your sources know this?"
Ron chuckled. "Like you didn't know how office gossip gets around."
"Go on, then."
"Are you ready for this?"
"Just tell me, Weasley."
"The person that called in the alleged misuse of the Shamrock came from inside; Lysander's personal assistant, Ms. Northanger."
This was most interesting.
Harry leaned over. "Samantha's not a Kestrals fan?"
"Oh, she is. More than her boss, apparently. She has autographed pictures of them in her office and everything, but she was hired for her efficiency, yes? She does as she's told."
Harry recalled those very words from Lysander's lips in the gallery. "So are you telling me her boss-Athanasius himself-told her to 'report' the Shamrock as a Misused Magical Item? That makes no sense."
"It does, if it gives him an excuse to show up in the Ministry on Friday at the exact time Hermione drops off her proposals."
Harry's eyebrow arched before his gaze narrowed. His anxiety rose to disproportionate levels. "He's stalking her…"
Ron nodded. "What I don't get is, Why go 'round about? Billionaires don't need an excuse to introduce themselves to the women they want."
Harry was almost certain of the answer to that when he replied. "Because he probably knows more about Hermione than he's supposed to. Think about it, mate: Would she have given this bloke the time of day if he had simply tried a line on her? Or maybe he could've waited for her at the L.C.O. and introduced himself, but that would've seemed way too weird, don't you think? Sent her an owl? It'll go straight to the fan owls on the roof. You know Hermione; you have to be able to make some sort of impression on her, preferably spontaneous." Harry paused to reminisce about a certain fateful Troll-attack that brought them all together. "They could've been introduced through a common friend, perhaps, but tell me… when was the last time Hermione went to a fancy party with people like Lysander Athanasius on the guest list?"
"Shite," Ron whispered. "He's mental… d'you think he's dangerous?"
There was nothing to indicate that he was, yet, but Harry maintained there was something very wrong with the man and he was going to find out what it was. He showed some of his findings to Ron, pointing out the most interesting information.
"The Athanasius family has discerning tastes. They take trophy wives and husbands and they choose incredibly fascinating friends. Check out the spouses. See if you recognize any of them."
Harry slid a list over to Ron who read it over quickly.
Ron's eyes widened immediately. "Gifford Ollerton! Why, that's-"
Harry nodded. "The famed slayer of the giant Hengist of Upper Barnton."
"And Burdok Muldoon!"
"First wizard ever to fight for the rights of 'two legged beings'. Sounds familiar?"
"Sounds like spew."
"That's S.P.E.W. to you, Weasley."
Ron read down the rest of the list. "No way! Agrippa married into the Athanasius clan?"
"He did, but after the muggles imprisoned him, he was divorced by Hesperia Athanasius. See?" Harry pointed to a note at the bottom that told of the divorce.
Ron nodded. "Wicked… but I'm not very familiar with the rest of these names."
"That's because you're an uncultured git, but rest assured, every one of those names have accomplishments and distinctions attached to them. A bunch of 'brightest witch of her age' right there."
Ron looked up at Harry, mouth agape. "Are you saying-"
"Yes. Apparently, Lysander is far more aware of how special Hermione is than any of the blokes who went after her. Think about it, Ron. She was instrumental in the defeat of Voldemort, she was Head Girl at Hogwarts, she's brilliant, she's beautiful and her career's on the fast track to explosive success. She's perfect."
Ron's eyebrow shot up at the excessive praise, but even he couldn't deny that Hermione was the most accomplished and high-profile witch of their time. She was the ultimate trophy girlfriend to a successful real estate billionaire. "But Harry… does that make him bad?"
"That's what I'm trying to prove."
Ron waved Harry's words away. "I mean, yeah, maybe he's living up to a clan standard by going after her, but-"
Harry frowned. "Hermione deserves someone who loves her, not someone who wants her because she makes them look good."
Ron sighed. "I know that, but don't you think Hermione would see right through it if that's the case? She won't get into a relationship like that."
"Normally she wouldn't, but…" He looked at Ron uncertainly, debating whether he should say something about his meeting with Lysander the previous day. "I don't know. I just-I just think he's doing something to her-"
Ron frowned gravely. "You think he's imperiused her? Harry, that's a serious charge. He could go to Azkaban for something like that."
"I-I don't think it's that, Ron. It's something else. I mean, if it were anything like imperius, we'd know, right? We'd notice, but this… this is more subtle."
"You need proof to put him away for anything remotely like Imperius, especially someone like him who has a shitload of galleons at his disposal and friends in very, very high places. You just can't press charges against him because you have a hunch."
Harry was beginning to get frustrated with Ron's arguments. He was, in fact, getting rather angry. Why the hell was Ron trying to discourage him? Who the hell's side is he on?
"If I have to, I'll take my chances!" he growled. "I'm Harry Bloody Potter. I saved this Voldemort-cursed world and I'm fucking cashing it in, dammit!"
Ron groaned. "Harry! Would you listen to yourself?"
"This is Hermione, Ron! What the hell's the matter with you?"
"I know that! And you aren't making me forget it, either! The problem with you, Potter, is that you think I don't care! I may not want to shag her anymore, but I bloody well care for her almost as much as you do!"
Harry glared at him. "Then why are you sticking up for Athanasius?"
"I'm not! Look, mate, I might not be the brightest out of the three of us, but when it comes to the people you love, you don't exactly think with your head straight. I don't want you to get in trouble and Hermione wouldn't want that for you, either. Be rational about this! Now are you going to calm down or do we have to settle this outside? Because you look like you want to murder me right now."
Harry was having visions of charging into Ron and having an all-out knock-down brawl with him, but Ron had spoken in an even tone, and his words seeped into Harry's brain.
Slowly, Harry released the anger and breathed.
A minute later, he was casting Ron an apologetic look. "Sorry."
The hard lines on Ron's face smoothened. "That's alright. Now, how do you reckon we're going to do this? Are you even going to tell Hermione?"
"Are you really asking me that or are you being rhetorical?"
"Well, why wouldn't you tell her?"
"Because!" Harry cried. He sighed, gesturing helplessly. "Because she doesn't-she doesn't respond well when either of us objects to something remotely connected to Lysander. Didn't you notice that? When she got that crystal elf… when she left for the gallery… when she came home late…"
"Yes, but we were kind of being arseholes, Harry."
"Yeah, maybe, but yesterday…" He finally told Ron about the incident in the Ministry, and how he thought Lysander seemed to be affecting her on a highly unnatural level.
"I tried to bring it up at lunch," continued Harry. "But you know how Hermione and I-how we communicate with our eyes sometimes?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, it's like she could see that I was going to bring it up and she got this-this reluctant look in her eyes, like she didn't want to talk about it with me. So I didn't. I just didn't because she didn't want to."
Ron snorted. "She always had you whipped, mate. I wouldn't 'ave stood for that."
"Which is why you two always argue and she and I get along blissfully. But for the most part, I just don't want her to be angry with me on account of that bastard. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. Besides, if this really is some kind of spell, I think it drags her farther away from us the more we try to pull her in. I don't want to risk anything. I'll keep her as close as I have to, even if it means not telling her anything."
After a moment's thought, Ron finally nodded in agreement. He sighed. "I can't believe he said that, though; about giving her what she wants. Arrogant bugger."
"I've been wondering about that, Ron. D'you know of any spell-"
"And you think I can answer this question because?"
"Right."
"Ask Hermione. She'd probably know."
Harry shot him a sarcastic grimace.
They fell silent.
Harry tapped his quill on the parchment. "I didn't mean to say you cared less for her, you know."
"I already said that's alright."
"And this has nothing to do with wanting to shag her, either."
Ron's eyebrow arched so high that it could've broken a hole through the ceiling. "Ohhhh?"
Harry scowled, reddening. "Well, that's bloody not the main thing!"
"But you want to shag her."
"Stop calling it shagging!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, make luuuuv!"
Harry glared at him. "Look, I'm secretly crazy about the woman, alright? That's frustrating as hell, and then she's got these bloody curves… it's not like I could help it!"
Ron doubled over and laughed. Harry grumbled something about how it wasn't funny.
There was a crack from the living room and Hermione's hand on the clock shifted from "traveling" to "home".
Repositum! thought Harry, enveloping the spell in magic and attaching the necessary password to it.
All the documents on the kitchen table jumped into the air and disappeared with a twinkle leaving no visible trace. And just like the scroll he made disappear in front of Gail, all the papers would be stored for later retrieval in some kind of magical limbo.
Hermione walked into the kitchen, smiling. "Ron! I can't believe it. You're home at forty past ten! Oh, rapture and joy!"
Ron flashed a sardonic grin. "And in an ironic twist of fate, you're the last one home on a Tuesday night! Where've you been, young lady?"
She sighed, walking to the chiller and taking out a small bottle of pumpkin juice. "Work. Stayed at the library a bit to read a few things." She punched a straw through the top of the bottle's foil, setting the bottle on the table with a graceful wave of her wand.
Harry looked up at her as she got behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders.
She smiled down at him. "Alright, Harry? How did your trip to Hogsmeade go? Nothing broken? Nothing lost?"
He grinned, covering her hand with his own. "All in one piece, just like you asked, and Hogsmeade was pretty entertaining. Tonks blew the roof off Madam Puddifoot's and all the cupids got out, screaming and scattering hearts."
Hermione laughed at the description.
Harry remembered something. "I got you something from Hogsmeade."
"Goodness, Harry!"
"Well, I said I would, didn't I?"
Ron smirked. "Did you get anything for me?"
"I forget," said Harry without the slightest hint of remorse.
"Right."
Ignoring Ron's knowing look, Harry summoned his work bag with a wave of his hand and rummaged inside it. He took out a prettily wrapped package that came from Scrivenshaft's. He gave it to her.
She smiled in spite of herself. She tore off the wrapping and yelped in delight when she saw what was inside. "It's that stationary! It engraves your monograms magically and everything. Harry, you remembered how I said I liked it, didn't you? How do you do it?"
Easy. I think about you all the time. He smiled. "Well, that's just the kind of friend that I am."
"Uh-huh," said Ron. "Like how he remembered not to get me anything."
"Oh, shut it, Ron, you're just jealous." She stuck her tongue out at him.
He made a face at her.
She laughed before giving Harry a light hug. "Thank you. I love it. But I still think you shouldn't be going shopping while you're tracking down Death Eaters."
Harry scoffed. "Bloke was an easy catch. Got him with a simple Incarcerous hex. Didn't even use a wand."
"I bet that scared the shite out of everyone," said Ron.
"Well, I don't do it to scare people, mate," Harry said sternly.
Hermione nodded approvingly, arching a superior eyebrow at Ron with a hand to her hip. "You tell 'im, Harry."
Harry grinned, chuckling. "But it was pretty wicked seeing the looks on their faces!"
Ron laughed. Hermione bopped Harry on the head with the very stationary he gave her.
"Ugh! Children, the both of you," she said. She drank some of her pumpkin juice. "So, what have you boys been plotting while I was away?"
For a second, Harry paled at her question. Did she know? Did she suspect? But then Ron didn't look the least bit bothered by it.
"Many, many things you'll nag us for," he said.
"Humph. I wish I can take house points from you right now, for sheer impertinence."
Ron's eyes lit up. "Oh, do a Percy. Please? I haven't seen you do it in ages!"
"Oh, Ron, I don't think you should be asking me to make fun of your brother like that!"
"He's a prat! But that's beside the point. Come on, then… do a Percy!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and immediately took on a Percy posture. "Don't give me that ah-tee-tyude, Weasley! I won't stand for it because I'm HED BOIII!" She stomped a foot in Percy's outraged way.
Even Harry couldn't help but double over in laughter. He didn't know how Hermione did it, but she did manage to channel Percy the best. Even Fred and George conceded defeat to her on that.
Ron gasped for breath as he controlled his guffaws. "Blimey, I'll never get tired of that one."
Hermione smirked, going back to her snooty self. "Now that you're done making fun of me, did either of you bother to get the owls?"
Grinning, Harry held his hand out again and a handful of owls were summoned. Hedwig had come by earlier to deliver them and one letter was addressed to Hermione. He gave it to her.
She pouted a bit. "Just this one?"
Ron grinned. "Ickle Vicky too busy to write, Her-mee-own-ee?"
Hermione reddened. "Shut it, Ron."
Harry shot Ron a glare. He hated it when Ron teased Hermione about Viktor Krum, and now that Ron knew how Harry felt about her, he could damn well let Ron know it. Ron just shrugged.
Hermione opened her one letter and grinned. "Ah, Minerva's available tomorrow. Excellent."
"Dropping by Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
She nodded. "I owe the Headmistress a thanks. Don't wait up for me tomorrow, boys. I'll likely be spending the night over there. No wild parties while I'm away, alright?"
Ron nudged Harry. "Oy, I think we have to nix the wild party, mate. She's on to us."
It was no wonder Ron was always on the receiving end of Hermione's nagging.
"Just try it, you two. See if I'd stand for it," she said in a huff. She took her pumpkin juice and work bag. "Now I'm going to turn in as I'm completely knackered. Harry, d'you still have some of that ache-away potion in your stock? My head's killing me."
He frowned in concern. "Boys' bathroom. Medicine cabinet. You going to be alright?"
"I'll be fine just as soon as I take some of the good stuff, thanks."
He watched her carefully to see if she wasn't in more pain than she let on. She saw the look on him, grinned and rolled her eyes.
He chuckled, conceding the point. "'Night, then."
"'Night, Harry." She rounded the corner.
"'Night, Her-me-own-ee," Ron chimed out.
"'Night, ickle-Ronniekins," came her distant reply.
Harry just shook his head at Ron's constant attempts to provoke her, but he had to admit, Ron had excellently steered the entire conversation to safe waters. Hermione was completely oblivious to what they were talking about and she didn't insist on being let in on whatever it was. Ron was showing a real talent for misdirection. First Cho and now Hermione. The man knew how to take the reigns of a conversation, however subtly he did it.
"You handled that really well, though," said Harry. "I'm impressed. Assuming of course you did all that on purpose."
Ron snorted. "Of course I did. You don't beat everyone at Wizard's Chess and not know how to manipulate a situation in real life. It's easy as hell."
Harry chuckled. Sneaky spawn, these Weasleys..