Author's Note
I made it!! *Janie collapses in relief* I really wasn't sure I'd have this chapter ready for posting today! I hope you enjoy the fun and revelations dear readers.
All the usual kudos and gratitude to my dear Kirsti and a special "g'day" to Timbo and Holly! *Janie blows kisses*
SORCERERS' NOOK
By JanieB
NINTH INTERLUDE
The newly chosen First-Disciple-To-Be was cowering in his dishevelled bed. The mind-connection with his Master, the Dark One, was one that he'd been proud of and had treasured. It was now a source of humiliation and pain. That brainless, pathetic fool, Blakely, had sought him out and explained that his target would not be available on the night he'd been instructed to deal with her. She'd resigned, he said, left her job. Of course, Blakely had blithely and stupidly assumed that that would be the end of the matter. How little he knew their Master! How little he knew him!
After extensive pleading and begging with the Dark One and suffering the painful consequences of doing so, the First-Disciple-To-Be was finally given permission to deal with the transgressor as he saw fit. And he saw fit to vent all his anger, humiliation, disappointment, rage and frustration on the contemptible idiot who had failed him. It was only when he paused in his torturous ministrations because the transgressor's screaming had ceased, that he realised the useless fool was dead!
He felt a dreadful, cold, resentment seep into what was left of his soul. How dare the vile, worthless moron die? It proved beyond doubt that he'd been a poor choice.
After explaining all this to his Master and awaiting the consequences, the First-Disciple-To-Be wondered whether he would soon desire death for himself…
But the Dark One, for reasons known only to himself, merely lashed him with excruciating pain for the disappointment he'd afforded his Master. He was then allowed to lie, pain-wracked but recuperating, in his bed with his Master's instructions ringing in his ears: The next chosen victim must die, or you will take their place!
Who, Master? Who do you wish to die?
Ronald Weasley.
*
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In which Harry and Hermione finish their coffee, Ron comes home for a visit and surprises Harry and Hermione - and himself. Then after dinner the following night, Hermione finds a disquieting article in the Daily Prophet; shortly afterwards, Dean arrives with more disquieting news…
Harry and Hermione finished their coffee and made their way hand in hand to reception; as they walked, aware only of each other, they were quite oblivious to the stares and whispers from the remaining diners that followed in their wake. While Harry paid, he thanked Mr Madomo for a wonderful evening and asked him to pass on their compliments to their waiter for excellent service. They then made their way to the empty Departure Room.
Harry turned to face Hermione, their hands loosely clasped. `Where to?' he murmured.
Hermione lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. `To be honest, I can't really think right now,' she said softly. And I don't really care, as long as I'm with you.
Harry's answering lopsided grin made her heart turn over even as it released an army of butterflies into her stomach; Harry's left arm lifted and snaked around Hermione's waist, drawing her to him. `I think I know the perfect place,' he whispered into her ear, sending rivulets of heat coursing through her just as he Disapparated them together, the ensuing darkness and feeling of suffocation passing quickly.
Hermione looked around and smiled. `We're in the garden at home!' she exclaimed, sounding delighted. Smiling, Harry took her hand, but Hermione resisted Harry's pull and with a mock sigh of disappointment said, `High heels and grass don't mix, I'm afraid.'
`How's that, now?' asked Harry a second later, and Hermione tightened her grasp on his hand as she felt her shoes change; Harry had Transfigured them and she extended one foot, looking down at a pretty black and gold ballet style shoe.
`Perfect,' she told him with a smile as they walked towards the trellised archway in the hedge which led to the stream, their path lit by pale, silvery moonlight. As they neared the archway, Hermione could see faint, twinkling lights near the stream's edge. What on earth is that? she wondered, trying to peer through the long, drifting fronds of the old willow.
The old wooden bench lay in the shadow of the willow tree and as they reached the curtain of trailing leaves, Hermione was able to see that the gnarled branch stretching above the bench was filled with magical fairy lights. Her gasp of delight brought a smile to Harry's face as he led her around to sit down on the bench, his left arm around her shoulders. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. `Harry, this is just beautiful! When did you do this? What made you think of it?'
`What? You. When? While you were getting ready.'
Hermione frowned inquiringly.
`It only took a few minutes to make the reservation at the restaurant and I'd been thinking about where we could go afterwards, so, when I got back, I came down here and -' he gave an explanatory wave of his arm, taking in the twinkling branch above them.
`What if I'd thought of somewhere else?' Hermione asked.
`We'd've gone there, of course,' said Harry, without hesitation.
Hermione rested her head against Harry's shoulder, her right arm through Harry's left, her left hand resting atop their clasped hands sitting on Harry's leg.
`I'm glad I couldn't think,' said Hermione softly, `because this is just perfect.'
They were both looking at the stream, its night-dark surface shimmering with tiny pieces of the moon's light; they could hear the occasional, placid splash of some unseen, aquatic creature as it went about its business.
They sat in perfectly content silence for some time, and it was as though they were absorbing each other's essence, something precious to be kept and brought out to enjoy at some later time when they found themselves alone.
`Are we being sensible?' asked Hermione quietly some time later.
`So far,' replied Harry, drawing a soft, melodic laugh from her.
Hermione lifted her head in a smooth, fluid movement and turned to look at Harry. With a perfectly straight face she told him, `I think it would be eminently sensible of you to kiss me right now.'
His lips twitching with amusement, Harry's hand momentarily left Hermione's shoulder, reaching up to remove his glasses, letting them drop to the soft ground behind the bench before his hand once more grasped Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione looked at him quizzically.
`Damn things get in the way at times and right now I don't need to see, I just need to feel,' he told her, his voice roughened with desire. Gently removing his fingers from hers, he lifted his hand to cup her face before dropping his head to kiss her. He was astonished anew at the fact that each time he kissed her it felt more profound than the time before. Hermione felt as though her insides were turning into some warm, flowing liquid and with a soft moan, she opened her mouth to him, marvelling at the new sensations wrought by the feel of their eager, exploring tongues. She had a distant thought that one day their bodies would be emulating these movements and felt a surge of fierce hunger she'd never before experienced. When she felt Harry's hand drift purposefully from her face to her shoulder, then down to her breast she knew he was experiencing something similar, for she could feel the urgency in his touch. And yet she knew she wasn't quite ready for this - almost, but not quite - and when she made the tiniest movement of withdrawal, Harry's hand immediately moved back to her face as their lips parted.
`I'm sorry,' he managed between deep, jagged breaths.
Hermione looked into his eyes. `There's nothing to be sorry for, Harry. We just need to slow down a little.'
`Be sensible you mean,' he quipped, keeping his voice light, although he felt as though he'd run some kind of marathon and not reached the finish line.
Hermione nodded, lifting both her hands to cup his face. `For now,' she whispered, wondering if she'd find the strength to be "sensible" next time this happened, to resist Harry's - and her own - potent yearning…
*
Ron stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook, wondering if he was too late to see Harry that night. The light from the small candelabra on the mantelpiece was complemented by the pale beams of moonlight coming through the windows, casting silvery shadows over everything. As he turned to head towards the stairs, he was startled by Frewin emerging from the fireplace and flying to his perch.
`Give a bloke a heart attack why don't you?' said Ron with a chuckle. Frewin gave him an inscrutable look and tucked his head under his wing.
Moving quickly to the stairs then, Ron made his way to the second floor, thinking as he passed Dean's and Neville's doors on the first floor that they'd either gone to bed early for a Saturday night, or else they were both out partying.
He hadn't Flooed ahead, so he was prepared to find Harry out; when he did, he crossed the hall to Hermione's flat to see whether she was home.
He'd just been about to knock when he heard voices rising faintly up the stairwell. Two long strides took him to the railing and he looked down, straining to distinguish the voices; as they drew closer, he grinned - it was Harry and Hermione. Excellent! he thought, the three of us can have a cuppa and a bit of chat - I've actually missed those two!
Leaning on the railing, Ron watched as Harry and Hermione came into view on the last flight of stairs, walking up with their backs to him. He frowned when he saw they had their arms around each other, for while that in itself wasn't unheard of, it was the way they had their arms around each other. He searched for a word to describe it and one immediately came to mind: intimate. An unexpected feeling of trepidation stole over him as he watched them, their pace leisurely. When they reached the top of the stairs, they took the few steps needed to stand in front of the round, stained glass window, its clear centre giving them a view of the moon-drenched nightscape outside. As they stood there, silhouetted against the window, Ron straightened, tense, his fists clenched by his side; he knew they weren't yet aware of his presence. Then as one they turned to face each other, Hermione lifting her arms and wrapping them around Harry's neck, Harry's hands on her waist, pulling her to him and holding her there firmly. Ron stared, utterly bewildered and speechless as he watched the kiss that followed. He had no words for the emotions roiling inside him, but he knew how it felt to desperately want to be somewhere else - anywhere else! - than where he was at that moment.
Feeling as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him, he nevertheless continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away. They'll see me here, staring at them! he thought wildly when the kiss ended.
Then he heard Harry say to Hermione that he'd walk her to her door, eliciting a light silvery laugh from Hermione. They clasped hands and turning, began to walk towards Hermione's door. Ron helplessly remained as frozen as a statue, still staring at them.
Harry and Hermione's steps faltered the instant they caught sight of him, Hermione's gasp of recognition coming at the same time as Harry's low voiced expletive.
For a second, Hermione almost reflexively admonished Harry, but the sight of Ron's white, wide-eyed countenance, drove all thoughts of reproach from her mind.
`What's going on?' croaked Ron, looking from one to the other.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance then looked back at Ron.
I am not going to say, "it's not what you think"! thought Hermione determinedly.
But Harry did.
`Ron, this isn't what you're probably thinking,' Harry said firmly.
`Oh yeah? I can see that,' said Ron sarcastically, pointing in the direction of the window. `I mean, if you see two people kissing like that,' he waved his pointed hand at the window, `what the hell would anyone think? That you love her like a sister? Talking about sisters…'
`Stop it, please!' cried Hermione, distraught. `Let's go inside and talk, at least.'
For a mere second no one moved, then Harry, still holding Hermione's hand, gave it a slight, reassuring squeeze before walking with her to her door, opening it and waiting for Hermione to enter first. Then he turned, indicating to Ron that he should follow which he did, giving Harry an unreadable look as he passed him.
Without being asked, Harry silently waved his hand to light the candles sitting in numerous wall sconces, filling the room with warm, mellow light; he noticed Crookshanks' basket was empty and thought he was probably curled up on Hermione's bed.
Hermione was already sitting at the table and Ron, quickly followed by Harry, joined her.
`Well?' said Ron, after they'd spent a short silence looking at each other. He felt less agitated now, as though somehow calmed by the familiarity of the three of them being together
Harry had sat closer to Hermione, who was on his left, and he reached for her hand under the table; as her hand slipped into his, she gave him a quick, grateful look. Then Harry looked across at Ron and began to speak.
`You remember the night I flew to Holyhead to see you,' it was a statement, not a question, although Ron still nodded as Harry continued, `that was the actual night I realised I'd fallen out of love with Ginny. And although she hasn't heard this before,' Harry turned and looked at Hermione who felt his hand tighten around hers, `it was also the night I realised I was in love with Hermione.'
This announcement produced identical expressions of stunned astonishment on both Hermione and Ron's faces. Hermione realised she hadn't yet thought past the mutual attraction - the very strong mutual attraction she and Harry were currently experiencing. He loves me? she thought, He's actually in love with me? Although it was a somewhat overwhelming notion and quite startling, Hermione found herself feeling warmed by this knowledge. Ron meanwhile was struggling with the idea of Hermione - who had once been his Hermione - looking as though she was very soon, if not already, going to be Harry's Hermione. Weird, he thought. And yet strangely not really so surprising after all. But weird.
Ron managed to find his voice first. `You didn't tell me that part.'
`Well, at the time, I didn't think there was any hope of Hermione ever seeing me as anything but her best friend.'
Ron's gaze moved to Hermione, who was still staring wide-eyed at Harry. She was trying to delve into the chaos swirling in her head to find the memory of the night Harry was talking about. Then it came to her.
`The night we went to the fair,' she whispered. Harry nodded.
`Fair? What fair?' asked Ron.
`So that's why you were so -' Hermione began; Harry nodded again, a lopsided grin in place.
`I see,' said Hermione, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she remembered more and more of that night; this revelation explained everything.
`See what?' asked Ron.
`My dog!' exclaimed Hermione suddenly.
`You have a dog?' asked Ron.
`I still have it,' Harry told her with a smile. `I'm still going to give it to you.'
`You have her dog? She has a dog?' Ron sounded appalled.
Then Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. `Ginny! The next day, when she found us by the stream - what must she have thought?'
`Ah ha! We finally get around to Ginny!' exclaimed Ron, not in the least fazed at being excluded from Harry and Hermione's half-spoken, half-unspoken conversation; it was something they'd been doing since their early years at school.
Harry felt his insides turn to frozen lead.
Ginny! She knew he loved Hermione - but Hermione didn't know that. Was it his place to tell her? He wasn't sure.
Hermione saw the sudden change in Harry's expression. `What's wrong?'
Harry shook his head, replying miserably, `I'm not sure it's for me to say.'
Hermione looked surprised. `You've always been able to tell me anything before. Why not now?'
`Yeah, why not now?' echoed Ron.
Harry glanced at Ron, then back at Hermione. `I suppose it's all right, since it's you two. Although,' he looked back at Ron, `it does concern your sister.'
Ron shrugged. `This is us, Harry.'
Those few simple words made the three of them aware once again of the bond that had been forged between them over half their lives - the bond that was always there - whether barely perceived as it lay beneath the surface or very evident, uniting them, as it was proving to do at that very moment.
Harry nodded. `It's just that the night I told Ginny I wanted to break up, that I didn't love her, she wanted to know why. She kept asking and she was trying to work it out. She asked me if I'd fallen in love with someone else.'
`Did you tell her?' asked Hermione quietly.
`I didn't have to, in the end. She figured it out herself.'
`Hell's bells!' exclaimed Ron. `Ginny knows you love Hermione?'
Harry sighed and nodded.
`But she thinks I don't see you as anything more than a friend?' asked Hermione, trying to grasp at her own emotions.
`I told her that night that you didn't know, and that I knew you didn't love me except as a friend,' Harry replied.
`No wonder she was so - so strained with me,' said Hermione, aggrieved. Both Harry and Ron could hear the pain in her voice; she was rapidly coming to terms with what this meant to her friendship with Ginny.
`So what do we do now?' asked Ron. He felt a little guilty as he realised that he was rather glad that he could escape all this and go back to Kenmare - and Luna…
`I don't think we should say anything just yet,' said Hermione firmly. `I think Ginny needs more time to - recover. I think the right time will eventually present itself to talk to her about this. What do you think?' she asked Harry.
`At the risk of sounding relieved, I think that's the best idea,' said Harry with a sardonic grin.
`Right, now that's settled,' said Ron, rubbing his hands together expectantly, `why don't we have a little midnight snack and some coffee while we have a regular visit?' Harry and Hermione both rolled their eyes and laughed, shaking their heads. `What?' cried Ron in mock indignation. `That's what I popped back home for, after all!'
*
Harry and Hermione then spent some hours over quite a few cups of coffee - and some biscuits and cake - filling Ron in on all the finer details of their research. Their explanation of the connection between Dean and the Book of Records drew a long whistle of amazed surprise from him.
When they came to the end, telling him that they were waiting to speak to Dean, then Verity (`I always wondered about those two in that portrait,' Ron commented), Ron asked if he could join them the next night. Harry and Hermione both agreed he'd be more than welcome.
Shortly afterwards, Hermione told Harry that she'd decided she'd be doing her regular work the following day since they weren't able to get any further with the Book of Records for the time being; Harry said he'd also go into his office. `I need to catch up on the week's happenings, as well as warn Kingsley and Robards I may need more time off next week.'
`I'll Floo back to Kenmare in the morning after you've both left for work,' Ron said, yawning. He stood up then, covering another yawn. `And I'm going to bed before I fall asleep right here. I'll see you two for breakfast. Here or there?'
`Our place for a change,' said Harry, `that okay?' he asked Hermione.
`Of course,' she replied with a smile, `it means I don't have to cook.'
`Done, then,' said Ron. `G'night!'
After he left, Harry suggested to Hermione that they sit on the couch as they'd be more comfortable. As she curled up beside him, kicking off her shoes, Hermione yawned delicately. `I'll have to go to bed soon, too,' she commented sleepily.
`And me too,' said Harry, his arm around her shoulders, his cheek resting against the softness of her hair.
Hermione took Harry's free hand in hers, idly tracing the lines on his palm with her forefinger as his hand lay cupped in hers.
`Harry, after tonight, with Ron, I'm beginning to comprehend that you and me - that us becoming a couple - might be a bit awkward, at least at first. Even I'm still getting used to the idea.'
Harry was thoroughly enjoying the sensations created by Hermione's playful ministrations and when he spoke, his voice was low and resonant.
`Only at first. I think everyone's used to us being together because we always have been; now they'll just have to get used to me ogling you and kissing you every chance I get.'
Hermione laughed as she moved her head to look up at him. `Is that what you're planning on doing in public now? Ogling me and kissing me?'
`Every chance I get,' replied Harry mischievously, laughing as well.
As their laughter subsided, Hermione once more laid her head against his shoulder, sighing happily.
`You know, Harry, I am just so surprised at how natural this all seems! I mean, how is it that after all these years we just seem to be falling into this - place, this togetherness - almost without a hitch? How is it possible?'
Harry smiled to himself at hearing Hermione's words. Why did I ever doubt this would happen? he wondered. How could I doubt that something so right wouldn't happen eventually?
Aloud, he said, `My personal theory is that we were simply meant to be together, love. Maybe it was necessary for us to "cut our teeth" so to speak, on other relationships, but in the end it was always going to be you and me. Because I feel the same - that we're falling into this without a hitch - because it's meant to be.'
`Meant to be… that's just how it feels, Harry, that we're meant to be…'
*
The next morning, breakfast was a light-hearted affair; Ron told them as he cooked scrambled eggs that he'd thought long and hard about it the previous night, and if Hermione wasn't going to end up with him, then Harry was a good second choice. This comment brought Ron a playful punch to the arm from Harry and an impressive rolling of the eyes from Hermione.
As they sat companionably and enjoyed their eggs, bacon, grilled tomatoes, chipolatas and toast, they talked about their mutual amazement at, and gratitude for, their closeness and bond.
`We are so lucky,' said Hermione, spreading marmalade on her toast. `How many school friends are still as close as we are after all this time?'
`I think we three were somehow sort of predestined,' said Harry sagely, spearing his last chipolata.
`Predestined?' repeated Ron. `That sounds deep.'
Harry shrugged good-naturedly, chewing on his food.
`Actually,' said Hermione thoughtfully, `we do take our friendship for granted. And when you think about it, it is pretty unique.'
`Like us,' said Ron with a grin.
Hedwig, who had appeared to be sleeping up until then, hooted softly.
`See?' said Ron, pointing over his shoulder, `Even Hedwig agrees with me!'
This remark made them all laugh and as they did, it was as though they had no cares or worries, that their friendship gave them the ability to rise above such things. It was a great start to what would prove to be a rather unsettling day.
At half past eight, Harry and Hermione left for work, leaving Ron to clean up, after which he Flooed to Kenmare, happy and pleased to find Luna waiting for him.
The day passed uneventfully for all of them and it was only that evening, after Harry and Hermione had enjoyed a simple dinner of store-bought lasagne and salad at her place and they were both reading over a cup of tea, that Hermione discovered an article in her Daily Prophet.
Hermione's first reaction was to gasp which made Harry ask her what was wrong.
`Oscar Blakely's been found dead!' she said, her eyes still scanning the article.
`What?!' exclaimed Harry. `Isn't that the bloke Ginny worked with that made her quit? Gave her a hard time?'
Hermione nodded. `The same one. It's so weird, though, Harry - they say here that he was devastated by a colleague's resignation - he apparently said as much to Ginny's boss, Ida - so now they're wondering about the chances of it being a suicide.'
`What? Because Ginny quit? They hated each other! They have ever since Ginny started working there!'
`And Dean said it was a run in with Blakely that made her quit in the first place!' cried Hermione.
`Damn, I'll have to wait till I get to work on Monday now to find out more,' lamented Harry.
`At least we have the meeting with Dean to look forward to, tonight,' Hermione commented, wondering whether she should contact Ginny and make sure she was all right.
`That's true,' Harry replied, `although since he doesn't know anything about his heritage and his connection with the Book of Records yet, he may have to get used to that idea before we go any further.'
`Let's hope we'll at least get to the stage where we'll be able to speak to Verity. I'm really curious as to what she knows. I just hope it'll be a help to us.'
*
They were still sitting at the table not long before Dean was due to arrive; Hermione had voiced her concern about Ginny and whether she should Floo or owl her. Harry told her he thought it was probably better to wait till the next morning.
`I'd say she's probably been interviewed by some Law Enforcement Wizards,' he explained. `They'd want to know exactly what happened between her and Blakely, whether it had any bearing on what happened to him. She'd be pretty wrung out, I imagine.'
`Of course,' murmured Hermione, now even more concerned for her friend. Then she had a thought, and groaned.
`What's wrong?' asked Harry.
`You don't think Dean would cancel our meeting again, do you? So he can be with Ginny?'
`He wouldn't actually be able to be with Ginny while she was being interviewed, but he may have -'
Harry was interrupted by a knock on the door.
`Dean!' they said together, rising in unison to go to the door.
And Dean it was - looking anxious and very strained.
`Come on in, Dean,' said Hermione, her concern evident in both her expression and her voice.
`We've only just found out about Blakely,' said Harry as they all moved to sit at the table. In the centre of the table was a tray Hermione had placed there earlier; it held a jug of cold water and a stay-hot charmed pot of tea which Dean eyed as he sat down. `If it's no trouble, I'd really like a glass of Ogden's, if you've got it,' he said.
`No trouble,' said Harry; he made a simple hand gesture and their bottle of Ogden's, three glasses and a dish of ice cubes appeared on the tray.
`Thanks,' said Dean gratefully, as Harry poured him a glass.
`Would you like one Hermione?' Harry asked her and when she nodded, he poured two more glasses.
`What do you know about what's happened to Blakely?' asked Dean after a taking a good-sized mouthful of his drink.
`Only what's in the Prophet,' said Hermione. `That Blakely apparently told Ginny's boss he was devastated by Ginny's resignation and so they're considering suicide as the cause of death.'
Dean shook his head. `That was very early in the piece,' he said heavily. `You know last night I was at the Burrow, that I'd gone home with Ginny after she'd resigned?' Harry and Hermione both nodded. `Well,' Dean continued, `I ended up staying the night and it was this morning that it all started; I'm really glad I was there. I had to Floo work and explain I couldn't go in today.'
`When did Blakely die?' asked Harry.
`Late last night,' said Dean. `He didn't turn up for work this morning. Apparently he's never missed a day's work and because they hadn't heard from him, Ida was really worried. She had her secretary Floo him. His body was lying in front of his living room fireplace; the poor young witch that did the Flooing was pretty hysterical, apparently. Once Ida reported it, they came to see her, of course. She told them about the argument Blakely and Ginny had had the previous day, that Ginny had resigned straight afterwards. She said that Blakely had come to her just before leaving work yesterday evening, and that he'd been in a real state. He was almost babbling, going on about Ginny's resignation. He told Ida he was relieved - his word - that Ginny had left. Ida said he seemed terribly scared and nervous, but she couldn't get anything out of him.'
`What the hell does all that mean? Do they know yet?' asked Harry.
Dean shook his head. `But the one thing they do know is that he was murdered. No one can use the Killing Curse against themselves. They're almost positive the murderer Flooed to Blakely's home with his body, dumped it on the hearth and left.'
`Is Ginny all right?' asked Hermione.
Dean gave her a strange look before answering. `She's home again now. They've said they're finished talking with her, at least for now. The strange thing is, Ginny told me yesterday - when we were in my office - that it was almost as though Blakely drummed up the argument they had, that he started it deliberately. And now Ida's said that Blakely told her he was relieved Ginny had left, it's as though that was just what he intended. But why?' Dean sounded as though those final two words had been haunting him all day, which in fact they had.
`He didn't just want Ginny out of the way?' asked Hermione.
`Well, Ginny says it was out of character and for what it was worth, they'd agreed to give their working relationship a month's trial. With the way he went about things, he probably would've lost that promotion he was getting and he wouldn't endanger that. She was certain he would've made her working life hell after the promotion, but that he was the type who would've enjoyed doing that.'
`It doesn't make sense,' said Harry, frowning. `Why would he suddenly want Ginny out of the picture so quickly?'
Dean shrugged wearily. `That's what they're still trying to get to the bottom of. The thing is, Blakely didn't really have any friends or family except some bloke that came into work a few times that he had lunch with and talked about seeing occasionally - name of Rafferty.'
`Draco Malfoy!' exclaimed Hermione.
Both Dean and Harry looked at her as though she was nuts.
`That friend of Blakely's - Ginny met him once,' explained Hermione. `She said it was actually Draco Malfoy. I'd forgotten all about it until you just mentioned his name!'
Dean groaned and drained his glass. `Shit! That's something else they're going to want to drag her in for questioning about!'
Harry was staring at Hermione. `Draco Malfoy? Is Ginny certain?'
Hermione nodded. `I think she said he'd dyed his hair, but she'd know him anywhere.'
Dean looked at Harry. `They won't be working on this tomorrow, will they? On a Saturday?'
`There's a good chance they will, actually; they often have to with murder cases,' Harry told him.
Dean groaned again. `I'd better get back there. Ginny will have to tell them what she knows about Rafferty. Or Malfoy.' Dean suddenly straightened in his chair and looked across at Harry. `How the hell can Draco Malfoy be wandering about London and the Department hasn't picked up on it? He's wanted, isn't he?'
`I know he's wanted, but other than that -' Harry shrugged. `Not my department, I'm afraid. I'll be able to find out more at work, though.'
`Dean, before you go, we do need to ask you something - and tell you something.'
Dean looked at Hermione, his exhaustion plain to see.
`I know you're tired, and I'm really sorry, but we desperately need your help with our research into the Dark One,' explained Hermione.
`How on earth can I help?' Dean asked, bewildered.
`Dean, how much do you know about your real father?' asked Harry.
Dean shrugged. `Only the fact that he exists - that he left without a word when I was a baby.'
`You don't know his name?' queried Hermione.
`Mum never told me and I didn't like to ask. I could tell she hated talking about him.'
Harry and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione turned back to Dean. She reached out and put her hand over Dean's as it lay on the table. `The Book of Records we were talking about the other night belonged to a wizard named Alexander Riley. He was an Auror during the first war with Voldemort, and we believe he died during the war. We've read his entries in the book and -'
Hermione hesitated, glancing at Harry who took up the narrative. `From what we've read, Riley was being hunted down by Death Eaters. That's why he left his wife and child. His wife didn't know he was a wizard and he wanted to protect her and his child from the Death Eaters. So he left. And they were - are - safe. There was also an old photograph in the book. I can't remember exactly what was written on the back, but -'
`I do,' interrupted Hermione quietly. `It said "The Riley Family - Alex, Alma and Dean."
`Alma's my mother,' croaked Dean, looking stricken.
`We know,' said Hermione. `And there was a date, too - the 16th of August. Your mother was holding a baby in the picture - you. You would've been about six weeks old.'
Dean was staring at them, speechless, shaking his head helplessly.
Hermione squeezed his hand gently. `I know this must be a huge shock, but we thought you had a right to know.'
Dean nodded, looked extremely distracted. `Yes, yes. I think I just need time to take it all in. Can I read the book? See the photo?'
Hermione nodded. `Of course you can. The book and everything in it is yours now.'
Dean stood up, Harry and Hermione following suit.
`I'm sorry,' said Dean, his voice sounding hoarse with exhaustion, `I'll have to go. I need to think - and talk to Ginny.'
They made their way downstairs in silence; Hermione hid her disappointment as she and Harry saw Dean off, asking him to give Ginny their love and their offer of any help she may want or need.
Dean gave her another peculiar look just before stepping into the green flames, his voice heavy with fatigue as he said, `The Burrow.'
Harry and Hermione stood and looked up at Verity and Emrys who had feigned sleep while they saw Dean off; they were now sitting up alertly in their rocking chairs, their eyes fixed on Harry and Hermione.
Hermione sighed. `Verity, is it really necessary for Dean to be with us when you tell us what you know?'
`I wish him to be,' said Verity enigmatically.
Hermione sighed again. `Very well, although we don't know how long it will be before we can be here with him.'
`Never mind, dear,' said Emrys sympathetically. `The time will come, sooner or later.'
`Hopefully sooner, rather than later,' murmured Hermione to Harry as they headed back upstairs.
Harry put his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close to him as they walked up the stairs side by side.
`Let's just try and relax for what's left of the night,' he said gently. `Tomorrow I think I'll go into work and see if I can help. And tell them about Malfoy.'
`Can't wait to track down Malfoy, I take it?' asked Hermione, putting her arm around Harry's waist.
`Exactly. Track him down and throw him in Azkaban where he belongs. I'm sure he must be mixed up in Blakely's death somehow.'
`I'll come with you, if that's all right,' said Hermione and Harry assured her it was, saying, `I think we may need all that information you have tucked away inside your head, Miss Granger.'
`It's at your disposal, Mr Potter,' Hermione replied cheekily.
`What? Just the information in your head?'
Hermione laughed, feeling a wonderful, if tenuous, sense of happiness and lightness amidst the newly-minted grimness of the current situation.
`I dare say more than that, Mr Potter, but as to the full extent of what's available…well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?'
TO BE CONTINUED…
Author's Note
As always, looking forward to hearing what you think guys! Janie xoxo
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